[illustration: the stream of girls descended] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- betty wales senior by margaret warde _author of_ betty wales, freshman betty wales, sophomore betty wales, junior betty wales, b.a. betty wales & co. betty wales on the campus betty wales decides illustrated by eva m. nagel the penn publishing company, philadelphia ----------------------------------------------------------------------- copyright by the penn publishing company betty wales, senior ----------------------------------------------------------------------- introduction for the information of those readers who have not followed betty wales through the first three years of her college career, as described in "betty wales, freshman," "betty wales, sophomore," and "betty wales, junior," it should be explained that most of betty's little circle began to be friends in their freshman year, when they lived off the campus at mrs. chapin's, and mary brooks, the only sophomore in the house, ruled them with an autocratic hand. betty found helen adams a comical and sometimes a trying roommate. rachel morrison and katherine kittredge were also at mrs. chapin's, and roberta lewis, who adored mary brooks and was desperately afraid of every one else in the house, though betty wales guessed that shyness was at the bottom of roberta's haughty manner. eleanor watson was the most prominent member of the group that year and part of the next. betty admired her greatly but found her a very difficult person to win as a friend, though in the end she proved worthy of all the trouble she had cost. at the beginning of sophomore year the chapin house girls moved to the campus, and "the b's" and madeline ayres, who explained that she lived in "bohemia, new york," joined the circle. in their junior year betty and her friends organized the "merry hearts" society, and georgia ames, a freshman friend of madeline's, amused and mystified the whole college until she was finally discovered to be merely one of madeline's many delightful inventions. but the joke was on the "merry hearts" when a real georgia ames entered college. it was when they were juniors, too, that the "merry hearts" took a vacation trip to the bahamas and incidentally manoeuvred a romance for two of their faculty friends--which caused mary brooks to rename their society the merry match-makers. and now if any one wishes to know what betty wales and her friends did after they left college, well--there's something about it in "betty wales, b.a.," "betty wales & co.," "betty wales on the campus," and "betty wales decides." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- contents chapter page i "back to college again" ii a senior class-meeting iii the belden house "initiation party" iv an adventurous mountain day v the return of mary brooks vi helen adams's mission vii roberta "arrives" viii the greatest toy-shop on earth ix a wedding and a visit to bohemia x trying for parts xi a dark horse defined xii calling on anne carter xiii georgia's amethyst pendant xiv the moonshiners' bacon-roast xv plans for a cooperative commencement xvi a hoop-rolling and a tragedy xvii bits of commencement xviii the going out of -- xix "good-bye!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- illustrations page the stream of girls descended _frontispiece_ "here are some perfectly elegant mushrooms" "oh, i beg your pardon," "i do care about having friends like you," she said "well, we've found our shylock," he said the girls watched her in bewilderment "ladies, behold the preceptress of the kankakee academy" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- betty wales, senior chapter i "back to the college again" "oh, rachel morrison, am i too late for the four-ten train?" betty wales, pink-cheeked and breathless, her yellow curls flying under her dainty lingerie hat, and her crisp white skirts held high to escape the dust of the station platform, sank down beside rachel on a steamer trunk that the harding baggage-men had been too busy or too accommodating to move away, and began to fan herself vigorously with a very small and filmy handkerchief. "no, you're not late, dearie," laughed rachel, pulling betty's hat straight, "or rather the train is late, too. where have you been?" betty smiled reminiscently. "everywhere, pretty nearly. you know that cunning little freshman that had lost her trunks----" "all those that i've interviewed have lost their trunks," interpolated rachel. betty waved a deprecating hand toward the mountain of baggage that was piled up further down the platform. "oh, of course, in that lovely mess. who wouldn't? but this girl lost hers before she got here--in chicago or albany, or maybe it was omaha. she lives in los angeles, so she might have lost them almost anywhere, you see." "and of course she expected prexy or the registrar to go back and look for them," added rachel. betty laughed. "not she. besides she doesn't seem to care a bit. she seems to think it's a splendid chance to go to new york next week and buy new clothes. but what she wanted of me was to tell her where she could get some shirt waists--just enough to last until she's perfectly sure that the trunks are gone for good. i didn't want to stick around here from three to four, so i said i'd go and show her evans's and that little new shirt waist place. of course i pointed out all the objects of interest along the way, and when i mentioned cuyler's, she insisted upon going in to have ices." "and how many does that make for you to-day?" demanded rachel severely. "well," betty defended herself, "i treated you once, and you treated me once, and then we met christy mason, and as you couldn't go back with her i had to. but i only had lemonade that time. and this child was so comical, and it was such a good idea." "what was such a good idea?" inquired rachel. "oh, didn't i tell you? why, after we'd finished at cuyler's, she asked me if there weren't any other places something like it, and she said she thought if we tried them all in a row we could tell which was best. but we couldn't," sighed betty regretfully, "because of course things taste better when you're hungriest. but anyhow she wanted to keep on, because now she can give pointers to other freshmen, and make them think she is a sophomore." "how about the shirt waists?" "oh, she had just got to that when i had to leave her." betty rose, sighing, as a train whistled somewhere down the track. "do you suppose georgia ames will be on this one?" "who can tell?" said rachel. "there'll be somebody that we know anyway. wasn't that first day queer and creepy?" "yes," agreed betty, "when nobody got off but freshmen frightened to pieces about their exams. and that was only two days ago! it seems two weeks. i've always rather envied the students' aid society seniors, because they have such a good chance to pick out the interesting freshmen, but i shan't any more." "not even after to-day?" betty frowned reflectively. "well, of course to-day has been pretty grand--with all those ices, and christy, and the freshmen all so cheerful and amusing. and then there's the eight-fifteen. won't it be fun--to see the clan get off that? yes, i think i do envy myself. can a person envy herself, rachel?" she gave rachel's arm a sudden squeeze. "rachel," she went on very solemnly, "do you realize that we can't ever again in all our lives be students' aid seniors, meeting poor little harding freshmen?" rachel hugged betty sympathetically. "yes, i do," she said. "why at this time next year i shall be earning my own living 'out in the wide, wide world,' as the song says, miles from any of the clan." betty looked across the net-work of tracks, to the hills that make a circle about harding. "and miles from this dear old town," she added. "but we can write to each other, and make visits, and we can come back to class reunions. but that won't be the same." rachel looked at the pretty, yellow-haired child, and wondered if she realized how different her "wide, wide world" was likely to be from katherine's or helen chase adams's--or rachel morrison's. to some of the clan harding meant everything they had ever known in the way of culture and scholarly refinement, of happy leisure and congenial friendship. it was comforting somehow to find that girls like betty and the b's, who had everything else, were just as fond of harding and were going to be just as sorry to leave it. rachel never envied anybody, but she liked to think that this life that was so precious to her meant much to all her friends. it made one feel surer that pretty clothes and plenty of spending-money and delightful summers at the seashore or in the mountains did not matter much, so long as the one big, beautiful fact of being a harding girl was assured. all this flashed through rachel's mind much more quickly than it can be written down. aloud she said cheerfully, "well, we have one whole year more of it." "i should rather think so," declared betty emphatically, "and we mustn't waste a single minute of it. i wish it was evening. it seems as if i couldn't wait to see the other girls." "well, there's plenty to do just now," said rachel briskly, as the four-ten halted, and the streams of girls, laden with traveling bags, suit-cases, golf-clubs, tennis-rackets, and queer-shaped bulky parcels that had obviously refused to go into any trunk, began to descend from it. rachel hurried forward at once, eager to find someone who needed help or directions or a friendly word of welcome. but betty stood where she was, just out of the crowd, watching the old girls' excited meetings and the new girls' timid progresses, which were sure to be intercepted before long by some white-gowned, competent senior, anxious to miss no possible opportunity for helpfulness. betty had done her part all day, and in addition had taken rachel's place earlier in the afternoon, to give her a free hour for tutoring. she was tired now and hot, and she had undoubtedly eaten too many ices; but she was also trying an experiment. where she stood she could watch both platforms from which the girls were descending. her quick glance shot from one to the other, scanning each figure as it emerged from the shadowy car and stopped for an instant, hesitating, on the platform. the train was nearly emptied of its harding contingent when all at once betty gave a little cry and darted forward to meet a girl who was making an unusually careful and prolonged inspection of the crowd below her. she was a slender, pretty girl, with yellow hair, which curled around her face. she carried a trim little hand-bag and a well-filled bag of golf-clubs. "can i help you in any way?" asked betty, holding out a hand for the golf-bag. the pretty freshman turned a puzzled face toward her, and surrendered the bag. "i don't know," she said doubtfully. "i'm to be a freshman at harding. father telegraphed the registrar to meet me. could you point her out, please?" "i knew it," laughed betty, gleefully. then she turned to the girl. "the registrar is up at the college answering fifty questions a minute, and i'm here to meet you. give me your checks, and we'll find an expressman. oh, yes, and where do you board?" the pretty freshman answered her questions with an air of pleased bewilderment, and later, on the way up the hill, asked questions of her own, laughed shamefacedly over her misunderstanding about the registrar, was comforted when betty had explained that it was not an original mistake, and invited her new friend to come and see her with that particular sort of eager shyness that is the greatest compliment one girl can pay to another. "dear old dorothy," thought betty, when she had deposited the freshman, considerably enlightened about college etiquette, at one of the pleasantest of the off-campus houses, and was speeding to the belden for tea. "what a little goose she must have thought me! and what a dear she was! i wonder if this freshman will ever really care about me that way. i do mean to try to make her. oh, what a lot of things seniors have to think about!" but the only thing to think about that evening was the arrival of the eight-fifteen train, which would bring eleanor, the b's, nita reese, katherine kittredge, roberta lewis, and madeline ayres, together with two-thirds of the rest of the senior class back to harding. it was such fun to saunter down to the station in the warm twilight, to wait, relieved of all responsibilities concerning cabs, expressmen, and belated trunks, while the crowded train pulled in, and then to dash frantically about from one dear friend to another, stopping to shake hands with a sophomore here, and there to greet a junior, but being gladdest, of course, to welcome back the members of "the finest class." betty and rachel had arranged not to serve on the reception committee for freshmen that evening, and it was not long before the reunited "merry hearts" escaped from the pandemonium at the station to reassemble on the belden house piazza for what katherine called a "high old talk." how the tongues wagged! eleanor watson had come straight from her father's luxurious camp in the colorado mountains, where she and jim had been having a house-party for some of their denver friends. "you girls must all come out next summer," she declared enthusiastically. "father sent a special invitation to you, betty, and he and--and--mother"--eleanor struggled with the new name for the judge's young wife--"are coming on to commencement, and then of course you'll all meet them. mother is so jolly--she knows just what girls like, and she enters into all the fun, just like one of us. of course she is absurdly young," laughed eleanor, as if the stepmother's youth had never been her most intolerable failing in her daughter's eyes. babbie had been abroad, on an automobile trip through france. she looked more elegant than ever in a chic little suit from paris, with a toque to match, and heavy gloves that she had bought in london. "i've got a pair for each of you in my trunk," she announced, "and here's hoping i didn't mix up the sizes." "sixes for me," cried bob. "five and a-half," shrieked babe. "six and a-half," announced katherine, "and you ought to have brought me two pairs, because i wear mine out more than twice as fast as anybody else." "what kind of a summer have you had, k?" asked babe, who never wrote letters, and therefore seldom received any. "same old kind," answered katherine cheerfully. "mended twenty dozen stockings, got breakfast for seven hungry mouths every morning, played tennis with the boys and polly, tutored all i could, sent out father's bills,--oh, being the oldest of eight is no snap, i can tell you, but," katherine added with a chuckle, "it's lots of fun. boys do like you so if you're rather decent to them." "i just hate being an only child," declared bob hotly. "what's the use of a place in the country unless there are children to wade in the brook, and chase the chickens and ride the horses? next summer i'm going to have fresh-air children up there all summer, and you two"--indicating the other b's--"have got to come and help save them from early deaths." "all right," said babe easily, "only i shall wade too." "and you've got to wash them up before i can touch them," stipulated the fastidious babbie. "where have you been all summer, rachel?" "right at home, helping in an office during the day and tutoring evenings. and i've saved enough so that i shan't have to worry one single bit about money this year," announced rachel triumphantly. "good for old rachel!" cried madeline ayres, who had spent the summer nursing her mother through a severe illness and looked worn and thin in consequence. "then you're as glad to get back to the grind as i am. betty here, with her summer on an island in lake michigan, and eleanor, and these lucky b's with their childless farms, and their parisian raiment, don't know what it's like to be back in the arms of one's friends." "don't we!" cried a protesting chorus. "don't you what?" called a voice out of the darkness, and the real georgia ames, cheerful and sunburned and self-possessed shook hands all around, and found a seat behind madeline on the piazza railing. "you were all so busy talking that you didn't see me at the train," she explained coolly. "a tall girl with glasses asked if there was anything she could do for me, and i said oh, no, that i'd been here before. then she asked me my name, and when i said georgia ames, i thought she was going to faint." "she took you for a ghost, my dear," said madeline, patting her double's shoulder affectionately. "you must get used to being treated that way, you know. you're billed to make a sensation in spite of yourself." "but we're going to make it up to you all we can," chirped babbie. "and you bet we can," added bob decisively. "let's begin by escorting her home," suggested babe. "there's just about time before ten." "i saw miss stuart yesterday about her coming into the belden," explained betty, after they had left georgia at her temporary off-campus boarding place. "she was awfully nice and amused about it all, and she thinks she can get her in right away, in natalie smith's place. natalie's father has been elected senator, you know, and she's going to come out this winter in washington." "fancy that now!" said madeline resignedly. "there's certainly no accounting for tastes." "i should think not," declared katherine hotly. "if my father was elected president, i'd stay on and graduate with -- just the same." "of course you would," agreed babbie. "you can come out in washington any time--or if you can't, it doesn't matter much. but there's only one --." "and yet when we go we shan't be missed," said katherine sadly. "the college will go on just the same." "oh, and i've found out the reason why," cried betty eagerly. "it's because all college girls are alike. miss ferris said so once. she said if you waited long enough each girl you had known and liked would come back in the person of some younger one. but i never really believed it until to-day." and betty related the story of her successful hunt for the freshman who was like herself. everybody laughed. "but then," asserted babbie loyally, "she's not so nice as you, betty. she couldn't be. and i don't believe there are freshmen like all of us." "not in this one class," said rachel. "but it's a nice idea, isn't it? when our little sisters or our daughters come to harding they can have friends just as dear and jolly as the ones we have had." "and they will be just as likely to be locked out if they linger on their own or their friends' door-steps after ten," added madeline pompously, whereat eleanor, katherine, rachel and the b's rushed for their respective abiding places, and the belden house contingent marched up-stairs singing "back to the college again," a parody of one of kipling's "barrack-room ballads" which madeline ayres had written one morning during a philosophy lecture that bored her, and which the whole college was singing a week later. chapter ii a senior class-meeting it was great fun exercising all the new senior privileges. one of the first and most exciting was occupying the front seats at morning chapel. "although," complained betty wales sadly, "you don't get much good out of that, if your name begins with a w. of course i am glad there are so many of --, but they do take up a lot of room. nobody could tell that eleanor and i were seniors, unless they knew it beforehand." "and then they wouldn't believe it about you," retorted madeline, the tease. madeline, being an a, was one of the favored front row, who were near enough "to catch prexy's littlest smiles," as helen adams put it, and who were the observed of all observers as they marched, two and two, down the middle aisle, just behind the faculty. madeline, being tall and graceful and always perfectly self-possessed, looked very impressive, but little helen adams was dreadfully frightened and blushed to the roots of her smooth brown hair every morning. "and yet i wouldn't give it up for anything," she confided to betty. "i mean--i'll exchange with you any time, but i do just love to sit there, although i dread walking out so. it's just the same when i am talking to miss raymond or miss mills. i wish i weren't such a goose." "you're a very dear little goose," betty reassured her, wondering why in the world the clever helen adams was afraid of people, while she, who was only little betty wales, without much brains and with no big talent, felt perfectly at home with dr. hinsdale, miss raymond, and even the great "prexy" himself. "i suppose that is my talent," she decided at last,--"not being afraid, and just plunging right in. well, i suppose i ought to be glad that i have anything." another senior privilege is the holding of the first class-meeting. fresh indeed is the freshman class which neglects this order of precedence, and in deference to their childish impatience the seniors always hold their meeting as early in the term as possible. of course --'s came on a lovely afternoon,--the first after an unusually long and violent "freshman rain." "coming, madeline?" asked betty, passing madeline's single on her way out. "where?" inquired madeline lazily from the depths of her morris chair. "to the class-meeting of course," explained betty. "now don't pretend you've forgotten and made another engagement. i just heard georgia ames telling you that she couldn't go walking because of an unexpected written lesson." madeline wriggled uneasily. "what's the use?" she objected. "it's too nice a day to waste indoors. there'll be nothing doing for us. we elected rachel last year, and none of the rest of the crowd will do for class officers." "what an idea!" said betty loftily. "i'm thinking of nominating babe for treasurer. besides rachel is going to wear a cap and gown--it's a new idea that the council thought of, for the senior president to wear one--and christy and alice waite are going to make speeches about the candidates. and i think they're going to vote about our ten thousand dollars." madeline rose despondently. "all right then, for this once. by the way, whom are they going to have for toastmistress at class-supper? they elect her to-day, don't they?" "i suppose so. i know the last year's class chose laurie at their first meeting. but i haven't heard any one mentioned." "then i'm going to nominate eleanor watson," declared madeline. "she's never had a thing from the class, and she's by far the best speaker we have except emily davis." "and emily will be class-day orator of course," added betty. "oh, madeline, i'm so glad you thought of eleanor. won't it be splendid to have a 'merry heart' for toastmistress?" madeline nodded carelessly. she was thinking more about a letter from home, with news that her father and mother were to sail at once for italy, than about matters of class policy. she loved the italian sea and the warm southern sunshine; and the dear old "out-at-elbows" villa on the heights above sorrento was the nearest thing she had known to a home. father had told her to come along if she liked--ever since she could remember she had been allowed to make her own decisions. but then, as babbie had said, there was only one --, and with plenty of "passed up" courses to her credit she could work as little as she pleased this year and never go to a class-meeting after to-day. "let's stop for the b's," she suggested, as they went out into the september sunshine. "bob hates meetings as much as i do. i'm not going to be the only one to be disciplined." before they had reached the westcott, the b's shouted to them from their hammocks in the apple-orchard, which they reluctantly abandoned to go to the meeting. bob had just had an exciting runaway--her annual spills were a source of great amusement to her friends and of greater terror to her doting parents--and she was so eager to recount her adventures and display her bruises, that nothing more was said about madeline's plan for eleanor. the class-meeting was large and exciting. the election of a senior president is as thrilling an event at harding as the coronation of a czar of all the russias to the world at large. it was a foregone conclusion that marie howard would be the unanimous choice of the class, but until the act was fairly consummated--and indeed until marie had been dined at cuyler's and overwhelmed with violets to the satisfaction of her many friends--the excitement would not abate. there was a pleasant uncertainty about the other class officers. six avowed candidates for the treasurership quarreled good naturedly over their respective qualifications for the position, each one in her secret soul intending to withdraw in favor of her dearest friend among the other five. in another corner of the room an agitated group discussed the best disposition of the ten thousand dollar fund. "i don't think we ought to dispose of it hastily," christy mason was saying. "it's a lot of money and we ought to consider very carefully before we decide." "besides," added emily davis flippantly, "as long as we delay our decision, we shall continue to be persons of importance in the eyes of the faculty. it's comical to see how deferential they all are. i took dinner at the burton sunday, and afterward miss raymond invited a few of us into her room for coffee. she didn't mention the money,--she's too clever for that,--but she talked a lot about the constant need for new books in her department. 'you can't run an english department properly unless you can give your pupils access to the newest books'--that was the burden of her refrain. marion lustig was quite impressed. i think she means to propose endowing an english department library fund." "dr. hinsdale wants books for his department, and a lot of psychological journals--all about ghosts and mediums--that college professors look up about, you know," nita reese ended somewhat vaguely. "and miss kent is hoping we'll give the whole sum to her to spend for another telescope," added babe, whose specialty, if one might dignify her unscholarly enthusiasms by that name, was astronomy. "every one of the faculty wants it for something," said christy. "naturally. they're all human, aren't they?" laughed emily davis, just as rachel appeared in the doorway, looking very dignified and impressive in a cap and gown. "is the tassel right?" she whispered anxiously, as she passed a group of girls seated near the platform steps. "no, put it the other side--unless you're a ph. d.," returned roberta lewis in a sepulchral whisper. "father has one. he lectures at johns hopkins," she added, in answer to nudges from her neighbors and awestruck inquiries as to "how she knew." then rachel called the meeting to order. she thanked the class for the honor they had done her, and hoped she had not disappointed them. "i've tried not to consider any clique or crowd," she said--"not to think anything about the small groups in our class, but to find out what the whole big, glorious class of -- wanted"--rachel's voice rang out proudly--"and then to carry out its wishes. i believe in public sentiment--in the big generous feeling that makes you willing to give up your own little plans because they are not big and fine enough to suit the whole class. i hope the elections to-day may be conducted in that spirit. we each want what we all want, i am sure. we know one another pretty well by this time, but perhaps it will help us in choosing the right persons for senior officers if some of the candidates' friends make brief nominating speeches. it is now in order to nominate some one for the office of senior president." christy was on her feet in an instant, nominating marie howard, in a graceful little speech that mentioned her tact and energy and class spirit, recalled some of the things she had done to make the class of -- proud of her, and called attention to the fact that she had never had an important office before. "and she wouldn't be having one now if we hadn't succeeded in throwing off the rule of a certain person named eastman and her friends," muttered bob sotto voce. alice waite seconded the nomination. "i can't make a real speech like christy's," she stammered, blushing prettily, "but i want to call attention to marie's--i mean to miss howard's sparkling sense of humor and strong personal magnetism. and--and--i am sure she'll do splendidly," ended little alice, forgetting her set phrases and sitting down amidst a burst of amused applause. rachel called for other nominations but there were none, so marie was elected unanimously, and with tremendous enthusiasm. after she had assumed the cap and gown, taken the chair, and thanked her classmates, barbara gordon, one of christy's best friends, was made vice-president. babe, to her infinite annoyance, found herself the victor in the treasurer's contest, and nita reese was ensconced beside marie in the secretary's chair. "and you said none of 'the merry hearts' would do for officers," betty whispered reproachfully to madeline. "well, will they think we are office-grabbers, if i put up eleanor?" asked madeline. "oh, no," declared betty eagerly. "you see babe's such a general favorite--she's counted into half a dozen crowds; and nita is really a hill girl, only she never would go to class-meetings when she was a freshman and so she was never identified with that set. you will propose eleanor, won't you?" "honor bright," promised madeline, and returned once more to the pages of a new magazine which she had insisted upon bringing, "in case things are too deadly slow." "the next business," said marie, consulting the notes that rachel had handed her with the cap and gown, "the next business is to dispose of our ten thousand dollars." instantly a dozen girls were on their feet, clamoring for recognition. marion lustig urged the need of books for the english department. clara madison, who after two years of amazement at harding college in general and hatred of the bed-making it involved in particular, had suddenly awakened to a tremendous enthusiasm for microscopic botany, made a funny little drawling speech about the needs of her pet department. two or three of miss ferris's admirers declared that zoölogy was the most important subject in the college curriculum, and urged that the money should be used as a nest egg for endowing the chair occupied by that popular lady. the spanish and italian departments, being newly established, were suggested as particularly suitable objects for benevolence. dr. hinsdale's department, the history and the greek departments were exploited. -- was a versatile class; there was somebody to plead for every subject in the curriculum, and at least half a dozen prominent members of the faculty were declared by their special admirers to stand first in --'s affections. "though that has really nothing to do with it," said jean eastman testily, conscious that her plea for the modern language departments had fallen on deaf ears. "we're not giving presents to the faculty, but to the college. i like miss raymond as well as any one----" "oh, no, you don't," muttered bob, who had caught jean in the act of reading an english condition at the end of junior year. jean heard, understood, and flashed back an acrimonious retort about miss ferris's partiality for bob's work. the newly elected president, whose tact had been extolled by emily davis, found it speedily put to the test. "don't you think," she began, "that we ought to hear from the girl who had most to do with our getting this money? before we act upon the motion to refer the matter to a committee who shall interview the president and the faculty and find out how the rest of the money is to be spent and where ours seems to be most needed, i want to ask miss betty wales for an expression of her opinion." betty gave a little gasp. parliamentary law was hebrew to her, and speech-making a fearful and wonderful art, which she never essayed except in an emergency. but she recognized marie's distress, and rose hesitatingly, to pour oil on the troubled waters if possible. "i certainly think there ought to be a committee," she began slowly. "and i'm sure i know less than any one who has spoken about the needs of the different courses. i'm--well, i'm not a star in anything, you see. i agree with jean that we ought not to make this a personal matter, and yet i am sure that the head of whatever department we give the money to will be pleased, and i don't see why we shouldn't consider that and choose somebody who has done a lot for --. but there are so many who have done a lot for us." betty frowned a perplexed little frown. "i wish too," she went on very earnestly, "that we could do something that is like us. you know what i mean. we stand for fair play and a good time for everybody--that was why we had the dresses simple, you know." the frown vanished suddenly and betty's fascinating little smile came into view instead. "i wonder--of course prexy is always saying the college is poor, and the faculty are always talking about not having books enough, but i haven't noticed but that they find enough to keep us busy looking up references." ("hear, hear!" chanted the b's.) "it seems to me that harding college is good enough as it is," went on betty, looking reproachfully at the disturbers. "the thing is to let as many girls as possible come here and enjoy it. do you suppose the man who gave the money would be willing that we should use our share of it for scholarships? four one hundred dollar scholarships would help four girls along splendidly. of course that isn't a department exactly,--and perhaps it's a silly suggestion." betty slipped into her seat beside madeline, blushing furiously, and looking blankly amazed when her speech brought forth a round of vigorous applause, and, as soon as parliamentary order would permit, a motion that -- should, with the consent of the unknown benefactor of the college, establish four annual scholarships. "i name miss wales as chairman of the committee to interview the president," said marie, beaming delightedly on her once more harmonious constituents. "the other two members of the committee i will appoint later. the next and last business of this meeting is to elect a toastmistress for our class-supper. she is always chosen early, you know, so that she can be thinking of toasts and getting material for them out of all the events of the year. nominations are now in order." "i nominate eleanor watson," said madeline promptly, reluctantly closing her magazine and getting to her feet. "i needn't tell any of you how clever she is nor how well she speaks. next to one or two persons whose duties at commencement time are obvious and likely to be arduous"--madeline grinned at emily davis, who was sure to be class-orator, and babe leaned forward to pat marion lustig, who was equally sure to be class-poet, on the shoulder--"next to these one or two geniuses, eleanor is our wittiest member. of course our class-supper will be the finest ever,--it can't help being--but with eleanor watson at the head of the table, it will eclipse itself. to quote the great dr. hinsdale, do you get my point?" kate denise seconded the nomination with a heartiness that made eleanor flush with pleasure. betty watched her happily, half afraid she would refuse the nomination, as she had refused the dramatic club's election; but she only sat quite still, her great eyes shining like stars. she was thinking, though betty could not know that, of little helen adams and her "one big day" when she was elected to the "argus" board. "i know just how she felt," eleanor considered swiftly. "it's after you've been left out and snubbed and not wanted that things like this really count. oh, i'm so glad they want me now." "are there any other nominations?" asked marie. there was a little silence, broken by a voice saying: "let's make it unanimous. ballots take so long, and everybody wants her." then a girl got up from the back row,--a girl to whom katherine kittredge had once given the title of "harding's champion blunderbuss." she could no more help doing the wrong thing than she could help breathing. she had begun her freshman year by opening the door into dr. hinsdale's recitation-room, while a popular senior course was in session. "i beg your pardon, but are you miss stuart?" she had asked, looking full at the amazed professor, and upon receiving a gasping denial she had withdrawn, famous, to reappear now and then during her course always in similar rôles. it happened that she had never heard of eleanor watson's stolen story until a week before the class-meeting, when some one had told her the unvarnished facts, with no palliation and no reference to eleanor's subsequent change of heart or renunciation of one honor after another. virtuous indignation and pained surprise struggled for expression upon her pasty, immobile face. "madam president," she began, and waited formally for recognition. "oh, i say, it's awfully late," said somebody. "i've got five recitations to-morrow." this speech and the laugh that followed it put new vigor into the champion's purpose. "i hope i am not trespassing on any one's time unduly," she said, "by stating that--i dislike to say it here, but it has been forced upon me. i don't think miss watson is the girl to hold --'s offices. miss wales said that we stood for fair play." the champion took her seat ponderously. the room was very still. marie sat, nonplused, staring at the champion's defiant figure. madeline's hands were clenched angrily. "i'd like to knock her down, the coward," she muttered to betty, who was looking straight ahead and did not seem to hear. hardly a minute had gone by, but more slowly than a minute ever went before, when eleanor was on her feet. she had grown suddenly white, and her eyes had a hunted, strained look. "i quite agree with miss harrison," she said in clear, ringing tones, her head held high. "i am not worthy of this honor. i withdraw my name, and i ask miss ayres, as a personal favor, to substitute some one's else." eleanor sat down, and marie wet her lips nervously and looked at madeline. "please, miss ayres," she begged. "as a personal favor," returned madeline slowly, "because eleanor watson asks me, i substitute"--she paused--"christy mason's name. i am sure that miss mason will allow it to be used, as a personal favor to every one concerned." "indeed i----" began christy impetuously. then she met eleanor's beseeching eyes. "very well," she said, "but every one here except miss harrison knows that miss watson would be far better." it took only a minute to elect christy and adjourn the ill-fated meeting. "i thought she'd feel like hurrying home," said katherine sardonically, as the champion, very red and militant, rushed past her toward the door. betty looked wistfully after the retreating figure. "i would rather have left college than had her say that. it doesn't seem fair--after everything." "serves me right, anyhow," broke in madeline despondently. "i was dreaming about castles in italy instead of tackling the business in hand. if i had thought more i should have known that some freak would seize the opportunity to rake up old scores. don't feel so bad, betty. it was my fault, and i'll make it up to her somehow. come and help me tell christy that she's a trump, and that i truly wanted her, next to eleanor." when they had pushed their way through to christy's side, eleanor, still white but smiling bravely, was shaking hands. "it was awfully good of you not to mind the little awkwardness," she was saying. "the girls always want you--you know that." she turned to find betty standing beside her, looking as if her heart was broken. "why, betty wales," she laughed, "cheer up. you've made the speech of the day, and three of your best friends are waiting to be congratulated. tell christy how pleased you are that she's toastmistress and then come down town with me." once out of the crowded room eleanor grew silent, and betty, too hurt and angry to know what to offer in the way of comfort, left her to her own thoughts. they had crossed the campus and were half way down the hill when eleanor spoke. "betty," she said, "please don't care so. if you are going to feel this way, i don't think i can bear it." betty stared at her in astonishment. "why eleanor, it's you that i care about. i can't bear to have you treated so." eleanor smiled sadly. "and can't you see--no, of course you can't, for you never did a mean or dishonorable thing in your life. if you had, you would know that the worst part of the disgrace, is that you have to share it with your friends. i don't mind for myself, because what miss harrison said is true." "no, it's not," cried betty hotly. "not another girl in the whole class feels so." "that," eleanor went on, "is only because they are kind enough to be willing to forget. but to drag you in, and dear old madeline, and all 'the merry hearts'! you'll be sorry you ever took me in." "nonsense!" cried betty positively. "everybody knows that you've changed--everybody, that is, except that hateful miss harrison, and some day perhaps she'll see it." that evening betty explained to helen, who had never heard a word of the "argus" matter, why eleanor had not been made an editor. "do you think there were any others to-day who didn't want her?" she asked anxiously. helen hesitated. "ye-es," she admitted finally. "i think that miss harrison has some friends who feel as she does. i heard them whispering together. and one girl spoke to me. but i am sure they were about the only ones. most of the girls feel dreadfully about it." "of course no one who didn't would say anything to me," sighed betty. "oh, helen, i am so disappointed." "well," returned helen judicially, "it can't be helped now, and in a way it may be a good thing. eleanor will feel now that everybody who counts for much in the class understands, and perhaps there will be something else to elect her for, before the year is out." betty shook her head. "no, it's the last chance. she wouldn't take anything after this, and anyway no one would dare to propose her, and risk having her insulted again." "i guess we shan't any of us be tempted to do anything dishonest," said helen primly. "doesn't it seem to you as if the girls were getting more particular lately about saying whether they got their ideas from books and giving their authorities at the end of their papers?" "yes," said betty, "it does, and i think it's a splendid thing. i went to a literary club meeting with nan last christmas and one of the papers was copied straight out of a book i'd just been reading, almost word for word. i told nan and she laughed and said it was a very common way of doing. i think harding girls will do a good deal if they help put a stop to that kind of thing. but that won't be much comfort to eleanor." when helen had gone, betty curled up on her couch to consider the day. "mixed," she told the little green lizard, "part very nice and part perfectly horrid, like most days in this world, i suppose, even in your best beloved senior year. i wonder if prexy will like the scholarship idea. i straightened out one snarl, and then i helped make a worse one. and i shall be in another if i don't set to work this very minute," ended betty, reaching for her stout's psychology. chapter iii the belden house "initiation party" lucile merrifield, betty's stately sophomore cousin, and polly eastman, lucile's roommate and dearest friend, sat on madeline ayres's bed and munched madeline's sweet chocolate complacently. "wish i had cousins in paris that would send me 'eats' as good as this," sighed polly. "isn't it just too delicious!" agreed lucile. "i say, madeline, i'm on the sophomore reception committee and there aren't half enough sophomores to go round among the freshmen. won't you take somebody?" "i? hardly." madeline shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. "don't you know, child, that i detest girl-dances--any dances for that matter. ask me to do something amusing." "you ought to want to do something useful," said polly reproachfully. "think of all those poor little friendless freshmen!" "what kind of a class is it this year?" inquired madeline, lazily, breaking up more chocolate. "any fun?" "the chief thing i've noticed about them," said lucile, "is that they're so horribly numerous." "fresh?" asked madeline. "yes, indeed," declared polly emphatically, "dreadfully fresh. but somehow,--i'm on the grind committee, you know,--and they don't do anything funny. they just do quantities and quantities of stupid, commonplace things, like mistaking the young faculty for freshmen and expecting miss raymond to help them look up their english references. i just wish they'd think of something original," ended polly dolefully. "why don't you make up something?" asked madeline. polly stared. "oh, i don't think that would do at all. the grinds are supposed to be true, aren't they? they'd be sure to find out and then they'd always dislike us." polly smiled luminously. "i've got a good many freshmen friends," she explained. "which means violet-bestowing crushes, i suppose," said madeline severely. "you shouldn't encourage that sort of thing, polly. you're too young." "i'm not a bit younger than lucile," polly defended herself, "and they all worship her." polly giggled. "only instead of violets, they send her gibson girls, with touching notes about her looking like one." "come now," said lucile calmly. "that's quite enough. let madeline tell us how to get some good grinds." madeline considered, frowning. "why if you won't make up," she said at last, "the only thing to do is to lay traps for them. or no--i'll tell you what--let's give an initiation party." "a what?" chorused her guests. "oh, you know--hazing, the men would call it; only of course we'll have nice little amusing stunts that couldn't frighten a fly. is anything doing to-night?" "in the house, you mean?" asked lucile. "not a thing. but if you want our room----" "of course we do," interposed madeline calmly. "it's the only decent-sized one in the house. go and straighten it up, and let this be a lesson to you to keep it in order hereafter. polly, you invite the freshmen for nine o'clock. i'll get some more sophomores and seniors, and some costumes. come back here to dress in half an hour." "goodness," said the stately lucile, slipping out of her nest of pillows. "how you do rush things through, madeline." madeline smiled reminiscently. "i suppose i do," she admitted. "ever since i can remember, i've looked upon life as a big impromptu stunt. i got ready for a year abroad once in half an hour, and i gave the american ambassador to italy what he said was the nicest party he'd ever been to on three hours' notice, one night when mother was ill and father went off sketching and forgot to come in until it was time to dress. oh, it's just practice," said madeline easily,--"practice and being of a naturally hopeful disposition. run along now." "i thought i'd better not tell them," madeline confided to the genius of her room, when the sophomores were safely out of earshot, "that i haven't the faintest notion what to do with those freshmen after we get them there. being experienced, i know that something will turn up; but they, being only sophomores, might worry. now what the mischief"--madeline pulled out drawer after drawer of her chiffonier--"can i have done with those masks?" the masks turned up, after the belden house "merry hearts" had searched wildly through all their possessions for them, over at the westcott in babbie hildreth's chafing dish, where she had piled them neatly for safe-keeping the june before. "madeline said for you each to bring a sheet," explained helen adams, who had been deputed to summon the b's and katherine. "they're to dress up in, i guess. she said we couldn't lend you the other ones of ours, because they might get dirty trailing around the floors, and we must have at least one apiece left for our beds." the b's joined rapturously in the preparations for madeline's mysterious party. katherine could not be found, and rachel and eleanor were both engaged for the evening; but that was no matter, madeline said. it ought to be mostly a belden house affair, but a few outsiders would help mystify the freshmen. promptly at quarter to nine polly, lucile, and the rest of the belden house contingent arrived, each bringing her sheet with her, and presently madeline's room swarmed with hooded, ghostly figures. "is that you, polly?" whispered lucile to somebody standing near her. "no, it's not," squeaked the figure, from behind its little black mask. "why, we shan't even know each other, after we get mixed up a little," giggled somebody else, as the procession lined up for a hasty dash through the halls. "now, don't forget that you've all got to help think up things for them to do," warned madeline, "especially you sophomores." "and don't forget to remember the things for grinds," added polly eastman lucidly. "that's what the party is for." "if the freshmen find out that you had to get us to help you, you'll never hear the last of it," jeered babe. "now babe, we're their natural allies," protested babbie. "of course we always help them." "sh!" called a scout, sticking her head into the room. "coast's clear. make a rush for it." the last ghost had just gotten safely into the room, when two freshmen, timid but much flattered by polly's cordial invitation, knocked on the door. "come in," called polly in her natural voice, and once unsuspectingly inside, they were pounced upon by the army of ghosts, and escorted to seats as far as possible from the door. the other guests luckily arrived in a body headed by georgia ames, who, having come into the house only the day before, was already an important personage in the eyes of her classmates. what girl wouldn't be who called betty wales by her first name, and wasn't one bit afraid to "talk back" to the clever miss ayres? georgia's attitude of amused tolerance therefore set the tone for the freshmen's behavior. "don't you see that it's some sophomore joke?" she demanded. "might as well let the poor creatures get as much fun out of us as they can, and then perhaps they'll give us something good to eat by and by." "we'll give you something right away," squeaked a ghost. "georgia ames and miss ashton, stand forth. now kneel down, shut your eyes and open your mouths." "don't do it. it will be some horrid, peppery mess," advised a sour-tempered freshman named butts. but georgia and her companion stood bravely forth, to be rewarded by two delicious mouthfuls of madeline's french chocolate. after this pleasant surprise, the freshmen, all but miss butts and one or two more, grew more cheerful and began to enter into the spirit of the occasion. "josephine boyd, you are elected to scramble like an egg," announced a tall ghost. josephine's performance was so realistic that it evoked peals of laughter from ghosts and freshmen alike. "we'll recommend you for a part in the next menagerie that the house or the college has," said the tall ghost, who seemed to be mistress of ceremonies. "the dutton twins are now commanded to push matches across the floor with their noses. you'll find the matches on the table by the window. somebody tie their hands behind them. now start at the door and go straight across to georgia ames's chair. the one that wins the race must send polly some flowers," added the tall ghost maliciously as the twins, blushing violently at this barefaced reference to their rivalry for polly's affections, took their matches, and at georgia's signaled "one, two, three, go!" began their race. pushing a match across a slippery floor with one's nose looked so easy and proved so difficult that both ghosts and freshmen, as they cheered on the eager contestants, longed to take part in the enticing sport. the fluffy-haired twin kept well ahead of her straight-haired sister, until, when her match was barely a foot from georgia's chair it caught in a crack and broke in two. "oh, dear!" sighed the fluffy-haired twin forlornly, trying to single out her divinity from among the sheeted ghosts. her despair was too much for soft-hearted polly. "never mind," she said kindly "the race is hereby called off." "and we can both send you flowers, can't we?" demanded the straight-haired twin, jumping up, flushed and panting from her exertions. every one waited eagerly to hear what the next stunt would be. "this is for you, miss butts," announced the tall ghost, after a whispered colloquy with her companions, "and as you don't seem very happy to-night we've made it easy. tell the name of your most particular crush. now don't pretend you haven't any." "i won't tell," muttered miss butts sullenly. "then you'll have to make up lucile merrifield's bed for two weeks as a penalty for disobeying our decrees. now all the rest of you may tell your crushes' names. i will explain, as some of you look a little dazed about it, that your crush is the person you most deeply adore." some of the freshmen meekly accepted the penalty rather than divulge their secret affections, one declared that she hadn't a crush, one, remembering the legend of georgia ames, made up a sophomore's name and after she had been safely "passed" exulted over the simplicity of her victims. a few, including georgia, calmly confessed their divinities' names and gloated over the effect their announcements had upon some of the ghosts. when this entertainment was exhausted, the ghosts held another conference. "carline dodge, get under the bed and develop like a film," decreed the leader finally. "oh, not under mine," cried a tall, impressive-looking ghost plaintively. "my botany and zoölogy specimens are under it. she'd be sure to upset the jars." "there!" said georgia ames complacently. "that makes six of you that we know. polly eastman and now lucile have given themselves away. babbie hildreth crumpled all up when carline dodge called out her crush's name. if she's here, the other two that they call the b's are, and madeline ayres is directing the job. it's easy enough to guess who the rest of you are, so why not take off those hot things and be sociable?" "go on, carline dodge," ordered the tall ghost imperturbably. "but i don't get the idea of the action," objected the serious-faced freshman, and looked amazed that everybody should laugh so uproariously. "that's so funny that we'll let you off," said madeline, when the mirth had subsided. "i foresee that you've invented a very useful phrase." and sure enough carline's reply was speedily incorporated into harding's special vocabulary, and its author found herself unwittingly famous. "now," said madeline cheerfully, "you may all chase smiles around the room for a while, and when i say 'wipe,' you are to wipe them off on a crack in the floor. then we'll have a speech from one of you and you will be dismissed." most of the freshmen entered gaily into the "action" of chasing smiles, and caught a great many on their own and each other's faces. that frolic ended, madeline called upon a quiet little girl who had hardly been seen to open her mouth since she reached harding, to make a speech. to every one's surprise she rose demurely, without a word of objection or the least appearance of embarrassment, and delivered an original monologue supposed to be spoken by a freshman newly arrived and airing her impressions of the college. it hit everybody with its absurd humor, which no one enjoyed better, apparently, than the quiet little freshman herself. "encore! encore! give us another!" shouted the freshmen when she had finished; but their quiet little classmate only shook her head, and assuming once more the mincing, confidential tone she had been using in the monologue, remarked: "do you know, there are some girls in our class that will forget their heads before long. why, when they're being hazed, they forget it and think they're at a real party." everybody laughed again, and the tall ghost made the little freshman blush violently by saying, "you'll get a part in the house play, my child, and if you can write that monologue down i'll send an 'argus' editor around after it." the little freshman, whose name was ruth howard, pinched herself softly, when no one was looking, to make sure that she was awake. like mother hubbard she felt a little doubtful of her identity, as she noticed the admiring glances cast upon her by even the haughtiest of the freshmen. she had been rather lonely during these first weeks, and it was very pleasant now to find that the things she could do were going to make a place for her in this big, busy college world. "a hazing party isn't a half-bad idea, is it?" said georgia ames, reflectively. "it's got us all acquainted a lot faster than anything else would, i guess,--even if there wasn't any food." "considering that we've done everything else, you children might find the food----" began one of the ghosts, but a bell in the corridor interrupted her. "is that the twenty-minutes-to or the ten o'clock?" asked another ghost anxiously. "ten," said a freshman. "the other rang while we were chasing smiles." "then we're locked out," cried a small ghost tragically, and three sheeted figures rushed down the hall, tripping over their flowing robes and struggling with their masks as they ran. "my light is on. will they report it?" asked little ruth howard shyly of georgia ames. "mine will be reported all right before i've done with it," declared a ghost gloomily. "i've got to study for a physics review. i oughtn't to have come near this festive function." "same here." "come on, carline. don't you know the action of going home?" "jolly fun though, wasn't it?" the initiation party dissolved noisily down the dusky corridors. next day the college rang with the report that hazing was now practiced at harding. strange accounts of the belden house party were passed from group to group of excited freshmen who declared that they were "just scared to death" of the sophomores and wouldn't for the world be out alone after dark, and of amused upper-classmen who allowed for exaggerations and considered the whole episode in the light of a good joke. but a particularly susceptible burton house freshman, who sat at miss stuart's table and burned to make a favorable impression upon that august lady, repeated the story to her at luncheon. miss stuart received it in silence, wondered what the truth of it was, and asked some of her friends about it that afternoon at a faculty meeting. of course some of the wrong people heard about it and took it up officially, as a matter calculated to ruin the spirit of the college. the result was that miss ferris and dr. hinsdale were furnished with the names of some of the offenders and requested to interview them on the subject of their misdemeanors. miss ferris unerringly selected madeline ayres as the ring-leader of the affair and betty wales as the best person to make an appeal to, if any appeal was needed, and set an hour for them to come and see her. madeline, who never looked at bulletin-boards, did not get her note of summons, and betty, who had taken hers as a friendly invitation to have tea with her friend, went over to the hilton house alone and in the highest spirits. but miss ferris was not serving tea, and dr. hinsdale showed no intention of leaving them in peace to indulge in one of those long and delightful talks that betty had so anticipated. indeed it was he, with his coldest expression and his dryest tone, who introduced the subject of the initiation party and demanded to know why madeline ayres had neglected miss ferris's summons. betty had no trouble in explaining that to everybody's satisfaction, but she longed desperately for madeline's support, as she listened to dr. hinsdale's stern arraignment of the innocent little gathering. "it's not lady-like," he asserted. "it's aping the men. hazing is a discredited practice anyhow. all decent colleges are dropping it. we certainly don't want it here, where the aim of the faculty has always been to encourage the friendliest relations between classes. the members of the entering class always find the college life difficult at first. it's quite unnecessary to add to their troubles." betty listened with growing horror. what dreadful thing had she unwittingly been a party to? and yet, after all, could it have been so very dreadful? if dr. hinsdale had been there, would he have felt this way about it? a smile wavered on betty's lips at this thought. she looked at miss ferris, who smiled back at her. "say it, betty," encouraged miss ferris, and betty began, explaining how madeline had happened to think of the hazing, relating the absurdities that she and the rest had devised, dwelling on ruth howard's clever impersonation and josephine boyd's effective egg-scrambling. gradually dr. hinsdale's expression softened, and when she repeated carline dodge's absurd retort, he laughed like a boy. "do you think it was so very dreadful?" betty inquired anxiously, whereupon her judges exchanged glances and laughed again. "there's another thing," betty began timidly after a moment. "i don't know as i should ever have thought of it myself, but it did certainly work that way." and betty explained georgia ames's idea of the hazing-party as a promoter of good-fellowship. "it's awfully hard to get acquainted with freshmen, you see," she went on. "we have our own friends and we are all busy with our own affairs. but since that night we've been just as friendly. that one evening took the place of lots of calls and formal parties. we know now what the different ones can do. of course," betty admitted truthfully, "it didn't help miss butts any, unless it showed her that at harding you've got to do your part, if you want a good time. she's certainly been a little more agreeable since. but ruth howard now--why it would have been ages--oh, i mean months," amended betty blushingly, "before we should have known about her, unless madeline had called for that speech." again the judges exchanged amused glances, and dr. hinsdale cleared his throat. "well, miss wales," he said, "you've made your point, i think. you've found the legitimate purpose for a legitimate and distinctly feminine kind of hazing. and now, if miss ferris will excuse me, i have an engagement at my rooms." so betty had her talk and her tea, after all, and went away loving miss ferris harder than ever. for miss ferris, by the mysterious process that brought all college news to her ken, had heard about eleanor watson and the champion blunderbuss, and she was looking out for eleanor, who, she was sure from a number of little things she had noticed and pieced together, was now quite capable of looking out for herself. this confirmation of her own theory encouraged betty vastly, and she was able to feel a little more charitable toward the champion, who, as miss ferris had pointed out, was really the one most to be pitied. chapter iv an adventurous mountain day "the -- scholarships, providing aid to the approximate sum of one hundred dollars for each of four students, preferably members of an upper class"--thus the announcement was to appear formally in the college catalogue. the president and the donor had both heartily approved of betty's scheme, and the scholarships were an accomplished fact. it had been the donor's pleasant suggestion that -- should keep in perpetual touch with its gift to the college by appointing a committee to act with one from the faculty in disposing of the scholarships. betty wales was chairman, of course. -- did not intend that she should forget her connection with those scholarships. betty took her duties very seriously. she watched the girls at chapel, in the recitation halls, on the campus, noted those with shabby clothes and worried faces, found out their names and their boarding-places, and set tactful investigations on foot about their needs. the enormous number of her "speaking acquaintances" became a college joke. "bow, betty," katherine would whisper, whenever on their long country walks, they met a group of girls who looked as if they might belong to the college. and then, "is it possible i've found somebody you don't know? better look them up right away." "it's splendid training for your memory," betty declared, and it was, and splendid training besides in helpfulness and social service, though betty did not put it so grandly. to her it was just trying to take dorothy king's place, and not succeeding very well either. in looking up strangers, betty did not forget her friends. nobody could be more deserving of help than rachel morrison. her hard summer's work had worn on her and made the busy round of tutoring and study seem particularly irksome. but rachel, while she was pleased to think that she had been the joint committee's first choice, refused the money. "i could only take it as a loan," she said, "and i don't want to have a debt hanging over my head next year. i'm not so tired now as i was when i first got back, and i can rest all next summer. did i tell you that babbie hildreth's uncle has offered me a position in his school for next fall?" emily davis, on the other hand, was very glad to accept a scholarship,--"as a loan of course," she stipulated. she had practically supported herself for the whole four years at harding, and the strain and worry had begun to tell on her. a little easier time this year would mean better fitness for the necessarily hard year of teaching that was to follow, without the interval of rest that rachel counted upon. emily's mother was dead now, and her father made no effort to help his ambitious daughter. she might have had a place in the woolen mills, where he worked years before, he argued; since she had not taken it, she must look out for herself. but with the serious side of life was mixed, for betty and the rest, plenty of gaiety. -- might not be greatly missed after they had gone out into the wide, wide world, but while they stayed at harding everybody seemed bent on treating them royally. "you know this is the last fall you'll have here," polly eastman would say, pleading with betty to come for a drive. "there's no such beautiful autumn foliage near cleveland." or, "you must come to our house dance," babbie hildreth would declare. "just think how few harding dances there are left for us to go to!" even the most commonplace events, such as reading aloud in the parlors after dinner, going down to cuyler's for an ice, or canoeing in paradise at sunset took on a new interest. seniors who had felt themselves superior to the material joys of fudge-parties and scorned the crudities of amateur plays and "girl-dances," eagerly accepted invitations to either sort of festivity. "and the moral of that, as our dear departed mary brooks would say," declared katherine, "is: blessings brighten as diplomas come on apace. between trying not to miss any fun and doing my best to distinguish myself in the scholarly pursuits that my soul loves, i am well nigh distraught. don't mind my shakespearean english, please. i'm on the senior play committee, and i recite shakespeare in my sleep." dearest of all festivities to the harding girl is mountain day, and there were all sorts of schemes afoot among --'s members for making their last mountain day the best of the four they had enjoyed so much. horseback riding was the prevailing fad at harding that fall, and every girl who could sit in a saddle was making frantic efforts to get a horse for an all-day ride among the hills. betty was a beginner, but she had been persuaded to join a large party that included eleanor, christy, madeline, nita, and the b's. they were going to take a man to look after the horses, and they had planned their ride so that the less experienced equestrians could have a long rest after luncheon, and taking a cross-cut through the woods, could join the others, who would leave the picnic-place earlier and make a long detour, so as to have their gallop out in peace. it was a sunny, sultry indian summer day,--a perfect day to ride, drive or walk, or just to sit outdoors in the sunshine, as roberta lewis announced her intention of doing. she helped the horseback riders to adjust their little packages of luncheon, and looked longingly after them, as they went cantering down the street, waving noisy farewells to their friends. "i wish i weren't such a coward," she confided to helen adams, who was starting to join rachel and katherine for a long walk. "i love horses, but i should die of fright if i tried to ride one." "oh, they have a man with them," said helen easily, "and it's a perfect day for a ride." roberta, who almost lived outdoors, and was weatherwise in consequence, looked critically at the western horizon. "i shouldn't be a bit surprised if it rained before night," she said. "you'd better decide to laze around in paradise with me." but helen only laughed at roberta's caution and went on, whereat roberta lewis was very nearly the only harding girl who was not drenched to the skin before mountain day was over. the riding-party galloped through the town and stopped at the edge of the meadows for consultation. "let's go by the bridge and come back by the ferry," suggested madeline. "then we shall have the prettiest part of the ride saved for sunset." "and you'll have a better road both ways, miss," put in the groom practically. so the party crossed the long toll-bridge, the horses stepping hesitatingly and curveting a little at the swish of the noisy water, climbed the sunny hills beyond, and dipped down to a level stretch of wood, in the heart of which they chose a picnic-ground by the side of a merry little brook. "we must have a fire," announced bob, who had fallen behind the procession, and now came up at the trot, just as the others were dismounting. "but we haven't anything to cook," objected eleanor. "coffee," grinned bob jubilantly. "i've got folding cups stuffed around under my sweater, and i stopped at that farmhouse back by the fork in the road to get a pail." "and there are marshmallows to toast," added babe. "that's what i've got in my sweater." "i thought you two young ladies had grown awful stout on a sudden," chuckled the groom, beginning to pile up twigs under an overhanging ledge of rock. "and here are some perfectly elegant mushrooms," declared madeline, who had been poking about among the fallen leaves. "we can use the pail for those first, and have the coffee with dessert." all the girls had brought sandwiches, stuffed eggs, cakes, and fruit, so that, with the extras, the picnic was "truly elegant," as babe put it. they sang songs while they waited for the coffee to boil, and toasted babe's marshmallows, two at a time, on forked sticks, voting babe a trump to have thought of them. then they lay on the green turf by the brook, talking softly to the babbling accompaniment of its music. finally eleanor shivered and sat up. "where is the sun?" she asked. "oughtn't we to be starting?" [illustration: "here are some perfectly elegant mushrooms"] the sky was not dark or threatening, only a bit gray and dull. the groom was to stay with the novices--christy, babe and betty--who, as soon as the rest had mounted, raced down the road to get warm and also to return the pail that bob had borrowed, to its owner. by the time they got back, after making a short call on the farmer's wife, the sun was struggling out again, but the next minute big drops began to patter down through the leaves. the groom considered the situation. "i guess you'll jest have to wait and git wet. miss hildreth's horse is skittish on ferries. i wouldn't wanter go on with you an' leave her to cross alone." so they waited, keeping as dry as possible under a pine tree, until the time appointed for starting to the rendezvous. it was raining steadily now. babe's horse objected to getting wet, and pulled on the reins sullenly. the sky was fairly black. altogether it was an uncomfortable situation. the road to the river was damp and slippery, and most of it was a steep down-grade. there was nothing to do but walk the horses, babe's dancing sidewise in a fashion most upsetting to betty's nerves. by the time they had reached the ferry, darkness seemed to have settled, and there were low growlings of thunder. babe's horse reared, and she dismounted and stood at his head while they waited for the ferry to cross to them. "i guess there's goin' to be a bad shower," volunteered the groom. "i guess we'd better wait over in that barn till it's over. animals don't like lightning." the ferry seemed to crawl across the river, but it arrived at last, and each girl led her horse on board. they were all frightened, but nobody showed the "white feather." babe's cheeks were pale, though, as she patted her restive mount, and laughed bravely at madeline's futile efforts to feed sugar to her tall "black beauty," who jerked his nose impatiently out of her reach each time she tried. "beauty must be awfully upset if he doesn't want sugar," said babbie, who was standing next the groom. "he's the greed----" the next minute betty found herself holding her own and the groom's horse, while he plunged after babbie's, who was snorting and kicking right into the midst of everything. it had lightened, and between the lightning and the water babbie's high-spirited mare was frantic, and was fast communicating her excitement to the others. a minute later there was a tremendous jolt which set all the horses to jumping. "i swan," said the apathetic ferryman who had paid no attention to the previous confusion. "we're aground." the girls looked at one another through the gathering shadows. "how are we going to get off?" asked the groom desperately. the ferryman considered. "i dunno." babbie's horse plunged again. "can we wade to shore?" asked the groom, when something like order was restored. "easy. you see i knew the river was awful low, but i s'posed----" "the only thing that i can think of," interrupted the groom, "is for us to leave you girls with the horses, while we get to shore. then you send 'em off one by one, and we'll catch 'em. miss hildreth, you send yours first. no, miss wales, you send mine first, then miss hildreth's may follow better. i'm awfully sorry to make you young ladies so much trouble." "oh, it doesn't matter," said babbie bravely, shaking the water out of her eyes. "only--do hurry, please." the "easy wading" proved to be through water up to a man's shoulders, and it lightened twice, with the usual consequences to babbie's horse, before the groom signaled. his horse went off easily enough, but babbie's balked and then reared, and betty's lay down first and then kicked viciously, when she and babbie between them had succeeded in getting him to stand up. finally madeline broke her crop in getting him over the side, and when black beauty had also been sent ashore the ferry lurched a little and floated. "do you suppose we shall ever get dry again?" asked eleanor lightly, while they waited for the ferryman to come back to them. babbie touched her black coat gingerly. "am i wet?" she whispered to betty. "of course i am, but i'd forgotten it." the reins had cut one of her hands through her heavy glove, but she had forgotten that too, as she shivered and clung to the railing that black beauty had splintered when he went over. all she could think of was the horror of riding that plunging, foam-flecked horse home. the ferryman took them to his house, which was the nearest one to the landing; and while he and the groom rubbed down the horses, his wife and little daughter made more coffee for the girls and helped them wring out their dripping clothes. babe pretended to find vast enjoyment in watching the water trickle off her skirts and gaiters. christy, who rode bare-headed, declared that she had gotten a beautiful shampoo free of charge. even babbie smiled faintly and called attention to the "mountain tarn" splashing about in the brim of her tri-corn hat. "i tell ye, them girls air game," declared the ferryman watching them ride off as soon as the storm was over. "that little slim one on the bay mare is a corker. her horse cut up somethin' awful. they all offered to change with her, but she said she guessed she could manage. look at the way she sets an' pulls. she's got grit all right. i guess i'll have to make out to have you go to college, annie." whereupon little annie spent a rapturous evening dreaming of the time when she should be a harding girl, and be able to say bright, funny things like miss ayres. she resolved to wear her hair like miss watson and to have a pleasant manner like miss wales, and above all to be "gritty" like miss hildreth. for the present evening the fiercest steed she could find to subdue was an arithmetic lesson. annie hated arithmetic, but in the guise of a plunging bay mare, that it took grit to ride, she rather enjoyed forcing the difficult problems to come out right. meanwhile the riding party had reached the campus, a little later and a little wetter than most of their friends, and they were provided with hot baths and hot drinks, and put to bed, where they lay in sleepy comfort enjoying the feeling of being heroines. very soon after dinner betty got tired of being a heroine, and when georgia ames appeared and announced that a lot of freshmen were making fudge in her room and wished betty would come and have some and tell them all about her experiences, she looked anxiously at helen adams, who was the only person in the room just then. "it's awfully good fudge--got marshmallows in it, and nuts," urged georgia. "they want miss adams too." "can i come in a kimono?" asked betty. "i'm too tired to dress." "of course. only----" georgia hesitated. "there's a man in the parlor, calling on polly eastman. and the folding doors are stuck open. i wish my room wasn't down on that floor. you have to be so careful of your appearance." betty frowned. "i want awfully to come. can't you two think of a way?" "why of course," cried georgia gleefully, after a moment's consideration. "we'll hold a screen around you. the man will know that something queer is inside it, but he can't see what." so the procession started, helen and georgia carrying the screen. at the top of the last flight, they adjusted it around betty, and began slowly to make the descent. at the curve georgia looked down into the hall and stopped, in consternation. "they've moved out into the hall," she whispered. "no--this is lucile merrifield and another man. we've got to go right past them." "let's go back," whispered betty. "but they've seen us," objected helen, "and you'd miss the fudge." a moment later, three girls and a japanese screen fell through georgia's door into the midst of an amazed freshmen fudge party. "goodness," said georgia, when she had recovered her breath. "did you hear that horrid lucile? 'a regular freshman trick'--that's what she said to her man. they blame everything on us." "well if this fudge is regular freshman fudge, it's the best i ever tasted," said little helen adams tactfully. later in the evening betty trailed her red kimono into helen's room. "helen," she began, "did i have on my pearl pin when we started down-stairs to-night? i can't find it anywhere." "i don't think you did," said helen, thoughtfully, "but i'll go and see. you might have dropped it off when we all landed in a heap on the floor." but the freshmen had not found the pin and diligent search of georgia's room, as well as of the halls and stairways, failed to reveal it. "oh, well, i suppose it will turn up," said betty easily. "i lost it once last year, and ages afterward i found it in my desk. i shan't worry yet awhile. i didn't have it on this morning, did i?" this time helen remembered positively. "no, you had on your lucky pin--the silver four-leaved clover that i like so much. i noticed particularly." "all right then," said betty. "i saw it last night, so it must be about somewhere. some day when i'm not so lame from riding and so sleepy, i'll have a grand hunt for it." chapter v the return of mary brooks all through the fall mary brooks's "little friends" had been hoping for a visit from her, and begging her to come soon, before the fine weather was over. now she was really and truly coming. roberta had had the letter of course, by virtue of being mary's most faithful satellite; but it was meant for them all. "the conquering heroine is coming," mary wrote. "she will arrive at four on monday, and you'd better, some of you, meet the train, because there's going to be a spread along, and the turkey weighs a ton. don't plan any doings for me. i've been to a dance or a dinner every night for two weeks and i'm already sick of being a busy bud, though i've only been one for a month--not to mention having had the gayest kind of a time all summer. so you see i'm coming to harding to rest and recuperate, and to watch you children play at being seniors. i know how busy you are, and what a bore it is to have company, but i shall just take care of myself. only get me a room at rachel's little house around the corner, and i won't be a bit of trouble to anybody." "consider the touching modesty of that now!" exclaimed katherine. "as if we weren't all pining for a sight of her. and can't you just taste the spread she'll bring?" "we must make her have it the very night she gets here," said betty practically. "there's a lot going on next week, and as soon as people find out that she's here they'll just pounce on her for all sorts of things." "i hereby pounce upon her for our house dance," announced babbie hildreth hastily. "isn't it jolly that it comes this week? i had a presentiment that i'd better save one of my invitations." "you needn't have bothered," said babe enviously. "i guess there'll always be room for mary brooks at a westcott house dance--as long as -- stays anyway." "don't quarrel, children," madeline intervened. "your dance is on wednesday. is there anything for tuesday?" "a psychology lecture," returned helen adams promptly. "cut it out," laughed katherine. "mary isn't coming up here to go to psychology lectures." "but she does want to go to it," declared roberta, suddenly waking up to the subject in hand. "i thought it was queer myself, but she speaks about it particularly in her letter. let me see--oh, here it is, in the postscript. it's by a friend of dr. hinsdale, she says; and somebody must have written her about it and offered her a ticket, because she says she's already invited and so for us not to bother. did you write her, helen?" "no," said helen, "i didn't. the lecture wasn't announced until yesterday. there was a special meeting of the philosophical club to arrange about it." "it's queer," mused katherine. "mary was always rather keen on psychology----" "on the psychology of dr. hinsdale you mean," amended madeline flippantly. "but that doesn't explain her inside information about this lecture. we'll ask her how she knew--that's the quickest way to find out. now let's go on with our schedule. what's thursday?" "the french club play," explained roberta. "i think she'd like that, don't you?" madeline nodded. "easily. it's going to be awfully clever this time. then that leaves only friday. let's drive out to smuggler's notch in the afternoon and have supper at mrs. noble's." "oh, yes," agreed betty. "that will make such a perfectly lovely end-up to the week. and of course we shall all want to take her to cuyler's and holmes's. may i have her for tuesday breakfast? i haven't any class until eleven, so we can eat in peace." "then i'll take lunch on tuesday," put in katherine hastily, "because i am as poor as poverty at present, and a one o'clock luncheon preceded by a breakfast ending at eleven appeals to my lean pocketbook." "i should like to take her driving that afternoon," put in babbie. "you may, if you'll take me to sit in the middle and do the driving," said bob, "and let's all have dinner at cuyler's that night--a grand affair, you know, ordered before hand, at a private table with a screen around it, and a big bunch of roses for a centre piece. old girls like that sort of thing. it makes them feel important." "with or without food?" demanded madeline sarcastically, but no one paid any attention to her, in the excitement of bidding for the remaining divisions of mary's week. all the chapin house girls and the three b's met her at the station and "ohed" and "ahed" in a fashion that would have been disconcerting to anybody who was unfamiliar with the easy manners of harding girls, at the elegance of her new blue velvet suit and the long plumes that curled above her stylishly dressed hair, and at the general air of "worldly and bud-like wisdom," as katherine called it, that pervaded her small person. they had not finished admiring her when her trunk appeared. "will you look at that, girls!" cried katherine, feigning to be quite overpowered by its huge size. "mary brooks, whatever do you expect to do with a trousseau like that in this simple little academic village?" mary only smiled placidly. "don't be silly, k. some of the spread is in there. besides, i want to be comfortable while i'm here, and this autumn weather is so uncertain. who's going to have first go at carrying the turkey?" "i've got a runabout waiting," explained babbie. "i'm going to drive him up. there'll be room for you too, mary, and for some of the others." the seat of a runabout can be made to hold four, on a pinch, and there is still standing-room for several other adaptable persons. the rest of the party walked, and the little house around the corner was soon the scene of a boisterous reunion. mary's conversation was as abundant and amusing as ever, and she did not show any signs of the weariness that her letter had made so much of. "that's because i have acquired a society manner," she announced proudly. "i conceal my real emotions under a mask of sparkling gaiety." "you can't conceal things from us that way," declared katherine. "how under the sun did you hear about that psychology lecture?" "why, a man i know told me," explained mary innocently. "he's also a friend of the lecturer. we were at dinner together one night last week, and he knew i was a harding-ite, and happened to mention it. any objections?" "and you really want to go?" demanded madeline. "of course," retorted mary severely. "i always welcome every opportunity to improve my mind." but to the elaborate plans that had been made for her entertainment mary offered a vigorous protest. "my dears," she declared, "i should be worn to a frazzle if i did all that. didn't i tell you that i'd come up to rest? i'll have breakfast with anybody who can wait till i'm ready to get up, and we'll have one dinner all together. but it's really too cold to drive back from smuggler's notch after dark, and besides you know i never cared much for long drives. but we'll have the spread to-night, anyway, just as you planned, because it's going to be such a full week, and i wouldn't for the world have any of you miss anything on my account." "and you don't care about the french play?" asked roberta, who had moved heaven and earth to get her a good seat. "no, dear," answered mary sweetly. "my french is hopelessly rusty." "then i should think you'd go in for improving it," suggested babe. "there's not enough of it to improve," mary retorted calmly. "well, you will go to our house-dance, won't you?" begged babbie. "oh, you must," seconded bob. "i've told piles of people you were coming." "we shall die of disappointment if you don't," added babe feelingly. mary laughed good-naturedly. "all right," she conceded, "i'll come. only be sure to get me lots of dances with freshmen. then i can amuse myself by making them think i'm one, also, and i shan't be bored." on the way back to the campus the girls discussed mary's amazing attitude toward the pleasures of college life. "she must be awfully used up," said roberta, solemnly. "why, she used to be crazy about plays and dances and 'eats.'" "no use in coming up at all," grumbled katherine, "if she's only going to lie around and sleep." "she doesn't look one bit tired," declared betty, "and she seems glad to be back, only she doesn't want to do anything. it's certainly queer." "she must be either sick or in love," said madeline. "nothing else will account for it." "then i think she's in love," declared little helen adams sedately. "she has a happy look in her eyes." "bosh!" jeered bob. "mary isn't the sentimental kind. i'll bet she feels different after the spread." but though the spread was quite the grandest that had ever been seen at harding, and though mary seemed to enjoy it quite as heartily as her guests, who had conscientiously starved on campus fare for the week before it, it failed to arouse in her the proper enthusiasm for college functions. on tuesday "after partaking of a light but elegant noontide repast on me," as katherine put it, mary declared her intention of taking a nap, and went to her room. but half an hour later, when babbie tiptoed up to ask if she really meant to waste a glorious afternoon sleeping, and to put the runabout at her service, the room was empty, and mary turned up again barely in time for the grand dinner at cuyler's. "we were scared to death for fear you'd forgotten us," said madeline, helping her off with her wraps. "where have you been all this time?" "why, dressing," explained mary, wearing her most innocent expression. "it takes ages to get into this gown, but it's my best, and i wanted to do honor to your very grand function." "that dress was lying on your bed when i stopped for you exactly fifteen minutes ago," declared bob triumphantly. "so you'll have to think of another likely tale." mary smiled her "beamish" smile. "well, i came just after you'd gone and isn't fourteen minutes to waste on dressing an age? if you mean where was i before that, why my nap wasn't a success, so i went walking, and it was so lovely that i couldn't bear to come in. these hills are perfectly fascinating after the city." "you little fraud," cried madeline. "you hate walking, and you can't see scenery----" "as witness the nestle," put in katherine. "so please tell us who he is," finished madeline calmly. "the very idea of coming back to see us and then going off fussing with winsted men!" babe's tone was solemnly reproachful. but mary was equal to the situation. "i haven't seen a winsted man since i came," she declared. "i was going to tell you who was with me this afternoon, but i shan't now, because you've all been so excessively mean and suspicious." a waitress appeared, and mary's expression grew suddenly ecstatic. "do i see creamed chicken?" she cried. "girls, i dreamed about cuyler's creamed chicken every night last week. i was so afraid you wouldn't have it!" her appreciation of the dinner was so delightfully whole-hearted that even roberta forgave her everything, down to her absurd enthusiasm over a ponderous psychology lecture and the very dull reception that followed it. at the latter, to be sure, mary acted exactly like her old self, for she sat in a corner and monopolized dr. hinsdale for half an hour by the clock, while her little friends, to quote katherine kittredge, "champed their bits" in their impatience to capture her and escape to more congenial regions. the next night at the westcott house dance mary was again her gay and sportive self. if she was bored, she concealed it admirably, and that in spite of the fact that her little scheme of playing freshman seemed doomed to failure. mary had walked out of chapel that morning with the front row, and, even without the enormous bunch of violets which none of her senior friends would confess to having sent her, she was not a figure to pass unnoticed. so most of the freshmen on her card recognized her at once, and the few who did not stoutly refused to be taken in by her innocent references to "our class." she had the last dance but one with the sour-faced miss butts, who never recognized any one; but mary did not know that, and being rather tired she swiftly waltzed her around the hall a few times and then suggested that they watch the dance out from the gallery. "what class are you?" asked miss butts, when they were established there. "my card doesn't say." "doesn't it?" said mary idly, watching the kaleidoscope of gay colors moving dizzily about beneath her. "then suppose you guess." miss butts considered ponderously. "you aren't a freshman," she said finally, "nor a sophomore." "how are you so sure of that?" asked mary. "i was just going to say----" "you're a junior," announced miss butts, calmly disregarding the interruption. mary shook her head. "senior, then." mary shook her head again. "i didn't think you looked old enough for that," said miss butts. "then i was mistaken and you're a sophomore." "no," said mary firmly. miss butts stared. "freshman?" "no," said mary, who considered the befooling of miss butts beneath her. "i graduated last year." "oh, i don't believe that: i believe you're a freshman after all," declared miss butts. "you started to say you were a few minutes ago." "no, i graduated last june," repeated mary, a trifle sharply. "here's miss hildreth coming for my next dance. you can ask her. i'm her guest this evening. didn't i graduate last year, babbie?" babbie stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. then she remembered mary's plan. "why, you naughty little freshman!" she cried reprovingly. "have you been telling her that?" miss butts looked dazedly from the amused and reproachful babbie to mary, whose expression was properly cowed and repentant. "are you really a freshman?" she asked. "why, i don't believe you are. i--i don't know what to believe!" mary smiled at her radiantly. "never mind," she said, "you'll know the truth some day. next fall at about this time i'll invite you to dinner, and then you'll know all about me. now good-bye." babbie regarded this speech as merely mary's convenient little way of getting rid of the stupid miss butts, who for her part promptly forgot all about it. but mary remembered, and she declared that the sight of miss butts's face on the occasion of that dinner-party, with all its rather remarkable accessories, was worth many evenings of boredom at "girl dances." it was not until friday, that mary's "little friends" caught her red-handed, in an escapade that explained everything from the size of her trunk to the puzzling insouciance of her manner. they all, and particularly roberta, had begun to feel a little hurt as the days went by and mary indulged in many mysterious absences and made unconvincing excuses for refusing invitations that, as katherine kittredge said, were enough to turn the head of a crown-princess. friday, the day that had been reserved for the expedition to smuggler's notch, dawned crisp and clear, and some girls who had had dinner at mrs. noble's farm the night before brought back glowing reports of the venison her brother had sent her from maine, and the roaring log fire that she built for them in the fireplace of her new dining-room. so roberta and madeline hurried over before chapel to ask mary to reconsider. but she was firm in her refusal. she had waked with a headache. besides, she had letters to write and calls to make on her faculty friends and the people she knew in town. the embassy returned, disconsolate, and reported its failure. "it's just a shame," said eleanor. "we've been saving that trip all the fall, so that mary could go." "let's just go without her," suggested katherine rebelliously. "there can't be many more nice days." but betty shook her head. "we don't want to hurt her feelings. she's a dear, even if she does act queerly this week. besides, every one of us but roberta and madeline has that written lesson in english to-morrow, and we ought to study. i'm scared to death over it." "so am i," agreed katherine sadly. "i suppose we'd better wait." "but we can go walking," said madeline to roberta, and roberta, more hurt than any of the rest by her idol's strange conduct, silently assented. they were scuffling gaily through the fallen leaves on an unfrequented road through the woods, when they heard a carriage coming swiftly up behind them and turned to see--of all persons--mary brooks, who hated driving, and dr. hinsdale. mary was talking gaily and looked quite reconciled to her fate, and dr. hinsdale was leaving the horses very much to themselves in the pleasant absorption of watching mary's face. indeed so interested were the pair in each other that they almost passed the two astonished girls standing by the roadside, without recognizing them at all. but just as she whirled past, mary saw them, and leaned back to wave her hand and smile her "beamish" smile at the unwitting discoverers of her secret. it was dusk and nearly dinner time before dr. hinsdale drew his horses up in front of the house around the corner, but mary's "little friends" gave up dressing, without a qualm, and even risked missing their soup to sit, lined up in an accusing row on her bed and her window-box, ready to greet her when she stumbled into her dark room and lit her gas. "oh, girls! what a start you gave me!" she cried, suddenly perceiving her visitors. "i suppose you think i'm perfectly horrid," she went on hastily, "but truly i couldn't help it. when a faculty asks you to go driving, you can't tell him that you hate it--and i couldn't for the life of me scrape up a previous engagement." "speaking of engagements"--began madeline provokingly. "all's fair in love, mary," katherine broke in. "you're perfectly excusable. we all think so." "who said anything about love?" demanded mary, stooping to brush an imaginary speck of dust from her skirt. "next time," advised rachel laughingly, "you'd better take us into your confidence. you've given yourself a lot of unnecessary bother, and us quite a little worry, though we don't mind that now." "why didn't you tell us that he spent the summer at the same place that you did?" asked little helen adams. mary started. "who told you that?" she demanded anxiously. "nobody but lucile," explained betty in soothing tones. "she visited there for a week, and this afternoon just by chance she happened to speak of seeing him. it fitted in beautifully, you see. she doesn't know you were there too, so it's all right." mary gave a relieved little sigh, and then, turning suddenly, fell upon the row of pitiless inquisitors, embracing as many as possible and smiling benignly at the rest. "oh, girls, he's a dear," she said. "he's worth twenty of the gilded youths you meet out in society." she drew back hastily. "but we're only good friends," she declared. "he's been down a few times to spend sunday--that was how i heard about the lecture--but he comes to see father as much as to see me--and--and you mustn't gossip." "we won't," katherine promised for them all. "you can trust us. we always seem to have a faculty romance or two on our hands. we're getting used to it." "but it's not a romance," wailed mary. "he took me walking and driving because mother asks him to dinner. we're nothing but jolly good friends." "nothing but jolly good friends--" that was the last thing mary said when, late the next afternoon, her "little friends" waved her off for home. "isn't she just about the last person you'd select for a professor's wife?" said helen, as mary's stylish little figure, poised on the rear platform of the train, swung out of sight around a curve. "no, indeed she isn't," declared roberta loyally. "she'll be a fine one. she's awfully clever, only she makes people think she isn't, because she knows how to put on her clothes." "and it's one mission of the modern college girl," announced madeline oracularly, "to show the people aforesaid that the two things can go together. let's go to smuggler's notch monday to celebrate." chapter vi helen adams's mission the particular mission that madeline had discovered for the modern college girl was one that helen chase adams would never probably do much to fulfil. but helen had a mission of her own--the mission of being queer. sometimes she hated it, sometimes she laughed at it, always it seemed to her a very humble one, but she honestly tried to live up to its responsibilities and to make the most of the opportunities it offered. the loneliness of helen's freshman year had made an indelible impression on her. even now that she was a prominent senior, an "argus" editor, and a valued member of dramatic club, she never seemed to herself to "belong" to things as the other girls did. she was still an outsider. an unexplainable something held her aloof from the easy familiarities of the life around her, and made it inevitable that she should be, as she had been from the first, an observer rather than an actor in the drama of college life. and from her vantage point of observation she saw many strange things, and made her own little queer deductions and comments upon them. on a certain gray and gloomy afternoon in november helen sat alone in the "argus" sanctum. she loved that sanctum--the big oak table strewn with books and magazines, the soft-toned oriental rugs, and the shimmering green curtains between which one could catch enchanting glimpses of paradise river and the sunsets. she liked it as much as she hated her own bare little room, where the few pretty things that she had served only to call attention to the many that she hadn't. but to-day she was not thinking about the room or the view. it was "make-up" day for the sketch department--helen's department of the "argus." in half an hour she must submit her copy to miss raymond for approval--not that the exact hour of the day was specified, but if she waited until nearer dinner-time or until evening miss raymond was very likely to be at home, and helen dreaded, while she enjoyed a personal interview with her divinity. curiously enough she was more than ever afraid of miss raymond since she had been chosen editor of the "argus." she was sure that miss raymond was responsible for her appointment, but she had never gotten up courage to thank her, and she was possessed by the fear that she was disappointing miss raymond in the performance of her official duties. so she preferred to find miss raymond's fascinating sitting-room vacant when she brought her copy, to drop it swiftly on the table nearest the door, and stopping only for one look at the enticing prospect of new books heaped on old mahogany, to flee precipitately like a thief in the night. the copy for this month was all ready. there was ruth howard's monologue, almost as funny to read as it had been in the telling, next, by way of contrast, a sad little story of neglected childhood by a junior who had never written anything good before, and a humorous essay on kittens by another junior that nobody had suspected of being literary. there was also a verse, or rather two verses; and it was these that caused the usually prompt and decisive helen to hesitate and even to dawdle, wasting a precious afternoon in a futile attempt to square her conscience and still do as she pleased about those verses. one of them was helen's own. it was good; miss raymond had said so with emphasis, and helen wanted it to go into the "argus." she had rather expected that jane drew would ask for it for the main department of the magazine; but she hadn't, and her copy had gone to miss raymond the day before. the other verses were also stamped with miss raymond's heartiest approval, and like the rest of the articles that helen had collected, they were the work of a "nobody." helen's vigorous unearthing of undiscovered talent was a joke with the "argus" staff, and her own great pride. but to-day she was not in a benevolent mood. she had refused all through the fall to have anything of her own in the "argus"; she did not believe in the editors printing their own work. but these verses were different; she loved them, she wanted people to see them and to know that they were hers. she had thought of consulting jane or marion lustig, who was editor-in-chief, but she knew beforehand what either of them would say. "put in your own verse, silly child! why didn't you say you'd like it used in the other department? we've got to blow our own horns if we want them blown. use the others next time--or give them back." but by next month there might be an embarrassment of good material, and as for giving them back, jane could do it easily enough, but helen, being queer, couldn't. for who knew how much getting into the "argus" might mean to that unknown other girl? helen had never so much as heard her name before, though she was a sophomore. she had a premonition that she was queer too, and lonely and unhappy. the verses were very sad, and somehow they sounded true. "perhaps she'll be an editor some day," helen sighed. "anyway i'll give her a chance." she put on her coat and gathered up her manuscripts, first folding her own verses and pushing them vindictively into the depths of her own particular drawer in the sanctum table. when she reached the davidson she noticed with relief that miss raymond's windows were dark. she was in time then. but when she knocked on the half-opened door she was taken aback to hear miss raymond's voice saying, "come in," out of the shadows. "oh, excuse me!" began helen in a frightened voice. "i've brought you the material for the sketch department. please don't bother about a light. i mustn't stay." but miss raymond went on lighting the lamp on her big table. as she stood for a moment full in the glare of it, helen noticed that she looked worn and tired. "i'm very sorry that i disturbed you," she said sadly. "you were resting." miss raymond shook her head. "not resting. thinking. do you like to think, miss adams?" "why--yes, i suppose so," answered helen doubtfully. "isn't that what college is supposed to teach us to do?" "i shouldn't like to guarantee that it would in all cases," said miss raymond smilingly. "has it taught you that?" "yes," said helen. "i don't mean to be conceited, miss raymond, but i think it has." "and you find it, as i do, rather a deadly delight," went on miss raymond, more to herself than to helen. "and sometimes you wish you had never learned. when people tell you sad things, you wish you needn't go over and over them, trying to better them, trying to reason out the whys and wherefores of them, trying to live yourself into the places of the people who have to endure them. and when they don't tell you, you have to piece them out for yourself just the same." miss raymond came sharply back to the present and held out her hand for helen's bundle of manuscript. helen gave it to her in puzzled silence, and watched her as she looked rapidly through it. "ruth howard?" she questioned, when she reached the signature of the monologue. "do i know her? oh, a freshman, is she? she sounds very promising. ellen lacey--yes, i remember that story. cora wentworth--oh, i'm very glad you've got something of hers. she needs encouragement. anne carter--oh, miss adams, how did you know?" "how did i know?" repeated helen in bewilderment. miss raymond looked at her keenly. "so you didn't know," she said. "it is a mere coincidence that you are going to print her verses." "i don't know anything about her," helen explained. "i heard you read the verses in your theme class last week. and at the close of the hour i asked you to let me have them and several other things. i used these first because i had all the prose i needed for this time." "i see," said miss raymond. "have you told her yet that you want them?" "no," said helen, guiltily. "i was going to write her a note as soon as i got home. i didn't suppose she would care." "i presume you noticed that they are very remarkable." helen blushed, thinking how she had hesitated between these and her own production, which she was sure could not be considered at all "remarkable." "i--well, i went mostly by what you said. i don't believe i am a good judge of poetry--of verses, i mean." "you needn't be afraid to call these verses poetry. but i don't blame you for not fully appreciating them. no girl ought to understand the tragedy of utter defeat, which is their theme." miss raymond paused, and helen wondered if she ought to go or stay. "miss adams," miss raymond went on again presently, "the author of those verses was in my room just before you came. she wanted to return a book that i lent her early in the term, by way of answering some question that she had brought up in my sophomore english class. she says that the book and the word of appreciation that went with it are the only kindness for which she has to thank harding college, and that i am the only person to whom she cares to say good-bye. i don't know why she should except me. i had quite forgotten her. i associated nothing whatever with the name on those verses until i looked at it again just now. i considered the tragic note in them merely as a literary triumph. i never thought of the girl behind the tragedy." she waited a moment. "she's going to leave college," she went on abruptly. "she says that a year and a half of it is a fair trial. i couldn't deny that. she says that she has made no friends, leaves without one regret or one happy memory. miss adams, would you be willing, instead of writing her a note, to tell her personally about this?" "why, certainly," said helen, "if you think she'd like it better." "yes, i am sure she would. you won't find her at all hard to get on with. she has a dreadful scar on one cheek, from a cut or a burn, that gives her face a queer one-sided look. i suspect that may be at the bottom of her unhappiness." on the way across the campus helen had an inspiration, which led her a little out of her way, to the house where jane drew, the literary editor of the "argus" lived. "i'm so relieved that my department is all made up," she told jane artfully, "that i feel like celebrating. won't you meet me at cuyler's for supper?" jane promised, a good deal surprised, for helen was not in the habit of asking her to supper at cuyler's; and helen, after arranging to meet her guest down-town, hurried on to the address that miss raymond had given her, one of the most desirable of the off-campus houses. miss carter was in, the maid said, and a moment later she appeared to speak for herself. she flushed with embarrassment when she saw helen, and her dreadful, disfiguring scar showed all the more plainly on her reddened cheek. "oh, i supposed it was the woman with my washing," she said. "i don't have many calls. you must excuse this messy shirt waist. please sit down." "won't you take me up to your room?" asked helen, trying to think how betty wales would have put the other girl at her ease. "we can talk so much better there." miss carter hesitated. "why, certainly, if you prefer. it's in great confusion. i'm packing, or getting ready to pack, rather," and she led the way up-stairs to a big room that, even in its half-dismantled condition, looked singularly attractive and quite different somehow from the regulation college room. "i have a dreadful confession to make," said helen gaily, when they were seated. "i've taken your verses for the 'argus.' i've already sent them in to miss raymond, and now i've come to ask if you are willing. i do hope you are." "why certainly," said miss carter quietly. "you are perfectly welcome to them of course. you needn't have taken the trouble to come away up here to ask." then she relapsed into silence. helen could not tell whether she was pleased or not. she had an uncomfortable feeling that she was being dismissed; but she did not go. never in her life had she worked so hard to make conversation as she did in the next ten minutes. the "argus," the new chapel rules, miss raymond and her theme classes, the sophomore elections,--none of them evoked a responsive chord in the strange girl who sat impassive, with no thought apparently of her social duties and responsibilities. "she must think i don't know how to take a hint," reflected helen, "but i don't care. i'm going to keep on trying." presently she noticed that from miss carter's window could be seen mrs. chapin's house and the windows of her and betty's old room. "that was where i lived when i first came to harding," she began awkwardly, pointing them out. then she looked at the girl opposite, read the misery in her big gray eyes, and opened her heart. betty wales, who had worked so hard to get at a little of the story of helen's freshman year would have been amazed at the confidences she poured out so freely to this stranger. indeed helen was surprised herself at the ease with which she spoke and the dramatic quality that she managed to put into her brief account of the awkward, misfit, unhappy freshman. miss carter listened at first apathetically, then with growing interest. "thank you," she said gravely, when helen had finished. "i thought i was the only one who felt so." "oh, no, you aren't," said helen brightly. "there are lots of others, i guess." "no one with a thing like this," said the girl, with a swift, passionate gesture toward her scar. "don't," said helen gently. "please don't think about it. no one else does, i'm sure." "i got it just before i came here," went on the girl, speaking almost fiercely. "it came in a horrible way, but it's horrible just of itself. i entered harding because i thought the college life--the girls and the good times and the work--would help me to forget it--or to get used to being so ugly." helen considered a moment in silence. "i guess we're even more alike than i thought," she said at last. "we both expected college to do it all for us, while we--just sat. but i can tell you--do you play basket-ball? anyhow you've seen it played. well, you've got to keep your eye on the ball, and then you've got to jump--hard. have you noticed that?" miss carter laughed happily at helen's whimsical comparison. "no," she said, "i've never been much interested in basket-ball. i'm afraid i've 'just sat' or jumped the wrong way." helen considered again, her small face wrinkled with the intensity of her thought. "you mean you've jumped away from the very things you were trying to get hold of," she said. "you've expected things to come to you. they won't. you've got to do your part. you've got to jump very often, and as if you meant it." the girl nodded. "i see." "you can do one thing right away," said helen briskly, rising and buttoning her coat. "do you know jane drew? well, she's an awfully clever senior and an editor. she's going to have dinner with me at cuyler's, and i'd like you to come too. you see one of the things you have jumped into already is being a star contributor to the 'argus,' and we always want to meet our star contributors." miss carter hesitated. "never mind your waist," helen urged tactfully. "it looks perfectly fresh to me, but you can keep your coat on if you'd rather." "all right, i'll come," said miss carter bravely. and having yielded, she kept to the spirit, as well as the letter, of her promise. jane, who was a very matter-of-fact young person, treated her with the same off-hand cordiality that she would have bestowed on any other chance acquaintance with interesting possibilities. the girls who stopped at the table to speak to jane or helen, smiled and nodded affably when they were introduced. some of them stared a little, at the unusual combination of two prominent seniors and an obscure underclassman, but miss carter did not flinch. after dinner, when jane had gone to speak to some friends at another table, she leaned forward toward her hostess. "i want to thank you," she said shyly, "for telling me about yourself and for bringing me here. do you know, i was going to leave college, but i'm not now. i'm going to stay on--and try jumping," she ended quickly as jane reappeared. so helen felt that her dinner had been a success, even though she should have to borrow largely from her next month's meagre allowance to pay for it. on her way through the campus she met miss raymond, hurrying to meet an important engagement. but she stopped to inquire about miss carter. "i knew you'd manage it," she said, when she had heard helen's brief story of her adventures. "you're a person of resources. that's why we wanted you on the 'argus' board." helen fairly danced the rest of the way to the belden. "perhaps i shan't be afraid of her next time," she thought. "i'd rather she'd say that than have sixty verses in the 'argus.' oh, what a selfish pig i was trying to be! i don't deserve to have it all come out so beautifully. and--oh, dear, i'm late for the meeting of the house play committee, and betty said it was awfully important." she found the committee in riotous and jubilant session in madeline's room. "three cheers for sara crewe!" shrieked polly eastman, when helen appeared. "goodness, i'm not sara," gasped helen. "oh, i mean the play, not the character," explained polly impatiently. "it's going to be simply great. what do you suppose we've got now, helen?" "i don't know," said helen, sitting down on the floor, since the bed and all the chairs were fully occupied. "well guess," commanded polly, tossing her a cushion. "a lot of turkish-looking things for mr. carrisford's study." "nonsense! we can get those all right when the time comes." "josephine boyd has learned her part." "then she's done a tall lot of work on it since last rehearsal," said polly serenely. "i'm sure i hope she has, but this is something any amount nicer." "then i give up." "well, it's a monkey," cried polly triumphantly, "a real live monkey that belongs to a hand-organ man in boston. the italian bootblack at the station knows him, and--did he promise fair and square to get them up here, lucile?" "fair and square," repeated lucile promptly. "i said we'd give him five dollars and his fare up from boston. it's well worth it. a cat would have been too absurd when everybody knows the story." "i hope sara won't mind carrying a live monkey across the stage," said betty. "i should be dreadfully afraid it would bite." "she ought to have thought of that when she took the part," said madeline. "she can't flunk now." "let's hurry it through and have the organ-man play for a dance afterward," suggested the ingenious georgia ames. "he'd surely throw that in for the five dollars." "better have him play between the acts too," put in somebody else. "there's nothing like getting your money's worth." "and we'll pay him all in pennies," added polly gleefully. "we can take turns handing them out to the monkey. how many pennies will there be in five dollars and a fare from boston, lucile?" helen listened to their gay banter, wondering, as many thoughtful people have wondered before her, at the light-hearted abandon of these other girls. "it must be fun to be like that," she reflected, "but i don't believe i should want to change places with any of them. they only see their own little piece of things, and they don't even know it's little,--like the man who didn't know anything about the forest he was walking through, because he got so interested in the trees. my tree is just a scraggly, crooked little sapling that won't ever amount to much, but i can see the whole big forest, and hear it talk, and that makes up. i'm glad i'm one of the kind that college teaches to think," ended helen happily. a moment later she made an addendum. "betty wales is a kind by herself," she decided. "she doesn't exactly think, but she knows. and she's really responsible for to-day. i wish i could tell her about it." chapter vii roberta "arrives" it was dress rehearsal night for the belden house play, and the hall in the students' building, where the big house-plays are performed was the scene of a tremendous bustle and excitement. the play was to be "sara crewe," or rather "the little princess," for that is the title of the regular stage version of mrs. burnett's story which the belden house was giving by the special permission of the princess herself. the pretty young actress who had "created" the part was a friend of madeline's father, and madeline, being on the committee to choose a play, declared that she was tired to death of seeing the girls do sheridan and goldsmith and the regulation sort of modern farce, and boldly wrote to the princess for permission to act her play, because it seemed so exactly suited to the capabilities of college girls. the princess had not only said yes, but she had declared that she should be very much interested in the success of the play, and when madeline, writing to thank her, had suggested that the belden house would be only too delighted if she came up to see their performance, she had accepted their invitation with enthusiasm. of course the committee and the cast were exceedingly flattered, but they were also exceedingly frightened and nervous, and even the glorious promise of a live monkey, with a hand-organ man thrown in, did not wholly reassure them. to-night everything seemed to be at sixes and sevens. though most of the committee had toiled over it all the afternoon, the stage resembled pandemonium rather than the schoolroom of miss minchen's select seminary, which was to be the scene of the first act. the committee were tired and, to speak frankly, cross, with the exception of madeline, who was provokingly cool and nonchalant, though she had worked harder than any one else. the cast were infected with that irresponsible hilarity that always attacks an amateur company at their last rehearsal. they danced about the stage, getting in the way of the committee, shrieking with laughter at their first glimpses of one another's costumes, and making flippant suggestions for all sorts of absurd and impossible improvements. meanwhile, regardless of the fact that the rehearsal ought to have begun half an hour before, the committee and mr. carrisford's three hindu servants were holding a solemn conclave at the back of the stage. the chef-d'oeuvre of their scenic effects was refusing to work; the bagdads that were to descend as if by hindu magic and cover the bare walls of sara's little attic bedroom when the good fairies, in the guise of the aforesaid servants, effected its transformation in the second act. there weren't enough of the draperies for one thing, and some of them wouldn't unroll quickly, while others threatened to tumble down on the servants' devoted heads. "well, we'll just have to let them go for to-night," said nita reese dejectedly at last. she was chairman of the committee. "to-morrow we'll fix them all up again, the way madeline says is right, and you three must come over and do that part of the scene again. is everybody ready?" "miss amelia minchen isn't," said betty, "she just came in carrying her costume." "then go and help her hurry into it," commanded nita peremptorily. "madeline, will you fix ram dass's turban? he's untwisted it again of course. georgie ames, line up the seminary girls and the carmichael children, and see whether any of their skirts are too long. take them down on the floor. everybody off the stage, please, but the scene-shifters." "oh, nita," cried polly eastman, who had just come in, rushing breathlessly up to the distracted chairman, "i'm so sorry to be late, but some people that i couldn't refuse asked me down-town to dinner. i ate and ran, really i did. and nita, what do you think----" "i'm much too tired to think," returned nita, wearily. "what's happened now?" "why, nothing has actually happened, only i was at the station this afternoon, and i asked the shoe-shine man about the monkey, and he hasn't heard, but he told the organ-man that the play began at half-past eight, and all the trains have been horribly late to-day, so if he should plan to get in on the eight-fifteen----" "have him telegraph that it begins at six," said nita, firmly. "go and see to it now." "why, i did tell him to," said polly, sighing at the prospect of going out again. "only he's so irresponsible that i think we ought to decide----" "go and stand over him while he telegraphs," said nita with finality. "we can't understudy a monkey. josephine boyd, come here and go through your long speech. i want to be sure that you get it right. it didn't make sense the way you said it yesterday." "oh, nita." it was lucile merrifield holding out a yellow envelope. nita clutched it frantically. "perhaps she's not coming. wouldn't i be relieved!" "it's not a telegram," explained lucile, gently, "only the proof of the programs that the printer has taken this opportune moment to send up. the boy says if you could look at it right off, why, he could wait and take it back. they want it the first thing in the morning." "give it to helen adams," said nita, turning back to josephine. "she can mark proof. go on josephine, i'm listening, and don't stop again for anybody." josephine, who was the father of the large and irrepressible carmichael family, had just finished declaiming her longest speech with praiseworthy regard for its meaning, when somebody called out, "ermengarde st. john isn't here yet." nita sank down in miss amelia minchen's armchair with a little moan of despair. "somebody go and get her," she said. "betty wales, you'd better go. you can dress people fastest." it seemed to betty, as she hurried down-stairs and over to the belden, that she had toiled along the same route, laden with screens, rugs and couch-covers, at least a hundred times that afternoon. she was tired and exasperated at this final hitch, and she burst into the room of the fat freshman who had ermengarde's part with scant ceremony. what was her amazement to find it quite empty. "oh, she can't have forgotten and gone off somewhere!" wailed betty. "why, every one was talking about the rehearsal at dinner time." the cast and committee included so many members of the house that it was almost depopulated, and none of the few girls whom betty could find knew anything about the missing ermengarde. "i must have passed her on the way here," betty decided at last, and rushed down-stairs again. as she went by the matron's door she almost ran into that lady, hurrying out. "oh, i beg your pardon, mrs. kent," she said. "you haven't seen ermengarde--that is, i mean janet kirk, have you?" "no, not yet," said mrs. kent briskly. "i only heard about it five minutes ago. i'm just getting ready now to go up and take the poor child some things she's sent for." "but she isn't in her room," said betty, bewildered but certain that mrs. kent's apparent affection for the irresponsible janet was very ill-bestowed. "of course not, my dear," returned mrs. kent, serenely. "she's at the infirmary with a badly sprained ankle. she'll have to keep off it for a month at least, the doctor says." [illustration: "oh, i beg your pardon"] "oh, mrs. kent!" wailed betty. "and she's ermengarde st. john in the house-play. what can we do?" mrs. kent shook her head helplessly. "you'll have to do without janet," she said. "that's certain. she was on her way home to dinner when she slipped on a piece of ice near the campus-gate. she lay there several minutes before any one saw her, and then luckily dr. trench came along and drove her straight to the infirmary. she fainted while they were bandaging her ankle." "i'm very sorry," said betty, her vision of a possible hasty recovery dispelled by the last sentence. after a moment's hesitation she decided not to go back to the students' building to consult nita. it would be better to bring some one over from the house to read the part for to-night. it was important, but luckily it wasn't very long, and somebody would have to learn it in time for the play the next evening. so she hurried up-stairs again and the first person she met was roberta lewis, marching down the corridor with a huge greek dictionary under her arm. "put that book down, roberta; and come over to the rehearsal," commanded betty. "ermengarde st. john has sprained her ankle, and gone to the infirmary and everybody's waiting." "you mean that you want me to go and get her?" asked roberta doubtfully. "because i think it would take two people to help her walk, if she's very lame. she's awfully fat, you know." "we want you to read janet's part," explained betty, "just for to-night, until the committee can find some one to take it." and she gave a little more explicit account of the state of affairs at the rehearsal. "yes, indeed, i'll be glad to," said roberta readily. she was secretly delighted to be furnished with an excuse for seeing the dress rehearsal. she had longed with all her soul to be appointed a member of the play-committee, but of course the house-president had not put her on; she was the last person, so the president thought, who would be useful there. and roberta could not screw her courage up to the point of trying for a place in the cast. so no one knew, since she had never told any one, that she thought acting the most interesting thing in the world and that she loved to act, in spite of the terrors of having an audience. but she had let slip her one chance--the offer of a part in mary's famous melodrama away back in her freshman year--and she had never had another. and now, because she was roberta lewis, proud and shy and dreadfully afraid of pushing in where she wasn't wanted, she did not think it necessary to mention to betty that she had borrowed a copy of the play from little ruth howard, who was sara, and that she had read it over until she knew almost every line of it by heart. of course the committee were thrown into a state bordering upon panic by the news of janet's accident, but madeline comfortingly reminded them that the worse the last rehearsal was, the better the play was sure to be; and there was certainly nothing to do now but go ahead. so they began to rehearse at last, almost an hour late, and the first act went off with great spirit, in spite of the handicap of a strange ermengarde, who had to read her part because she was ashamed to confess that she knew it already, and who was supposed not to be familiar with her "stage business." to be sure, she had not very much to do in this scene, but at the end everybody thanked her effusively and ruth howard declared that she never saw anybody who "caught on" so fast. "you ought to take the part to-morrow night," she said. "oh, oh!" roberta cautioned her, in alarm and embarrassment. "they're going to have polly eastman. i heard nita say so. besides, i wouldn't for anything." ermengarde's chance comes in the second act, where, half in pity and half in admiration for the queer little sara crewe, she comes up to make friends with her, and, finding to her horror that sara is actually hungry, decides to bring her "spread" up to sara's attic. there, later, the terrible miss minchen finds her select pupils gathered, and wrathfully puts an end to their merry-making. at the opening of this scene the attic was supposed to be lighted by one small candle, and consequently the stage was very dim. "i don't believe roberta can manage with that light," whispered nita to betty who was standing with her in one of the wings. "don't let's change unless we have to," betty whispered back. "you know we wanted to get the effect of miss minchen's curl papers and night-cap. why, nita, roberta hasn't any book. she's saying her part right off." "no!" nita was incredulous. "why, betty wales, she is, and she's doing it splendidly, fifty per cent, better than janet did." sure enough roberta, becoming engrossed in the play, had forgotten to conceal her unwarranted knowledge of it. she realized what she had done when a burst of applause greeted her exit, and actors and committee alike forgot the proprieties of a last rehearsal to make a united assault upon her. "roberta lewis," cried betty accusingly, "why didn't you tell me that you knew ermengarde's part?" "oh, i don't know it," protested roberta. "i only know snatches of it here and there. polly can learn it in no time." "she won't have the chance," said nita decisively. "you must take it, roberta. why didn't you tell people that you could act like that?" "i shall have stage-fright and spoil everything," declared roberta forlornly. "nonsense," said nita. "you'd be ashamed to do anything of the kind." "yes," agreed roberta solemnly, "i should." whereupon everybody laughed, and nita hugged roberta and assured her that there was no way out of it. "somebody go and get janet's costume," she ordered, "and any one who has a spare minute can be fitting it over. we shall have to have an extra rehearsal to-morrow of the parts where ermengarde comes in. go on now, sara. use lucile's muff for the monkey." when at last act three was finished it was ten o'clock and nita gave a sigh of utter exhaustion. "if madeline's rule holds," she said, "this play ought to go like clockwork to-morrow." and it did, despite the rather dubious tone of the chairman's prophecy. the princess arrived duly just after luncheon, and everybody except the cast, who would do their share later, helped to entertain her. this was not difficult. she wasn't a college girl, she explained, and she had never known many of them. she just wanted to hear them talk, see their rooms, and if it wasn't too much trouble she should enjoy looking on at a game of--what was it they played so much at harding? basket-ball, somebody prompted. yes, that was it. the sophomore teams which had just been chosen were proud to play a game for her, and they even suggested, fired by her responsive enthusiasm, that they should teach her to play too. "i should love it," she said, "if somebody would lend me one of those becoming suits. but i mustn't." she sighed. "the newspapers would be sure to get hold of it. besides they're giving a tea for me at the belden. it begins in five minutes. doesn't time just fly at harding?" the monkey also arrived in good season, whether thanks to or in spite of polly's exertions was not clear, since his master spoke no english and not even madeline could understand his italian. the bagdads worked beautifully. the new ermengarde was letter-perfect, and nobody but herself had any fear that she would be stage-struck, even though the princess would be sitting in the very middle of the fourth row. janet's name was still on the program, for roberta had sternly insisted that it shouldn't be crossed out; and as neither of the two ermengardes was very well known to the college in general, only a few people noticed the change. but the part made a hit. "isn't she just like some little girl who used to go to school with you--that funny, stupid ermengarde?" one girl would say to another. "they're all natural, but she's absolutely perfect." "sara's a dear," said the princess, "but i want to talk to ermengarde. mayn't i go behind? we actor people always like to do that, you know." so she was escorted behind the scenes, and it was the proudest moment of roberta's life when the princess, having asked particularly for her, said all sorts of nice things about her "real talent" and "artistic methods." "that settles it, roberta," said betty, who was behind the scenes in her capacity of chief dressing-maid and first assistant to the make-up man. "you've got to try for senior dramatics." "do you really think i could get a part?" asked roberta coolly. "i think you might," said betty, amazed beyond words by roberta's ready acquiescence. "you probably won't get anything big," she added cautiously. "there are such a lot of people in our class who can act. but the girls say that the only way to get a small part is to try for a big one. don't you remember how mary brooks tried for the hero and the heroine and the villain and then was proud as a peacock to be a page and say two lines, and dr. brooks and her mother and two aunts and six cousins came to see her do it." "dear me," said roberta in frightened tones, "do you suppose my father and my cousin will feel obliged to come?" "i don't know," laughed betty, "but i feel obliged to remind you that the third act of sara crewe is on and you belong out there where you can hear your cue." "i hope roberta won't be disappointed about getting a part in the senior play," betty confided to madeline, as they parted afterward in the belden house hall. "she did awfully well to-night, but i think she takes it too seriously. she doesn't realize what tremendous competition there is for the parts in our plays, nor what lots of practice some of the girls have had." "oh, i wouldn't worry," said madeline easily. "if she doesn't get anything, she'll have to do without. she'll have plenty of company. she probably won't try when the time comes." "yes," said betty, "she will, and she's so sensitive that she'll hate terribly to fail. so, as i started her on her mad career as an actress, i feel responsible." "you always feel responsible for something," laughed madeline. "while you're in the business why don't you remember that you're responsible for a nice little slice of to-night's performance. miss ferris says it's the best house-play she's seen." "i know. isn't it just splendid?" sighed betty rapturously. "and isn't the princess a dear? but madeline, you haven't any idea how my feet ache." chapter viii the greatest toy-shop on earth "no," said betty, "i haven't found it, and now i'm almost sure i shan't, because nita's lost hers." "what has nita lost?" asked madeline from her nest of pillows. it was the evening after the play, and the belden house felt justified in taking life easily. "she lost her head last night," chuckled madeline, without waiting for betty's answer. "did you hear her imploring the organ-man in her most classic english not to let me take the monkey out in front to show to the president? as if i really would!" "you've done just as crazy things in your time, dear," retorted katherine kittredge, who had come over to borrow one of betty's notebooks and had found the atmosphere of elegant leisure that pervaded the room irresistible. "do you really think so?" asked madeline amiably. "well, before we go into that i want to know what else nita has lost." "why, a pin," explained betty,--"that lovely one with the amethyst in the centre and the ring of little pearls in a quaint old setting. it used to be her great-grandmother's. mine wasn't much to lose, and i felt sure until to-day that it would turn up, but it hasn't, and now i'm afraid it was really stolen." "have you looked all through that?" asked madeline, pointing to the miscellaneous assortment of books, papers, dance-cards and bric-a-brac that littered betty's small desk to the point of positive inundation. betty assented with dignity. "and i haven't had time since to put it back in the pigeon-holes. when nita told me about her pin, i got worried about mine--mother gave it to me and i couldn't bear to lose it for good--so i went through my desk and all my drawers and it was sweeping-day, so i asked belden house annie to look too. it's not here." "is nita sure hers was stolen?" asked katherine. betty nodded. "as sure as she can be without actually seeing it taken. she left it on her cushion yesterday when she came down to luncheon, and when she got back from physics lab, it was gone." "what a shame!" said madeline. "she ought to tell mrs. kent right away. i should strongly suspect the new table-girl." "oh, but she's a cousin of belden house annie's," explained betty, "and i'm sure annie would look after her. we all know that she's as honest as the day herself, and all the other maids have been here for years and years." "it's queer," said katherine, "if it was an outsider--a more or less professional thief, i mean--that he or she should come to this house twice, several weeks apart, and each time take so little. if it was a college girl now----" "oh, don't, katherine," begged betty. "i can't bear to think that any harding girl would do such a thing. i'd ten times rather never know who it was than to find it was that way." just then the b's appeared airily attired in kimonos concealed under rain-coats, and laden with a huge pan of marshmallow fudge, which they had made, they explained, in honor of roberta's successful début. "what are you all looking so solemn about?" demanded bob, when babbie had gone in search of roberta. betty told her, and babe and bob exchanged glances. "it's not necessarily any one in this house who's responsible, i guess," said babe. "babbie's lost a valuable pin too, and geraldine burdett has lost a ring. oh, about two weeks ago gerry's was taken, and babbie's before that. they've been keeping dark and trying to get up a clue, but they can't. they'll be all off when they hear about these other robberies." "there was one awfully queer thing about babbie's thief," put in bob. "her little gold-linked purse was on the chiffonier right beside her pin and it wasn't touched, though it was just stuffed with bills. that makes them afraid it was some girl who's awfully fond of jewelry and can't afford any." "it isn't right to leave our lovely things around so, is it?" said betty seriously. "it's just putting temptation in the way of poor girls." "exactly," agreed madeline. "we go off for hours, never locking up anything, leaving our money and other valuables in plain sight, and if we do miss anything we can't be sure it's stolen and we don't have time to investigate for weeks after. it's a positive invitation to dishonesty." "but it's such a nuisance to lock up," complained babe, "and if i hide things i can't ever find them again, so i might as well not bother." "i haven't any golden baubles," said bob, "but i'm going to keep my money in 'love's labor lost.' you'll find it there if you ever want to borrow." "'much ado about nothing' would be the most appropriate place for mine," laughed katherine, "so i choose that. you probably won't find any if you want to borrow." "but seriously, girls, let's all be more careful," advised betty, "and let's ask other people to be. think how perfectly awful it is to make chances for girls to forget themselves. but i shan't believe it's a harding girl," she added decisively. "it would be perfectly easy for any dishonest young woman to go through the houses without being questioned. perhaps she got frightened and didn't notice babbie's money on that account or didn't have time to snatch up anything but the pin." just then babbie appeared, bringing roberta and rachel morrison who had met them in the hall, and in the general attack upon the fudge pan more serious issues were forgotten. it was now the busiest, gayest part of the long fall term. flying fast on the heels of the house play came thanksgiving day. "and just to think of it!" wailed bob. "only two days vacation this year, and miss stuart and the president dropping the most awful hints about what will happen if you cut over. nobody can go home. i hope the faculty will all eat too much and have horrible attacks of indigestion." "well, we may as well have as much fun as we can out of it," said babbie philosophically. "i've written home for a spread; so we shan't die of hunger." "mrs. kent says she's going to give us the best thanksgiving dinner we ever ate," announced betty cheerfully. "i hope our matron will be seized with the same lofty ambition," said katherine. "if she is, and if the skating holds, i shan't mind staying here." "weren't you going to stay anyway?" asked helen adams. "being a resident of the remote village of kankakee, illinois, and not having been urged to visit any of my eastern friends, i was," admitted katherine, solemnly, "but that doesn't make it any the nicer to have to work all day saturday." the skating did last, and the man at the rink, being taken in hand by the b's, sympathized heartily with their wrongs, and promised them a three days' ice carnival, which meant search-lights, bonfires and a big band on the ice every evening. there is nothing in the world more exhilarating than skating to good music. the rink was thronged with harding girls and winsted men, and the proprietor could not easily regard himself as a bona fide philanthropist. the paper-chase, to get up an appetite on thanksgiving morning, was katherine kittredge's idea and the basket-ball game in the afternoon between the thanksgiving dinners and the training tables was too fantastic to have originated with any one but madeline ayres. georgia ames, dressed as a huge turkey gobbler, captained the thanksgiving dinners, who were gotten up as bunches of celery and mounds of cranberry jelly. the captain of the training table simulated a big bottle labeled "pure spring water," and the members of her team were tastefully trimmed with slices of dry bread. being somewhat less spectacular than their rivals, they were a little more agile and they won the game, which was so funny that it sent two of the faculty into hysterics. "and that's almost as bad as indigestion," said babe, who was a bunch of celery. at least she had been one until she came into collision with the water bottle and lost most of her trimmings. it was really the thanksgiving game that precipitated the plans for the senior entertainment for the library fund. the fire the year before had not only damaged the library considerably, but it had brought its shortcomings and the absurdly small number of its volumes, compared with the rapidly increasing number of the girls who used them, to the attention of the public. somebody had offered fifty thousand dollars for a library fund provided the college raised an equal amount. the alumnæ were trying to get the money, and because they had helped the undergraduates with their beloved students' building, they wanted the undergraduates to help them now. on the very evening of the game marie howard, the senior president, caught madeline on the way to babbie's spread and laid the matter before her. "the alums want us to subscribe to the fund," she explained, "and then they think each class ought to give an entertainment. not a bit nervy, are they? well, of course -- has got to take the lead, and i've fairly racked my brains to think what we can do. now it's no trouble to you to have lovely, comical ideas, and if you'll only help me out with this entertainment, i'll be your friend for life." "why don't you appoint a committee to take charge of it?" inquired madeline, serenely. marie gave her a mournful look. "i suppose you think i haven't tried. the girls are all willing to help, but they insist upon having the idea to start with. i know you hate committees, madeline, and i'm not asking you to be on one--" "you'd better not," interpolated madeline, darkly, remembering the drudgery she had submitted to to make the belden house play a success. "just think up the idea," marie went on, persuasively, "and i'll make a committee do the rest. i don't care what we have, so long as it's new and taking--the sort of thing that you always seem to have in your head. that's what we want. plays and lectures are too commonplace." "marie," said madeline, laughingly, "you talk as if ideas were cabbages and my head was a large garden. i can't produce ideas to order any more than the rest of you can. but if i should think of anything, i'll let you know." "thank you," said marie, sweetly, and went back to her room, where she gave vent to some forcible remarks about the "exasperatingness" of clever people who won't let themselves be pinned down to anything. it was betty wales who, dancing into madeline's room the next afternoon, gave, not madeline, but eleanor watson,--who had been having tea with madeline and listening to her absurd version of marie's request,--an inspiration. "i wish it wasn't babyish to like toys," she sighed. "i've been down-town with bob, and they've opened a big toy-shop in the store next cuyler's, just for the holidays, i suppose. bob got a teddy bear, and i bought this box of fascinating little japanese tops for my baby sister. they're all like different kinds of fruit and you spin them like pennies, without a string. i just love toy-stores." "so do i. so does everybody," said madeline, oracularly, clearing a place on the polished tea-table and emptying out the miniature tops. "they renew your youth. let's get all these things to spinning at once, betty." "why don't you have a toy-shop for your senior entertainment?" asked eleanor, watching the two absorbed faces. "how do you mean?" asked madeline, absently, trying to make the purple plum she was manipulating stay upright longer than betty's peach. "why, with live toys, something on the plan of the circus that you and mary got up away back in sophomore year," explained eleanor. "i should think you might work it up beautifully." madeline stared at her for a moment, her eyes half-closed. "eleanor," she declared at last, "you're a genius. we could. i can fairly see my friends turning into toys. you and betty and the rest of the class beauties are french dolls of course. helen adams would make a perfect jumping-jack--she naturally jerks along just like one." "and bob can be a jack-in-the-box," cried betty eagerly, getting madeline's idea. "or a monkey that climbs a rope," suggested eleanor. "don't you think babe would pop out of a box better?" "and that fat miss austin will be just the thing for a top," put in madeline. "we can ask five cents for a turn at making her spin." and madeline twirled the purple plum vigorously, in joyous anticipation of taking a turn at miss austin. "then there could be a counter of stuffed animals," suggested eleanor, "with emily davis to show them off." "easily," agreed madeline, "and a noah's ark, if we want it, and a punch and judy show. oh, there's no end to the things we can have! let's go over and tell marie about it before dinner." "you and betty go," objected eleanor. "i really haven't time." "nonsense," said madeline firmly. "it's long after five now, and--eleanor watson, are you trying to crawl out of your responsibilities? it was you that thought of this affair, remember." "please don't try to drag me in," begged eleanor. "i'll be a doll, if you like, or anything else that you can see me turning into. but marie didn't ask me to suggest, and she might feel embarrassed and obliged to ask me to be on the committee, and--please don't try to drag me in, madeline." madeline looked at her keenly, for a moment. "eleanor watson," she began sternly, "you're thinking about last fall. don't you know that that stupid girl didn't stand for anybody but her own stupid self?" "she was in the right," said eleanor simply. "not wholly," objected madeline, "and if she was this isn't a parallel case. in making you toastmistress -- was supposed to be doing you an honor. you're doing her a favor now, and a good big one." "and if we tell marie about the toy-shop, we shall tell her that you thought of it," put in betty firmly. "and we shall also say that you hate committee meetings as much as i do," put in madeline artfully, "but that we are both willing to help in any way that we can with ideas and costumes." eleanor looked pleadingly from one to the other. "we won't give in," declared betty, "so it's no use to make eyes at us like that." "either we suppress the whole idea and -- goes begging for another, or it stands as yours," said madeline in adamant tones. "well, then, of course," began eleanor slowly at last. "of course," laughed betty, jumping up to hug her. "i knew you'd see it sensibly in a minute. come on, madeline. we haven't any time to lose." "do you remember what she was like two years ago, betty?" asked madeline thoughtfully when eleanor had left them, persisting that she really had an engagement before dinner. "i even remember what she was like three years ago," laughed betty happily. "fancy her giving up a chance like this then!" mused madeline. "fancy her contributing ideas to the public good and trying to escape taking the credit for them. why, betty, she's a different person." "i'm so glad you're friends now," said betty, squeezing madeline's arm lovingly. "that's so," madeline reflected. "we weren't two years ago. i used to hate her wire-pulling so. and now i suppose i'm pulling wires for her myself. well, i'm going to be careful not to pull any of them down on her head this time. i say, betty, wouldn't the blunderbuss make a superb jack-in-the-box? i'm sure everybody would appreciate the symbolic effect when she popped, and perhaps we could manage to smother her by mistake between times." the toy-shop took "like hot-cakes," to borrow bob's pet comparison. everybody told madeline that it was just like her, and madeline assured everybody gaily that she had always known she was misunderstood and that anyhow eleanor watson was responsible for the toy-shop. having spent the better part of a day in spreading this information madeline rushed off to new york on a vague and mysterious errand that had something to do with sub-letting the apartment on washington square. * * * * * "i remembered after i got down here," she wrote betty a week later, "that i couldn't eat my solitary christmas dinner in the flat if i let it. besides my prospective tenants are bores, and bores never appreciate old furniture enough not to scratch it. but i'm staying on to oversee the fall cleaning, and we haven't had one for a good while, so it will take another week. i'm sorry not to be on hand for the toy-shop doings (don't you let them put it off, betty, or i can never make up my work), but i send a dialogue--no, it's for four persons--on local issues for the punch and judy puppets. if they can't read it, tell them to cultivate their imaginations. i'll print the title, 'the battle of the classes,' to give them a starter. "miss me a little, "madeline. "p. s. how are the wires working?" if eleanor suspected any hidden motive behind madeline's sudden departure she had no way of confirming her theory, and when betty escorted the entertainment committee, all of whom happened to be splendid workers but without a spark of originality among them, to eleanor's room, and declaring sadly that she couldn't remember half the features of the toy-shop that they had discussed together, claimed eleanor's half-promise of help, why there was nothing for eleanor to do but redeem it. nothing at least that the new eleanor watson cared to do. it was plain enough that the committee wanted her suggestions, and what other people might think of her motive for helping them really mattered very little in comparison with the success of --'s entertainment. thus the new eleanor watson argued, and then she went to work. "the wires are all right so far," betty wrote madeline. "the girls are all lovely, and they'd better be. eleanor has arranged the dearest play for the dolls, all about a mad old german doll-maker who has a shop full of automatons and practices magic to try to bring them to life. some village girls come in and one changes clothes with a doll and he thinks he's succeeded. eleanor saw it somewhere, but she had to change it all around. "alice waite wanted the dolls to give ibsen's 'doll's house.' she didn't know what it was about of course, or who wrote it. she just went by the name. the other classes have got hold of the joke and guy us to death. "you'd better come back and have some of the fun. besides, nobody can think how to make a costume for the mock-turtle. it's roberta, and it's going to dance with the gryphon for the animal counter's side-show. eleanor thought of that too." but madeline telegraphed roberta laconically: "gray carpet paper shell, mark scales shoe-blacking, lace together sides," and continued to sojourn in washington square. late in the afternoon of the toy-shop's grand opening she appeared in the door of the gymnasium and stood there a moment staring at the curious spectacle within. the curtain was just going down on the dolls' pantomime, and the audience was applauding and hurrying off to make the rounds of the other attractions before dinner time. in clarion tones that made themselves heard above the din emily davis was advertising an auction of her animals, beginning with "one perfectly good baa-lamb." "hear him baa," cried emily, "and you'll forget that his legs are wobbly." "this way to the punch and judy," shouted barbara gordon hoarsely through a megaphone. "give the children a season of refined and educating amusement. libretto by our most talented satirist. don't miss it." "hello, madeline," cried lucile merrifield, spying the new arrival. "when did you get back? come and see the puppets with me. they say your show is great." "it all looks good to me," said madeline, "but--is there a top to spin?" lucile laughed and nodded. "that fat miss austin has taken in two dollars already at five cents a spin. she says she used to love making cheeses, and that she hasn't had such a good time since she grew up." "that's where i want to go first," said madeline decisively; but on her way to the tops the doll counter beguiled her. "betty wales," she declared, "when you curl in your lips and stare straight ahead you look just like the only doll i ever wanted. i saw her in a window on fifth avenue, and the one time in my life that i ever cried was when daddy wouldn't buy her for me. where's eleanor?" "i don't know," said betty happily. "she was here a minute ago playing for the dolls' pantomime. but she's all right. everybody has been thanking her and praising the pantomime, and she's so pleased about it all. she told me that she had felt all this year as if everybody was pointing her out as a disgrace to the class and the college, and that she was beginning to think that her whole life was spoiled. and now--" "why, madeline ayres," cried katherine kittredge hurrying up to them, her hair disheveled and her hands very black indeed. "i'm awfully glad you've come. there's a class meeting to-morrow to decide on the senior play and i want--" "you want tidying up," laughed madeline. "what in the world have you been doing?" "being half of a woolly lamb," explained katherine. "the other half couldn't come back this evening, so emily has been selling us--or it, whichever you please--at auction. now listen, madeline. you don't know anything about this play business." madeline had heard katherine's argument, spun miss austin, and seen the "alice in wonderland" animals dance before she found eleanor, and by that time an interview with jean eastman had prepared her for the hurt look in eleanor's eyes and the little quiver in her voice, as she welcomed madeline back to harding. jean was one of the few seniors who had had no active part in the toy-shop. "so i'm patronizing everything regardless," she exclaimed, sauntering up to madeline and holding out a bag of fudge. "it's a decided hit, isn't it? polly says the other classes are in despair at the idea of getting up anything that will take half as well." "it's certainly a lovely show," said madeline, trying the fudge. "and a big feather in eleanor watson's cap," added jean carelessly. "she always was the cleverest thing. i'd a lot rather be chairman of the play committee, or even a member of it, for that matter, than toastmistress. i suppose you know that there's a class-meeting to-morrow." "have you said that to eleanor?" asked madeline coldly. "oh, i gave her my congratulations on her prospects," said jean with a shrug. "we're old friends, you know. we understand each other perfectly." madeline's eyes flashed. "it won't be the least use to tell you so," she said, "but lobbying for office is not the chief occupation of humanity as you seem to think. neither eleanor watson nor any of her friends has thought anything about her being put on the play committee. i made the mistake once of supposing that our class as a whole was capable of appreciating the stand she's taken, and i shan't be likely to forget that i was wrong. but this affair was entirely her idea, and she deserves the credit for it." "oh, indeed," said jean quickly. "i suppose you didn't send telegrams--" but madeline, her face white with anger was half way across the big hall. jean watched her tumultuous progress with a meaning smile. "well, i've fixed that little game," she reflected. "if they did intend to put her up, they won't dare to now. they'll be afraid of seeing me do the blunderbuss's act with variations. she'd have been elected fast enough, after this, and there isn't a girl in the class who could do half as well on that committee. but as for having her and that insufferable little betty wales on, when i shall be left off, i simply couldn't stand it." madeline found betty taking off her doll's dress by dim candle-light, which she hoped would escape the eagle eye of the night-watchman. "i've come to tell you that the wires are all down again," she began, and went on to tell the story of jean's carefully timed insinuations. "i almost believe that the blunderbuss was the tool of the hill crowd," she said angrily. "at any rate they used her while she served, and now they're ready to take a hand themselves." betty stared at her in solemn silence. "what an awful lot it costs to lose your reputation," she said sadly. "and it costs a good deal to be everybody's guardian angel, doesn't it, dearie?" madeline said affectionately. "i oughtn't to have bothered you, but i seem to have made a dreadful mess of things so far." "oh, no, you haven't," betty assured her. "eleanor knows how queer jean is, and what horrid things she says about people who won't follow her lead. none of that crowd would help about the toy-shop except kate denise, but every one else has been fine. and i know they haven't thought that eleanor was trying to get anything out of them." madeline sighed mournfully. "in bohemia people don't think that sort of thing," she said. "it complicates life so to have to consider it always. good-night, betty." "good-night," returned betty cheerfully. "don't forget that the senior 'merry hearts' have a tea-drinking to-morrow." "i'm not likely to," laughed madeline. "every one of them that i've seen has mentioned it. they're all agog with curiosity." "they'll be more so with joy, when i've told them the news," declared betty, holding her candle high above her head to light madeline through the hall. "dear me! i wish there could be a class without officers and committees and editors and commencement plays," she told the green lizard a little later. "those things make such a lot of worry and hard feeling. but then i suppose it wouldn't be much of a class, if it wasn't worth worrying about. and anyway it's almost vacation." chapter ix a wedding and a visit to bohemia betty and madeline went to their class meeting on the following afternoon very much as a trembling freshman goes to her first midyears, but nothing disastrous happened. "i fancy that jean has taken more than eleanor and me into her confidence," madeline whispered. besides, the blunderbuss was in her place, her placid but unyielding presence offering an effectual reminder to the girls who had been admiring eleanor's executive ability and resourcefulness that it would be safer not to mention her name in connection with the play committee. but before that was elected the preliminary committee, which, to quote katherine kittredge, had been hunting down the masterpieces of willy shakespeare ever since the middle of junior year, made its report. the members had not been able to agree unanimously on a play, so the chairman read the majority's opinion, in favor of "as you like it," and then katherine kittredge explained the position of the minority, who wanted to be very ambitious indeed and try "the merchant of venice." there was a spirited debate between the two sets of partisans, after which, to katherine's infinite satisfaction, -- voted to give "the merchant of venice" at its commencement. then the committee to manage the play was chosen, and betty wales was the only person who was much surprised when she was unanimously elected to the post of costume member. "i on that committee!" she exclaimed in dismay. "why, i don't know anything about shakespeare." "you will before you get through with this business," laughed barbara gordon, who had been made chairman. "the course begins to-morrow at two in my room. no cuts allowed." [illustration: "i do care about having friends like you," she said.] betty's pleasure in this unexpected honor was rather dampened by the fact that jean eastman had proposed her name, making it seem almost as if she were taking sides with eleanor's enemies. but madeline only laughed at what she called jean's neat little scheme for getting the last word. "ruth ford was all ready to nominate you," she said, "but jean dashed in ahead of her. she wanted to assure me that i hadn't silenced her for long." so betty gave herself up to the happy feeling of having shown herself worthy to be trusted with part of --'s most momentous undertaking. "i must write nan to-night," she said, "but i don't think i shall mention the costume part. she would think i was just as frivolous as ever, and barbara says that all the committee are expected to help with things in general." whereupon she remembered her tea-drinking, and hurried home to find most of the guests already assembled, and eleanor, who had not gone to the class meeting but who had heard all about it from the others, waiting on the stairs to congratulate her. "i don't care half as much about being on the committee as i do about having friends like you to say they're glad," declared betty, hugging eleanor because there were a great many things that she didn't know how to say to her. "yes, friends are what count," said eleanor earnestly, "and betty, i think i'm going to leave harding with a good many. at least i've made some new ones this week." and that was all the reference that was ever made to the way eleanor's oldest friend at harding had treated her. "well," said betty, when everybody had congratulated her and rachel, whose appointment on all --'s important committees had come to be a foregone conclusion, "i hope nita and rachel and k. won't be sorry they came. you three aren't so much mixed up in it as the rest of us, but i thought i'd ask you anyway." "do you mean that i can't have my usual three slices of lemon?" demanded katherine indignantly. "hush, material-minded one," admonished nita. "there's more than tea and lemon in this. there's a great secret. of course we shall be interested in it. fire away, betty." "and everybody stop watching the kettle," commanded babbie, who had taken it in charge, "and then perhaps it will begin to boil." "what i wanted to tell you," began betty, impressively, "is that miss hale is going to be married this vacation." "good for miss hale!" cried bob, throwing up a pillow. "did her sister get well?" "yes," said betty. "she was dreadfully ill all summer, and then she had to go away for a change. ethel wanted to wait until she was perfectly strong, because she had looked forward so to being maid-of-honor." "i think we ought to send miss hale a present," said babe, decisively. "madame president, please instruct the secretary---- why, we haven't any president now," ended babe in dismay. "let's elect betty," suggested nita. "she's too young for such a responsible position," objected bob. "it's only the dramatics committee that takes infants." "and besides, her hair curls," added madeline, reaching out to pull one of the offending ringlets. "curly-haired people don't deserve to be elected to offices." "let's have babe," suggested rachel. "she's older than her name, her hair has always been straight----" "except once," put in katherine, and everybody shrieked with laughter at the recollection of babe's one disastrous experience with a marcelle wave. "and then she looked like a wild woman of borneo," went on rachel, "so it shouldn't count against her. furthermore this society was organized to give her a chance." "all right," agreed nita. "i withdraw my nomination. babe, you're elected. instruct the secretary to cast a unanimous ballot for yourself." "very well," said babe with much dignity. "please do it, madeline, and then i appoint you and betty and eleanor to choose a present for miss hale. i was just going to say, when i interrupted myself to remark upon the extraordinary absence of a presiding officer"--babe coughed and dropped her presidential manner abruptly--"i was going to say that i'm all for a stuffed turtle, like those we got in nassau. i think a ripping big one would be the very thing." "babe!" said babbie scornfully. "imagine how a turtle would look among her wedding presents." "i think it would look stunning," persisted babe, "and it would be so appropriate from us." "don't be dictatorial, babe," advised rachel. "it isn't seemly in a president. perhaps your committee can think of something appropriate that won't be quite so startling as a turtle. when is the wedding, betty?" "the thirty-first of december at half-past eight," explained betty. "new year's eve--what a nice, poetical time," interposed babbie, thoughtfully. "i think that if i ever marry----" "hush, babbie," commanded nita. "you probably never will. do let betty finish her story." "well, it's to be a very small wedding," went on betty, hastily, "with no cards, but announcements, but ethel wrote me herself and she wants us all--the nassau ones, i mean--and mary brooks, to come." "jolly for miss hale!" cried bob, tossing up two pillows this time. "how perfectly dear of her!" said babbie. "the biggest turtle we can get won't be a bit too good for her," declared babe. "but where could we stay over night?" asked helen, the practical-minded. "you don't give me a chance to tell you the whole of anything," complained betty, sadly. "we're invited guests--specially invited, i mean, and it's all arranged where we are to stay. ethel is going to have her sister and four bridesmaids to walk with her, and she wants us girls to hold a laurel rope along the line of march of the wedding-party, as they go through the rooms." "jolly," began babe, but she was promptly suppressed by madeline, who tumbled her flat on her back and held her down with a pillow while she ordered betty to proceed. "i'll read you what else she says," went on betty, triumphantly producing miss hale's letter. "she says, 'there won't be many people to get in the way of the procession, but the aisle effect will be pretty, and besides i want my match-makers to have a part in the grand dénouement of all their efforts. will you ask the others and write mary brooks, whose address i don't know. my uncle's big house next door to us will have room for you all, and you must come in time for my bridesmaids' luncheon and a little dance, both on the thirtieth.' now isn't that splendid?" "perfectly splendid," echoed her auditors. "why, we shall be almost bridesmaids," said roberta lewis in awestruck tones. "does mary know?" betty nodded. "she hasn't had time to answer yet, but she can certainly go, as she lives so near ethel." "the only difficulty about our going," said babe, "is what to do with the few days between the wedding and the opening of college." "and that's easily settled," said madeline promptly. "miss hale lives just out of new york, doesn't she? well, you are all to come and stay in the flat with me. hasn't it just been beautifully cleaned? and aren't you all longing for a glimpse of bohemia?" that was the climax of the tea drinking. the merry match-makers spent the evening writing home to their parents for permission to go to the wedding and considering momentous problems of dress. for roberta's best evening-gown was lavender and babbie's was pink, and the question was how to distribute betty, babe and helen in white, bob in blue, eleanor in her favorite yellow, madeline in ecru, and mary in any one of a bewildering number of possible toilettes, so as to justify ethel's hope that the aisle would be ornamental as well as useful. how the days flew after that! for besides the wedding there were the luncheon and the dance to anticipate and plan for, as well as the unknown joys of bohemia, new york, not to mention the regular excitement of going home, the fun of tucking christmas presents into the corners of half-packed trunks, and the terrors of the written lesson that some inhuman member of the faculty always saves for the crowded last week of the term. on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth the merry match-makers met in new york. babbie had sent a sad little note to miss hale and a tearful one to betty to say that her mother, who was a good deal of an invalid, had "looked pretty blue over my running off early, and so of course i won't leave her;" and helen adams had decided that considering all the extra expenses of senior year she couldn't afford the trip to new york. so there were only seven "almost bridesmaids," as roberta called them, or "posts," which was bob's name for them, to fall upon one another as if they had been separated for years, instead of a week, say thank you for the presents that were each "just what i wanted," and exclaim excitedly over betty's new suit, mary's fur coat, and the sole-leather kit-bag that santa claus had brought roberta. "it's queer," said bob. "i feel as if i'd had one whole vacation already, and ought to be unpacking and digging on psychology and history . whereas in reality i'm just beginning on another whole vacation. it's like having two thanksgiving dinners in one year." "not quite like that, i hope," laughed eleanor, as they started off to inspect the wedding present, a beautiful pair of tall silver candlesticks. madeline had ransacked new york to find them, and every one but babe, who clung to her turtle as far superior to any "musty old antiques," thought them just odd and distinctive enough to please ethel's fastidious taste. and after that there was barely time to catch the train they had arranged to take out to ethel's home. interest in the bride and in their own part of the wedding ceremony had caused the "merry hearts" to forget dr. eaton, and they had never once considered that of course his college chum, john alison, would leave the railroad he was building in arizona and come east to be dr. eaton's best man. and it was mr. john alison who had "finished" georgia ames. he inquired for her at once and so did his brother tom, who was an usher, and who explained that he had been invited to keep john in order, and to intercede for him with the "posts." "and in return for my services as peacemaker," he said solemnly, "i expect to be treated with special consideration by everybody." subsequent events seemed to show that the special consideration referred to meant a chance to see as much as possible of betty wales. even more surprising to three of the posts was the presence of mr. richard blake in the wedding-party--richard blake, editor of "the quiver," and one-time lecturer at harding on the tendencies of modern drama. eleanor's face was a study when she recognized him, but before miss hale could begin any introductions madeline greeted him enthusiastically and got him into a corner, where they exchanged low-toned confidences for a moment. "i'm particularly glad to meet you again, miss watson," he said in a tone of unmistakable sincerity, when he was presented. "we had a jolly dinner together once, didn't we?" "dick's such an old dear," madeline whispered to betty half an hour later. "he confided to me just now that the first evening he saw eleanor he thought her the most fascinating girl he had ever met, and then he hastened to assure me that that had absolutely nothing to do with his deciding to keep dark about her story. i don't doubt him for a moment--dick perfectly detests cheating. but he can't make me believe that he's being nice to her now just on my account." there were plenty of other men at the wedding. "we're the only girls in the whole family," charlotte, ethel's younger sister explained, "and we have thirty own cousins, most of them grown-up." "was that one of the thirty that you were sitting on the stairs with at the dance?" inquired mary brooks sweetly. charlotte blushed and bob flew to her rescue. "we all know why mary isn't monopolizing any one," she said. "are you taking notes for future use, mary?" mary shrugged her shoulders loftily. "i scorn to answer such nonsense," she retorted. "i'm going to be an old maid and make matches for all my friends." "we'll come and be posts for you any time after commencement," babe assured her amiably. "did you know, girls, that mary can't stay over with madeline because her mother is giving a new year's dinner-party. who do you suppose will be there?" the wedding festivities were over at last. "it was all perfectly scrumptious," babe wrote babbie enthusiastically, "and i'm bringing you a little white satin slipper like those we had filled with puffed rice for luncheon favors, and a lovely pin that miss hale wants you to have just as if you had come. the nicest thing of all is that vacation isn't over yet. is it two weeks or two years since i saw you?" and next came bohemia. before they had quite reached washington square madeline tumbled her guests hastily off their car. "i forgot to tell mrs. mclean when to expect us," she explained. "she is our cook. so we'll hunt her up now and we might as well buy the luncheon as we go along." so first they found mrs. mclean, a placid old scotch woman who was not at all surprised when madeline announced that she was giving a house-party for five and had forgotten to mention it sooner. she had a delicious scotch burr and an irresistible way of standing in the dining-room door and saying, "come awa', my dears," when she had served a meal. like everything else connected with the ayres establishment, she was always there when you wanted her; between times she disappeared mysteriously, leaving the kitchen quite clear for madeline and her guests, and always turning up in time to wash the fudge-pan or the chafing-dishes. from mrs. mclean's they went down a dirty, narrow street, stopping at a number of funny, foreign-looking fruit and grocery shops, where they bought whatever anybody wanted. "though it doesn't matter what you have to eat," said roberta later, pouring cream into her coffee from an adorable little spanish jug, "as long as you have it on this lovely old china." they had their coffee in the studio, sitting around the open fire, and while they were drinking it people began to drop in--mr. blake, who roomed just across the square, a pretty, pale girl, who was evidently an artist because every one congratulated her on having some things "on the line" somewhere, three newspaper men from the flat above, who being on a morning daily had just gotten up and stopped in to say "happy new year" on their way down to park row, and a jolly little woman whom the others called mrs. bob. "she's promised to chaperon us," madeline explained to her guests. "she lives down-stairs, so we can't go in or out without falling into her terrible clutches." mrs. bob, who was in a corner playing with the little black kitten that seemed to belong with the house, like mrs. mclean, stopped long enough to ask if they had heard about the theatre party. they had not, so mr. blake explained that by a sudden change of bill at one of the theatres mr. sothern and miss marlowe were to give "the merchant of venice" that evening. "and i understand from miss watson that you people are particularly interested in that play," he added, "so i've corraled some tickets and mrs. bob and a bunch of men." "and the carletons will have an early dinner," put in mrs. bob. "oh, i forgot. you don't know about that either. mrs. carleton won't be back from the country until four o'clock, so she asked me to give you the invitation to have new year's dinner with them." "but did she know there were six of us?" asked betty anxiously, whereupon everybody laughed and mrs. bob assured her that mrs. carleton had mentioned seven to her, and hadn't seemed in the least worried. that was the way things went all through their visit. mrs. bob took them shopping, with frequent intermissions for cakes and tea at queer little tea-rooms, with alluring names like "the london muffin room," or the "yellow tea-pot." her husband escorted them to the east-side brass-shops, assuring them solemnly that it wasn't everybody he showed his best finds to, and mourning when their rapturous enthusiasm prevented his getting them a real bargain. the newspaper men gave a "breakfast-luncheon" for them--breakfast for themselves, and luncheon for their guests--which was so successful that it was continued that same evening by a visit to a russian puppet-show and supper in a chinese restaurant. the pretty artist sold one of her pictures and invited them to help her celebrate, just as if they were old friends, who knew how hard she had struggled and how often she hadn't had money enough to buy herself bread and butter, to say nothing of offering jam--in the shape of oysters on the half-shell and lobster newburg--to other people. it was all so gay and light-hearted and unexpected--the way things happened in bohemia. nobody hurried or worried, though everybody worked hard. it was just as madeline had told them, only more so. the girls said a sorrowful good-bye to mrs. bob, mrs. mclean and the little black kitten and journeyed back to harding sure that there never had been and never would be another such vacation for them. "how can there be?" said bob dejectedly. "at easter we shall all have to get clothes, and after that we shan't know a vacation from mid-year week." "which delightful function begins in exactly fourteen days," said katherine kittredge. "is there anybody here present whose notes on hegel have the appearance of making sense?" -- took its senior midyears gaily and quite as a matter of course, lectured its underclass friends on the evils of cramming, and kept up its spirits by going coasting with billy henderson, professor henderson's ten-year-old son, who had admired college girls ever since he found that bob parker could beat him at steering a double-runner. between times they bought up the town's supply of "the merchant of venice,"--"not to learn any part, you know, but because we're interested in our play," each purchaser explained to her friends. for there is no use in proclaiming your aspirations to be a portia or a shylock until you are sure that your dramatic talent is going to be appreciated. of course there were exceptions to this rule, but the girl who said at a campus dinner-table, "if i am portia, who is there tall enough for bassanio?" became a college proverb in favor of keeping your hopes to yourself, and everybody was secretly delighted when she decided that she "really didn't care" to be in the mob. chapter x trying for parts "teddie wilson has gone and got herself conditioned in psych.," announced bob parker, bouncing unceremoniously through betty's half-open door. "oh, bob!" betty's tone was fairly tragic. "does that mean that she can't try for a part in the play?" bob nodded. "cast-iron rule. and she'd have made a perfect gobbo, young or old, and a stunning gratiano. well, her being out of it will give k. a better chance." "but i'm sure katherine wouldn't want her chance to come this way," said betty sadly. "besides--oh, bob, have you looked at the bulletin-board this afternoon?" "babe did," said bob with a grin, "so you needn't worry yet, my child. ted says she ought to have expected it, because she'd cut a lot and let things go awfully,--depended on the--faculty--knowing--us--well--enough-- by--this--time--to--pass--over--any small--deficiencies, and all that sort of talk. and this just shows, she says, how well they do know her. she's awfully plucky about it, but she cares. i didn't suppose ted had it in her to care so about anything," declared bob solemnly. "but of course it's a lot to lose--the star comedy part that was going to be handed out to her by her admiring little classmates, who think that nobody can act like teddie. i wish i was as sure of a part in the mob." "what are you going to try for, bob?" asked betty sympathetically. bob blushed. "oh, i don't know," she said, with a fine assumption of indifference. "everybody says that you ought to begin at the top and then the grateful committee won't forget to throw you a crumb when they get to passing out the 'supers.'" bob paused and her air of unconcern dropped from her like a mask. "i say, betty, i do want my family to be proud of me for once. promise you won't laugh if i come up for bassanio." "of course i won't," said betty indignantly. "i'm sure you'll make love beautifully. do you know who's going to try for shylock?" "only jean eastman," said bob, "and christy and emily are thinking of it. i came up from down-town with jean just now. she thinks she's got a sure thing, though of course she isn't goose enough to say so. if kate denise gets portia, as everybody seems to think she will, it will be quite like freshman year, with the hill crowd on top all around. i think jean has been aiming for that, and i also think--you don't mind if i say it, betty?" "i haven't the least idea what you're going to say," laughed betty, "but i don't believe i shall mind." "well," said bob earnestly, "i think jean's counting on you to help her with her shylock deal." "i help her!" said betty in bewilderment. "how could i?" "what a little innocent you are, betty wales," declared bob. "have you forgotten that you are on the all-powerful play-committee, and that you five and miss kingston, head of the elocution department, practically decide upon the cast?" "oh!" said betty slowly. "but i can't see why jean should expect me to push her, of all people." "she'll remind you why," said bob, "or perhaps she expects me to do it for her. can't you honestly think of anything that she might make a handle of?" betty considered, struggling to recall her recent meetings with jean. "she has been extra-cordial lately," she said, "but she hasn't done anything in particular--oh, bob, i know what you mean. she expects me to help her because she nominated me for the committee." bob nodded. "as if fifty other people wouldn't have done it if she hadn't. i may be wrong, betty, but she had a lot to say all the way up from cuyler's about how glad she was that you were on the committee, how she felt you were the only one for the place and was glad the girls agreed with her, how hard she had talked you up beforehand, and so on,--all about her great and momentous efforts in your behalf. i told her that miss ferris said once that you had a perfect command of the art of dress and that every one knew you planned the costumes for the belden play and for the dramatic club's masque last spring, also that barbara gordon particularly wanted you on if she was chairman, so i didn't see that you needed any great amount of talking up. but she laughed her horrid, sarcastic little laugh and said she guessed i hadn't had much experience with class politics." betty's eyes flashed angrily. "and in return for what she did, she expects me to work for her, no matter whether or not i think she would make the best shylock. is that what you mean, bob?" "yes, but perhaps i was mistaken," said bob soothingly, "and any way i doubt if she ever says anything to you directly. she'll just drop judicious hints in the ears of your worldly friends, who can be trusted to appreciate the debt of gratitude you owe her." "bob." betty stared at her hard for a moment. "you don't think--oh, of course you don't! the parts in the play ought to go to the ones who can do them best and the committee ought not to think of anybody or anything but that." "and i know at least one committee woman who won't think of anybody or anything but that," declared bob loyally. "i only thought i'd tell you about jean so that, if she should say anything, you would be ready for her. now i must go and study bassanio," and bob departed murmuring, "'what find i here? fair portia's counterfeit?'" in tones so amorous that belden house annie, who was sweeping on the stairs, dropped her dust-pan with a clatter, declaring that she was "jist overcome, that she was!" "which was the only compliment my acting of bassanio ever got," bob told her sadly afterward. betty was still hot with indignation over bob's disclosures when roberta lewis knocked on the door. roberta was wrapped up in a fuzzy red bath-robe, a brown sweater and a pink crêpe shawl, and she looked the picture of shivering dejection. "what in the world is the matter?" demanded betty, emptying her history notebooks out of the easy-chair and tucking roberta in with a green and yellow afghan, which completed the variegated color scheme to perfection. "please don't bother about me," said roberta forlornly. "i'm going back in a minute. i've lost my wedding-pin--miss hale's wedding-pin--well, you know what i mean,--and caught a perfectly dreadful cold." "you don't think that your pin was stolen?" asked betty quickly. there had been no robberies in the college since christmas, and the girls were beginning to hope that the mysterious thief had been discouraged by their greater care in locking up their valuables, and had gone off in search of more lucrative territory. "yes, i do think so," said roberta. "i almost know it. you see i hadn't been wearing my pin. i only took it out to show polly eastman, because she hadn't happened to see one. then k. came and we went off to walk. i left the pin right on my dressing-table and now it's gone. but the queerest part is that georgia ames was in my room almost all the time, because hers was being swept, and before that she was in lucy mann's, with the door wide open into the hall, and my door open right opposite. and yet she never saw or heard anything. isn't it strange?" "she was probably busy talking and didn't notice," said betty. "people are everlastingly tramping through the halls, until you don't think anything about it. have you looked on the floor and in all your drawers? it's probably tumbled down somewhere and got caught in a crack under the dressing-table or the rug." "no, i've looked in all those places," said roberta with finality. "you know i haven't as many things to look through as you." "please don't be sarcastic," laughed betty, for roberta's belongings were all as trim and tailor-made as herself. "how did you get your cold?" "why k. and i got caught in a miserable little snow flurry," explained roberta, pulling the pink shawl closer, "and--i got my feet wet. my throat's horribly sore. it won't be well for a week, and i can't try for the play." roberta struggled out of the encumbering folds of the green afghan and trailed her other draperies swiftly to the window, whose familiar view she seemed to find intensely absorbing. "oh, yes, you can," said betty comfortingly. "why, your throat may be all right by to-morrow, and anyway it's only the portia and shylock trials that come then. were you going to try for either of those parts?" "yes," gulped roberta thickly. behind roberta's back betty was free to pucker her mouth into a funny little grimace that denoted amusement, surprise and sympathy, all together. "then i'll ask barbara gordon to give you a separate trial later," she said kindly. "nothing will be really decided to-morrow. we only make tentative selections to submit to mr. masters when he comes up next week. he's the professional coach, you know." but roberta turned back from the window to shake her head. "i wouldn't have you do that for anything," she said, brushing away the tears. "i'll try for something else if i get well in time. i'm going to bed now. will you please ask annie to bring up my dinner? and betty, don't ever say i meant to try for shylock. i don't know why i told you, except that you always understand." betty felt that she didn't quite understand this time, but she promised to tell annie and come in late herself to conduct another search for the missing pin. she had just succeeded in dismissing ted, jean and roberta from her mind and concentrating it on the next day's history lesson, when helen adams appeared. "helen," began betty solemnly, "if you've got any troubles connected with trying for parts in the play, please don't divulge them. i don't believe i can stand any more complications." "poor thing!" said helen compassionately. "i know how you feel from the times i have with the 'argus.' well, i shan't bother you about trying for a part. i should just love to act, but i can't and i know it. i only wanted to borrow some tea, and to tell you that anne carter has come to return my call. you know you said you'd like to meet her." so betty brushed her curls smooth and, stopping to pick up madeline on her way, went in to meet miss carter, whose shyness and silence melted rapidly before betty's tactful advances and madeline's appreciative references to her verses in the last "argus." while helen made the tea, miss carter amused them all with a droll account of her efforts to learn to play basket-ball, "because miss adams says it throws so much light on the philosophy of college life." "then you never played before you came here?" asked betty idly, stirring her tea. miss carter shook her head. "i prepared for college in a convent in canada. the sisters would have been horribly shocked at the idea of our tearing about in bloomers and throwing a ball just like the boys." "oh!" said betty, with a sudden flash of recognition. "then it was at the convent where you got the beautiful french accent that mademoiselle raves over. you're in my senior french class. i ought to have remembered you." "i'm glad you didn't," said miss carter bitterly, and then she flushed and apologized. "i'm so ugly that i'm always glad not to be remembered or noticed. but i didn't mean to say so, and i do hope you'll come to see me, both of you,--if seniors ever do come to see sophomores." the girls laughingly assured her that seniors did sometimes condescend so far, and she went off with a happy look in her great gray eyes. "we must have her in the 'merry hearts,'" said madeline. "she's our kind if she can only get over that morbid feeling about her scar." "but we must be very careful," helen warned them, with a vivid remembrance of her first interview with miss carter. "we mustn't ask her to join until most of us have been to see her and really made friends. she would just hate to feel that we pitied her." "we'll be careful," betty promised her. "i'll go to see her, for one, the very first of next week," and she skipped gaily off to dress for dinner. after all there were plenty of things in the world besides the class play with its unhappy tangle of rivalries and heartburnings. "and what's the use of borrowing trouble?" betty inquired the next evening of the green lizard. "if you do, you never borrow the right kind." jean, to be sure, had done a good deal to justify bob's theory. she had remembered an urgent message from home which must be delivered to polly immediately after luncheon, and she kept her innocent little cousin busily engaged in conversation in the lower hall of the belden house until betty appeared, having waited until the very last minute in the vain hope of avoiding jean. but when they opened the door there was barbara gordon, also bound for miss kingston's office, and much relieved to find that her committee were not all waiting indignantly for their chairman's tardy arrival. so whatever jean had meant to say to betty in private necessarily went unsaid. and then, after all her worriment, jean was the best shylock! "which is perfectly comical considering bob's suspicions," betty told the green lizard, the only confidant to whom she could trust the play committee's state-secrets. all the committee had been astonished at jean's success, and most of them were disappointed. christy or emily davis would have been so much pleasanter to work with, or even kitty lacy, whom miss kingston considered very talented. but emily was theatrical, except in funny parts, christy was lifeless, and kitty lacy had not taken the trouble to learn the lines properly and broke down at least once in every long speech, thereby justifying the popular inversion of her name to lazy kitty, a pseudonym which some college wag had fastened upon her early in her freshman year. "and because she's kitty, it isn't safe to give her another chance," said miss kingston regretfully, when the fifteen aspiring shylocks had played their parts and the committee were comparing opinions. "yes, i agree with barbara that jean eastman is by far the most promising candidate, but----" "but you don't think she's very good, now do you, miss kingston?" asked clara ellis, a rather lugubrious individual, who had been put on the committee because she was a "prod" in "english lit.," and not because she had the least bit of executive ability. miss kingston hesitated. "why no, clara, i don't. i'm afraid she won't work up well; she doesn't seem to take criticism very kindly. but it's too soon to judge of that. at present she certainly has a much better conception of the part than any of the others." "you don't think we've been too ambitious, do you, miss kingston?" asked barbara, anxiously. barbara knew jean well and the prospect of managing the play with her capricious, selfish temperament to be catered to at every turn was not a pleasant one. "i've thought so all along," put in clara ellis, decidedly, before miss kingston had had a chance to answer. "i think we ought to have made sure of a good shylock before we voted to give this play. it will be perfectly awful to make a fizzle of it, and everything depends on getting a good shylock, doesn't it, miss kingston?" "a great deal certainly depends on that," agreed miss kingston. "but it's much too early to decide that you can't get a good shylock." "why, who else is there?" demanded clara, dismally. "surely every possible and impossible person has tried to-day." nobody seemed ready to answer this argument, and betty, glancing at the doleful faces of her fellow-workers felt very much depressed until a new idea struck her. "miss kingston," she said, "there have been fifteen senior plays at harding, haven't there? and hasn't each one been better than any of those that came before it?" "so each class and its friends have thought," admitted miss kingston, smiling at betty's eagerness, "and in the main i think they have been right." "then," said betty, looking appealingly at clara and barbara, "i guess we can safely go on thinking that our play will be still better. -- is the biggest class that ever graduated here, and it's certainly one of the brightest." everybody laughed at this outburst of patriotism and the atmosphere brightened immediately, so betty felt that perhaps she was of some use on the committee even if she couldn't understand all clara's easy references to glosses and first folio readings, or compare booth's interpretation of shylock with irving's as glibly as rachel did. just then there was a smothered giggle outside the door and six lusty voices chanted, "by my troth, our little bodies are a-weary of these hard stairs," in recognition of which pathetic appeal the committee hastily dismissed the subject of shylock in order to hear what the impatient portias had to say. they did so well, and there was such a lively discussion about the respective merits of kate denise, babbie hildreth and nita reese that the downcast spirits, of the committee were fully restored, and they went home to dinner resolved not to lose heart again no matter what happened, which is the most sensible resolution that any senior play committee can make. when betty got home she found a note waiting for her on the hall table addressed in tom alison's sprawling hand and containing an invitation to yale commencement. "i'm asking you early," tom wrote, "so that you can plan for it, and be so much the surer not to disappoint me. alice waite is coming with dick grayson, and some of the other fellows will have harding girls. my mother is going to chaperon the bunch. "do you remember my kid roommate, ashley dwight? he's junior president this year. he's heard a lot about georgia ames, real and ideal, and he's crazy to see what the visible part of her is like. i think he meditates asking her to the prom, and making a sensation with her. can't i bring him up to call on you some day when the real miss ames will probably be willing to amuse ashley?" as betty joyously considered how she should answer all this, she remembered the four box tickets for the glee club concert that lucile merrifield had promised to get her--lucile was business manager of the mandolin club this year. betty had intended to invite alice waite and two winsted men, but there was no reason why she shouldn't ask georgia, tom, and the junior president instead. so she went straight to georgia's room. "all right," said georgia calmly, when betty had explained her project. "i was going to stand up with a crowd of freshmen, but they won't care." "georgia ames," broke in her roommate severely, "i should like to see you excited for once. don't you know the difference between going stand-up with a lot of other freshmen, and sitting in a box with miss wales and two yale men?" "of course i know the difference," said georgia, smiling good-naturedly. "didn't i say that i'd go in the box? but you see, caroline, if you are only a namesake of madeline ayres's deceased double you mustn't get too much excited over the wonderful things that happen to you. must you, betty?" "i don't think you need any pointers from me, georgia," said betty laughingly. "has caroline seen you studying yet?" "once," said georgia sadly. "but it was in mid-year week," explained the roommate, "the night before the livy exam. she mended stockings all the evening and then she said she was going to sit up to study. she began at quarter past ten." "propped up in bed, to be quite comfortable," interpolated georgia. "and at half-past ten," went on her roommate, "she said she was so sleepy that she couldn't stand it any longer. so she tumbled the books and extra pillows on the floor and went to sleep." "too bad you spoiled your record just for those few minutes," laughed betty, "but i'll take you to the concert all the same," and she hurried off to dress. at dinner she entertained her end of the table with an account of georgia's essay at cramming. "but that doesn't prove that she never studies," madeline defended her protégée. "that first floor room of theirs is a regular rendezvous for all the freshmen in the house, so she's very sensible to keep away from it when she's busy." "where does she go?" "oh, to the library, i suppose," said madeline. "most of the freshmen study there a good deal, and she camps down in lou waterson's room, afternoons, because lou has three different kinds of lab. to go to, so she's never at home." "well, it's a wonder that georgia isn't completely spoiled," said nita reese. "just to think of the things that child has had done for her!" and certainly if georgia's head had not been very firmly set on her square shoulders, it would have been hopelessly turned by her meteoric career at harding. for weeks after college opened she was a spectacle, a show-sight of the place. old girls pointed her out to one another in a fashion that was meant to be inobtrusive but that would have flattered the vanity of any other freshman. freshmen were regaled with stories about her, which they promptly retailed for her benefit, and then sent her flowers as a tribute to her good luck and a recognition of the amusement she added to the dull routine of life at harding. seniors who had been duped by the phantom georgia asked her to sunday dinner and introduced her to their friends, who did likewise. foolish girls wanted her autograph, clever ones demanded to know her sensations at finding herself so oddly conspicuous, while the "merry hearts" amply fulfilled their promise to make up to her for unintentionally having forced her into a curious prominence. but georgia took it all as a mere matter of course, smiled blandly at the stories, accepted the flowers and the invitations, wrote the autographs, and explained that she guessed her sensations weren't at all remarkable,--they were just like any other freshman's. "all the same," madeline declared, whenever the subject came up, "she's absolutely unique. if the other georgia had never existed, this one would have made her mark here." but just how she would have done it even madeline could not decide. the real georgia was not like other girls, but in what fundamental way she was different it was difficult to say. indeed now that the "merry hearts" came to know her better, she was almost as much of a puzzle to them as the other georgia had been to the rest of the college. chapter xi a dark horse defined "did you see mr. masters in chapel this morning with miss kingston?" this was the choice tid-bit of news that -- passed from hand to hand as it took its way to its various nine o'clock classes. "i thought he wasn't coming until to-morrow," said teddie wilson, who followed every move of the play committee with mournful interest. "he wasn't," explained barbara gordon, "but he found he could get off better to-day. it's only for the shylocks and portias, you know. we can't do much until they're definitely decided, so we can tell who is left for the other parts." "gratiano and the gobbos will come in the next lot," sighed teddie. "seems as if i should die to be out of it all!" jean eastman was just ahead of them in the crowd. "poor teddie!" barbara began, "i only wish---" she broke off abruptly. she didn't want jean for shylock, but it would have been the height of impropriety to let even teddie, whose misfortunes made her a privileged person, know it. "it's a perfect shame," she went on hastily. "you don't feel half so bad about it as we do." ted stared incredulously. "don't i? i say, barbara, did you know there was a girl in last year's cast who had had a condition at midyears? she kept still and somehow it wasn't reported to miss stuart until very late, and by that time it would have made a lot of trouble to take her out. so they hushed it up and she kept her part. a last year's girl wrote me about it." "i don't believe she had much fun out of it, do you, ted?" asked barbara. "anyhow i'm sure you--" "oh, of course not," interrupted ted with emphasis. "what in the world are you two talking about?" demanded jean eastman curiously, dropping back to join them. "talking play of course!" laughed barbara, trying to be extra cordial because she had so nearly said a disagreeable thing a minute before. meanwhile ted, who felt that she should break the tenth commandment to atoms if she stayed in jean's neighborhood another minute, slipped off down a side hall and joined a group of her classmates who were bound like herself for miss raymond's english novelists. they were talking play too, of course,--it was in the air this morning,--and they welcomed ted joyously and deferred to her opinion as that of an expert. "who'll be shylock, teddie?" demanded bob parker. "that's the only thing i'm curious about." "jean," returned ted calmly, "or at least the committee think so. i can tell by the way barbara looks at her." "beastly shame," muttered bob. "why couldn't emily and christy have braced up and got it themselves?" "now, bob," nita reese remonstrated, "don't you think you're a bit hard on jean this time? i know she's a good deal of a land-grabber, but now she's gone into an open competition just like any one else, and if she wins it will be because she deserves to." "ye-es," admitted bob grudgingly. "yes, of course it will. i know that as well as you do, nita reese. just the same she's never any good in gest and pant, is she, teddie?" "in what?" demanded helen adams and clara madison together. "gest and pant--short for gesture and pantomime, senior course in elocution," explained teddie rapidly. "oh, i don't know. i think she's done some pretty good things once in a while. and anyhow she can't fool the committee and mr. masters." "of course not," agreed bob. "just the same," said madeline ayres, who had come up in time to hear the end of the argument, "we'll stand for her if she gets the part, but until she does we can hope against hope for a dark horse, can't we, bob?" "what's a dark horse?" asked clara madison in her funny, slow drawl. "your vocabulary's getting a big increase this morning, isn't it, clara?" said madeline quizzically. "gest and pant, short for gesture and pantomime; dark horse, short for a person like---- girls, run in, quick. she's begun calling the roll." it was a long morning. the committee watched its hours go by complacently enough. they had heard jean again and liked her better; and the two girls who were to compete with her had improved, too, on second trial. there was no doubt that the portias were good. they were also nervous. kate denise didn't even pretend to "take notes, young ladies," though dr. hinsdale looked straight at her when he said it, and babbie hildreth made herself the butt of endless jibes by absent-mindedly mentioning nerissa instead of napoleon in history . jean, on the other hand, was as cool as possible. she sat beside teddie wilson in philosophy, much to the annoyance of that unhappy young person, and added insult to injury by trying to discuss the play. teddie was as unresponsive as she thought consistent with the duty of being lady-like, but jean didn't seem to mind, for she went off to lunch smiling a satisfied, triumphant little smile that seemed to say she had gotten just what she wanted out of teddie. at two o'clock mr. masters and miss kingston met the play committee in miss kingston's office, and the shylock trials began. at ten minutes before three the great mr. masters appeared in the door of the office and tossing a careless "back at four-thirty sharp" over his shoulder, ran down the stairs as lightly as though he were not leaving riot and ruin behind him. a minute later barbara gordon came to the door and explained to the portias who were waiting to come on at three, that it had been found necessary to delay their appearance until evening. barbara always looked calm and unruffled under the most trying circumstances, but she shut the door unnecessarily hard and the portias exchanged amazed glances. "something's happened," declared babe, sagely. "'oh, wise young judge!'" quoted nita. "why don't you tell us what it is?" "i must go if we have to come back this evening," said kate denise, and hurried off to find jean, who had promised to meet her in the library. kate understood jean very well and often disapproved of her, but she had known her a long time and was genuinely fond of her and anxious for her success. jean had complained of a headache at luncheon and seemed nervous and absent-minded. kate wondered if she could possibly have broken down and spoiled her chance with mr. masters, thus disarranging the committee's plans. but jean scoffed at this idea. "i did my best," she declared, "and he was awfully nice. you'll like him, katie. i suppose he had an engagement, or was tired and wanted to go off somewhere and smoke. he gets up plays all the time, you know. it must be horribly boring." meanwhile miss kingston and the play committee sat in mournful conclave. nobody had much to say. clara ellis looked "i told you so" at the rest, and the rest looked back astonishment, dismay and annoyance at clara. "is he generally so--so decided and, well,--so quick to make up his mind?" asked betty, finally. miss kingston laughed at betty's carefully chosen adjectives and shook her head. "he's generally very patient and encouraging, but to-day something seems to have spoiled his temper. i don't believe, though, that his irritability has affected his judgment. i agree perfectly with what he said about miss eastman." "yes," agreed barbara, "he put into words what we all felt when we first heard her. afterward we wanted so much to think she was good that we actually cheated ourselves into thinking so." "do tell me what happened," begged rachel morrison. she had been kept at home by a belligerent sophomore who insisted upon being tutored at her regular hour, and had arrived only just in time for mr. masters's dramatic exit. "why, he was perfectly calm while the shylocks were performing," explained barbara. "we had jean come last because we thought that would give them all the best chance. he smiled blandly while she was going through her part and bowed her out as if she had been a second booth. then he sat back and looked at me and said 'well?' and i said, 'do you like her best, mr. masters?' he glared at me for a minute and then began to talk about the seriousness of giving a shakespearean play and the confidence he'd felt in us to advise us to give this one, and the reasons why none of the girls he'd heard would do at all for shylock. when he was through he just picked up his hat and coat and told us to go and get the other girls who tried, as he'd be ready to see them at half-past four. after that he apologized to miss kingston if he'd been 'in the least abrupt'--and went." "and what are we to do now?" demanded clara, wearily. "get them--the forlorn hopes, as he called them," said barbara, determined to be cheerful, "and hope that we shall be happily disappointed in them. somebody's got to be shylock, you know. betty, will you go for these three girls on main street?" she handed betty a slip of paper. "clara, will you try to find emily davis? rachel, you look tired to death. go home and rest. josephine and i can manage the campus people." "there's no use in your getting the miller girls," said clara, decisively. "one lisps and the other stammers." "that's true," agreed barbara, cheerily. "we'll leave them out, and kitty lacy has gone home ill. i wish we could think of some promising people who haven't tried at all. eleanor watson used to act very cleverly. betty, do you suppose she would be willing to come and read the part?" betty shook her head. "i don't think she would take a part under any circumstances, but certainly not if she had to compete with jean. they're such old friends." "how about madeline ayres?" "she's set her heart on being the prince of morocco," laughed betty, "because she wants to be blackened up. anyway i don't think--" "no, i don't either, betty," interposed miss kingston. "miss ayres couldn't do a part like shylock." "then i don't believe there is any one else who didn't try before," said barbara. "we must just hope for the best, that's all." betty had opened the door preparatory to starting on her rounds when she happened to remember roberta and her exaggerated disappointment over missing the last week's trials. "barbara," she began timidly, closing the door again, "i know some one who intended to try but she was sick with the grippe and couldn't. it's roberta lewis. she told me not to speak of her having wanted to try, but i don't see why she shouldn't have a chance now, do you? she couldn't be worse than some of them." "she certainly couldn't," laughed barbara. "she did awfully well in that little girl play you had," said clara ellis, condescending to show a little real interest in the question at issue. "did you see it, miss kingston?" miss kingston hadn't seen "the little princess" and didn't know roberta; but she agreed that there was no reason why any girl who was willing to take it shouldn't have a chance to show what she could do toward satisfying mr. masters. "but it isn't that i think she will do particularly well," betty explained, honestly. "only i was sorry for her because she seemed to care such a lot. shall i stop and ask her on my way?" barbara said yes and betty hurried over to the belden. roberta was out, but a neat sign pinned to her door promised that she would be "back in a few minutes," so betty scribbled a hasty note to explain matters and hurried off again. she had not much idea that roberta would care to try for shylock now, but she was glad she had thought of giving her the chance. roberta was so quiet and self-contained and so seldom expressed a wish or a preference that it was worth while taking a little trouble to please her. "even if there isn't much sense in what she wants," thought betty, as she tramped up main street. the main street shylocks all lived in the same house and not one of them was in. betty pursued them back to the campus, caught one at the library and another in chemistry "lab.," and followed the third down town where she was discovered going into cuyler's for an ice. as this last captive happened to be the most promising shylock, next to the ones that mr. masters had already seen, betty led her back to the campus in triumph, too thankful at having her safe to notice that it was fully a quarter to five before they reached college hall. roberta was sitting by herself on a low window-seat near miss kingston's door. she looked pale and frightened and hardly smiled in answer to betty's gay little nod and wave of the hand. "goodness, i hope she'll do decently," thought betty, and was opening the door as softly as possible when somebody gave it a quick push from the other side. it was the great mr. masters coming out again. "oh, miss lewis," he called over to roberta, "have you learned the portia scenes too? i forgot to ask you. well, suppose you come over and read them to-night. we should all like to hear you." betty stared in amazement; so did the shylocks who crowded the stairs and windowledges. there was no mistaking the fact that this time the great mr. masters was genuinely pleased. he held the door open for betty to pass into the office, assured roberta once more that he should expect to see her in the evening, and went inside himself, leaving a buzz of excitement behind him and meeting a similar buzz that hushed politely as he came forward. "well, miss kingston," he said, rubbing his hands together with an air of supreme satisfaction, "we've found our shylock. i'm glad you let her in first this time. i was really getting worried. may i ask why you young ladies kept her up your sleeves so long?" barbara explained. "but you must have known about her," mr. masters persisted. "why, she's marvelous. she'd save your play for you, single-handed. hasn't she taken part in any of your college performances?" barbara explained about that too. "then how did she happen to come to light at all?" he demanded. this time barbara looked at betty, who blushed and murmured, "i didn't suppose she could act very much. i really didn't." mr. masters laughed heartily at this. "well, she seems to be a thorough mystery," he said. "and now the only question is where we need her most, in case i don't like your first choice in portias any better than i did your shylocks. we ought to have these other people in, i suppose. of course there's no question about miss lewis, but we'd better know what they can all do, especially if there are any more of miss wales's dark horses among them." [illustration: "well, we've found our shylock," he said.] by dinner time the astonishing news had spread over the campus. roberta lewis was going to be shylock. she hadn't been in but one play since she entered college and then she took somebody's place. nobody had thought she would get it. nobody knew she could act except betty wales. betty found out about her somehow--she was always finding out what people could do,--and she got her in at the last minute because mr. masters didn't like jean's acting,--or somebody didn't. roberta's was magnificent. they wanted her for portia too. mr. masters had said it was a great pity there weren't two of her. how did she take it? why, she acted shy and bored and distant, just as usual. she seemed to have expected to be shylock! but she wasn't "just as usual." she was sitting by her window in the dark, with mary brooks's picture clutched tightly in one hand and her father's in the other, and she was whispering soft little messages to them. "dear old daddy, you were in all the fraternities and societies, and on all the college papers and the 'varsity eight. well, i'm on one thing now. you'll have one little chance to be proud of me, perhaps, after all these four years. "now, mary brooks, do you see what i can do? i couldn't write and i couldn't be popular or prominent or a 'star' in any of the classes. i'm not that kind. but after all i shall be something but just one of the clan before i leave. "oh, i wonder if mary and father would like to sit together at the play." while roberta was considering the probability that they would, betty knocked her soft little knock on the door. roberta always knew betty's knock. "come," she called in a queer, trembly voice. how was she ever going to thank betty for seeing what no one else saw, and helping her to stick to it and get her chance in a nice quiet way that wouldn't make her feel awkward if she failed? but betty didn't give her time to open her mouth. "you dear old thing!" she cried. "oh, i am so happy! i never thought you'd get it. honestly, i didn't. i just thought you might as well try. roberta, you ought to hear the things mr. masters has been saying about you." roberta laughed happily. "it's nice, isn't it?" she said. "didn't you think i could get a part? you were the one who told me i ought to try." "yes," said betty solemnly, "i thought you'd get one of the sals probably--you know the ones i mean,--solanio, and the others that sound like him. we call them the sals for short, i never dreamed of your being shylock, any more than i planned for you to be ermengarde. you did it every bit yourself, roberta lewis, by just happening to come around at the right times." "and by coming to the right person," added roberta. but betty only laughed at her. "it's bad enough to be blamed for things you've done," she said. "i simply won't be praised for things i haven't done. i never was so pleased in my life. roberta, miss kingston says you're a genius. to think of my knowing a genius! i must go and tell helen chase adams." down-stairs madeline was telephoning to clara madison, who, owing to her strong prejudice against bed-making, still lived off the campus. "a dark horse," she explained, "is a person like roberta lewis. i didn't have time to tell you this morning. good-b----oh! haven't you heard? she's going to be shylock. no, the committee haven't announced it yet, but mr. masters shouted it aloud in the corridor at college hall. don't forget what a dark horse is, clara." the b's, innocently supposing that roberta was out because her windows were dark, were celebrating in nita's room, while they awaited her return. this meant that babbie was doing a cake-walk with an imaginary partner, babe a clog-dance, and bob a highland fling, while nita hugged her tallest vase and her prettiest teacup and besought them to stop before mrs. kent came to see who was tearing the house down. bob stopped first, though not on account of nita's bric-a-brac or a possible visit from mrs. kent. "nita," she demanded breathlessly, "did you say betty thought of roberta?" "yes," nita assented. "nobody else on the committee knows her at all except rachel, and she is as surprised as the rest of us." "gee!" bob's tone was deep with meaning. "then i know who won't like it." "who?" babe ended her dance to ask. "jean eastman," said bob solemnly. babe gave her a disdainful glance. "how much brains do you think it takes to find that out, bob parker? of course she won't like it." but bob only smiled loftily and declared that if roberta hadn't come in by this time they must all go straight home to dinner. chapter xii calling on anne carter pleasant things generally submerged the unpleasant ones at harding, so betty's delight in roberta's unexpected success quite wiped out her remembrance of bob's theories about jean, until, several days after the shylock trials, jean herself confirmed them. "i want to be sure that you know i'm going to try for bassanio," she said, overtaking betty on the campus between classes, "so you can have plenty of time to hunt up a rival candidate. i can't imagine who it will be unless you can make eleanor watson believe that it's her duty to the class to try. but this time i hope you'll come out into the open and play fair, or at least as nearly fair as you can, considering that you ought to be helping me. i may not be much on philanthropy, but i don't think i can be accused of entirely lacking a sense of honor." "why jean," began betty, trying to remember that jean was hurt and disappointed and possibly didn't mean to be as rude as her words sounded, "please don't feel that way. it wasn't that i didn't want you for shylock. of course roberta is one of my best friends and i'm glad to have her get the big part in the play, because she's never had anything else; but i didn't dream that she would get it." "then why did you drag her in at the last minute?" betty explained how that had happened, but jean only laughed disagreeably. "i consider that it was a very irregular way of doing things," she said, "and i think a good many in the class feel the same way about it. besides--but i suppose you've entirely forgotten that it was i who got you on the play committee." "listen, jean," betty protested, anxious to avoid a discussion that would evidently be fruitless. "it was mr. masters, and not i or any of the other girls, who didn't like your acting, or rather your acting of shylock. and mr. masters himself suggested that you would make a better bassanio. didn't barbara tell you?" "oh, yes," said jean, "she told me. that doesn't alter the fact that if you hadn't produced roberta lewis when you did, mr. masters might have decided that he liked my shylock quite well enough." "jean," said betty, desperately, "don't you want the play to be as good as it possibly can?" "no," retorted jean, coolly, "i don't. i want a part in it. i imagine that i want one just as badly as roberta lewis did. and if i don't get bassanio, after what barbara and clara ellis have said to me, i shall know whom to blame." she paused a moment for her words to take effect. "my father says," she went on, "that women never have any sense of obligation. they don't think of paying back anything but invitations to afternoon tea. i must tell him about you. he'll find you such a splendid illustration. good-bye, or i shall be late to chemistry." jean sped off in the direction of the science building. "oh, dear," thought betty, sadly, "i wish i weren't so stupid and so meek. madeline can always answer people back when they're disagreeable, and rachel is so dignified that jean wouldn't think of saying things like that to her." then she smiled in spite of herself. it was all such a stupid tangle. jean insisted on blaming her, and roberta and the committee had insisted on praising her for finding -- a shylock, when she never intended or expected to do anything of the kind. "it just shows," thought betty, "that the things that seem like deep-laid schemes are very often just happenings, and the simple-looking ones are the schemes. well, i certainly hope jean will get bassanio. eleanor's window is open. i wonder if she can hear me." "oh, eleanor," she called, when the window had been opened wider in response to her trill, "there isn't any committee meeting this afternoon. don't you want to go with me to see anne carter? let's start early and take a walk first. it's such a lovely glitter-y day." the "glitter-y" day foregathered with a brisk north wind after luncheon, and it was still mid-afternoon when betty and eleanor ran up miss carter's front steps, delighted at the prospect of getting in out of the cold. at the door they hesitated. "it's so long since i've regularly called on anybody in college," laughed betty, "that i've forgotten how to act. don't we go right up to her room, eleanor?" "why yes. that's certainly what people used to do to us in our freshman year. don't you remember how we were always getting caught with our kimonos on and our rooms fixed for sweep-day by girls we'd never seen?" "i should think so." betty smiled reminiscently. "helen adams used to get so fussed when she was caught doing her hair. then let's go right up. we want to be friendly and informal and make her feel at home. she has the front room on the second floor. helen spoke of its being so big and pretty. i do hope she's in." she was in, for she called a brisk "come" in answer to betty's knock. she was sitting at a table-desk by the window, with her back to her door, and when it opened she did not turn her head. neither did jean eastman who sat beside her, their heads together over the same book. jean was reading aloud in hesitating, badly accented french, and paid even less attention to the intruders than miss carter, who called hastily, "in just one minute, miss harrison," and then cautioned jean not to forget the elisions. "but we're not miss harrison," said betty laughingly, amazed and embarrassed at the idea of meeting jean here. at the sound of her voice both the girls turned quickly and miss carter came forward with a hearty apology for her mistake. "i was expecting some one else," she said, "and i thought of course it was she who came in. it was very stupid of me. won't you sit down?" "but aren't we interrupting?" asked betty, introducing eleanor. "nothing more important than the tail end of some french," answered jean eastman curtly, going to get her coat, which hung over a chair near the door. as she passed miss carter she gave her a keen, questioning look which meant, so betty decided, that jean was as much surprised to find that this quiet sophomore knew betty wales and her crowd, as betty had been to see jean established in miss carter's room on a footing of apparent intimacy. "i've been here ever since luncheon," jean went on, "and i was just going, wasn't i, miss carter? oh, no, you're not driving me away--not in the least. i should be delighted to stay and talk to you both if i had time." and with a disagreeable little laugh jean pinned on her hat, swept up her books, and started for the door. strange to say, miss carter seemed to take her hasty departure as a matter of course and devoted herself entirely to her other visitors, until, just as jean was leaving, she turned to her with a question. "oh, miss eastman, i don't remember--did you say to-morrow at four?" for a full minute jean stared at her, her expression a queer mixture of anger and amused reproach. "no, i said to-morrow at three," she answered at last and went off down the stairs, humming a gay little tune. betty and eleanor exchanged wondering glances. jean was notorious for knowing only prominent girls. her presence here and her peculiar manner together formed a puzzle that made it very difficult to give one's full attention to what miss carter was saying. there was also miss harrison. was she the senior harrison, better known as the champion blunderbuss? and if she was coming, why didn't she come? betty found herself furtively watching the door, which jean had left open, and she barely repressed a little cry of relief when the champion's ample figure appeared at the head of the stairs. "i'm terribly late," she called out cheerfully. "i thought you'd probably get tired of waiting and go out. oh," as she noticed miss carter's visitors, "i guess i'd better come back at five. i can as well as not." but betty and eleanor insisted that she should do nothing of the kind. "we'll come to see you again when you're not so busy," betty promised miss carter, who gave them a sad little smile but didn't offer any objection to their leaving the blunderbuss in possession. "well, haven't we had a funny time?" said eleanor, when they were outside. "did you know that miss carter tutored in french?" "no," answered betty. "helen never gave me the impression that she was poor. her room doesn't look much as if she was helping to put herself through college, does it?" "not a bit," agreed eleanor, "nor her clothes, and yet miss harrison certainly acted as if she had come on business." "yes, exactly like rachel's pupils. they always come bouncing in late, when she's given them up and we're all having a lovely time. miss carter acted businesslike too. she seemed to expect us to go." "well then, what about jean?" asked eleanor. "i couldn't make her out at all. has she struck up some sort of queer friendship with miss carter or was she being tutored too?" betty gave a little gasp of dismay. "oh, i don't know. i hoped you would. you see--she's trying for a part in the play." "then she can't be conditioned," said eleanor easily. "teddie wilson has advertised the rule about that far and wide, poor child." "and you don't think jean could possibly not have heard of it?" betty asked anxiously. "why, i shouldn't think so, but you might ask her to make sure. she certainly acted very much as if we had caught her at something she was ashamed of. would you mind coming just a little way down-town, betty? i want to buy some violets and a new magazine." betty was quite willing to go down-town, but she smiled mournfully at eleanor's careless suggestion that she should speak to jean. asking jean eastman a delicate question, especially after the interview they had had that morning, was not likely to be a pleasant task. betty wondered if she needed to feel responsible for jean's mistakes. she certainly ought to know on general principles that conditions keep you out of everything nice from the freshman team on. a visit from helen adams that evening threw some new light on the matter. "betty," helen demanded, "isn't teddie wilson trying for a part in our play?" "helen chase adams," returned betty, severely, "is it possible you don't know that she got a condition and can't try?" "i certainly didn't know it," said helen meekly. "why should i, please?" "only because everybody else does," said betty, and wondered if jean could possibly belong with helen in the ignorant minority. it seemed very unlikely, but then it seemed a sheer impossibility that helen should have sat at the belden house dinner-table day after day and not have heard teddie's woes discussed. at any rate now was her chance to get some information about miss carter. "while we are talking about conditions," she began, "does your friend anne carter tutor in french?" helen nodded. "it's queer, isn't it, when she has so much money? she doesn't like to do it either, but mademoiselle made her think it was her duty, because all the french faculty are too busy and there was no other girl who took the senior course that mademoiselle would trust. anne thinks she'll be through by next week." "were many people conditioned in french?" asked betty. "why, i don't know. i think anne just said several, when she told me about it." "what i mean is, are all those she tutors conditioned?" "why, i suppose so," said helen, vaguely. "seniors don't generally tutor their last term unless they have to, do they? there wouldn't be much object in it. why are you so interested in anne's pupils, betty?" "oh, for no reason at all," said betty, carelessly. "eleanor and i went up to see her this afternoon, and some one came in for a lesson, as i understood it, so of course we didn't stay." "what a shame! you'll go again soon, won't you?" "not until after she gets through tutoring," said betty, decidedly. "i wish helen adams had never seen that girl," she declared savagely to the green lizard after helen had gone. "or at least--well, i almost wish so. whatever i do will go wrong. if i ask jean whether she knows about the rule, she'll be horribly disagreeable, but if she gets bassanio and then miss stuart reports her condition she'll probably come and tell me that i ought to have seen she was conditioned and warned her. anyway i shall feel that i ought. it's certainly much kinder to speak to her than to ask barbara to inquire of miss stuart. eleanor can't speak to her. no one can but me." the lizard didn't even blink, but betty had an inspiration. "i know what. i'll write to her." betty spent a long time and a great deal of note-paper on that letter, but at last it read to her satisfaction: * * * * * "dear jean: "after you left this afternoon miss harrison came in, evidently to be tutored. so i couldn't help wondering if you could possibly have had the bad luck to get a condition, and if so, whether you know the rule about the senior play,--i mean that no one having a condition can take part. please, please don't think that i want to be interfering or disagreeable. i know you would rather have me ask you now than to have anything come out publicly later. "betty." * * * * * two days later jean's answer appeared on the belden house table. "if you thought i had a condition in french, why didn't you go and ask mademoiselle about it? she would undoubtedly have received you with open arms. yes, i believe that miss carter, whom you seem to know so intimately all of a sudden, tutors the harrison person. just why you should lump me with her, i don't see. i know the rule about conditions and the play as well as you do, but being without either a condition or a part, i can't see that it concerns me particularly. "yours most gratefully, "jean reaves eastman." * * * * * betty read this note through twice and consigned it, torn into very small pieces, to her waste-basket. but after thinking the whole matter over a little more carefully she decided that jean had had ample grounds for feeling annoyance, if not for showing it, and that there would be just time before dinner to find her and tell her so. jean looked a good deal startled and not particularly pleased when she saw betty wales standing in her door; but betty, accepting jean's attitude as perfectly natural under the circumstances, went straight to the point. "i've come to apologize for my mistake, jean," she said steadily, "and to tell you how glad i am that it is a mistake. i don't suppose i can make you understand why i was so sure--or at least so afraid----" "oh, we needn't go into that," said jean, with an attempt at graciousness. "i suppose miss carter said something misleading. you are quite excusable, i think." "no," said betty, "i'm not. i've studied logic and argument and i ought to know better than to depend on circumstantial evidence. i'm very, very sorry." jean looked at her keenly. "i suppose you and eleanor have discussed this affair together. what did she think?" "i haven't mentioned it to her since the afternoon we were at miss carter's, and she doesn't know that i wrote you. that day we both felt the same--that is, we didn't know what to think. if you don't mind, i should like to tell her that it's all right." "why in the world should you bother to do that?" asked jean curiously. "because she'll be so glad to know, and also because i think it's no more than fair to all of us. you did act very queerly that afternoon, jean." "oh, did i?" said jean oddly. "you have a queer idea of fairness. you won't work for me when i've put you on a committee for that express purpose; but no matter how disagreeable i am to you about it, you won't take a good chance to pay up, and you won't let eleanor take hers." "let eleanor take hers?" repeated betty wonderingly. "yes, her chance to pay up her score. she owes me a long one. you know a good many of the items. why shouldn't she pay me back now that she has a good chance? you haven't forgotten mary brooks's rumor, have you? eleanor could start one about this condition business without half trying." "well, she won't," betty assured her promptly. "she wouldn't think of mentioning such a thing to anybody. but as long as we both misunderstood, i'm going to tell her that it's all right. good-bye, jean, and please excuse me for being so hasty." "certainly," said jean, and betty wondered, as she ran down-stairs, whether she had only imagined that jean's voice shook. the next afternoon mr. masters and the committee, deciding that jean's bassanio was possibly just a shade more attractive than mary horton's, gave her the part. kate denise was portia, and everybody exclaimed over the suitability of having the lovers played by such a devoted pair of friends. as for betty, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was all settled at last. jean had won the part strictly on her merits, and she fully understood betty's construction of a committee-woman's duty to the play. nevertheless betty felt that, in spite of all their recent contests and differences of opinion, they came nearer to being friends than at any time since their freshman year, and she wasn't sorry that she had gone more than halfway in bringing about this happy result. meanwhile the date of the glee club concert was fast approaching. georgia ames came in one afternoon to consult betty about the important matter of dress. "i suppose that, as long as we're going to sit in a box, i ought to wear an evening gown," she said. "why, yes," agreed betty, "if you can as well as not. it's a very dressy occasion." "oh, i can," said georgia sadly. "i've got one all beautifully spick and span, because i hate it so. i never feel at home in anything but a shirt-waist. beside my neck looks awfully bony to me, but mother says it's no different from most people's. the men are coming, i suppose?" "oh, yes, they're coming," assented betty gaily, "and between us we've been asked to every tea on the campus, i should think. so they ought to have a good time in the afternoon, and college men are always crazy over our concerts." "your man will be all right," said georgia admiringly, "and i'll do my best for the other one. truly, betty, i am grateful to you. i think it's awfully good of you to ask me. even if you asked me because i'm the other georgia's namesake, you wouldn't do it if you didn't like me a little for myself, would you?" "of course not, you silly child," laughed betty. "i want you to have my reserved seat for the basket-ball game," went on georgia. "the subs each have one seat to give away, and i've swapped mine with a sophomore, so you can sit on your own side." "i shall clap for you, though," betty told her, "and i hope you'll get a chance to play. the other georgia wasn't a bit athletic, so your basket-ball record will never be mixed with hers." betty repeated georgia's remark about being nothing but the other georgia's namesake to madeline. "i think she really worries about it," she added. madeline only laughed at her. "she hasn't seemed quite so gay lately--that probably means warnings from her beloved instructors at midyears. it must be awfully hard work to keep up the freshman grind with everybody under the sun asking you to do things. georgia hates to snub people, so she goes even when she'd rather stay at home. twice lately i've met her out walking with the blunderbuss. i must talk to her about the necessity of being decently exclusive." chapter xiii georgia's amethyst pendant "has your man come yet, lucy?" "mine hasn't, thank goodness! he couldn't get off for the afternoon." "mine thought he couldn't and then he changed his mind after i'd refused all the teas." "oh, i wouldn't miss the teas for anything. they're more fun than the concert." "of course she wouldn't miss them, the dressy lady, with violets to wear and a new white hat with plumes." "the hilton is going to have an orchestra to play for dancing. isn't that pretty cute?" "but did you hear about sara allen's men? they both telegraphed her last evening that they could come,--both, please note. and now she hasn't any seats." so the talk ran among the merry crowd of girls who jostled one another in the narrow halls after morning chapel. for it was the day of the glee club concert. the first installment of men and flowers was already beginning to arrive, giving to the harding campus that air of festive expectancy which it wears on the rare occasions when the harding girl's highest ambition is not to shine in her classes or star in the basket-ball game or the senior play, but only to own a "man." tom alison and his junior roommate arrived at the belden soon after luncheon. tom looked so distinguished in a frock coat and high hat that betty hoped her pride and satisfaction in taking him around the campus weren't too dreadfully evident. ashley dwight was tall, round-shouldered, and homely, except when he smiled, which he did very seldom because he was generally too busy making every one within hearing of his low voice hysterical with laughter over his funny stories. he took an instant fancy to georgia, and of course georgia liked him--everybody liked ashley, tom explained. so betty's last worriment vanished, leaving nothing to mar the perfection of her afternoon. the hilton girls' brilliant idea of turning their tea into a dance had been speedily copied by the westcott and the belden, and the other houses "came in strong on refreshments, cozy-corners, and conversation," as ashley put it. so it was six o'clock before any one dreamed that it could be so late, and the men went off to their hotels for dinner, leaving the girls to gloat over the flower-boxes piled high on the hall-table, to gossip over the afternoon's adventures, and then hurry off to dress, dinner being a superfluity to them after so many salads and sandwiches, ices and macaroons, all far more appetizing than a campus dinner menu. "i'll come down to your room in time to help you finish dressing," betty promised georgia. "my things slip on in a minute." but she had reckoned without a loose nail in the stair-carpet, which, apparently resenting her hasty progress past it, had torn a yard of filmy ruching off her skirt before she realized what was happening. "oh, dear!" she mourned, "now i shall have to rush just as usual. helen chase adams, the gathering-string is broken. have you any pink silk? i haven't a thing but black myself. then would you try to borrow some? and please ask madeline to go down and help georgia. her roommate is going rush to the concert, so she had to start early." helen had just taken the last stitches in the ruffle and betty was putting on her skirt again, when tom's card came up to her. by the time she got down-stairs they were all waiting in the reception-room and mr. dwight was helping georgia into her coat and laughing at the chiffon scarf that she assured him was a great protection, so that betty didn't see georgia in her hated evening gown until they took off their wraps at the theatre. "awfully sorry i couldn't come to help you," she whispered, as they went out to the carriage, "but i know you're all right." "i did my little best not to disgrace you," georgia whispered back. "my neck is horribly bony, no matter what mother thinks; but i covered some of it up with a chain." when they got to the theatre, almost every seat was filled and a pretty little usher hurried them through the crowd at the door, assuring them importantly over her shoulder that the concert would begin in one minute and she couldn't seat even box-holders during a number. sure enough, before they had fairly gotten into their places, the glee club girls began to come out and arrange themselves in a rainbow-tinted semicircle for the first number. they sang beautifully and looked so pretty that tom gallantly declared they deserved to be encored on that account alone; and he led the applause so vigorously that everybody looked up at their box and laughed. alice waite had the other seats in it, and as the three men were friends and all in the highest spirits, it was a gay party. "there's jerry holt," tom would say, "see him stare at our elegance." "oh, we're making the rest of the fellows envious all right," ashley would answer. "who's the stunning girl in the second row, next the aisle? we don't miss a thing from here, do we?" "prettiest lay-out i've ever seen, this concert is," alice's escort would declare fervently. "sh, tommie, the banjo club's going to play." and then they would settle themselves to watch the stage and listen to the music for a while. "it's all good, but what i'm looking forward to is this," said ashley dwight, pointing out the glee club's last number on his program. "i can't wait to hear 'the fames of miss ames.'" "the what?" asked betty, consulting her card. "why, georgia ames, is it about you? did you know they were going to have it?" georgia nodded. "the leader came and asked me if i cared. she seemed to think it would take, so i told her to go ahead. but i didn't realize that this concert was such a big thing," she added mournfully, "and i didn't know i was going to sit in a box." "pretty grand to be sitting in a box with the celebrity of the evening, isn't it, ashley?" said tom. and ashley said something in a low voice to georgia, which made her laugh and blush and call him "too silly for anything." finally, after the mandolin club had played its lovely "gondolier's song," and the banjo club its amusing and inevitable "frogville echoes," the glee club girls came out to sing "the fames of miss ames," which a clever junior had written and a musical sophomore had set to a catchy melody. a little, short-haired girl with a tremendous alto voice sang the verses, which dealt in witty, flippant fashion with the career of the two georgias, and the whole club came in strong on the chorus. "and now she's come to life, (her double's here). and speculation's rife, (it's all so queer). the ghost associations, hold long confabulations, and the gaiety of nations is very much enhanced by georgia dear!" it was only shameless doggerel, but it took. topical songs always take well at harding, and never had there been such a unique subject as this one. between the verses the girls clapped and laughed, nodded at georgia's box, and whispered explanations to their escorts; and when at last the soloist answered their vociferous demands for more with a smiling head-shake and the convincing statement that "there wasn't any more--yet," they laughed and made her sing it all over. this time georgia asked one of the men to change seats with her, and slipped quietly into the most secluded corner of the box, behind betty's chair, declaring that she really couldn't stand it to be stared at any longer. she looked positively pretty, betty thought, having a chance for the first time to get a good look at her. the sparkle in her eyes and the soft color in her cheeks that the excitement and embarrassment had put there were very becoming. so was the low dress, in spite of the fact that georgia was undoubtedly right in considering herself a "shirt-waist girl." her neck wasn't particularly thin, or if it was the lovely old chain that she wore twisted twice around it kept it from seeming so. betty turned to ask her something about the song and noticed the pendant that hung from her chain. it was of antique pattern--an amethyst in a ring of little pearls, with an odd quaint setting of dull gold. it looked familiar somehow. it was--yes, it was just like nita reese's lost pin--the one that belonged to her great grandmother and that had disappeared just before the belden house play--one of the first thefts to be laid to the account of the college robber. only, instead of a pin this was a pendant, fastened to the chain by a tiny gold ring. that was the only difference, for--yes, even the one little pearl that nita had lost of the circle was missing here. betty didn't hear georgia's answer to her question. she turned back to the stage, which swayed sickeningly as she watched it. at last the song ended, and while she clapped mechanically with the rest she gave herself a little shake, and told herself sternly that she was being a goose, that it was absurd, preposterous, even wicked--this thought that had flashed into her head. nita's pin wasn't the only one of its kind; there might be hundreds just like it. georgia's great grandmother probably had had one too. betty talked very fast on the way up to the belden. she was thankful that tom and his friend were going back to new haven that night and would have time for only the hastiest of good-byes. "see you later, miss ames," ashley dwight called back as he ran down the steps after tom. "he's asked me to the prom, betty. think of that!" explained georgia, her eyes shining. "how--nice," said betty faintly. "i'm awfully tired, aren't you?" "tired!" repeated georgia gaily. "not a bit. i should like to begin all over again this minute. i'm hot though. we walked pretty fast up the hill." she threw back her coat and unwound the scarf that was twisted over her hair and around her throat. it caught on the amethyst pendant and georgia pulled it away carefully, while betty watched in fascinated silence, trying to make up her mind to speak. she might never have a good chance again. ordinarily georgia wore no jewelry,--not a pin or a ring. she had certainly never worn this pendant before at harding. it would be so easy and so sensible to say something about it now and set her uncomfortable thoughts at rest. betty wet her lips nervously, made an heroic effort, and began. "what a lovely chain that is, georgia." she hoped her voice sounded more natural to georgia than it did to herself. "is it a family heirloom?" georgia put up her hand absently, and felt of the chain. "oh, that,--yes, it is. it really belongs to mother, but she let me bring it here. she's awfully fond of old jewelry, and she has a lot. i hate all kinds, but this covers my bones so beautifully." "the pendant is lovely too," put in betty hastily, as georgia moved off toward her room. "is that old too?" "i don't know," said georgia stiffly. "that isn't a family thing. it was given to me--by somebody i don't like." "the somebody must like you pretty well," said betty, trying to speak lightly, "to give you such a stunning present." georgia did not answer this, except by saying, "good-night. i believe i am tired," as she opened her door. up in her own corridor betty met madeline ayres. "back so soon?" said madeline, who refused to take glee club concerts seriously. "i've had the most delicious evening, reading in solitary splendor and eating apples that i didn't have to pass around. i'm sure your concert wasn't half so amusing. how did georgia's song go?" "finely," said betty without enthusiasm. "did she tell you about it while you helped her dress?" "no, for i didn't help her. i went over to the hilton right after dinner. lucile told me, in a valiant attempt to persuade me that i was foolish to miss the concert." "oh," said betty limply, opening her own door. madeline hadn't seen the pendant then. probably some freshman who didn't know about nita's loss had helped georgia to dress. well, what did that matter? she had georgia's own word that the pin was a gift. besides it was absurd to think that she would take nita's pin and wear it right here at harding. and yet--it was just the same and the one little pearl was gone. but a person who would steal nita's pin, wouldn't make a present of it to georgia. then the pin couldn't be nita's. "i'm getting to be a horrid, suspicious person," betty told the green lizard. "i won't think about it another minute. i won't, i won't!" and she didn't that night, for she fell asleep almost before her head touched the pillow. next morning she woke in the midst of a long complicated dream about georgia and the green lizard. georgia had stolen him and put a ring around his tail, and the lizard was protesting vigorously in a metallic shriek that turned out, after awhile, to be the belden house breakfast-bell jangling outside her door. "they never ring the rising-bell as loud as that," wailed betty, when she had consulted her clock and made sure that she had slept over. before she was dressed georgia ames appeared, bringing a delicious breakfast tray. "helen said that you have a nine o'clock recitation," she exclaimed, "and i thought you probably hadn't studied for it and would be in a dreadful hurry." betty thanked her, feeling very guilty. georgia was wearing a plain brown jumper dress, with no ornament of any kind, not even a pin to fasten her collar; and she looked as cool and self-possessed and cheerful as usual. in the sober light of morning it seemed even more than absurd to suppose that she was anything but a nice, jolly girl, like rachel and k. and madeline,--the sort of girl that you associated with harding college and with the "merry hearts" and asked to box parties with a nice yale man, who liked her and invited her to his prom. in the weeks that followed betty saw a great deal of georgia, who seemed intent on showing her gratitude for the splendid time that betty had given her. betty, for her part, felt that she owed georgia far more than georgia owed her and found many pleasant ways of showing her contrition for a doubt that, do her best, she couldn't wholly stifle. the more she saw of georgia, the more clearly she noticed that there was something odd about the behavior of the self-contained little freshman, and also that she was worrying a good deal and letting nobody know the reason. "but it's not conditions or warnings or anything of that sort," georgia's round-eyed roommate declared solemnly to betty, in a burst of confidence about the way she was worrying over georgia. "she sits and thinks for hours sometimes, and doesn't answer me if i speak to her. and she says she doesn't care whether she gets a chance to play in the big game or not. just imagine saying that, miss wales." "she's tired," suggested betty loyally. "she'll be all right after vacation." meanwhile, in the less searching eyes of the college world, georgia continued to be the spoiled child of fortune. she came back from the prom, with glowing tales of the good times she had had, and whether or not she cared about it she was the only "sub" who got a chance to play in the big game. she made two goals, while betty clapped for her frantically and her class made their side of the gallery actually tremble with the manifestations of their delight. it was just as betty was leaving the gym on the afternoon of the game that jean eastman overtook her. "could you come for a walk?" she asked abruptly. "there is something i want to get settled before vacation. it won't take long. it's about bassanio," she went on, when they had gotten a little away from the crowd. "i want to give up my part. do you suppose mary horton would take it now?" "you want to give up bassanio?" betty repeated wonderingly. "yes. there's no use in mincing matters. i did have a condition in french, and miss carter was tutoring me, just as you thought. i had worked it off the day i answered your note, but of course that doesn't alter anything. they say mademoiselle never hands in her records for one semester until the next one is almost over, so nothing would have come to light until it was too late for a new person to learn the part. don't look so astonished, betty. it's been done before and it may be done again, but i don't care for it myself." then, as betty continued to stare at her in horrified silence, "if you're going to look like that, i might as well have kept the part. the reason i decided to give it up was because i didn't think i should enjoy seeing your face at the grand dénouement. you see, when you and eleanor came in that afternoon i thought you'd guessed or that barbara gordon and teddie wilson, who knew of a similar case, had, and had sent you up to make sure. but after you'd apologized for your note and squared things with eleanor, i--well, i didn't think i should enjoy seeing your face," ended jean, with a little break in her voice. "i--told you i had a sense of honor, and i have." betty put out her hand impulsively. "i'm glad you changed your mind, jean. it's too bad that you can't have a part, but you wouldn't want it in any such way." "i did though," said jean, blinking back the tears. "i knew it would come out in the end,--i counted on that, and i shouldn't have minded miss stuart's rage or the committee's horror. but you're so dreadfully on the square. you make a person feel like a two-penny doll. i don't wonder that eleanor watson has changed about a lot of things. anybody would have to if they saw much of you." betty's thoughts flew back to georgia. "i wish i thought so." "well," said jean fiercely, "i do. that's why i've always hated you. i presume i shall hate you worse than ever to-morrow. meanwhile, will you please tell barbara? i can't help what they all think, and i don't care. i only wanted you to see that i've got a little sense of obligation left and that after i've let a person apologize--don't come any further, please." jean ran swiftly down the steep path leading to the lower level of the back campus and betty turned obediently toward home, feeling very small and useless and unhappy. jean's announcement had been so sudden and so amazing that she didn't know what she had said in response to it, and she was quite sure that she hadn't done at all what jean expected. then this confirmation of her suspicions about jean gave her an uneasy feeling about georgia. that baffling young person was just leaving the gym as betty got back to it, and the sight of her surrounded by a bevy of her admiring friends reassured betty wonderfully. nevertheless she decided to go and see miss ferris. there was something she wanted to ask about. after half an hour spent in miss ferris's cozy sitting-room, she started out to find barbara, armed with the serene conviction that everything would come out right in the end. "how do people influence other people?" she had demanded early in her call. "there is some one i want to influence, if i could, but i don't know how to begin." "that's a big question, betty," miss ferris assured her smilingly. "in general i think the best way to influence people is to be ourselves the things we want them to be--honest and true and kind." betty mused on this advice as she crossed the campus. "that was a good deal what jean said. i guess i must just attend to my own affairs and wait and let things happen, the way madeline does. this about jean just happened." she passed georgia's door on her way up-stairs. the room was full of girls, listening admiringly to their hostess's reminiscences of the afternoon. "that sophomore guard was so rattled. she kept saying, 'i will, i will, i will,' between her teeth and she was so busy saying it that she forgot to go for the ball. but she didn't forget to stick her elbow into me between times--not she. i wanted to slug her a little just for fun, but of course i wouldn't. i perfectly hate people who don't play fair." betty went on up the stairs smiling happily. she wanted to hug georgia for that last sentence. chapter xiv the moonshiners' bacon-roast jean's sudden retirement from the cast of "the merchant of venice" was the subject of a good deal of excited conjecture during the few days that remained of the winter term. betty explained it briefly to barbara, who in turn confided jean's story to the rest of her committee. all of them but clara ellis thought better of jean than they ever had before for the courage she had shown in owning herself in the wrong. teddie wilson, being in jean's french division, remembered her letter from the last year's girl and made a shrewd guess at the true state of affairs; but realizing just how sorely jean had been tempted she was generous enough not to ask any questions or tell anybody what she thought. so the harding world was divided in its opinions, one party asserting that jean's acting had proved a disappointment, the other declaring that she had wanted to manage the whole play, and finding that she couldn't had resigned her part in it. jean herself absolutely refused to discuss the subject, beyond saying that she was tired and had found it necessary to drop something, and she was so sarcastic and ill-tempered that even her best friends began to let her severely alone. toward eleanor her manner was as contemptuous as ever, and she kept haughtily aloof from betty. but one day when two of the hill girls, gossiping in her room, made some slighting remarks about betty's prominence in class affairs, jean flashed out an indignant protest. "she's one of the finest girls in --, and if either of you amounted to a third as much, you could be proud of it. no, i don't like her at all, but i admire her immensely, so please choose somebody else to criticise while you're in here." meanwhile the winter term had ended, the spring vacation come and gone, and the lovely spring term was at full tide in harding. if you were a freshman, it made you feel sleepy and happy and utterly regardless of the future terrors of the conditioned state in comparison with the present joys of tennis and canoeing or the languorous fascination of a hammock on the back campus,--where one goes to study and remains to dream. if you were a senior it made a lump come in your throat,--the fleeting loveliness of this last spring term, when all the trials of being a harding girl are forgotten and all the joys grow dearer than ever, now that they are so nearly past. "but it's not going to be any daisy-picking spring-term for --," bob parker announced gaily to a group of her friends gathered for an after-luncheon conference on the westcott piazza. "isn't that a nice expression? miss raymond used it in class this morning. she wanted to remind us, she said, that the harding course is four full years long. then she gave out a written lesson on jane austen for friday." "what a bother!" lamented babbie, who hadn't elected english novelists. "now i suppose we can't have either the moonshiners' doings or the 'merry hearts' meeting on thursday." "who on earth are the moonshiners?" asked katherine kittredge curiously. "learn to ride horseback and you can be one," explained babbie. "they're just a crowd of girls, mostly seniors, who like to ride together in the cool of the evening and make a specialty of moonlight. we're going to have a bacon-roast the first moonlight night that everybody can come." "which will be the night after never," declared madeline ayres sagely. "what's the awful rush about that bacon-roast?" asked babe. "i should think it would be nicer to wait awhile and have it for a sort of grand end-up to the riding season." "why, there isn't but one more moon before commencement," explained babbie, "and if we wait for that it may be too hot. who wants to go on a bacon-roast in hot weather?" "the 'merry hearts' are going to decide about passing on the society, aren't they?" asked rachel. "that's a very important matter and we ought to get it off our hands before too many other things come up. girls, do you realize that commencement is only five weeks off?" "oh, please don't begin on that," begged babe, who hated sentiment and was desperately afraid that somebody would guess how tear-y she felt about leaving harding. "i'll tell you how to settle things. let's go over all the different afternoons and evenings and see which ones are vacant. most of the 'merry hearts' are here and several moonshiners. we can tell pretty well what the other girls have on for the different days." "i'll keep tab," volunteered katherine, "because i belong to only one of these famous organizations. shall i begin with to-morrow afternoon? who can't come then to a 'merry hearts' meeting?" "we can't. play committee meets," chanted rachel and betty together. "mob rehearsal from four to six," added bob. "helen adams has to go to a conference with the new board of editors," put in madeline. "i heard her talking to christy about it. it begins early and they're going to have tea." "to-morrow evening--moonshiners' engagements please," said katherine briskly. "class supper committee meets to see about caterers," cried babe. "we can't put it off either. last year's class has engaged cuyler's already,--the pills! that committee takes out me and nita and alice waite." "rehearsal of the carnival dance in the play," added babbie promptly, "and jessica, alias me, has to go." "thursday as i understand it is to be devoted to picking, not daisies, but the flowers of jane austen's thought for miss raymond." katherine looked at babbie for directions. "shall i go on to friday afternoon?" "class meeting," chanted several voices at once. "it won't be out a minute before six," declared bob. "we've got to elect the rest of our commencement performers----" "which isn't very many," interposed madeline. "well, there'll be reports from dozens and dozens of committees," concluded bob serenely, "and there'll be quantities of things to discuss. -- is great on discussions." "in the evening," betty took her up, "marie is going to assign the junior ushers to the various functions, and she's asked most of us to advise her about it, hasn't she?" several girls in the circle nodded. "then we come to saturday," proclaimed katherine. "evening's out, i know, for dramatic club's open meeting." "i'm on the reception committee," added betty. "we shall have to trim up the rooms in the afternoon." "all the play people have rehearsals saturday." "saturday seems to be impossible," said katherine. "how about monday afternoon?" "the ivy day committee has a meeting," announced rachel in apologetic tones. "but don't mind me, if the rest can come then." "the prince of morocco has a special audience granted him by miss kingston for monday at five," said madeline. "but don't mind him." "dear me," laughed betty. "i hadn't any idea we were such busy ladies. is everybody in -- on so many committees, do you suppose?" "of course not, simple child," answered bob. "we're prominent seniors,--one of the leading crowds in --. i heard nan whipple call us to a freshman that she had at dinner last sunday." "and all of us but madeline work early and late to keep up the position," added babbie grandly. "the watson lady is an idler too," put in madeline, with quick tact, remembering that eleanor had mentioned no engagements. "we're content to bask in the reflected glory of our friends, aren't we, eleanor?" eleanor nodded brightly and babbie returned to the matter in hand. "we shall never get a date this way," she declared. "let's put all the days of next week after monday into bob's cap. the first one that k. draws out will be the 'merry hearts' afternoon; and the next the moonshiners' evening. those that can't come at the appointed times will have to stay at home." everybody agreed to this, and madeline gallantly sacrificed a leaf from her philosophy note-book to write the days on. "friday," announced katherine, drawing out a slip, "and thursday." "those are all right for me," said madeline. "and for me." "same here." "and here." "we'd much better have drawn lots in the first place," said babbie. "now if it only doesn't rain on thursday and spoil the full moon! tell the others, won't you, girls? i'm due at the science building this very minute." it didn't rain on thursday. indeed the evening was an ideal one for a long gallop, with an open-air supper to follow. this was to be cooked and eaten around a big bonfire that would take the chill off the spring air and keep the mosquitoes at a respectful distance. most of the moonshiners belonged to the golf club, and they had gotten permission to have their fire in a secluded little grove behind the course. babbie, who had organized the moonshiners and was their mistress of ceremonies, held many secret conferences with madeline ayres and the two spent a long afternoon sewing behind locked doors, on some dark brown stuff, which babbie subsequently tied into a big, untidy parcel and carried up to professor henderson's. so the moonshiners expected a "feature" in addition to the familiar delights of a bacon-roast, and they turned out in such numbers that bob had to ride a fat little carriage horse and babbie bravely mounted the spirited mare "lady," who had frightened her so on mountain day. but there was no storm this time to agitate lady's nerves, and they kept clear of the river and the ferries; so everything went smoothly and the moonshiners cantered up to the club house at half past eight in the highest possible spirits. they could see the grove as they dismounted and every one but babbie was surprised to find the fire already lighted. the dishes and provisions had been carried out in big hampers in the afternoon, and the wood gathered, so there was nothing to do now but stroll over to the fire and begin. "why, somebody's there," cried betty suddenly. she was walking ahead with alice waite. "i can see two people. they're stooping over the fire. why, alice, it's two dear little brown elves." "just like those on my ink-stand," cried alice, excitedly. "how queer!" everybody had seen the picturesque little figures by this time, and the figures in their turn had spied the riding-party and had begun to dance merrily in the fire-light. they were dressed in brown from head to foot, with long ears on their brown hoods and long, pointed toes curling up at the ends of their brown shoes. they looked exactly like the little iron figures of brownies that every harding girl who kept up with the prevailing fads had put on her desk that spring in some useful or ornamental capacity. they danced indefatigably, pausing now and then to heap on fresh wood or to poke the fire into a more effective blaze, and looking, in the weird light, quite fantastic enough to have come out of the little hillside behind the fire, tempted to upper earth by the moonlight and the great pile of dry wood left ready to their hands. for a few minutes after the moonshiners' arrival the trolls resolutely refused to speak. "'cause now you'll know we ain't real magic," explained billy henderson indignantly, when his chum had fallen a victim to bob's wiles and disclosed his identity. the fire was so big and so hot by this time that it threatened to burn up the whole grove, so the small boys were persuaded to devote their energies to toasting thin slices of bacon, held on the ends of long sticks, and later to help pass the rolls and coffee that went with the bacon, and to brown the marshmallows, which, with delicious little nut-cakes, made up the last course. the moonshiners had spent so much time admiring babbie's brownies that they had to hurry through the supper and even so it bid fair to be after ten before they reached the campus. betty, bob, and madeline happened to get back to the horses first and were waiting impatiently for the rest to come when bob made a suggestion. "mr. ware is helping stamp out the fire. let's get on and start for home ahead of the others. then we can let most of them in if they're late. our matron will rage if she catches us again this week." "all right," agreed madeline. "mr. ware said he had told a man to be at the westcott, ready to take some of the horses. let's not tell any one. they'll be so surprised to find three horses gone." "we shall have to hurry then," whispered betty. "they'll be here any minute." "on second thought," said madeline, "i don't believe i can pick out my own horse. it's inky dark here under the trees." madeline had ridden all her life but she seldom went out at harding, and so hadn't a regular mount, like most of the other moonshiners. "of course you can, madeline," scoffed betty. "you rode hero, that big black beast hitched to the last post, next to my horse. don't you remember tying him there?" bob backed her sturdy cob out from between two restless companions, and with much laughter and whispering and many injunctions to hurry and to be "awfully still," the three conspirators mounted and walked their horses quietly down the drive. "my stirrups seem a lot too long," betty whispered softly, as they passed down the avenue, dusky with the shadows of tall elms. "whoa, tony! wait just a minute, girls. why--oh, bob, madeline,--i've got the wrong horse. somebody must have changed them around. this is lady." whether it was betty's nervous clutch on the reins as she made this dire discovery and remembered lady's antics on the ferry-boat, or whether the saucy little breeze which chose that moment to stir the elm branches and set the shadows dancing on the white road, was responsible, is a matter of doubt. at any rate lady jerked back her pretty head impatiently, as if in answer to her name, shivered daintily, reared, and ran. she dodged cat-like, between bob and madeline and out through the narrow gateway, turned sharply to the right, away from harding, and galloped off up the level road that lay white in the moonlight, between the golf club and a pine wood half a mile away. betty had presence of mind enough to dig her knees into lady's sides, and so managed somehow, in spite of her mis-fit stirrups, to stay on at the gate. she tugged hard at the reins as lady flew along, and murmured soothing words into lady's quivering ears. but it wasn't any use. betty had wondered sometimes how it felt to be run away with. now she knew. it felt like a rush of cold wind that made you dizzy and faint. you thought of all sorts of funny little things that happened to you ages ago. you wondered who would plan jessica's costumes if anything happened to you. you wished you weren't on so many committees; it would bother marie so to appoint some one in your place. you made a neat little list of those committees in your mind. then you got to the pine wood, and something did happen, for lady went on alone. madeline, straining her eyes at the gateway, waiting for bob and mr. ware to come, couldn't see that. "she was still on the last i could see," she told them huskily, and mr. ware whipped his horse into a run and rushed after lady. madeline looked despairingly at bob. "let's go too," she said. "i can't stand it to wait here." "all right." they rode fast, but it seemed ages before they got to the pines. mr. ware was galloping far ahead of them. "if she's gone so far she'll slow up gradually on that long hill," suggested bob, trying to speak cheerfully. "isn't it--pretty--stony?" asked madeline. "yes, but after she'd run so far she wouldn't try to throw betty." "suppose we wait here. oh, bob, what shall we do if she's badly hurt?" "she can't be," said bob with a thick sob. "please come on, madeline. i've got to know if she's----" bob paused over the dreadful word. there was a little rustling noise in the bushes beside the road. "did mr. ware have a dog?" asked madeline. "no," gulped bob. "there's something down there. who's there?" called madeline fearlessly, and then she whistled in case bob had been mistaken about the dog. "it's i--betty wales," answered a shaky little voice, with a reassuring suggestion of mirth in it. "i'm so glad somebody has come. i'm down here in a berry-patch and i can't get up." madeline was off her horse by this time, pushing through the briars regardless of her new riding habit. "where are you hurt, dear?" she asked bending over betty and speaking very gently. "do you suppose you could let me lift you up?" betty held out her arms, with a merry laugh. "why, of course i could. i'm not one bit hurt, except scratched. the ferns are just as soft as a feather bed down here, but the thorns up above are dreadful. i can't seem to pull myself up. i'm a little faint, i guess." a minute later she was standing in the road, leaning against madeline, who felt of her anxiously and asked again and again if it didn't hurt. "hasn't she broken her collar-bone?" asked bob, who was holding the horses. "people generally do when they have a bad spill. are her arms all right?" "i suppose i didn't know how to fall in the proper way," explained betty, wearily. "i can't remember how it happened, only all at once i found myself down on those ferns with my face scratched and smarting. if mr. ware went by ahead of you i suppose i must have been stunned, for i didn't see him." "he's probably hunting distractedly for you on the hill," said bob, glad to have something definite to do. "i think he's caught lady, and i'll go and tell him that we've caught you." just then professor henderson's surrey drove up. it had come for billy, and babbie had thoughtfully sent it on to bring back "whoiver's hurted," the groom explained. but he made no objection to taking in betty, though, rather to billy's disappointment, she did not come under that category. "i never saw a broken arm, ner a broken leg, ner a broken anything," he murmured sleepily. "i thought i'd have a chance now. say, can i please put my head in your lap?" "my, but your knees wiggle something awful," billy complained a minute later. "don't you think they're cracked, maybe?" so madeline put the sleepy elves in front with the driver and got in herself beside betty. curled up in madeline's strong arms she cried a little and laughed a good deal, never noticing that madeline was crying, too. for just beyond the berry-patch there was a heap of big stones, which made everything that bob and madeline had feared in that dreadful time of suspense seem very reasonable and betty's escape from harm little short of a miracle. it was striking eleven when the riding party and the surrey turned up the campus drive and the b's noticed with dismay that the westcott was brilliantly lighted. "i know what's happened," wailed babe. "our beloved matron has found us missing and she's hunting for us under the beds and in all the closets, preparatory to calling in the police. never mind! we've got a good excuse this time." but the westcott was not burning its lights to accommodate the matron. the b's had not even been missed. katherine met them in the hall and barely listened to their excited accounts of their evening's adventure. "there's been plenty doing right here, too," she said. "what?" demanded the three. "college thief again, but this time it's a regular raid. for some reason nearly everybody was away this evening, and the ones who had anything to lose have lost it--no money, as usual, only jewelry. fay ross thinks she saw the thief, but--well, you know how fay describes people. you'd better go and see what you've lost." luckily the thief had neglected the fourth floor this time, so they had lost nothing, but they sat up for an hour longer, consoling their less fortunate friends, and listening to fay's account of her meeting with the robber. "i'm pretty sure i should know her again," she declared, "and i'm perfectly sure that i've seen her before. she isn't very tall nor very dark. she's big and she looks stupid and slow, not a bit like a crafty thief, or like a college girl either. she had a silk bag on her arm. i wish i'd asked her what was in it." but naturally fay hadn't asked, and she probably wouldn't see the thief soon again. next morning emily lawrence telegraphed her father about her watch with diamonds set in the back, and he sent up two detectives from boston, who, so everybody supposed, would make short work of finding the robber. they took statements from girls who had lost their valuables during the year and from fay, prowled about the campus and the town, and finally went back to boston and presented emily's father with a long bill and the enlightening information that the case was a puzzling one and if anything more turned up they would communicate it. georgia ames displayed no unusual interest in the robbery. she happened to tell betty that she had spent the entire evening of the bacon-roast with roberta, and betty, watching her keenly, was almost sure that she knew nothing of the excitement at the westcott until the b's came over before chapel to inquire for "the runaway lady" and brought the news of the robbery with them. the "runaway lady" explained that she wasn't even very lame and should have to go to classes just as usual. then she hid her face for a minute on bob's broad shoulder,--for though she wasn't lame she had dreamed all night of lady and stones and briars and broken collar-bones,--and bob patted her curls and told her that lady was going to be sold, and that she should have been frightened to pieces in betty's place. after which betty covered her scratches with a very bewitching white veil and went to chapel, just as if nothing had happened. chapter xv plans for a cooperative commencement it was saturday afternoon and time for the "merry hearts'" meeting, which had been postponed for a day to let every one recover from thursday evening's excitement. "come along, betty," said roberta lewis, poking her head in at betty's half-open door. "we're going to meet out on the back campus, by nita's hammock." "could you wait just a second?" asked betty absently, looking up from a much crossed and blotted sheet of paper. "if i can only think of a good way to end this sentence, i can inform madeline ayres that my 'novelists'' paper is done. she said i couldn't possibly finish it by five. see my new motto." "'do not let study interfere with your regular college career,'" read roberta slowly. "what a lovely sentiment! where did you get it?" "helen gave it to me for a commencement present," said betty, drawing a very black line through the words she had written last. "isn't it just like her?" "do you mean that it's like her to give you something for commencement that you won't have much use for afterward?" "yes," laughed betty, "and to give it to me because she says i made her see that it's the sensible way of looking at college, although she thinks the person who got up these mottoes probably meant it for a joke. she wishes she could find out for sure about that. isn't she comical?" "yes," said roberta, "she is. you haven't written as much as you've crossed out since i came, betty wales. we shall be late." betty shut her fountain pen with a snap, and tossed the much blotted page on top of a heap of its fellows, which were piled haphazard in a chair beside her desk. "who cares for madeline ayres?" she said, and arm in arm the two friends started for the back campus, where they found all the rest of the senior "merry hearts" waiting for them. dora carlson couldn't come, eleanor explained; and anne carter and georgia thought that they were too new to membership in the society to have any voice in deciding how it should be perpetuated. "it's rather nice being just by ourselves, isn't it?" said bob. "it's rather nice being all together," added babbie in such a significant tone that babe gave her a withering glance and summarily called the meeting to order. the discussion that followed was animated, but it didn't seem to arrive anywhere. there were lucile and polly and their friends in the sophomore class who would be proud to receive a legacy from the seniors they admired so much; and there was a junior crowd, who, as k. put it, were a "jolly good sort," and would understand the "merry hearts'" policy and try to keep up its influence in the college. everybody agreed that, if the society went down at all, it ought to descend to a set of girls who were prominent enough to give a certain prestige to its democratic principles, and who, being intimate friends, would enjoy working and playing together as the first generation of "merry hearts" had, and would know how to bring in the "odd ones" like dora and anne, when opportunity offered. "but after all," said rachel dejectedly, "it would never be quite the same. we are 'merry hearts' because we wanted to be. the idea just fitted us." "and will look like a rented dress suit on any one else," added madeline frivolously. "of course i'm not a charter member of --, and perhaps i ought not to speak. but don't you think that the younger classes will find their own best ways of keeping up the right spirit at harding? i vote that the 'merry hearts' has done its work and had its little fling, and that it would better go out when we do." "then it ought to go out in a regular blaze of glory," said bob, when murmurs of approval had greeted madeline's opinion. "i know a way." betty spoke out almost before she thought, and then she blushed vividly, fearing that she had been too hasty and that the "merry hearts" might not approve of her plan. "is it one of the things you thought of while you were being run away with?" asked madeline quizzically. betty laughed and nodded. "you'd better make a list of the things i thought of, miss ayres, if the subject interests you so much." "was there one for every scratch on your face?" asked katherine. betty drew herself up with a comical affectation of offended dignity. "i almost wish i'd broken my collar-bone, as bob thought i ought to. then perhaps i should get a little sympathy." "and where would the costumes for the play have been, with you laid up in the infirmary for a month?" demanded babbie with a groan. "do you know that's the very thing i worried about most when lady was running," began betty, so earnestly that everybody laughed again. "just the same it wouldn't have been any joke, would it, about those costumes," said bob, when the mirth had subsided, "nor about all the other committee work that you've done and that nobody else knows much about." "not even to mention that we should hate to have anything happen to you for purely personal reasons," said madeline, shivering in the warm sunshine as she remembered how that dreadful pile of white stones had glistened in the moonlight. "i think this class would better pass a law: no more riding by prominent seniors," declared katherine kittredge. "if emily davis should get spilled, there would go our good young gobbo and our ivy day orator, besides nobody knows how much else." "christy is toastmistress and antonio." "kate is chairman of the supper committee and portia." "everybody who's anything is a lot of things, i guess," said little helen adams. she herself was in the mob that made the background for the trial scene in "the merchant of venice," and she was as elated over her part as any of the chief actors could possibly be over their leading rôles. but that wasn't all. she was trying for the ivy song, which is chosen each year by competition. she had been working on her song in secret all through the year, and she felt sure that nobody had cared so much or tried so hard as she,--though of course, she reminded herself sternly it took more than that to write the winning song and she didn't mean to be disappointed if she failed. "order please, young ladies," commanded babe, who delighted to exercise her presidential dignities. "we are straying far from the subject in hand--to adapt the words of our beloved latin professor. betty wales was going to tell us how the 'merry hearts' could go out with a splurge." "i object to the president's english," interrupted madeline. "the connotation of the term splurge is unpleasant. we don't wish to splurge. now go ahead, betty." "why, it's nothing much," said betty modestly, "and probably it's not at all what bob is thinking of. it's just that, as helen says, everybody who is in anything is in a lot of things and most of the class are being left out of the commencement plans. i thought of it first that day we had a lecture on monopolies in sociology. don't you remember miss norris's saying that there were classes and masses and excellent examples of monopolies right here in college, and that we needn't wait until we were out to have a chance to fight trusts and equalize wages." "oh, that was just an illustration," objected bob blandly. "miss norris didn't mean anything by it." "she's a harding girl herself," betty went on, "and it's certainly true, even if she didn't intend it to be acted on. thursday night when i went over the things i had to do about commencement and thought i couldn't do any of them i felt dreadfully greedy." "but betty," rachel took her up, "don't you think it takes executive ability to be on committees and plan things? commencement would be at sixes and sevens if the wrong girls had charge of it." "yes, of course it would," agreed betty. "only i wondered if all the left-out people are the wrong kind." "of course they're not," said madeline ayres with decision. "what is executive ability, anyway?" "the thing that christy mason has," returned bob promptly. "exactly," said madeline, "and that is just practice in being at the head of things,--nothing more. christy isn't much of a pusher, she isn't particularly brilliant or particularly tactful; but she's been on committees as regularly as clockwork all through her course, and she's learned when to pull and when to push, and when to sit back and make the rest push. it's a thing any one can learn, like french or bookkeeping or how to make sugar-cookies. i hate it myself, but i don't believe it's a difficult accomplishment." "perhaps not," protested bob, "but it takes time, if it's anything like french or cookies--i never tried the bookkeeping. we don't want to make any experiments with our one and only commencement." "why, i'm an experiment," said roberta hastily, as if she had just thought of it and felt impelled to speak. "yes, but you're the exception that proves the rule," said nita reese brusquely. nita's reputation for executive ability was second only to christy's and she was badly overworked, and tired and cross in consequence. "i don't think i quite get your idea, betty. do you want k., for instance, to give up her part in the play to leslie penrose, who was told she could have it at first and cried for a whole day when she found there had been a mistake?" "come, nita," said madeline lazily, but with a dangerous flash in her gray eyes. "that's not the way to take our last chance to make more 'merry hearts.' let betty tell us exactly what she does mean." "please do, betty," begged nita, half ashamed already of her ill-tempered outburst. "of course i don't want k. to give up her part," began betty with a grateful look at madeline and a smile for katherine. "i only thought that some of us are in so many things that we're tired and rushed all the time, and not enjoying our last term half as much as we might." "my case exactly," put in nita repentantly. "whereas there are girls in the class who've never had anything to do here but study, and who would be perfectly delighted to be on some little unimportant commencement committee." "but they ought to realize," said babbie loftily, "that in a big college like harding very few people can have a chance to be at the head of things. our commencement is pretty enough to pay our families for coming even if the girls they are particularly interested in don't have parts. being on a committee isn't a part anyway." "girls who are never on them think it is," said helen adams. there was an ominous silence. at the end of it babbie slipped out of the hammock and sat down beside betty on the grass. "it's no use at all fighting you, betty wales," she declared amiably. "you always twist the things we don't want to do around until they seem simple and easy and no more than decent. of course it's true that we are all tired to death doing things that the left-outs will be blissful at the prospect of helping us with. but it's been so every year and no other class ever turned its play and its commencement upside down. and yet you make it seem the only reasonable thing to do." "lucky our class-meeting happened to be postponed," said bob in matter-of-fact tones, "makes it easier arranging things." "a coöperative commencement will send us out with a splurge all right," remarked babe. thus the b's made a graceful concession to the policy of trying more experiments with --'s commencement. "one man, one office--that's our slogan," declared katherine, when babe had announced that the vote in favor of betty's plan was unanimous. "no hard and fast policy, but the general encouragement of passing around the honors. i haven't but one myself, so i shall have to look on and see that the rest of you do your duty." "let's make a list of the vacancies that will probably occur in our midst, as it were," suggested rachel. "i wonder if we couldn't lengthen the ivy day program and make room for a few more girls in that way," put in eleanor. "the oration and the song don't take any time at all." "fine idea!" cried madeline. "we have a lot of musical and literary talent in the class that isn't being used anywhere. we'll turn it over to the ivy day committee with instructions to build their program accordingly." "but we must manage things tactfully," interposed babbie, "as we did about the junior usher dresses. we mustn't let the left-overs suspect that we are making places for them." "by the way," said madeline, "have you heard that this year's junior ushers are going to keep up the precedent, out of compliment to us?" "pretty cute," cried babe. "i hope they'll manage to look as well as we did." "and as we are going to again this year in our sweet simplicity costumes," said babbie, with a little sigh of regret for the wonderful imported gown that her mother had suggested buying as part of her commencement present. it was growing late, so the "merry hearts" made a hasty outline of procedure, and delegated rachel to see marie howard and ask her to help with the plan as far as she could at the approaching class-meeting. luckily this was not until the following tuesday, so there was plenty of time to interview all the right people and get the coöperative campaign well established before marie rose at the meeting to read what would otherwise have seemed an amazing list of committee appointments. emily davis gave up gobbo at once and christy, after weighing the relative glories of being toastmistress and antonio decided that she could help more at the class supper. both girls declared that they were delighted to be relieved of part of their responsibilities. "those toasts that i hadn't time to brown properly were getting on my nerves," christy declared. "and my ivy oration was growing positively frivolous, it was so mixed up with young gobbo's irresponsible way of changing masters," confessed emily. "i've wanted to drop out of the play, but i was afraid the girls would think me as irresponsible as gobbo. leslie penrose knows my part and she can step into the place as well as not." it was a surprise to everybody when kate denise joined the movement, without even having been asked to do so. she gave up everything but her part as portia, and used her influence to make the rest of the hill girls do the same. "i guess she remembers how we did them up last year on the dress business," chuckled bob. "she's a lot nicer than the rest of her crowd," babbie reminded her, "and i think she's tired of acting as if she wasn't." "i hate freaks," said babe, "but it is fun to see them bustle around, acting as if they owned the earth. leslie's whole family is coming to commencement, down to the youngest baby, and the fat miss austin is fairly bursting with pride just because she's on the supper committee. she has some good ideas, too." "of course they're proud," said little helen adams sententiously. "things you've never had always look valuable to you." helen had won in the song contest. her family would see her name and her song in print on the ivy day program, and may hayward, a friend of hers and t. reed's in their desolate freshman year, was to be in the mob in helen's place. all the changes had been made without any difficulty and no one was worrying lest experiments should prove the ruin of --'s commencement. mr. masters had protested hotly against christy's withdrawal from the play, but the new antonio was proving herself a great success and even mr. masters had to admit that the whole play had gained decidedly the minute that the actors had dropped their other outside interests. but the great difference was in the spirit of good-fellowship that prevailed everywhere. everybody had something to do now, or if not, then her best friend had, and they talked it over together, told what christy had suggested about the tables for class-supper, how kate was having all her own dresses made for portia and nerissa couldn't afford to, so eleanor watson had lent her a beautiful blue satin, or what the new ivy day committees had decided about the exercises. there was no longer a monopoly of anything in --. incidentally, as katherine pointed out, nobody was resting her nerves at the infirmary. betty would have been perfectly happy if she hadn't felt obliged to worry a little about georgia ames. ashley dwight had been up to see her twice since the prom. betty felt responsible for their friendship and wondered if she ought to warn tom that she really didn't know anything about georgia. for suppose georgia hadn't had anything to do with the westcott house robbery; that didn't prove anything about her having taken nita's pin in the fall. if madeline had spoken to her protégée, as she intended to do, about excluding the blunderbuss from her acquaintance, georgia had paid the advice scant heed. the blunderbuss came to see her more and more often as the term went on. to be sure georgia was very seldom at home when the senior called. indeed her roommate was getting to feel decidedly injured because georgia never used her room except to sleep and dress in. chapter xvi a hoop-rolling and a tragedy -- was having its hoop-rolling. this is the way a senior hoop-rolling is managed: custom decrees that it may take place on any afternoon of senior week, which is the week before commencement when the seniors' work is over though the rest of the classes are still toiling over their june exams. some morning a senior who feels particularly young and frolicsome suggests to her friends at chapel that, as the time-honored official notice puts it, "the day has come, the seniors said, to have our little fling. let's buy our hoops and roll them round, and laugh and dance and sing." if her friends also feel frolicsome they pass the word along, and unless some last year's girls have bequeathed them hoops, they hurry down-town to buy them of the harding dealer who always keeps a stock on hand for these annual emergencies. the seniors dress for luncheon in "little girl" fashion, skirts up and hair down, and the minute the meal is over they rush out into the sunshine to roll hoop, skip rope, swing in the long-suffering hammocks under the apple trees, and romp to their hearts' content. freshmen hurrying by to their livy exam, turn green with envy, and sophomores and juniors "cramming" history and logic indoors lean out of their windows to laugh and applaud, finally come down to watch the fun for "just a minute," and forget to go back at all. -- had its hoop-rolling the very first day of senior week. as madeline ayres said when she proposed it, you couldn't tell what might turn up, in the way of either fun or weather, for the other days, so it was best to lose no time. and such a gay and festive hoop-rolling as it was! first they had a hoop-rolling parade through the campus, and then some hoop-rolling contests for which the prizes were bunches of daisies, "presented with acknowledgments to miss raymond," emily davis explained. when they were tired of hoops they ran races. when they were out of breath with running they played "drop the handkerchief" and "london bridge." after that they serenaded a few of their favorite faculty. then they had a reformed spelling-match, to prove how antiquated their recently finished education had already become. finally they sat down in a big circle on the grass and had "stunts." babbie recited "mary had a little lamb," for possibly the thousandth time since she had learned to do it early in her junior year. emily davis delivered her famous temperance lecture. madeline sang her french songs, jane drew did her ever-popular "hen-act," and nancy simmons gave "home, sweet home," as sung into a phonograph by madame patti on her tenth farewell tour. most of these accomplishments dated back as far as -- itself, and half the girls who heard them knew them by heart, but they listened to each one in breathless silence and greeted its conclusion with prolonged and vigorous applause. it was queer, alice waite said, but some way you never, never got tired of seeing the same old stunts. when the long list of --'s favorites was finally exhausted and emily davis had positively refused to give the temperance lecture for a third time, the big circle broke up into a multitude of little ones. bob parker and a few other indefatigable spirits went back to skipping rope; the hammocks filled with exclusive twos and threes; larger coteries sat on the grass or locked arms and strolled slowly up and down the broad path that skirted the apple-orchard. betty, helen and madeline were among the strollers. "one more of the famous last things over," said madeline with a regretful little sigh. "i'm glad we had it before the alums, and the families begin to arrive and muddle everything up." "did i tell you that dorothy king is coming after all?" asked betty, who, in a short white sailor suit, with her curls flying and her hoop clutched affectionately in one hand, looked at least eight years too young to be a senior, and supremely happy. "has she told you, helen?" repeated madeline dramatically. "she tells me over again every time i see her. when is mary brooks scheduled to arrive?" "thursday," answered betty, "so that she can see the play all three times." "not to mention seeing dr. hinsdale between the acts," suggested madeline. "what do you two say to a picnic to-morrow?" helen said, "how perfectly lovely!" and betty decided that if helen and madeline would come to the gym in the morning and help with the last batch of costumes for the mob, she could get off by three o'clock in the afternoon. "that reminds me," she added, "that i promised nerissa to ask eleanor if she has any shoes to match her blue dress. the ones we ordered aren't right at all by gas-light." "there's eleanor just going over to the hilton," said helen. "find out if she can go to the picnic," called madeline, as betty hurried off, shouting and waving her hoop. "we'll be asking the others." "el-ea-nor!" cried betty shrilly, making frantic gestures with her hoop. but though eleanor turned and looked back at the gay pageant under the trees, she couldn't single out any one figure among so many, and after an instant's hesitation she went on up the hilton house steps. so betty stepped across the campus alone, and being quite out of breath by the time she got indoors went slowly up-stairs and down the long hall to eleanor's room. the house was very still--evidently its inmates were all out watching the hoop-rolling. betty found herself walking softly, in sympathy with the almost oppressive silence. eleanor's door was ajar, so that betty's knock pushed it further open. "may i come in?" she asked, hearing eleanor, as she supposed, moving about inside. without waiting for an answer she walked straight in and came face to face with--not eleanor, but miss harrison, champion blunderbuss of --. "why, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp with amazement. "i beg your pardon," she added laughingly, "but i thought of course it was eleanor watson. she came into the house just ahead of me." "she hasn't been in here yet," said the blunderbuss. she had been standing when betty first caught sight of her. now she dropped hastily into a chair by the window. "i was sure she'd be back soon and i wanted to speak to her for a minute. but i guess i won't wait any longer. i shall be late to dinner." "why, no, you won't," said betty quickly. "it isn't anywhere near dinner-time yet." she didn't care about talking to the blunderbuss while she waited for eleanor, but she had a great curiosity to know what the girl could want with eleanor. "and i don't believe eleanor will have any more idea than i have," she thought. but the blunderbuss rose nervously. "well, anyway, i can't wait," she said. "i guess it's later than you think. good-bye." just at that minute, however, somebody came swiftly down the hall. it was eleanor watson, carrying a great bunch of pink roses. "oh, betty dear," she cried, not noticing the blunderbuss, who had stepped behind a japanese screen, "see what daddy sent me. wasn't it nice of him? why, miss harrison, i didn't see you." eleanor dropped her roses on a table and came forward, looking in perplexity first at miss harrison and then around the room. "betty," she went on quickly, "have you been hunting for something? i surely didn't leave my bureau drawers open like this." betty's glance followed eleanor's to the two drawers in the chiffonier and one in the dressing table which were tilted wide open, their contents looked as if some one had stirred them up with a big spoon. she had been too much engrossed by her encounter with miss harrison to notice any such details before. "no, of course i haven't been hunting for anything," she answered quickly. "i shouldn't think of doing such a thing when you were away." "i shouldn't have minded a bit." eleanor turned back to miss harrison. "did you want to see me," she asked, "or did you only come up with betty?" the blunderbuss wet her lips nervously. "i--i wanted to ask you about something, but it doesn't matter. i'll see you some other time. you'll want to talk to miss wales now." she had almost reached the door, when, to eleanor's further astonishment, betty darted after her and caught her by the sleeve. "miss harrison," she said, while the blunderbuss stared at her angrily, "i'm in no hurry at all. i can wait as well as not, or if you want to see eleanor alone i will go out. but i think that you owe it to eleanor and to yourself too to say why you are here." the blunderbuss looked defiantly from betty's determined face to eleanor's puzzled one. "i didn't know it was miss watson's room until you came in and asked for her," she vouchsafed at last. "you didn't know it was her room?" repeated betty coldly. "why didn't you tell me that long ago? whose room did you think you were in?" "i thought--i didn't know whose it was." "then," said betty deliberately, "if you admit that you were in here without knowing who occupied the room you must excuse me if i ask you whether or not you were looking through eleanor's bureau drawers just before i came in." there was a strained silence. "you can have all the things back," said the blunderbuss at last, as coolly as if she were speaking of returning a borrowed umbrella; and out of the pockets of the child's apron which she still wore she pulled a gold chain and a bracelet and held them out to eleanor. "i don't want them," she said when neither of the others spoke. "i don't know why i took them. it just came over me that while all the others were out there playing it would be a good chance for me to go and look at their pretty things." "and to steal the ones you liked best," added betty scornfully. the blunderbuss gave her a vaguely troubled look. "i didn't think of it that way. anyway it's all right now. haven't i given them right back?" "suppose we hadn't come in and found you here," put in eleanor. "wouldn't you have taken them away?" "i--i presume so," said the blunderbuss. "so you are the person who has been stealing jewelry from the campus houses all through this year." betty's voice grew harder as she remembered the injustice she had so nearly done georgia and miss harrison's self-righteous attack on eleanor in that dreadful class-meeting. the blunderbuss accepted the statement without comment. "they could have had the things back if they'd asked for them," she said. "i couldn't very well give them back if they didn't ask." "will you give them back now?" asked betty, astonishment at the girl's strange behavior gaining on her indignation. the blunderbuss nodded vigorously. "certainly i will. i'll bring them all here to-night. i don't want them for anything. i never wanted them. i'm sure i don't know why i took them. oh, there's just one thing," she added hastily, "that i can't bring. it isn't with the rest. but i've got everything else all safe and i'll come right after dinner. good-bye." [illustration: the girls watched her in bewilderment] the girls watched her go in a daze of bewilderment. just outside the door she evidently bumped into some one, and her clattering laugh and loud, "goodness, how you scared me!" sounded as light-hearted and unconcerned as possible. "how did you ever guess that she was the one?" eleanor asked at last. "it just came over me," betty answered. "but, why, she doesn't seem to care one bit!" "about running into me?" asked jean eastman, appearing suddenly in the doorway. "has she been doing damage in here, too?" no one answered and jean gave a quick look about the room, noticing the rummaged drawers, the girls' excited, tragic faces, and the jewelry that eleanor still had in her hand. then she made one of her haphazard deductions, whose accuracy was the terror of her enemies and the admiration of her followers. "oh, i see--it's more college robber. so our dear blunderbuss is the thief. i congratulate you, eleanor, on the beautiful poetic justice of your having been the one to catch her." "yes, she's the thief," said betty, before eleanor could answer. she had a sudden inspiration that the best way to treat jean, now that she guessed so much, was to trust her with everything. "and she acts so strangely--she doesn't seem to realize what she has done, and she doesn't care a bit that we know it. she said----" and between them they gave jean a full account of their interview with miss harrison. jean listened attentively. "it's a pathetic case, isn't it?" she said at last, with no trace of her mocking manner. "i wonder if she isn't a kleptomaniac." betty and eleanor both looked puzzled and jean explained the long word. "it means a person who has an irresistible desire to steal one particular kind of thing, not to use, but just for the sake of taking them, apparently. i heard of a woman once who stole napkins and piled them up in a closet in her house. it's a sort of insanity or very nearly that. of course jewelry is different from napkins, but miss harrison has taken so much more than she can use----" "especially so many pearl pins," put in betty, eagerly. "haven't you noticed what a lot of those have been lost? she couldn't possibly wear them all." "perhaps she meant to sell them," suggested eleanor. "but her family are very wealthy," objected jean. "they spend their summers where kate does, and she says that they give this girl everything she wants. she never took money either, even when it was lying out in plain sight, and her being so ready to give back the things seems to show that she didn't take them for any special purpose." "then if she's a----" began betty. "kleptomaniac," supplied jean. "she isn't exactly a thief, is she?" "no, i suppose not," said jean doubtfully. "but she isn't a very safe person to have around," said eleanor. "i'll tell you what," said betty, who had only been awaiting a favorable opening to make her suggestion. "it's too big a question for us to try to settle, isn't it, girls? let's go and tell miss ferris all that we've found out so far, and leave the whole matter in her hands." then jean justified the confidence that betty had shown in her. "you couldn't do anything better," she said, rising to leave. "i wish i'd known her well enough to talk things over with her,--not public things like this, i mean, but private ones. betty, here's a note that christy mason asked me to give you. that's what i came in for, originally. of course this affair of miss harrison is yours, not mine, and i shan't mention it again, unless miss ferris decides to make it public, as i don't believe she will. by the way, i wonder if you know that miss harrison can't graduate with us." "you mean that she has been caught stealing before?" asked eleanor. "oh, no, but she couldn't make up the french that she flunked at midyears, and she must be behind in other subjects, too. i heard rumors about her having been dropped, and last week i saw the proof of our commencement program. her name isn't on the diploma list." "oh, i believe i'm almost glad of that," said betty softly. "it's dreadful to be glad that she has failed in every way, but i can't bear to think that she belongs in our class." so it was miss ferris who met the blunderbuss in eleanor's room that night, who managed the return of the stolen property to its owners, with a suggestion that it would be a favor to the whole college not to say much about its recovery, and she who, finding suddenly that the noise of the campus tired her, spent the rest of the term at miss harrison's boarding place on main street, where she could watch over the poor girl and minimize the risk of her indulging her fatal mania again while she was at harding. she was nonchalant over having been caught stealing, but her failure in scholarship had almost broken her heart. she had worked so hard and so patiently up to the very last minute in the hope of winning her diploma that, on the very morning of the hoop-rolling, she had been granted the privilege of staying on through commencement festivities and so keeping her loss of standing as much as possible to herself. after listening to betty's and eleanor's stories and talking to miss harrison herself, miss ferris was fully convinced that the blunderbuss was not morally responsible for the thefts she had committed, and so she was unwilling to send her home at once and thus expose her to the double disgrace that her going just then would probably have involved. so she found her hands very full until the girl's mother could be sent for and the sad story broken to her as gently as possible. it was the one unrelieved tragedy in --'s history; there seemed to be absolutely no help for it,--the kindest thing to do was to forget it as soon as possible. chapter xvii bits of commencement but betty wales couldn't forget it yet. it stood out in the midst of the happy leisure and anticipation of senior week like a skeleton at the feast,--a gaunt reminder that even the sheltered little world of college must now and then take its share of the strange and sorrowful problems that loom so much larger in the big world outside. but even so, it had its alleviating circumstances. one was miss ferris's hearty approval of the way in which betty and eleanor had managed their discovery, and another was jean eastman's unexpected attitude of helpfulness. she assumed her full share of responsibility, discouraging gossip and speculation about the thefts as earnestly and tactfully as betty herself, and taking her turn of watching the blunderbuss at the times when miss ferris couldn't follow her without causing too much comment. betty and eleanor tried to accept her help as if they had expected nothing else from her, and jean for her part made no reference to that phase of the matter except to say once to betty, "if eleanor watson can stand by her i guess i can. besides you stood by me, and i didn't deserve it any more than this poor thing does. please subtract it from all the times i've bothered you." betty was very generous with the subtraction. she was in a generous mood, wanting to give everybody the benefit of the doubt that, with a good deal of a struggle, she had managed to give georgia. of course the vindicating of the little freshman was quite the happiest result of the whole affair. it didn't take betty long to identify the amethyst pendant as the one article which the blunderbuss had said she couldn't return; and she was at once relieved and disappointed, on going over the stolen jewelry with miss ferris, to find that nita's pin was certainly missing. of course that left room for the possibility that the blunderbuss had not taken it, and the next thing to do was to consult georgia and make sure. betty waited until after dinner that evening for a chance to see her alone and then, unable to stand the suspense any longer, broke abruptly away from her own friends and detached georgia from a group of tired and disconsolate freshmen sympathizing over examinations. "let's go for a walk all by ourselves," she said. "no fair, running off to talk secrets," madeline called after the pair. "curiosity killed a cat," betty chanted gaily back at her, leading the way to the back campus. "it's awfully nice of you to ask me to come, when so many people want you," said georgia shyly. "oh, no, it's not," protested betty. "i shall have a whole week with the others after you've gone. besides, there's something i especially want to talk to you about. let's go and sit on the bank below the observatory." they found comfortable seats among the gnarled roots of an old elm, where they could look across at paradise and down on a bed of gorgeous rhododendrons, over which great moths, more marvelously colored than the flowers, flitted lazily in the twilight. then betty plunged into the thick of things. "you remember the pendant that you wore on your chain the night of the glee club concert. you said it was a present. would you mind telling me who gave it to you? i have good reason for asking." georgia flushed a little and made the answer that betty had hoped for. "the senior miss harrison gave it to me last christmas. i know you and madeline don't like her, and i don't like her a bit better. but what can you do, betty, when some one takes a fancy to you? you can't snub her just because she happens to be stupid and unpopular--not if you're a 'merry heart,' anyway." "no," said betty, "you can't. but if you don't like her you won't feel so bad about what i've got to tell you." georgia listened to the story aghast. "but i'm not so dreadfully surprised," she said. "it explains so many things. she started to take caroline's class-pin one day in our room. i supposed she had picked it up without thinking, so when she went away i asked her for it and she acted so funny when she gave it back. and then the way she happened to give me this pin. i went to call on her once last fall, after she had asked me to dinner, and i noticed it shining under the edge of the carpet. when i called her attention to it she didn't seem to understand, so i picked it up myself. she acted queer then too, and when i admired it and said what a pretty pendant it would make she fairly insisted on my taking it. of course i wouldn't, but she had it fixed to go on a chain and sent it to me for christmas." georgia interrupted herself suddenly. "it was ages after the glee club concert before you found out about miss harrison. what did you think of me all that time?" "why just at first i couldn't understand it," said betty truthfully, "but after i'd thought it over i was sure you weren't to blame and i've been getting surer and surer all the time. but i am awfully glad to know how it all happened." "and i am awfully glad that it was you who saw it," said georgia fervently. "i never wore it but that once. i couldn't make her take it back, so i decided to send it to her after college was over--i knew mother wouldn't want me to take such a valuable present from a girl i knew so slightly, and i thought miss harrison would be glad to have it back then. you see," georgia explained, "i think she did things for me in the hope that i would manage to get her in more with the girls i knew. she has been awfully lonely here, i guess. well, i felt ashamed of having the pin and ashamed of knowing her, and the things madeline said about her worried me dreadfully, but i couldn't seem to shake her off. why, i've done everything i could, betty, that wouldn't hurt her feelings. i've fairly lived in other people's rooms, so that she'd never find me at home, and that hurt my poor little roommate's feelings, so the other day i had to tell her what the matter was. i've never told any one else--i hate people who talk about that sort of thing--but i've been just miserable over it,--indeed i have! and now it seems worse than ever." georgia's big brown eyes filled with tears. but she smiled again when betty assured her that she thought it was much better to be bothered and to have things come out all wrong than to be always thinking just of yourself. "you see," georgia confessed, "the first time i met her she seemed nice enough and i accepted her first invitations without thinking, so when she wanted to be intimate i felt as if i had been partly to blame for letting her begin it." "yes, you do have to be careful about not being too friendly at first," said betty soberly, "but i think there are a lot of mistakes worse than that. i'm sorry though, if this has spoiled your first year here." "oh, it hasn't," said georgia, eagerly; "it has just spotted it a little. it was a lucky thing, i guess, that i had something to bother me, or i should have been spoiled with all the good times you've given me. i did try to be a good 'merry heart,' betty. perhaps i shall have better luck next time." "i'm sure you will," said betty, heartily, and after they had arranged for the returning of nita's pin in such a way as not to involve miss harrison, they started back to the belden, georgia to begin her packing and betty to join the rest of the "merry hearts," who were spending the evening on the piazza. but after all betty slipped past them and went on up-stairs. she was in a very serious mood. she realized to-night as she never had before that her college days were over. the talk with georgia had somehow put a period to a great many things and she wanted to be alone and think them over. her little room was stiflingly hot and she threw the window wide open and sat down before it in the dark, leaning her elbows on the sill. the piazza was just below; she could hear the laughter and merriment, and occasionally a broken sentence or two drifted up to her. "there's nothing left to do now but commence," declared bob parker, loudly. "and when we have commenced we shall be finished," added babe, and laughed uproariously at her bad joke. that was just betty's trouble,--"nothing left to do but commence," which was quite enough if you happened to be a member of the play committee. but before you "began to commence" all the tangled threads of the four happy years ought to be laid straight, and they weren't, or at least one wasn't. betty had always felt sure that before eleanor graduated she would get back her standing with the class. but if she had, there was nothing to prove it; the feeling of her classmates toward her had certainly changed but nothing had happened that would take away the sting of the blunderbuss's insult last fall and of jean's taunts at the time of the toy shop entertainment. eleanor would go away feeling that on the whole she had failed. well, it was too late to do anything now. betty lit her gas long enough to hunt up a scarf that would furnish at least a lame apology for her delay, and went down to the gay group on the piazza. when thoughts will only go round in a circle, the best thing to do is to stop thinking them. "i say, betty," cried bob eagerly, "did you know that christy had gone home? i mean did you know she hasn't come back? she went just for senior week and now her mother is too ill to leave and she's got to stay." "poor chris!" said betty, suddenly remembering christy's note which, in the excitement over the blunderbuss she had forgotten to open. "how lucky that she gave up antonio." "isn't it?" agreed bob. "she's coming back for tuesday of course to run the supper and get her precious little sheepskin. her mother isn't dangerously sick, i guess, but there are lots of children and christy seems to think she's the only one who can manage them." "think of her missing the play!" said madeline. "perhaps she'll get back by saturday night," suggested eleanor, hopefully. "i think she's a lot more likely not to come back at all," declared babe, "but it's no use to worry about that yet. who's going to meet mary brooks?" "everybody who isn't a 'star,' or hasn't got to be made up early must go," commanded madeline. "she comes at four-ten, remember. babbie and roberta, go in out of this damp." up in her room again betty closed the window against the invading june-bug and hunted high and low for christy's note. she hardly expected to find it after so long a time, but it finally turned up hidden in the folds of a crumpled handkerchief which she had stuffed carelessly into her top drawer. and luckily it was not too late to do christy's commission. she merely told of her hasty departure and wanted betty to be sure that the supper cards, with the menu and toasts on them, were ready in time. the printer was about as dependable as billy henderson, christy wrote; he needed reminding every morning and watching between times. betty dashed off a hasty note of sympathy and apology, promising to make the printer's life a burden until he produced the supper-cards, and went to bed. next day commencement began in earnest. gay young alumnæ carrying suit-cases, older alumnæ escorting be-ribboned class-babies and their anxious nurses, thronged the streets; inconsiderate families began to arrive a whole day before there was anything in particular for them to do. all the afternoon the "mob" people and the other "sups" besieged the stage door of the theatre waiting their turns to be made up, and then, donning heavy veils hurried back up the hill. it was tiresome being made up so early and having to stay indoors all the hot afternoon, but it couldn't be helped, for there was only one make-up man and he must save plenty of time for the principal actors. so the campus dinner-tables were patronized by young persons with heavily penciled eyebrows and brightly rouged cheeks, who ate cautiously to avoid smearing their paint and powder, and than ran up-stairs to jeer at the masculine contingent whose beards and moustaches had condemned them to privacy and scanty fare. "i shall die of starvation," wailed bob parker, when she reached the theatre, confiding her sad story to betty. "i said i didn't mind being a jew and having my toes stepped on when the christians hustle me out of court. but how can any one eat dinner with a thing like this," and she held up her flowing beard disdainfully. "i'm sure i don't know," said betty absently, consulting a messy memorandum as if she expected to find directions for eating with a beard among its items. "bob, where is roberta lewis? the make-up man wants her this minute. it takes ages to fix on her nose." "portia is afraid she is going to be hoarse," announced another "supe" importantly. "then find the doctor," commanded barbara gordon swiftly, as betty disappeared in search of roberta. "be careful, men. look out for that gondola when you move the flies. rachel, please keep the maskers off the stage." "why don't we begin?" "did you ever see such a mess?" "oh, it's going to be a horrible fizzle. i told you the scenery was too elaborate." but two minutes later the "street in venice" scene was ready and antonio and "the sals," as the class irreverently styled his friends, were chatting composedly together in front of it. the house was packed of course and there was almost as much excitement in front as there was behind the scenes. of course the under class girls and alumnæ were delighted, but there was a distinguished critic from new york in the fifth row, and when shylock appeared he was as enthusiastic as mary brooks herself. even the cynical richard blake was pleased. he had come up to see the play and also, so he explained, to be a family to the bereft madeline; but as madeline was behind the scenes eleanor watson was obligingly looking after him. her father and mother weren't coming until saturday, and jim could only make a flying trip between two examinations to spend monday in harding, so eleanor had plenty of spare time with which to help out her busier friends. "i'm going to make out a schedule of my hours," she told mr. blake laughingly, "for it would be dreadful if i should forget an engagement and promise to entertain two or three uncongenial people at the same time." "indeed it would," agreed mr. blake soberly. "to-night, for instance, it would have been fatal. i say, miss watson, keep an hour or two open monday evening. if madeline should urge me, i believe i'd run up again for that outdoor concert. it must be no end pretty. ah, the carnival scene. i never saw that put on more effectively, miss watson." the next night the fathers and mothers and cousins and aunts went into ecstasies over "that lovely portia" and "sweet little jessica," laughed at young gobbo's every motion, and declared that shylock was "just too wonderful for anything." a funny little old lady who sat next to roberta's father even went so far as to ask him timidly if he didn't agree with her that shylock was a man. "i've been telling my sister that no college girl could act like that. i guess i know an old man when i see one," she said, and blushed scarlet when he answered in his courtly way, "pardon me, madam, but shylock is my daughter. she will appreciate your unstudied compliment." when the curtain finally went down on the last performance of the play the committee were almost too tired to realize that they were through, and katherine kittredge, alias gratiano, sank down on the nearest grassy knoll (made of green cambric) and expressed the universal sentiments of the cast. "not for all the ducats in belmont will i call portia a learned judge again." "you needn't, k., but please hop up," said barbara gordon wearily. "they're singing to us. get into the centre, roberta. we've got to let them see us again; they won't stop clapping till we do." and then you should have heard the noise! "three cheers for good old shylock," called somebody, and they were given with a will. then they sang to her. "here's to you, roberta lewis, here's to you, our warmest friend!" then they sang to barbara and to kate denise, and to both the gobbos. "i say, ain't you folks goin' home till mornin'?" shouted a jovial stage-hand, thrusting his head out from the wings. the crowd laughed and cheered him, then cheered everybody and went home, singing to roberta all the way up the hill. "but you can't blame them," said betty wales. "they don't realize how tired we are, and it's something pretty exciting to have given the play that miss ferris and mr. masters both say is the best yet." "and to have had a perfectly marvelous shylock," added kate denise warmly. "and a splendid portia," put in roberta. "oh, wise young judges, please don't forget to mention gratiano," said katherine kittredge, and set them all to laughing. "it's been splendid fun," said barbara. "don't you wish we could give it all over again?" then they sat down on the green knolls and the gondolas and portia's best carved chairs, and talked and talked, until, as babbie said, they all felt so proud of themselves and each other and -- that the stage wouldn't hold them. whereupon they remembered that to-morrow was baccalaureate sunday and that most of their families had inconsiderately invited them out to breakfast,--two facts which made it desirable to go home and to bed as speedily as possible. it always rains in the morning of baccalaureate sunday, but it generally clears up in time for the service, which is in the afternoon; and even if it doesn't the graduating class and its friends are willing to make the best of a bad matter because it would have been so much worse if the rain had waited for ivy day. --'s baccalaureate was showery in an accommodating fashion that permitted the class to sleep late in the morning because their families wouldn't want them to go out in the rain, and cleared off just before and just after the service, so that they didn't need the carriages that they couldn't possibly have gotten, no matter how it poured. and it cleared off for ivy day. helen adams was up at five o'clock anxiously inspecting the watery sunshine to see if it would last. "for they can't plant the ivy in the rain," she thought, "and if they don't plant it how can they sing the song?" but the sunshine lasted, marie planted the ivy,--and the college gardener carefully replanted it later, "'cause them gals will be that disapp'inted if it don't live,"--the class sang helen's song, and the odes, orations and addresses were all duly delivered. then, as bob flippantly remarked, the fun began. for mr. wales had chartered three big touring cars and invited the "merry hearts" to go out to smugglers' notch for luncheon, with mrs. adams, who had never been in an auto before, for chaperon and himself, will, and jim watson as escorts and chauffeurs. by the time they got back the campus was festooned with japanese lanterns, little tables ready for bowls of lemonade stood under all the biggest trees, and a tarpaulin dotted with camp chairs covered a roped-off enclosure near the back steps of college hall. "you've got tickets, father," betty explained, "so you can sit down in there and listen to the music. will, you're to call for me." "for miss ayres," will amended calmly. "watson is going to take you." judge and mrs. watson had seats too, so eleanor and mr. blake, betty and jim, and madeline and will wandered off together, two and two, enjoying snatches of the concert, exploring the campus, and engaging in a most exciting "tournament"--madeline's idea of course--to see who could drink the most lemonade. will was ahead, with madeline a close second, when a mysterious whistle sounded from the second floor of the hilton. "oh, good-bye, dick," said madeline briskly, holding out her hand. "it's time for you to go. shall i see you to-morrow or not till i get to new york?" "have we really got to go so soon?" asked will sadly. betty nodded. "or at least we've got to go and put on old dresses, so as to be ready to join in our class march." "why can't we march too?" demanded mr. blake. "because you're not harding, --," said madeline with finality. and so, half an hour later, another procession assembled on the spot where the ivy day march had started that morning. but this time -- was wearing its oldest clothes and heaviest shoes and didn't care whether it rained or not. four and five abreast they marched, round the campus, up main street and back, round and round the campus again. "just as if we hadn't torn around all day until we're ready to drop," eleanor watson said laughingly. it is a perfectly senseless performance, this "class march," which is perhaps the reason why every class revels in it. but the procession was moving more slowly and singing with rather less enthusiasm, when a small a.d.t. approached the leaders. "is miss marie howard in this bunch?" he demanded. "she orter be at the burton, but she ain't." "yes, here i am," called marie quickly, and the small boy lit a sputtering match, so that she could sign his book and read her telegram. it was from christy: "awfully sorry can't come for supper. writing." "how perfectly dreadful," cried marie, repeating the message to bob, who was standing beside her. bob passed on the bad news, and the procession broke up into little groups to discuss it. "why don't you appoint some one to take her place right now?" suggested bob. "then she can sit up all night and get her remarks ready. she won't have much time to-morrow." marie looked hastily around her and caught sight of betty wales standing under a japanese lantern that was still burning dimly. "betty!" she called, and betty hurried over to her. "i think we ought to fill christy's place now," whispered marie. "shall i appoint eleanor watson or have her elected?" "have her elected," said betty, as promptly as if she had thought it all out beforehand. "then will you propose her?" betty shook her head. "that wouldn't do. eleanor knows how i feel toward her. it must come from the people who haven't wanted her. they're all here, i think." betty peered uncertainly through the gloom to make sure that jean and her friends and the blunderbuss were still out. "if the whole class wants her badly enough, they'll think of her." marie stepped out into the light of the one lantern and called the class to order. "it's a queer time to have a class-meeting," she said, "and i'm not sure that it's constitutional, but who cares about that? you all know about christy and as bob parker says the new toastmistress ought to have all the time there is left. so please make nominations." "why don't you appoint some one, marie?" called alice waite sleepily. "because the toastmistress who presides over our supper ought to be the choice of her class," said marie firmly. "madam president,"--jean eastman's clear, sharp voice broke the silence. "it's a good deal to ask of any one, to step in at the last minute like this. very few of us are capable of doing it,--of making a success of it, i mean. in fact i only know of one person that i should be absolutely sure of. fortunately no one deserves such an appointment more truly. i nominate eleanor watson." a little thrill swept over the "queer" class-meeting. everybody had known more or less about the bitter feud between jean and eleanor, and very few people had had the least suspicion that it had ended. indeed even betty and eleanor had not been sure how far jean's friendliness could be counted upon. betty, standing back in the shadows where marie had left her, gave a little gasp of amazement and clutched bob's arm so hard that bob protested. "i second that motion, miss president." it was the blunderbuss, and her stolid face grew hot and red in the darkness, as she wondered if any one who knew that she didn't belong to -- now would question her right to take part in the meeting. "but i was bound to do it," she reflected. "i guess she isn't the kind of girl i thought she was. anyhow i didn't mean to hurt her feelings before, and this will sort of make up." "any other nominations?" inquired marie briskly. there was silence and then somebody began to clap. in a minute the whole meeting was clapping as hard as it could. "i guess we don't need ballots," said marie, when she could be heard. "all in favor say aye." there was a regular burst of ayes. "those opposed?" silence again. "there's a unanimous vote for you," cried bob parker eagerly. "speech from the candidate! betty, you're killing my arm!" "speech!" the class took up bob's cry. "where are you, eleanor?" called marie, and eleanor, coming out from behind a big bush said, "i'll try to do my best--and--thank you." it wasn't a brilliant speech to come from the girl who has often been called harding's most brilliant graduate, but it satisfied everybody, even betty. "i did it just to show you that i've got the idea," jean eastman muttered sulkily, jostling betty in the crowd; and that was satisfactory too. indeed when betty went to bed that night she confided to the green lizard that she hadn't a single thing left to bother about at harding. chapter xviii the going out of -- next morning came the really important part of commencement,--the getting of your diploma, or, to speak accurately, the getting of somebody's else diploma, which you could exchange for your own later. "let's stand in a big circle," suggested madeline ayres, "and pass the diplomas round until each one comes to its owner." it wasn't surprising that eleanor watson, with her newly acquired duties as toastmistress, should keep getting outside the circle to consult various toasters and members of the supper committee; but it did seem as if betty wales might stay quietly in her place. so thought the girls who had noticed that carlotta young, the last girl in the line that went up for diplomas had not received any. carlotta was a "prod"; it was only because she came at the end of the alphabet that she was left out, but thanks to betty's fly-away fashion of running off to speak to some junior ushers, and then calling the blunderbuss, whose mother wanted to see her a minute, nobody could find out positively who it was that had been "flunked out" of --. the next excitement took place when the class, strolling over to the students' building to have luncheon with the alumnæ--why, they were alumnæ themselves now!--met a bright-eyed, brown-haired little girl, walking with a tall young man whose fine face was tanned as brown as an indian's. "don't you know me, --?" called the little girl gaily. "why, it can't be--it is t. reed!" cried helen adams, rushing forward. "and her filipino," shrieked bob parker wildly. "of course i came. do you think i'd have missed my own commencement?" said t., shaking hands with four girls at once. "frank, this is helen adams, my best friend at harding. miss parker, mr. howard. i'm sorry, bob, but he's not a filipino. he's just a plain american who lives in the philippines." "have you forgotten how to play basket ball, t.?" called somebody. t. gave a rapturous little smile. "could we have a game this afternoon? that's what i came for, really. we meant to get here last week, but the boat was late. yes, i'm sorry to have missed the play and the concert; but it's worth coming for, just to see you all." t.'s bright eyes grew soft and misty. "i tell you, girls, you don't know what it means to be a harding girl until you've been half across the world for awhile. no, i'm not sorry _i_ left, but it's great to be back!" mary brooks, arrayed in a bewitching summer toilette, stood at the door of the students' building, and managed to intercept betty and roberta, as they went in. "you may congratulate me now if you like," she said calmly, leading them off to a secluded corner behind a group of statuary, where their demonstrations of interest wouldn't attract too much attention. the news wasn't at all surprising, but mary looked so pretty and so happy and assured them so solemnly that she had never dreamed of anything of the kind at christmas, that there was plenty of excitement all the same. "and of course i must have posts at my wedding," said mary, whereat betty hugged her and roberta looked more pleased than she had when mr. masters called her a genius. "and bridesmaids," added mary, with the proper feeling for climax. "laurie is going to be maid-of-honor, and if you two can come and be bridesmaids and the rest of the crowd almost--bridesmaids, in the words of the poetical roberta----" she never finished her sentence for the rest of the crowd had discovered her retreat, and guessing at the news she had for them bore noisily down upon her. "it's so convenient that she's going to be married this summer," said babbie jubilantly. "we can have our first reunion at the wedding. i simply couldn't have waited until june to see you all again." "we couldn't any of us have waited," declared bob. "somebody else must get married about christmas time." "why don't you?" asked babbie nonchalantly, while madeline looked hard at eleanor and wished new york and denver weren't so dreadfully far apart. for how could dick blake, busy editor of "the quiver," make love to the most fascinating girl in the world when she lived at that distance. they had something to eat after a while, sitting on the stairs with mary, while dr. hinsdale beamed on them all and brought them salad and ices. "you mustn't talk about it, you know," mary explained, "because it won't be announced until next week, and you mustn't think of running off and leaving us out here alone." "all right," katherine promised her. "we'll be the mossy bank for your modest violet act. only do try not to look so desperately in love or everybody who sees you will guess the whole thing, and it will look as if we told." most of the seniors spent the afternoon at the station seeing their families off, but betty left hers in nan's care and went canoeing with dorothy king in paradise. dorothy was just as jolly and just as sweet as ever. she wanted to know about everything that had happened at harding since she left it, and especially all about eleanor watson. "you've pulled her through after all, haven't you?" she said. "no, she pulled herself through," betty corrected her. "i only helped a little, and a lot of others did the same. why even jean helped, dorothy." dorothy laughed. "i can't imagine jean in that rôle," she said, "but i'll take your word for it. let's go and see miss ferris." miss ferris was alone and delighted to see her visitors. "everything has come out right, hasn't it?" she said, smiling into betty's radiant face. betty nodded. "just splendidly. did you know about eleanor's being toastmistress?" "yes, she came in to tell me herself. what has come over jean eastman, betty?" "i don't know," said betty with a tell-tale blush that made miss ferris laugh and say, "i thought you were at the bottom of it." "dorothy used to be the person who managed things of this kind," she went on. "who's going to take your place, betty?" "according to what i hear nobody can do that," said dorothy quickly, and betty blushed more than ever, until miss ferris took pity on her and asked about her plans for next year. betty looked puzzled. "why, i haven't any, i'm afraid. i never get a chance to make plans, because the things that turn up of themselves take all my time. i'm just going to be at home with my family." "leave out the 'just,'" advised miss ferris. "so many of you seem to feel as if you ought to apologize for staying at home." "oh, i'm glad to hear you say that," said betty soberly. "a lot of girls in our class who don't need to a bit are going to teach, and carlotta young said to me the other day that she thought we all ought to test our education in some such way right off, so as to be sure it was really worth something." "and you are sure about yours without testing it?" asked miss ferris quizzically. betty smiled at her happily. "i'm sure i've got something," she said. "i'm afraid carlotta wouldn't call it much of an education and i know i ought to be ashamed that it isn't more, but i'm awfully glad i've got it." "i'm glad you have, too," said miss ferris so earnestly that betty wondered what she meant. but she didn't get a chance to ask, for somebody knocked just then and the two girls said good-bye and hurried off to dress for their respective class suppers. --'s was held in the big hall of the students' building. the junior ushers had trimmed it with red and green bunting, and great bowls of red roses transformed the huge t-shaped table into a giant flower-bed. "i hope they haven't more than emptied the treasury for those flowers," said babe anxiously, when she saw them. "hardly," babbie reassured her. "judge watson sent the whole lot, so you needn't worry about your treasury. he consulted me about the color. isn't he a dear?" "yes, he is," said bob, "and he evidently thinks his only daughter is another. where's the supper-chart?" "out in the hall," explained babbie, "with the whole class fighting for a chance at it. but i know where we sit. betty thought we'd better keep things lively down at the end of the t." "well, i guess, we can do that," said babe easily. "where is betty, anyway?" "here," answered betty, hurrying up. "and girls, please don't say anything about it, but non-graduates don't generally come to the suppers and the seating committee forgot about t. reed, so she hasn't any place." "the idea!" cried bob indignantly. "but she can have eleanor's seat." betty hesitated. "no, because they changed the chart after they heard about christy's not coming. but cora thorne is sick, so i'm going to let t. have my seat, right among you girls that she used to know----" "you're not going to do anything of the kind," declared babbie hotly. "shove everybody along one place, or else put in a seat for t." "the chairs are too close together now and cora's place is way around at the other end. it would make too much confusion to move so many people. here comes t. now. i shall be almost opposite eleanor and katherine, and i don't mind one bit." so it happened that betty wales ate her class supper between clara madison and the fat miss austin, and enjoyed it as thoroughly as if she had been where she belonged, between babbie and roberta. the supper wasn't very good--suppers for two hundred and fifty people seldom are--but the talk and the jokes, the toasts and the histories, eleanor's radiant face at the head of the table, the spirit of jollity and good-fellowship everywhere,--these were good enough to make up. besides, it was the last time they would all be together. betty hadn't realized before how much she cared for them all--for the big indiscriminate mass of the class that she had worked and played with these four years. she had expected to miss her best friends, but now, as she looked down the long tables, she saw so many others that she should miss. yes, she should miss them all from the fat miss austin who was so delighted to be sitting beside her to the serious-minded carlotta young, with her theories about testing your education. katherine was reading the freshman history, hitting off the reception, with its bewildering gaiety and its terrifying grind-book, those first horrible midyears, made even more frightful by mary brooks's rumor, the basket-ball game--when that was mentioned they made t. reed stand on her chair to be cheered, and then they cheered the rest of the team, who, as katherine said, "had marched so gallantly to a glorious defeat." as christy wasn't there, somebody read her letter, which explained that her mother was better but that the twins had come down with the measles and christy was "standing by the ship." so they cheered the plucky letter and then they sang to its author. "oh, here's to our christine, we love her though unseen, drink her down, drink her down, drink her down, down, down!" when the team was finally allowed to sit down, katherine went on to the joys of spring-term, with its golf and tennis, its mary-bird club and its tumultuous packing and partings. when she had finished and been applauded and sung to, and finally allowed to sit down and eat a very cold croquette, betty looked over at emily davis and the next minute for no reason at all she found herself winking back the tears. she had had such a good time that year and k. had picked out just the comical little things that made you remember the others that she hadn't mentioned. little alice waite was toasting the cast. alice was no orator. she stammered and hesitated and made you think she was going to break down, but she always ended by saying or doing something that brought down the house. "i think you ought to have given this toast to somebody else," she began innocently. "i can't act, and i can't speak either, as it happens. besides words speak louder than actions. no, i mean actions speak louder than words, so i will let the cast toast themselves." "roast themselves, you mean," said katherine, pushing back her chair. and then began a clever burlesque of the casket scene in which gratiano played portia's part, shylock was nerissa, gobbo bassanio, and jessica the prince of morocco. next alice called for the gobbos and portia and the prince of morocco "stood forth" and went through a solemn travesty of the scene between the father and son that left the class faint and speechless with laughter. then there were more toasts and when the coffee had been served they made the engaged girls run around the table. betty was sorry then that she wasn't in her own place, to help get babbie hildreth started. her friends were all sure that she was engaged and she had hinted that she might tell them more about it at class-supper, but now she denied it as stoutly as ever. finally bob settled the question by getting up and running in her place,--a non-committal proceeding that delighted everybody. after that came the last toast, "our esprit de corps." kate denise had it, for no reason that betty could see unless christy had wanted to show kate that the class understood the difference between her and the other hill girls. and then kate was one of --'s best speakers and so could do justice to the subject. "i think we ought to drink this toast standing," she began. "we've drunk to the cast and the team, to our presidents, our engaged girls, our faculty. now i ask you to drink to the very greatest pride and honor of this class,--to the way we've always stood together, to the way we stand together to-night, to the way we shall stand together in the future, no matter where we go or what we do. it's not every class that can put this toast on its supper-card. not every class knows what it means to be run, not in the interest of a clique or by a few leading spirits, but by the good-feeling of the whole big class. and so i ask you to drink one more toast--to the girl who started this feeling of good-fellowship at a certain class-meeting that some of us remember, and who has kept it up by being a friend to everybody and making us all want to be friends. here's to betty wales." when betty heard her name she almost jumped out of her chair with amazement. she had been listening admiringly to kate's eloquent little speech, never dreaming how it would end and now they were all clapping and pushing back their chairs again, and clara madison was trying to make her stand up in hers. "speech!" shouted the irrepressible bob and the girls sat down again and the big table grew still, while betty twisted her napkin into a knot and smiled bravely into all the welcoming faces. "i'm sure kate is mistaken," she said at last in a shaky little voice. "i'm sure every girl in -- wanted every other girl to have her share of the fun just as much as i did. the class cup, that we won at tennis in our sophomore year is on the table somewhere. let's fill it with lemonade and sing to everybody right down the line. and while they're filling the cup let's sing to harding college." it took a long time to sing to everybody, but not a minute too long. betty watched the faces of the girls when their turns came--the girls who were always sung to, like emily davis, and the girls who had never been sung to in all the four years and who flushed with pride and pleasure to hear their names ring out and to feel that they too belonged to the finest, dearest class that ever left harding. "now we must have the regular stunts," said eleanor. there was a shuffling of chairs and she and betty and the people who had had toasts slipped back to their own particular crowds, leaving the top of the table for the stunt-doers. it was shockingly late, but they wanted all the old favorites. who knew when emily davis would be back to do her temperance lecture or how long it would be before they could hear madame patti sing "home, sweet home" through a wheezy gramophone? "was it all right?" eleanor whispered to betty as they hunted up their wraps a little later. "perfectly splendid," said betty with shining eyes. "the loveliest end-up to the loveliest commencement that ever was." "we haven't got to say good-bye yet," said somebody. "there's a class meeting to-morrow at nine, you know." "half of us will probably sleep over," said babe in a queer, supercilious tone. not for all the morning naps in the world would babe have missed that good-bye meeting. chapter xix "good-bye!" "and after commencement packing," said madeline ayres sadly, "and that's no joke either, i can tell you." "oh, i don't know," said babe airily. "give away everything that you can't sell, and you won't be troubled. that's what i've done." "i couldn't give up my dear old desk," said rachel soberly, "nor my books and pictures." "oh, i've kept a few little things myself," explained babe hastily, "just to remember the place by." "my mother wanted to stay and help me," laughed nita. "she thought if we both worked hard we might get through in a day." "mary brooks did hers in two hours," announced katherine, "and i guess i'm as bright as little mary about most things, so i'm not worrying." "isn't it time to start for class-meeting?" asked betty, coming out on the piazza with roberta. "see them walk off together arm in arm," chuckled bob softly, "just as if they knew they were going to be elected our alumnæ president and secretary respectfully." "don't you mean respectively, bob?" asked helen adams. "of course i do," retorted bob, "but i'm not obliged to say what i mean now. i'm an alum. i can use as bad diction as i please and the long arm of the english department can't reach out and spatter my mistakes with red ink." the election of officers didn't take long. it had all been cut and dried the night before, and the nominating committee named betty for president and shylock for secretary without even going through the formality of retiring to deliberate. then katherine moved that the surplus in the treasury be turned over to "our pet philanthropy, the students' aid," and carlotta young inquired anxiously whether the first reunion was to be in one or two years. "in one," shouted the assembly to a woman, and the meeting adjourned tumultuously. but nobody went home, in spite of the packing that clamored for attention. "good-bye, you dear old thing!" "see you next june for sure. i'm coming back then, if i do live away out in seattle." "you're going to study art in new york, you say? oh, i'm there very often. here, let me copy that address." "going abroad for the summer, you lucky girl? well, rather not! i'm going to tutor six young wigglers into a prep. school." "wasn't last night fun? don't you wish we could have it all over again,--except the midyears and the papers for english novelists." "good-bye!" "good-bye!" "good-bye!" but these weren't the good-byes that came hardest; those would be said later in the dear, dismantled rooms or at the station, for very close friends would arrange to meet again there. but the close friendships would be kept up in letters and visits, whereas these casual acquaintances might never again be renewed. "i've seen you nearly every day for three years," madeline ayres told little miss avery, whose name came next to hers on the class-list, "and now you're going to live in iowa and i'm going to italy. the world is a big place, isn't it?" but nita reese thought it was surprisingly small when she found that emily davis was going to teach french in the little town where she lived, and betty got a great deal of comfort from the fact that four other -- girls lived in cleveland. "though i can't believe it's really over," betty confided to bob. "i don't feel a bit like an alum." "that's because you still look just like a freshman," returned bob, unfeelingly. "i'll bet you a trolley-ride to any place you choose that you'll be taken for one before you leave harding." sure enough betty, hurrying across the campus a moment later to intercept the man who had promised to crate her desk and then never come for it, was stopped by a timid little sub-freshman with her hair in a braid, who inquired if she was going to take the "major french" examination, and did she know whether it came at eleven or twelve o'clock? "so we're all got to go off on a trolley-ride," shouted bob jubilantly, and though betty protested and called helen to witness that she hadn't promised bob any trolley-ride whatever, everybody agreed that they ought to have one last picnic somewhere before they separated. so they all hurried home to do what katherine called "tall strides of work," and at four o'clock they were waiting, with tempting-looking bags and bundles tucked under their arms, for a car. "we'll take the first one that comes," bob decided, "and go until we see a nice picnic-y place." generally no one place would have pleased everybody, but to-day no one said a word against bob's first choice,--a steep, breezy hillside, with a great thicket of mountain laurel in full bloom near the summit and a flat rock, shaded by a giant elm-tree, for a table. [illustration: "ladies, behold the preceptress of the kankakee academy"] it was such a comical supper, for each girl had obeyed bob's haphazard instructions to bring what she liked best. so roberta had nothing but ginger-snaps and babbie solemnly presented each guest with a bottle of olives. madeline had brought strawberries with sugar to dip them in, and helen, betty and eleanor discovered to their amazement that they had all chosen chocolate éclairs. "it's not a very substantial supper," said madeliner "but we can stop at cuyler's on our way back." "for a substantial ice," jeered bob. "who's hungry anyway after last night?" asked nita. "i am," declared eleanor. "they took away my salad before i was through with it, and k. stole my ice." "well, you're growing fat," katherine defended herself, "and you've got to save your lovely slenderness until after mary's wedding. she'll tell everybody that you're the college beauty and you must live up to the reputation or we shall be undone." katherine knew that she couldn't come on from kankakee for that wedding, and helen and rachel knew that they couldn't either, though they lived nearer. and madeline was sailing on saturday for italy, "to stay until daddy's paint-box runs out of italian colors." but they didn't talk about those things at the picnic, nor on the swift ride home across the dark meadows, nor even at cuyler's, which looked empty and deserted when they tramped noisily in and ordered their ices. "everybody else is too busy to go on picnics," said bob. "we always did know how to have the best kind of times," declared babbie proudly. "of course. aren't we 'merry hearts'?" queried babe. "being nice to freaks was only half of being a 'merry heart.'" "_why_, girls," cried nita excitedly, "as long as we didn't give away the 'merry hearts,' we can go on being them, can't we?" "we couldn't stop if we tried," said madeline. "remember, girls, two is a 'merry hearts' quorum. whenever two of us get together they can have a meeting." they said good-night with the emphasis strongly on the last syllable, and went at the neglected packing in earnest. betty's train didn't go until nearly ten the next morning, but helen left at nine and madeline and roberta ten minutes later, so there wouldn't be much time for anything but the good-byes, that, do what you might, could not be put off any longer. but after all they were gay good-byes. helen adams, to be sure, almost broke down when she kissed betty and whispered, "good-bye and thank you for everything." but the next minute they were both laughing at k.'s ridiculous old telescope bag. "it's a long rest and a good meal of oats the poor beastie shall have at the end of this trip," said katherine. "ladies, behold the preceptress of the kankakee academy. father telegraphed me yesterday that i've got the place, and i hereby solemnly promise to buy a respectable suit-case out of my first month's salary." "oh, you haven't any of you gone yet, have you?" asked babbie hildreth, hurrying up with eleanor and madeline. "you see babe kept more things than she thought and it was too late to send for another packing-box, so she put them into a suit-case and a kit bag and a hat-box. and the carriage didn't come for us, so she tried to carry them all from the car, and of course she got stuck in the turn-stile. the girls are getting her out as fast as they can. they sent us on ahead to find you." just as helen's train pulled in bob appeared with the rest of the "merry hearts" as escort and a small boy to help with her luggage; and they had a minute all together. "well," said madeline lightly, "we're starting out into the wide, wide world at last. i'll say it because i'm used to starting _off_ to queer places and i rather like it." "here's hoping it's a jolly world for every one of us," said rachel. "here's to our next meeting," added katherine. "girls," said betty solemnly, "i feel it in my bones that we are going to be together again some time. i don't mean just for a -- reunion, but for a good long time." "with me teaching in boston," laughed rachel. "and me teaching in kankakee," put in katherine proudly. "and madeline in italy, and the rest of you anywhere between new york and denver," finished rachel. "it doesn't look very probable." "it's going to happen though,--i'm sure of it," persisted betty gaily. "oh, i do just hope so," said little helen adams, stepping on board her train. "they say that what you want hard enough you'll get," said madeline philosophically. "come on, shylock. don't any of you forget to send me steamer letters." "wait! we're going on that train too," cried babe, clutching her parcels. "babe can't make connections if we wait," explained babbie. "and she'd get lonely going so far without us," added bob. the four who were left stood where they could wave by turns at the two trains until both were out of sight. then betty caught her three oldest friends into a big, comprehensive hug. "after all," she said, "whether we ever get together or not, we've had this--four whole years of it, to remember all our lives. now let's go and get one more strawberry ice before train-time." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the books in this series are: betty wales, freshman betty wales, sophomore betty wales, junior betty wales, senior betty wales, b.a. betty wales & co. betty wales on the campus betty wales decides [transcriber's note: obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies are as in the original. author's spelling has been maintained.] the cambridge manuals of science and literature life in the medieval university cambridge university press london: fetter lane, e.c. c. f. clay, manager [illustration: arms] new york: g. p. putnam's sons bombay, calcutta, and madras: macmillan and co., ltd. toronto: j. m. dent & sons, ltd. tokyo: the maruzen-kabushiki-kaisha _all rights reserved_ [illustration: the student's progress (from gregor reisch's _margarita philosophica_, edition of , strassburg)] life in the medieval university by robert s. rait, m.a. fellow and tutor of new college, oxford cambridge: at the university press _first edition, _ _reprinted _ _with the exception of the coat of arms at the foot, the design on the title page is a reproduction of one used by the earliest known cambridge printer, john siberch, ._ note on the frontispiece in this picture the schoolboy is seen arriving with his satchel and being presented with a hornbook by nicostrata, the latin muse carmentis, who changed the greek alphabet into the latin. she admits him by the key of _congruitas_ to the house of wisdom ("wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars," _proverbs_ ix. ). in the lowest story he begins his course in donatus under a bachelor of arts armed with the birch; in the next he is promoted to priscian. then follow the other subjects of the _trivium_ and the _quadrivium_ each subject being represented by its chief exponent--logic by aristotle, arithmetic by boethius, geometry by euclid, etc. ptolemy, the philosopher, who represents astronomy, is confused with the kings of the same name. pliny and seneca represent the more advanced study of physical and of moral science respectively, and the edifice is crowned by theology, the long and arduous course for which followed that of the arts. its representative in a medieval treatise is naturally peter lombard. note i wish to express my obligations to many recent writers on university history, and to the editors of university statutes and other records, from which my illustrations of medieval student life have been derived. i owe special gratitude to dr hastings rashdall, fellow of new college and canon of hereford, my indebtedness to whose great work, _the universities of europe in the middle ages_, is apparent throughout the following pages. dr rashdall has been good enough to read my proof-sheets, and to make valuable criticisms and suggestions, and the master of emmanuel has rendered me a similar service. r. s. r. _ rd january ._ contents chapter i--introductory chaucer and the medieval student -- the great period of university-founding -- the words "universitas," "collegium," "studium generale" -- bologna -- growth of studia generalia -- paris, oxford, cambridge -- definition of "universitas"..... chapter ii--life in the student-universities student-guilds at bologna -- "nations" -- the college of doctors -- relations with the city -- position of an english law student at bologna, and his relations to his nation and his universitas -- the office of rector -- powers of the university over citizens -- the degradation of the bologna masters -- examinations -- the doctorate -- regulations -- padua -- limitations of the rector's powers at florence -- spanish universities -- married dons.......................... chapter iii--the universities of masters early history of the university of paris -- faculties -- "nations" -- struggle with the chancellor -- position of the rector -- oxford --"nations" -- the proctors -- university jurisdiction -- germany -- scotland........................... chapter iv--college discipline origin of the college system -- merton -- imitations of the merton rule -- new college -- increase in number of regulations --latin-speaking -- conversation in hall -- meals -- college rooms -- amusements -- penalties -- introduction of corporal punishment --the tonsure -- attendance at chapel -- vacations -- hospitality -- the career of an english student -- meaning of "poor and indigent scholars" -- the college system at paris -- sconcing -- other french universities -- a visitation of a medieval college............ chapter v--university discipline growth of disciplinary regulations at paris and oxford --records of the chancellor's court -- discipline in unendowed halls -- academic dress restricted to graduates -- louvain -- leipsic -- leniency of punishments -- the scottish universities -- table manners at aberdeen -- life at heidelberg......................................... chapter vi--the "jocund advent" admission of the bajan at paris -- the universities of southern france -- the abbas bejanorum -- the "jocund advent" in germany -- the "depositio" -- oxford -- scotland.. chapter vii--town and gown vienna -- st scholastica's day at oxford -- assaults by members of the university -- records of the "acta rectorum" at leipsic -- parisian scholars and the monks of st germain.. chapter viii--subjects of study, lectures, examinations instruction given in latin -- preparation for the university --grammar masters -- french taught at oxford -- the "act" in grammar --the seven liberal arts and the three philosophies -- text-books -- ordinary and cursory lectures -- methods of lecturing -- repetitions and disputations -- university and college teaching -- examinations at paris, louvain, and oxford -- the determining feast -- walter paston at oxford... appendix..................................................... bibliography................................................. index........................................................ life in the medieval university (p.  ) chapter i introductory "a clerk ther was of oxenford also, that unto logik hadde longe y-go as lene was his hors as is a rake, and he was not right fat, i undertake; but loked holwe, and therto soberly, ful thredbar was his overest courtepy, for he had geten him yet no benefyce, ne was so worldly for to have offyce. for him was lever have at his beddes heed twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed, of aristotle and his philosophye, than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye. but al be that he was a philosophre, yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; but al that he might of his freendes hente, on bokes and on lerninge he it spente, and bisily gan for the soules preye of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye, of studie took he most cure and most hede, noght o word spak he more than was nede, and that was seyd in forme and reverence and short and quik, and ful of hy sentence. souninge in moral vertu was his speche. and gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche." an account of life in the medieval university might well take the (p.  ) form of a commentary upon the classical description of a medieval english student. his dress, the character of his studies and the nature of his materials, the hardships and the natural ambitions of his scholar's life, his obligations to founders and benefactors, suggest learned expositions which might in judicious hands extend from here to mesopotamy, and will serve for a modest attempt to picture the environment of one of the canterbury pilgrims. chaucer's famous lines do more than afford opportunities of explanation and comment; they give us an indication of the place assigned to universities and their students by english public opinion in the later middle ages. the monk of the "prologue" is simply a country gentleman. no accusation of immorality is brought against him, but he is a jovial huntsman who likes the sound of the bridle jingling in the wind better than the call of the church bells, a lover of dogs and horses, of rich clothes and great feasts. the portrait of the friar is still less sympathetic; he is a frequenter of taverns, a devourer of widows' houses, a man of gross, perhaps of evil, life. the monk abandons his cloister and its rules, the friar despises the poor and the leper. the poet is making no socialistic attack upon the (p.  ) foundations of society, and no heretical onslaught upon the church; he draws a portrait of two types of the english regular clergy. his description of two types of the english secular clergy forms an illuminating contrast. the noble verses, in which he tells of the virtues of the parish priest, certainly imply that the seculars also had their temptations and that they did not always resist them; but the fact remains that chaucer chose as the representative of the parochial clergy one who "wayted after no pompe and reverence, ne maked him a spyced conscience, but cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, he taughte, but first he folwed it himselve." the history of pious and charitable foundations is a vindication of the truth of the portraiture of the "prologue." the foundation of a new monastery and the endowment of the friars had alike ceased to attract the benevolent donor, who was turning his attention to the universities, where secular clergy were numerous. the clerks of oxford and cambridge had succeeded to the place held by the monks, and, after them, by the friars, in the affection and the respect of the nation. outside the kingdom of england the fourteenth century was also a great period in the growth of universities and colleges, to which, all (p.  ) over europe, privileges and endowments were granted by popes, emperors, kings, princes, bishops and municipalities. to attempt to indicate the various causes and conditions which, in different countries, led to the growth, in numbers and in wealth, of institutions for the pursuit of learning would be to wander from our special topic; but we may take the period from the middle of the fourteenth to the middle of the fifteenth century as that in which the medieval university made its greatest appeal to the imagination of the peoples of europe. its institutional forms had become definite, its terminology fixed, and the materials for a study of the life of the fourteenth century student are abundant. the conditions of student life varied, of course, with country and climate, and with the differences in the constitutions of individual universities and in their relations to church and state. no single picture of the medieval student can be drawn, but it will be convenient to choose the second half of the fourteenth century, or the first half of the fifteenth, as the central point of our investigation. we have already used technical terms, "university," "college," "student," which require elucidation, and others will arise in the course of our inquiry. what is a university? at the present day a university is, in england, a corporation whose power of granting (p.  ) certain degrees is recognised by the state; but nothing of this is implied in the word "university." its literal meaning is simply an association. recent writers on university history have pointed out that _universitas vestra_, in a letter addressed to a body of persons, means merely "the whole of you" and that the term was by no means restricted to learned bodies. it was frequently applied to municipal corporations; dr rashdall, in his learned work, tells us that it is used by medieval writers in addressing "all faithful christian people," and he quotes an instance in which pisan captives at genoa in the end of the thirteenth century formed themselves into a "universitas carceratorum." the word "college" affords us no further enlightenment. it, too, means literally a community or association, and, unlike the sister term university, it has never become restricted to a scholastic association. the senators of the "college of justice" are the judges of the supreme court in scotland. we must call in a third term to help us. in what we should describe as the early days of european universities, there came into use a phrase sometimes written as _studium universale_ or _studium commune_, but more usually _studium generale_. it was used in much the same sense in which we speak of a university to-day, and a short sketch of its (p.  ) history is necessary for the solution of our problem. the twelfth century produced in europe a renewal of interest and a revival of learning, brought about partly by the influence of great thinkers like st anselm and abelard, and partly by the discovery of lost works of aristotle. the impulse thus given to study resulted in an increase in the numbers of students, and students were naturally attracted to schools where masters and teachers possessed, or had left behind them, great names. at bologna there was a great teacher of the civil law in the first quarter of the twelfth century, and a great writer on canon law lived there in the middle of the same century. to bologna, therefore, there flocked students of law, though not of law alone. in the schools of paris there were great masters of philosophy and theology to whom students crowded from all parts of europe. many of the foreign students at paris were englishmen, and when, at the time of becket's quarrel with henry ii., the disputes between the sovereigns of england and france led to the recall of english students from the domain of their king's enemy, there grew up at oxford a great school or studium, which acquired something of the fame of paris and bologna. a struggle between the clerks who studied at oxford and the people of the town broke out at the time of john's defiance of the (p.  ) papacy, when the king outlawed the clergy of england, and this struggle led to the rise of a school at cambridge. in italy the institutions of the studium at bologna were copied at modena, at reggio, at vicenza, at arezzo, at padua, and elsewhere, and in or pope innocent iv. founded a studium of a different constitution, in dependence upon the papal court. in spain great schools grew up at palencia, salamanca, and valladolid; in france at montpellier, orleans, angers, and toulouse, and at lyons and reims. the impulse given by bologna and paris was thus leading to the foundation of new studia or the development of old ones, for there were schools of repute at many of the places we have mentioned before the period with which we are now dealing (_c._ - ). it was inevitable that there should be a rivalry among these numerous schools, a rivalry which was accentuated as small and insignificant studia came to claim for themselves equality of status with their older and greater contemporaries. thus, in the latter half of the thirteenth century, there arose a necessity for a definition and a restriction of the term studium generale. the desirability of a definition was enhanced by the practice of granting to ecclesiastics dispensations from residence in their benefices for purposes of study; to prevent abuses it was essential that such permission should be limited to a number of (p.  ) recognised studia generalia. the difficulty of enforcing such a definition throughout almost the whole of europe might seem likely to be great, but in point of fact it was inconsiderable. in the first half of the thirteenth century, the term studium generale was assuming recognised significance; a school which aspired to the name must not be restricted to natives of a particular town or country, it must have a number of masters, and it must teach not only the seven liberal arts (of which we shall have to speak later), but also one or more of the higher studies of theology, law and medicine (_cf._ rashdall, vol. i. p. ). but the title might still be adopted at will by ambitious schools, and the intervention of the great potentates of europe was required to provide a mechanism for the differentiation of general from particular studia. already, in the twelfth century, an emperor and a pope had given special privileges to students at bologna and other lombard towns, and a king of france had conferred privileges upon the scholars of paris. in the studium generale of naples was founded by the emperor frederick ii., and in he gave a great privilege to the school of medicine at salerno, a studium which was much more ancient than bologna, but which existed solely for the study of medicine and exerted no influence upon the (p.  ) growth of the european universities. pope gregory ix. founded the studium at toulouse some fifteen years before innocent iv. established the studium of the roman court. in alfonso the wise of castile founded the studium generale of salamanca. thus it became usual for a school which claimed the status of a studium generale to possess the authority of pope or emperor or king. a distinction gradually arose between a studium generale under the authority of a pope or an emperor and one which was founded by a king or a city republic, and which was known as a _studium generale respectu regni_. the distinction was founded upon the power of the emperor or the pope to grant the _jus ubique docendi_. this privilege, which could be conferred by no lesser potentate, gave a master in one studium generale the right of teaching in any other; it was more valuable in theory than in practice, but it was held in such esteem that in bologna and paris accepted the privilege from pope nicholas iv. some of the studia which we have mentioned as existing in the first half of the thirteenth century--modena in italy, and lyons and reims in france--never obtained this privilege, and as their organisation and their importance did not justify their inclusion among studia generalia, they never took rank among the universities of europe. the status of bologna and of paris was, of course, (p.  ) universally recognised before and apart from the bulls of nicholas iv.; padua did not accept a papal grant until and then merely as a confirmation, not a creation, of its privileges as a studium generale; oxford never received, though it twice asked for, a declaratory or confirmatory bull, and based its claim upon immemorial custom and its own great position. cambridge, which in the thirteenth century was a much less important seat of learning than oxford, was formally recognised as a studium generale by pope john xxii. in ; but its claim to the title had long been admitted, at all events within the realm of england. after cambridge could grant the _licentia ubique docendi_, which oxford did not formally confer, although oxford men, as the graduates of a studium generale, certainly possessed the privilege. long before the definition of a studium generale as a school possessing, by the gift of pope or emperor, the _jus ubique docendi_, was generally accepted throughout europe, we find the occurrence of the more familiar term, "universitas," which we are now in a position to understand. a universitas was an association in the world of learning which corresponded to a guild in the world of commerce, a union among men living in a studium and possessing some common interests to protect and advance. originally, a universitas could exist in a less (p.  ) important school than a studium generale, but with exceptional instances of this kind we are not concerned. by the time which we have chosen for the central point of our survey, the importance of these guilds or universitates had so greatly increased that the word "universitas" was coming to be equivalent to "studium generale." in the fifteenth century, dr rashdall tells us, the two terms were synonymous. the universitas studii, the guild of the school, became, technically and officially, the studium generale itself, and studia generalia were distinguished by the kind of universitates or guilds which they possessed. it is usual to speak of bologna and paris as the two great archetypal universities, and this description does not depend upon mere priority of date or upon the impetus given to thought and interest in europe by their teachers or their methods. bologna and paris were two studia generalia with two different and irreconcilable types of universitas. the universitates of the studium of bologna were guilds of students; the universitas of the studium of paris was a guild of masters. the great seats of learning in medieval europe were either universities of students or universities of masters, imitations of bologna or of paris, or modifications of one or the other or of both. it would be impossible to draw up a list and divide medieval (p.  ) universities into compartments. nothing is more difficult to classify than the constitutions of living societies; a constitution which one man might regard as a modification of the constitution of bologna would be in the opinion of another more correctly described as a modification of the constitution of paris, and a development in the constitution of a university might be held to have altered its fundamental position and to transfer it from one class to another. where students legislated for themselves, their rules were neither numerous nor detailed. our information about life in the student-universities is, therefore, comparatively small, and it is with the universities of masters that we shall be chiefly concerned. it is, however, essential to understand the powers acquired by the student-guilds at bologna, the institutions of which were reproduced by most of the italian universities, by those of spain and portugal, and, much less accurately, by the smaller universities of france. chapter ii (p.  ) life in the student-universities the universitates or guilds which were formed in the studium generale of bologna were associations of foreign students. the lack of political unity in the italian peninsula was one of the circumstances that led to the peculiar and characteristic constitution evolved by the italian universities. a famous studium in an italian city state must of necessity attract a large proportion of foreign students. these foreign students had neither civil nor political rights; they were men "out of their own law," for whom the government under which they lived made small and uncertain provision. their strength lay in their numbers, and in the effect which their presence produced upon the prosperity and the reputation of the town. they early recognised the necessity of union if full use was to be made of the offensive and defensive weapons they possessed. the men who came to study law at bologna were not schoolboys; some of them were beneficed ecclesiastics, others were lawyers, and most of them were possessed of adequate means of living. the provisions of roman law favoured the creation of such protective guilds; the privileges and immunities of the clergy (p.  ) afforded an analogy for the claim of foreign students to possess laws of their own; and the threat of the secession of a large community was likely to render a city state amenable to argument. the growth of guilds or communities held together by common interests and safeguarded by solemn oaths is one of the features of european history of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and the students of bologna took no unusual or extra-ordinary step when they formed their universitates. the distinction of students into "nations," which is still preserved in some of the scottish universities, is derived from this guild-forming movement at bologna at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century. no citizen of bologna was permitted to be a member of a guild, the protection of which he did not require. the tendency at first was towards the formation of a number of universitates, membership of which was decided by considerations of nationality. but the conditions which had led to the formation of these universitates were also likely to produce some measure of unification, and the law-students at bologna soon ceased to have more than two great guilds, distinguished on geographical principles as the universitas citramontanorum and the universitas ultramontanorum. each was sub-divided into nations; the cis-alpine (p.  ) university consisting of lombards, tuscans, and romans, and the trans-alpine university of a varying number, including a spanish, a gascon, a provençal, a norman, and an english nation. the three cis-alpine nations were, of course, much more populous at bologna than the dozen or more trans-alpine nations, and they were therefore sub-divided into sections known as consiliariae. the students of arts and medicine, who at first possessed no organisation of their own and were under the control of the great law-guilds, succeeded in the fourteenth century in establishing a new universitas within the studium. the influence of medicine predominated, for the arts course was, at bologna, regarded as merely a preparation for the study of law and, especially, of medicine; but this third universitas gave a definite status and definite rights to the students of arts. in the same century the two jurist universities came to act together so constantly that they were, for practical purposes, united, so that, by the beginning of the fifteenth century, the studium generale of bologna contained virtually two universities, one of law, and the other of arts and medicine, governed by freely-elected rectors. the peculiar relations of theology to the studium and to the universities is a topic which belongs to constitutional history, and not to our (p.  ) special subject. the universities of bologna had to maintain a struggle with two other organisations, the guilds of masters and the authorities of this city state. they kept the first in subjection; they ultimately succumbed to the second. a guild of masters, doctors, or professors had existed in the studium before the rise of the universitates, and it survived with limited, but clearly defined, powers. the words "doctor," "professor," and "magister" or "dominus" were at first used indifferently, and a master of arts of a scottish or a german university is still described on his diploma as a doctor of philosophy. the term "master" was little used at bologna, but it is convenient to employ "master" and "student" as the general terms for teacher and taught. the masters were the teachers of the studium, and they protected their own interests by forming a guild the members of which, and they alone, had the right to teach. graduation was originally admission into the guild of masters, and the chief privilege attached to it was the right to teach. this privilege ultimately became merely a theoretical right at bologna, where the teachers tended to become a close corporation of professors, like the senatus of a scottish university. the guild or college of masters who taught law in the studium of (p.  ) bologna naturally resented the rise of the universities of students. the doctors, they said, should elect the rectors, as they do at paris. the scholars follow no trade, they are merely the pupils of those who do practise a profession, and they have no right to choose rulers for themselves any more than the apprentices of the skinners. the masters were citizens of bologna, and it might be expected that the state would assist them in their struggle with a body of foreign apprentices; but the threat of migration turned the scales in favour of the students. there were no buildings and no endowments to render a migration difficult, and migration did from time to time take place. the masters themselves were dependent upon fees for their livelihood; they were, at bologna, frequently laymen with no benefice to fall back upon, and with wives and children to maintain. as time went on and the teaching masters became a limited number of professors, they were given salaries, at first by the student-universities themselves and afterwards by the city, which feared to offend the student-universities. they thus passed, to a large extent, under the control of the universities; how far, we shall see as our story progresses. the city authorities tried ineffectually to curb the universities and to prevent migrations, but the students, with the support of the papacy, succeeded in maintaining the strength of their organisations, and (p.  ) when, in the middle of the fourteenth century, secessions from bologna came to an end, the students had obtained the recognition and most of the privileges they desired. in course of time the authority of the state increased at bologna and elsewhere, bodies of reformatores studii came to be appointed by republics or tyrants in italian university cities, and these boards gradually absorbed the government of the universities. the foundation of residential colleges, and the erection of buildings by the universities themselves, deprived the students of the possibility of reviving the long disused weapon of a migration, and when the power of the papacy became supreme in bologna, the freedom of its student-universities came to an end. this, however, belongs to a later age. we must now attempt to obtain some picture of the life of a medieval student at bologna during the greatness of the universitates. we will choose an englishman who arrives at bologna early in the fifteenth century to study law. he finds himself at once a member of the english nation of the trans-montane university; he pays his fee, takes the oath of obedience to the rector, and his name is placed upon the "matricula" or roll of members of the university. he does not look about for a lodging-house, like a modern student in a scottish university, but joins with some companions (_socii_) probably of (p.  ) his own nation, to take a house. if our new-comer had been a spaniard, he might have been fortunate enough to find a place in the great spanish college which had been founded in the latter half of the fourteenth century; as it is, he and his friends settle down almost as citizens of bologna. the success of the universities in their attempt to form a citizenship outside the state had long ago resulted in the creation also of a semi-citizenship within the state. the laws of the city of bologna allowed the students to be regarded as citizens so long as they were members of a university. our young englishman has, of course, no share in the government of the town, but he possesses all rights necessary for the protection of his person and property; he can make a legal will and bring an action against a citizen. the existence of these privileges, unusual and remarkable in a medieval state, may excite his curiosity about the method by which they were acquired, and he will probably be told strange and terrible tales of the bad old times when a foreign student was as helpless as any other foreigner in a strange town, and might be tortured by unfair and tyrannous judges. if he is historically minded, he will learn about the rise of the smaller guilds which are now amalgamated in his universitas; how, like other guilds, they were benefit societies caring for the sick and the poor, burying the dead, and providing (p.  ) for common religious services and common feasts. he will be told (in language unfamiliar at oxford) how the proctors or representatives of the guild were sent to cheer up the sick and, if necessary, to relieve their necessities, and to reconcile members who had quarrelled. the corporate payment for feasts included the cost of replacing broken windows, which (at all events among the german students at bologna) seem to have been associated with occasions of rejoicing. the guild would pay for the release of one of its members who was in prison, but it would also insist upon the payment of the debts, even of those who had "gone down." it was essential that the credit of the guild with the citizens of bologna should be maintained. many of these purposes were still served by the "nation" to which our bologna freshman belonged: but the really important organisation was that of his universitas. one of his first duties might happen to be connected with the election of a new rector. the title of the office was common in italy and was the equivalent of the podesta, or chief magistrate, of an italian town. the choice of a new rector would probably be limited, for the honour was costly, and the share of the fines which the rector received could not nearly meet his expenses. as his jurisdiction included clerks, it was necessary, by the canon (p.  ) law, that he should have the tonsure, and be, at all events technically, a clerk. he could not belong to any religious order, his obligations to which might conflict with his duty to the universitas, and the expense of the office made it desirable that he should be a beneficed clergyman who was dispensed from residence in his benefice; he could enter upon his duties at the age of twenty-four, and he was not necessarily a priest or even a deacon. our freshman played a small part in the election. as a member of the english nation, he would help to choose a consiliarius, who had a vote in the election, and who became one of the rector's permanent council. the dignity of the rector's position would be impressed upon our novice by his senior contemporaries, who could boast that, if a cardinal came to bologna, he must yield precedence to the rector, and the lesson would be emphasised by a great feast on the occasion of the solemn installation and possibly by a tournament and a dance, certainly by some more magnificent banquet than that given by a rector of the university of arts and medicine. after our student's day there grew up a strange ceremony of tearing the robe of the new rector and selling back the pieces to him, and statutes had to be passed prohibiting the acceptance of money for the fragments, although if any student succeeded in capturing the robe without injuring it, he might (p.  ) claim its redemption. the state and hospitality which the office entailed led to its being made compulsory to accept the offer of it, but this arrangement failed to maintain the ancient prestige of the rectorship which, after the decline of the universitates themselves, had outlived its usefulness. magnificent as was the position of the rector of a universitas, our young englishman would soon discover that his rector was only a constitutional sovereign. he had to observe the statutes and to consult his council upon important questions. he had no power to dispense with the penalties imposed by the regulations, and for any mismanagement of the pecuniary affairs of the universitas he was personally liable, when at the end of his period of office he had to meet a committee and to render an account of his stewardship. he could sentence offending students to money fines, but he must have the consent of his council before expelling them or declaring them subject to the ecclesiastical and social penalties of the perjured man. he claimed to try cases brought by students against townsmen, and about the time of our scholar's arrival, the town had admitted that he might try students accused of criminal offences forbidden by the university statutes, and had agreed to carry out his sentences. too free a use of the secular arm would naturally lead to unpopularity and trouble; (p.  ) the spectacle of a student being handed over to the gaolers of the podesta or of the bishop can never have been pleasant in the eyes of a universitas. changes in the statutes of the university could not be made by the rector; every twenty years eight "statutarii" were appointed to revise the code, and alterations made at other times required the consent of the congregation, which consisted of all students except citizens of bologna and a few poor scholars who did not subscribe to the funds of the universitas. by the time of which we are speaking, the two jurist-universities at bologna met together in one congregation, and if a congregation happens to be held during our englishman's residence at bologna, he will find himself bound under serious penalties to attend its session, where he will mix on equal, terms with members of the cismontane university, listening to, or taking part in, the debates (conducted in latin) and throwing his black or white bean into the ballot box when a vote is necessary. although the city of bologna never admitted the jurisdiction of a universitas over citizens of the town, there were some classes of citizens whose trade or profession made them virtually its subjects. landlords, stationers, and masters or doctors were in a peculiar relation to the universities, which did not fail to use their advantage to the uttermost. if our english student and his socii (p.  ) had any dispute about the rent of their house, there was a compulsory system of arbitration; if he found an error in a ms. which he had hired or purchased from a bologna bookseller he was bound to report it to a university board whose duty it was to inspect mss. offered for sale or hire, and the bookseller would be ordered to pay a fine; he was protected from extortionate prices by a system which allowed the bookseller a fixed profit on a second-hand book. mss. were freely reproduced by the booksellers' clerks, and were neither scarce nor unduly expensive, although elaborately illuminated mss. were naturally very valuable. the landlords and the booksellers were kept in proper submission by threats of _interdictio_ or _privatio_. a citizen who offended the university was debarred from all intercourse with students, who were strictly forbidden to hire his house or his books; if a townsman brought a "calumnious accusation" against a student, and disobeyed a rectorial command to desist, he and his children, to the third generation, and all their goods, were to lie under an interdict, "_sine spe restitutionis_." _interdictio_, or discommuning, was also the great weapon which might be employed against the masters of the studium. the degradation of the masters was a gradual process, and it was never complete. the privileges given by frederick barbarossa to lombard scholars in (p.  ) the middle of the twelfth century included a right of jurisdiction over their pupils, and a papal bull of the end of the century speaks of masters and scholars meeting together in congregations. the organisation of the universitas ultimately confined membership of congregation to students, and the powers of the rector rendered the magisterial jurisdiction merely nominal. the loss of their privileges is attributed by canon rashdall to the attitude they adopted in the early struggles between the municipality and the student-guilds. the doctors, who were citizens of bologna, allied themselves, he says, "with the city against the students in the selfish effort to exclude from the substantial privileges of the doctorate all but their own fellow-citizens.... it was through identifying themselves with the city rather than with the scholars that the doctors of bologna sank into their strange and undignified servitude to their own pupils." they made a further mistake in quarrelling with the town--the earliest migrations were migrations of professors--and when, in the middle of the thirteenth century, a permanent _modus vivendi_ was arrived at between the city and the universities, the rights of the doctors received no consideration. other citizens of bologna were forbidden to take an oath of obedience to the rectors, but the masters, who, in theory, possessed rights of jurisdiction over their pupils, were, (p.  ) in fact, compelled by the universities to take this oath. even those of them who received salaries from the town were not exempted. a doctor who refused to take a vow of obedience to the representative of his pupils had no means of collecting his lecture-fees, which remained of some importance even after the introduction of salaries, and he was liable to further punishment at the will of the rector. the ultimate penalty was _deprivatio_, and when this sentence was pronounced, not only were the lectures of the offending doctor boycotted, but all social intercourse with him was forbidden; students must avoid his company in private as well as decline his ministrations in the studium. his restoration could only be accomplished by a vote of the whole university solemnly assembled in congregation. the oath of obedience was not merely a constitutional weapon kept in reserve for occasional serious disputes; it affected the daily life of the studium, and the masters were subject to numerous petty indignities, which could not fail to impress our english student if he was familiar with university life in his own country. he would see, with surprise, a doctor's lecture interrupted by the arrival of a university bedel, as the debates of the house of commons are interrupted by the arrival of black rod, and his instructor would maintain a reverent silence while the rector's officer delivered some message from the (p.  ) university, or informed the professor of some new regulation. if the learned doctor "cut" a lecture, our student would find himself compelled to inform the authorities of the university, and he would hear of fines inflicted upon the doctors for absence, for lateness, for attracting too small an audience, for omitting portions of a subject or avoiding the elucidation of its difficulties, and for inattention while the "precepta" or "mandata" of the rector were being read in the schools. he and his fellow-students might graciously grant their master a holiday, but the permission had to be confirmed by the rector; if a lecture was prolonged a minute after the appointed time, the doctor found himself addressing empty benches. the humiliation of the master's position was increased by the fact that his pupils were always acting as spies upon him, and they were themselves liable to penalties for conniving at any infringement of the regulations on his part. at bologna, even the privilege of teaching was, to a slight extent, shared by the doctors with their pupils. lectures were divided into two classes, ordinary and extra-ordinary; the ordinary lectures were the duty of the doctors, but senior students (bachelors) were authorised by the rector to share with the doctors the duty of giving extra-ordinary lectures. there were six chairs, endowed by the (p.  ) city, which were held by students, and the occupant of one of these was entitled to deliver ordinary lectures. dr rashdall finds the explanation of this anomaly in an incident in the fourteenth century history of bologna, when the tyrant of the city forbade the professors to teach. the student-chairs were rather endowments for the rectorship or for poor scholars than serious rivals to the ordinary professorships, and the extra-ordinary lectures delivered by students or bachelors may be regarded as a kind of apprenticeship for future doctors. there remained one department of the work of the studium in which our bologna student would find his masters supreme. the sacred right of examining still belonged to the teachers, even though the essential purpose of the examination was changed. the doctors of bologna had succeeded in preserving the right to teach as a privilege of bolognese citizens and even of restricting it, to some extent, to certain families, and the foreign student could not hope to become a professor of his own studium. but the prestige of the university rendered bolognese students ambitious of the doctorate, and the doctorate had come to mean more than a mere licence to teach. this licence, which had originally been conferred by the doctors themselves, required, after the issue of a papal bull in , the consent of the archdeacon (p.  ) of bologna, and the papal grant of the _jus ubique docendi_ in increased at once the importance of the mastership and of the authority of the archdeacon, who came to be described as the chancellor and head of the studium. "graduation," in dr rashdall's words, "ceased to imply the mere admission into a private society of teachers, and bestowed a definite legal status in the eyes of church and state alike.... the universities passed from merely local into ecumenical organisations; the doctorate became an order of intellectual nobility with as distinct and definite a place in the hierarchical system of medieval christendom as the priesthood or the knighthood." the archdeacon of bologna, even when he was regarded as the chancellor, did not wrest from the college of doctors the right to decide who should be deemed worthy of a title which cardinals were pleased to possess. the licence which he required before admitting a student to the doctorate continued to be conferred by the bologna doctors after due examination. we will assume that our english student has now completed his course of study. he has duly attended the prescribed lectures--not less than three a week. he has gone in the early mornings, when the bell at st peter's church was ringing for mass, to spend some two hours listening to the "ordinary" lecture delivered by a doctor in his own house (p.  ) or in a hired room; his successors a generation or two later would find buildings erected by the university for the purpose. the rest of his morning and an hour or two in the afternoon have also, if he is an industrious student, been devoted to lectures, and he has not been neglectful of private study. he has enjoyed the numerous holidays afforded by the feasts of the church, and several vacations in the course of the year, including ten days at christmas, a fortnight at easter, and about six weeks in the autumn. after five years of study, if he is a civilian, and four if he is a canonist, the rector has raised him to the dignity of a bachelor by permitting him to give "extra-ordinary" lectures--and after two more years spent in this capacity he is ready to proceed to the doctorate. the rector, having been satisfied by the english representative in his council that the "doctorand" has performed the whole duty of the bolognese student, gives him permission to enter for the first or private examination, and he again takes the oath of obedience to that dignitary. the doctor under whom he has studied vouches for his competence, and presents him first to the archdeacon and some days afterwards to the college of doctors, before whom he takes a solemn oath never to seek admittance into the bolognese college of doctors, or to teach, or attempt to perform any of the functions of a doctor, at bologna. they then (p.  ) give him a passage for exposition and send him home. he is followed to his house by his own doctor who hears his exposition in private, and brings him back to the august presence of the college of doctors and the archdeacon. here he treats his thesis and is examined upon it by two or more doctors, who are ordered by the university statutes not to treat any victim of this rigorous and tremendous examination otherwise than if he were their own son, and are threatened with grave penalties, including suspension for a year. the college then votes upon his case, each doctor saying openly and clearly, and without any qualification, "approbo" or "reprobo," and if the decision is favourable he is now a licentiate and has to face only the expensive but not otherwise formidable ordeal of the second or public examination. as a newly appointed scottish judge is, to this day, admitted to his office by trying cases, so the bologna doctor was admitted to his new dignity by an exercise in lecturing. the idea is common to many medieval institutions, and it survived at bologna, even though the licentiate had, at his private examination, renounced the right of teaching. our englishman and his socii go together to the cathedral, where he states a thesis and defends it against the attacks of other licentiates. his own doctor, known in bologna (and elsewhere) as the promoter, (p.  ) presents him to the chancellor, who confers upon him the _jus ubique docendi_. he is then seated in a master's chair, and the promotor gives him an open book and a gold ring and (in the terminology of a modern scottish university) "caps" him with the biretta. he is dismissed with a benediction and the kiss of peace, and is conducted through the town, in triumphal procession, by his friends, to whom he gives a feast. the feast adds very considerably to the expenses of the doctorate, for which fees are, of course, exacted by the authorities of the university, the college of doctors, and the archdeacon. a considerable proportion of the disciplinary regulations, made by the student-universities, aimed at restricting the expenditure on feasting at the inception of a new doctor and on other occasions. when our young english doctorand received the permission of his rector to proceed to his degree, he was made to promise not to exceed the proper expenditure on fees and feasts, and he was expressly forbidden to organise a tournament. the spending of money on extravagant costume was also prohibited by the statutes of the university, which forbade a student to purchase, either directly or through an agent, any costume other than the ordinary black garment, or any outer covering other than the black cappa or gabard. other disciplinary restrictions at (p.  ) bologna dealt with quarrelling and gambling. the debates of congregation were not to be liable to interruption by one student stabbing his opponent in italian fashion, and no one was allowed to carry arms to a meeting of congregation; if a student had reason to apprehend personal violence from another, the rector could give him a dispensation from the necessity of attendance. gaming and borrowing from unauthorised money-lenders were strictly forbidden; to enter a gaming-house, or to keep one, or to watch a game of dice was strictly forbidden. the university of arts and medicine granted a dispensation for three days at christmas, and a rector might use his own discretion in the matter. the penalties were fines, and for contumacy or grave offences, suspension or expulsion. there are indications that the conduct of the doctors in these respects was not above suspicion; they were expressly prohibited from keeping gaming-houses; and the appointment of four merchants of the town, who alone were empowered to lend money to students, was a protection not only against ordinary usurers, but also against doctors who lent money to students in order to attract them to their lectures. that the ignominious position of the bologna doctors had an evil effect upon their morals, is evident not only from this, but also from the existence of bribery, in connection with examinations for the (p.  ) doctorate, although corruption of this kind was not confined to the student-universities. the regulations of the greatest of the residential colleges of bologna, the college of spain, naturally interfere much more with individual liberty than do the statutes of the student-universities, even though the government of the college was a democracy, based upon the democratic constitution of the university. we shall have an opportunity of referring to the discipline of the spanish college when we deal with the college system in the northern universities, and meanwhile we pass to some illustrations of life in student-universities elsewhere than at bologna. at padua we find a "schools-peace" like the special peace of the highway or the market in medieval england; special penalties were prescribed for attacks on scholars in the schools, or going to or returning from the schools at the accustomed hours. the presence of the rector also made a slight attack count as an "atrocious injury." the university threatened to interdict, for ten years, the ten houses nearest to the place where a scholar was killed; if he was wounded the period was four or six years. at florence, where the faculty of medicine was very important, there is an interesting provision for the study of anatomy. an agreement was made with the town, by which (p.  ) the students of medicine were to have two corpses every year, one male and one female. the bodies were to be those of malefactors, who gained, to some extent, by the arrangement, for the woman's penalty was to be changed from burning, and the man's from decapitation, to hanging. a pathetic clause provides that the criminals are not to be natives of florence, but of captive race, with few friends or relations. if the number of medical students increased, they were to have two male bodies. at florence, as almost everywhere, we find regulations against gambling, but an exception was made for the kalends of may and the days immediately before and after, and no penalty could be inflicted for gambling in the house of the rector. the records, of florence afford an illustration of the checks upon the rectorial power, to which we have referred in speaking of the typical student-university at bologna. in , a series of complaints were brought against a certain hieronimus who had just completed his year of office as rector, and a syndicate, consisting of a doctor of decrees (who was also a scholar in civil law), a scholar in canon law, and a scholar in medicine, was appointed to inquire into the conduct of the late rector and of his two camerarii. the accusations were both general and personal, and the syndics, after deciding that (p.  ) hieronimus must restore eight silver _grossi_ of university money which he had appropriated, proceeded to hear the charges brought by individuals. a lecturer in the university complained that the rector had unjustly and maliciously given a sentence against him and in favour of a greek residing at florence, and that he had unjustly declared him perjured; fifty gold florins were awarded as damages for this and some other injuries. a doctor of arts and medicine obtained a judgment for two florins for expenses incurred when the rector was in his house. a student complained that he had been denounced as "infamis" in all the schools for not paying his matriculation-fee, and that his name had been entered in the book called the "speculum." the syndics ordered the record of his punishment to be erased. the most interesting case is that of student of civil law, called andreas romuli de lancisca. he averred that he had sold hieronimus six measures of grain, to be paid for at the customary price. after four months' delay, the rector paid seven pounds, and when asked to complete the payment, gave andreas a book of medicine, "for which i got five florins." some days later he demanded the return of the book, to which andreas replied: "date mihi residuum et libenter restituam librum." to this request the rector, "in superbiam elevatus," answered, "tu reddes librum et non solvam tibi." the quarrel continued, and (p.  ) one morning, when andreas was in the schools at a lecture, hieronimus sent the servant of the podesta, who seized him "ignominiose et vituperose" in the schools and conducted him to the town prison like a common thief. for all these injuries andreas craved redress and a sum of forty florins. the damages, he thought, should be high, not merely for his personal wrongs, but also for the insult to the scholar's dress which he wore, and, indeed, to the whole university. he was allowed twenty pounds in addition to the sum due for the grain. the syndicate of must have been an extreme case; matters were complicated by the fact that the rector's brother was "executor ordinamentorum justitiæ civitatis florentiæ," and he was therefore suspected of playing into the hands of the city. but the knowledge that such an investigation was possible must have restrained the arbitrary tendencies of a rector. a reference to the imitation of the bolognese constitution in spain must close this portion of our survey. at lerida, in the earliest code of statutes (about ), we find the doctors and master sworn to obey the rector, who can fine them, though he must not expel them without the consent of the whole university. any improper criticisms of the rector ("verba injuriosa vel contumeliosa") by anyone, of whatsoever (p.  ) dignity, are to be punished by suspension until satisfaction is made, and so great is the glory of the office ("rectoris officium tanta [excellentia] præfulget") that an ex-rector is not bound to take the oath to his successor. the regulations affecting undergraduates are more detailed than at bologna, and indicate a stricter discipline. after eight days' attendance at a doctor's lecture, a student must not forsake it to go to another doctor; no scholar is to go to the school on horseback unless for some urgent cause; scholars are not to give anything to actors or jesters or other "truffatores" (troubadours), nor to invite them to meals, except on the feasts of christmas, easter, and pentecost, or at the election of a rector, or when doctors or masters are created. even on these occasions only food may be given, although an ordinance of the second rector allows doctors and masters to give them money. no students, except boys under fourteen, are to be allowed to play at ball in the city on st nicholas' day or st katherine's day, and none are to indulge in unbecoming amusements, or to walk about dressed up as jews or saracens--a rule which is also found in the statutes of the university of perpignan. if scholars are found bearing arms by day in the students' quarter of the town, they are to forfeit their arms, and if they are found at night with either arms or musical instruments in the students' quarter, they are to (p.  ) forfeit arms or instruments. if they are found outside their own quarters, by night or by day, with arms or musical instruments, the town officials will deal with laymen, and the bishop or the rector with clerks. laymen might be either students or doctors in spain as in italy; at salamanca, a lecturer's marriage was included among the necessary causes which excused a temporary absence from his duties. in the universities of southern france, the marriage of resident doctors and students was also contemplated, and the statutes of the university of aix contain a table of charges payable as "charivari" by a rector, a doctor, a licentiate, a bachelor, a student, and a bedel. in each case the amount payable for marrying a widow was double the ordinary fee. if the bridegroom declined to pay, the "dominus promotor," accompanied by "dominis studentibus," was, by permission of the rector, to go to his house armed with frying-pans, bassoons, and horns, and to make a great tumult, without, however, doing any injury to his neighbours. continued recusancy was to be punished by placing filth outside the culprit's door on feast-days. in the university of dôle, there was a married rector in , but this was by a special dispensation. there are traces of the existence of married undergraduates at oxford in the fifteenth century, and, in the (p.  ) same century, marriage was permitted in the faculty of medicine at paris, but the insistence upon celibacy in the northern universities is one of the characteristic differences between them and the universities of southern europe. chapter iii (p.  ) the universities of masters the guild or universitas which grew up in the studium generale of paris was a society of masters, not of students. the studium generale was, in origin, connected with the cathedral schools, and recognition as a master was granted by the chancellor of the cathedral, whose duty it was to confer it upon every competent scholar who asked for it. the successful applicant was admitted by the existing masters into their society, and this admission or inception was the origin of degrees in the university of paris. the date of the growth of an organised guild is uncertain; dr rashdall, after a survey of the evidence, concludes that "it is a fairly safe inference that the period - --probably the latter years of that period--saw the birth of the university of paris." such organisation as existed in the twelfth century was slight and customary, depending, as the student-universities of bologna and in other medieval guilds, upon no external authority. the successors of these early masters, writing in the middle of the thirteenth century, relate how their predecessors, men reverend in character (p.  ) and famous for learning, decided, as the number of their pupils increased, that they could do their work better if they became a united body, and that they therefore formed themselves into a college or university, on which church and state conferred many privileges. the bond of union they describe as a "jus speciale" ("si quodam essent juris specialis vinculo sociati"), and this conception explains the appearance of their earliest code of statutes in the first decade of the thirteenth century. the guild of masters, at paris, like the guild of students at bologna, could use with advantage the threat of a migration, and, after a violent quarrel with the town in the year , they received special privileges from philip augustus. some years later, pope innocent iii. permitted the "scholars of paris" to elect a procurator or proctor to represent their interests in law-suits at rome. litigation at rome was connected with disputes with the chancellor of the cathedral. already the scholars of paris had complained to the pope about the tyranny of the chancellor, and innocent had supported their cause, remarking that when he himself studied at paris he had never heard of scholars being treated in this fashion. it moved and astonished the pope not a little that the chancellor should attempt to exact an oath of obedience and payment of money from the masters, and, in the end, that official was (p.  ) compelled to give up his claim to demand fees or oaths of fealty or obedience for a licence to teach, and to relax any oaths that had already been taken. the masters, as dr rashdall points out, already possessed the weapon of boycotting, and ordering their students to boycott, a teacher upon whom the chancellor conferred a licence against the wish of their guild, but they could not at first compel him to grant a licence to anyone whom they desired to admit. after the papal intervention of , the chancellor was bound to licence a candidate recommended by the masters. in the account of their own history, from which we have already quoted, the parisian masters speak of their venerable "gignasium litterarum" as divided into four faculties, theology, law, medicine, and philosophy, and they compare the four streams of learning to the four rivers of paradise. the largest and most important was the faculty of arts, and the masters of that faculty were the protagonists in the struggle with the chancellor, a struggle which continued long after the intervention of innocent iii. in the course of this long and successful conflict, the faculty of arts developed an internal organisation, consisting of four nations, distinguished as the french, the normans, the picards, and the english. each nation elected a proctor, and the four proctors or other representatives of the (p.  ) nations elected a rector, who was the head of the faculty of arts. the division into nations and the title of rector may have been copied from bologna, but the organisation at paris was essentially different. the parisian nations were governed by masters, not by students, and whereas, at bologna, the artists were an insignificant minority, at paris, the rector became, by the end of the thirteenth century, the most powerful official of the university, and, by the middle of the fourteenth, was recognised as its head. the superior faculties of theology, canon law, and medicine, though they possessed independent constitutions under their own deans, consisted largely of men who had taken a master's or a bachelor's degree in arts, and, from the middle of the thirteenth century, they took an oath to the rector, which was held to be binding even after they became doctors. the non-artist members of these faculties were not likely to be able to resist an authority whose existence was generally welcomed as the centre of the opposition to the chancellor. ultimately, the whole university passed under the sway of the rector, and the power of the chancellor was restricted to granting the _jus ubique docendi_ as the representative of the pope. even this was little more than a formality, for the chancellor "ceased," says dr rashdall, "to have any real control over the grant or refusal of licences, except in so far as he retained (p.  ) the nomination of the examiners in arts." at oxford, the university was also a guild of masters, but oxford was not a cathedral city, and there was no conflict with the bishop or the chancellor. in the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century, the masters of the studium probably elected a rector or head in imitation of the parisian chancellor. after the quarrel with the citizens, which led to the migration to cambridge, and when king john had submitted to the pope, the masters were able to obtain an ordinance from the papal legate determining the punishment of the offenders, and providing against the recurrence of such incidents. the legate ordered that if the citizens should seize the person of a clerk, his surrender might be demanded by "the bishop of lincoln, or the archdeacon of the place or his official, or the chancellor, or whomsoever the bishop of lincoln shall depute to this office." the clause lays stress upon the authority of the bishop of lincoln, which must in no way be diminished by any action of the townsmen. the ecclesiastical authority of the bishop was welcomed by the university as a protection against the town, and the chancellor was too far away from lincoln to press the privileges of the diocese or the cathedral against the clerks who were under his special (p.  ) care. the oxford chancellor was a master of the studium, and, though he was the representative of the bishop, he was also the head of the masters guild, and from very early times was elected by the masters. thus he came to identify himself with the university, and his office increased in importance as privileges were conferred upon the university by kings and popes. no rectorship grew up as a rival to the chancellorship, though some of the functions of the parisian rector were performed at oxford by the proctors. there were only two "nations" at oxford, for the oxford masters were, as a rule, englishmen; men from north of the trent formed the northern nation, and the rest of england the southern nation. scotsmen were classed as northerners, and welshmen and irishmen as southerners. the division into nations was short-lived, and the two rectors or proctors, though still distinguished as northern and southern, soon became representatives elected by the whole faculty of arts. as at paris, the faculty of arts was the moving spirit in the university, and theology, law, and medicine never developed at oxford any independent organisation. the proctors, as dr rashdall has shown, thus became the executive of the university as a whole, and not merely of the faculty of arts. an essential difference between bologna and its two great northern (p.  ) sisters lies in the fact that, at paris and at oxford, masters and scholars alike were all clerks, possessing the tonsure and wearing the clerical garb, though not necessarily even in minor orders. they could thus claim the privileges of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and at oxford this jurisdiction was exercised by the chancellor, who also, along with the proctors, was responsible for academic discipline and could settle disputes between members of the university. in this, the university of oxford had a position of independence which paris never achieved, for though the parisian rector's court dealt with cases of discipline and with internal disputes, criminal jurisdiction remained the prerogative of the bishop. in the middle of the fourteenth century, royal grants of privileges to the university of oxford culminated in the subjection of the city, and from the middle of the fifteenth "the burghers lived in their own town almost as the helots or subjects of a conquering people." (_cf._ rashdall, vol. ii. chap. , sec. ). the constitution of oxford was closely imitated at cambridge, where the head of the university was also the chancellor, and the executive consisted of two rectors or proctors. in the fifteenth century the university freed itself from the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the bishop of ely. germany possessed no universities before the fourteenth century. (p.  ) prague was founded in - , and was followed before by vienna, erfurt, heidelberg, and cologne, and in the first quarter of the next century by würzburg, leipsic, rostock, and in the low countries by louvain. the first scottish university dates from the early years of the fifteenth century. while the provincial universities of france tended to follow bologna rather than paris as their model, the german universities approximated to the parisian type, and although the founders of the scottish universities were impressed by some of the conditions of the student-universities, and provided for them a theoretical place in their constitutions, yet the three medieval scottish universities of scotland, in their actual working, more nearly resembled the master type. chapter iv (p.  ) college discipline we are now in a position to approach the main part of our subject--life in a medieval university of masters--and we propose to proceed at once to its most characteristic feature, life in a medieval college. the system originated in paris. in the early days of the university, students at paris lived freely in private houses, which a number of "socii" hired for themselves. a record of a dispute which occurred in shows that it was usual for one member of such a community to be responsible for the rent, "tanquam principalis dictae domus," and the member who was held to be responsible in the particular case is described as a "magister." at first it was not necessary that he should be a master, but this soon became usual, and ultimately (though not till the close of the middle ages) it was made compulsory by the university. dr rashdall has drawn attention to the democratic character of these hospicia or halls, the members of which elected their own principal and made the regulations which he enforced. this democratic constitution is found at oxford as well as at paris, and was, indeed, common to all the early universities. (p.  ) when a benevolent donor endowed one of these halls, he invariably gave it not only money, but regulations, and it was the existence of an endowment and of statutes imposed by an external authority that differentiated the college from the hall. the earliest college founders did not necessarily erect any buildings for the scholars for whose welfare they provided; a college is essentially a society, and not a building. the quadrangular shape which is now associated with the buildings of a college was probably suggested accidentally by the development of walter de merton's college at oxford; but, long after the foundation of merton college in or , it was not considered necessary by a founder to build a home for his scholars, who secured a suitable lodging-house (or houses) and were prepared to migrate should such a step become desirable in the interest of the university. the statutes of merton provide us with a picture of an endowed hall at the period when such endowments were beginning to change the character of university life. the conception of a college, as distinguished from the older halls, developed very rapidly, and the founder's provisions for the organisation of his society were altered three times within ten years. in , walter de merton, sometime chancellor of england, (p.  ) drew up a code of statutes for the foundation of a house, to be called the house of the scholars of merton. his motive was the good of holy church and the safety of the souls of his benefactors and relations, and these objects were to be served by providing for the maintenance of twenty poor scholars and two or three priests in the schools of oxford, or elsewhere, if learning should, in these days of civil war, flourish elsewhere than at oxford. the endowment which he provided was to consist of his manors of maldon and farleigh, in surrey, to which was added the merton estate, at the end of what are now the "backs" in cambridge. this was purchased in - . the lands were given to his scholars, to be held under certain conditions, in their own name. his own kindred were to have the first claim upon places in the new society, and, after them, natives of the diocese of winchester; they were to have allowances of forty shillings each per annum, to live together in a hall, and to wear uniform garb in token of unity and mutual love. as vacancies arose, by death, by admission into a religious order, by the acceptance of livings in the church, or by appointments in other callings, they were to be filled up, and if the funds of the society permitted, the numbers, both of scholars and of priests, were to be increased. scholars who proved to be incorrigibly idle, or who led evil lives, were to be deprived; but the sick and (p.  ) infirm were to be treated generously, and any of the founder's kin who suffered from an incurable malady, and were incapable of earning an honest living in the studium or elsewhere, were to be maintained till their death. it was assumed that the scholars had already received the preliminary training in latin which was necessary for their studies, but provision was made for the elementary instruction of poor or orphan boys of the founder's kin, until they were ready to enter the university. once or twice a year all the members of the foundation were to meet and say mass for their founder and his benefactors, living and dead. the management of the property was entrusted to a warden, who was to reside not at oxford or any other studium where the hall might happen to be, but at maldon or farleigh. the warden was a member of the society, but had no authority over the scholars, except that, in cases of disputed elections, he, or the chancellor or rector of the university where the hall happened to be at the time, was to act on the advice of six or seven of the senior scholars, and the senior scholars, rather than the warden, were looked upon by the founder as the natural leaders of his society. every year, eight or ten of the seniors were to go to surrey to stay for eight days to inquire into the management of their property, and, if at any (p.  ) other time, evil rumours about the conduct of the warden reached the hall, two or three of them were to go to investigate. the scholars could, with the consent of the patron, the bishop of winchester, bring about the deposition of the warden, and elections to the wardenship were entrusted to the twelve seniors. they were to consult the "brothers" who assisted the warden at merton, and were also to obtain the sanction of the bishop of winchester. these first merton statutes clearly contemplate an endowed hall, differing from other halls only in the existence of the endowment. some regulations are necessary in order that the tenure of the property of the society may be secure and that its funds may not be misapplied, and the brief code of statutes is directed to these ends. walter de merton's earliest rules make the minimum of change in existing conditions. but the preparation of this code of statutes must have suggested to the founder that his generosity gave him the power of making more elaborate provisions. the mendicant orders had already established at oxford and at paris houses for their own members, and the monastic orders in france were following the example of the friars. these houses were, of course, governed by minute and detailed regulations, and it may have seemed desirable to introduce some stricter discipline into the secular halls. at all events, in (p.  ) , walter de merton took the opportunity of an increase in his endowments to issue a code of statutes more than twice as long as that of . these new statutes mark a distinct advance in the founder's ideal of college life. the warden becomes a much more important factor in the conduct of the hall as well as in the management of the property; in the election and in the expulsion of scholars he is given a greater place; his allowances are increased, and his presence at oxford seems to be implied. the scholars are to proceed from arts to theology; four or five of them may be permitted to study the canon law, and the warden may allow some of them to devote some time to the civil law. two sub-wardens are to be appointed, one at maldon and one in oxford; deans are to watch over the morals of the scholars, and senior students are to preside over the studies of the freshmen. the scholars are to be silent at meals and to listen to a reader; there must be no noise in their chambers, and a senior is to be in authority in each chamber, and to report breaches of regulations. conversation is to be conducted in latin. we have here the beginnings of a new system of university life, and we can trace the tendency towards collegiate discipline still more clearly in the founder's statutes of , which are much longer and more elaborate than in . the scholars or fellows are now to (p.  ) obey the warden, as their superior; the deans and the seniors in chambers are to bear rule under him and, in the first instance, to report to him; the sub-warden is to take his place in his absence and to assist him at other times; three bursars are to help him in the management, of the property. the patron or visitor, may inquire into the conduct of the warden or into any accusations brought against him, and has the power of depriving him of his office. the warden is not an absolute sovereign; the thirteen seniors are associated with him in the government of the college, and the sub-warden and five seniors are to inspect his accounts once a year. at the periodical scrutinies, when the conduct of all the members of the college is to be examined, accusations can be brought against him and duly investigated. this custom, and others of walter de merton's regulations, were clearly borrowed from the rules of monastic houses, and a company of secular clerks seems to have had difficulty in realising that they were bound by them, for as early as the archbishop of canterbury, who had become the visitor of the college, had to issue a series of orders for the observances of the statutes. the warden and fellows of merton had permitted the study of medicine: they had interpreted too liberally the permission to study law; they had increased their own allowances (p.  ) and the salaries of their brewer and their cook; the fellows had resisted the authority of the warden; they had neglected the attendances at divine service enjoined by the founder, and they had been lax about expulsions. the change which walter de merton had made in a scholar's life was so far-reaching that a secular would probably not have shared the astonishment of archbishop peckham (himself a friar) at the unwillingness of the merton scholars to recognise the loss of their traditional freedom. the system inaugurated by walter de merton was destined to have a great development. in the document of , peckham speaks of merton as a "college," and its founder was the founder of the oxford college system. although he repeated in his last statutes his permission to move his society from oxford, he regarded oxford as its permanent home. now that the civil war was over and england at peace, he had, he says, purchased a place of habitation and a house at oxford, "where a university of students is flourishing." not only had he provided a dwelling-place, he had also magnificently rebuilt a parish church to serve as a college-chapel. the example he set was followed both at oxford and at cambridge, and the rule of merton became the model on which college founders based elaborate codes of statutes. english founders generally followed walter de merton in making their (p.  ) societies self-governing communities, with an external visitor as the ultimate court of appeal. there were in many colleges "poor boys" who were taught grammar, performed menial offices, and were not members, nor always eligible for election as members, of the society; but as a general rule the fellows or socii all had a share in the management of the affairs of the house. routine business was frequently managed by the head, the officers, and a limited number of the senior fellows, but the whole body of fellows took part in the election of a new head. a period of probation, varying from one year to three, was generally prescribed before an entrant was admitted a "full and perpetual" fellow, and during this period of probation he had no right of voting. this restriction was sometimes dispensed with in the case of "founder's kin," who became full fellows at once, and the late sir edward wingfield used to boast that in his freshman term ( ) he had twice voted in opposition to the warden of new college in a college meeting. as in a monastic house, this freedom was combined with a strict rule of obedience, and though the head of a medieval college might be irritated by incidents of this kind, he possessed great dignity and high authority within his domain. as founders did more for their students, they expected a larger obedience from them, and (p.  ) attempted to secure it by minute regulations; and the authority of the head of the college increased with the number of rules which he was to enforce. the foundation of new college at oxford in marks the completion of the collegiate ideal which had advanced so rapidly under the successive constitutions of merton college a hundred years before. william of wykeham, in providing for the needs of his scholars, availed himself of the experience of the past and created a new model for the future. the fellows of new college were to be efficiently equipped at winchester for the studies of the university, and, as we shall see, they were to receive in college special instruction in addition to the teaching of the university. their magnificent home included, besides their living-rooms, a noble chapel and hall, a library, a garden, and a beautiful cloister for religious processions and for the burial of the dead. king henry vi. built a still more magnificent house for his cambridge scholars, and his example was followed by henry viii. the later college-founders, as we have said, expected obedience in proportion to their munificence, and the simpler statutes of earlier colleges were frequently revised and assimilated to those of later foundations. we reserve for a later section what we have to say about education, and deal here with habits and customs. the merton rule that conversation must be in latin is generally (p.  ) found in college statutes. at peterhouse, french might occasionally be spoken, should just and reasonable cause arise, but english very rarely. at new college, latin was to be spoken even in the garden, though english might be used in addressing a layman. at queen's college, oxford, which was founded by a courtier, french was allowed as a regular alternative for latin, and at jesus college, oxford, conversation might be in greek, latin, or hebrew. in spite of the influence of the renaissance, it seems unlikely that either greek or hebrew was much used as an alternative to latin, but the latin-speaking rule had become less rigid and in sixteenth-century statutes more generous provision is made for dispensations from it. the latin rule was not merely an educational method; it was deliberately intended to be a check upon conversation. college founders accepted the apostolic maxim that the tongue worketh great evil, and they were convinced that a golden rule of silence was a protection against both ribaldry and quarrels. in the later statutes of clare, the legislator recognises that not merely loss of time, but the creation of a disposition to be interested in trifles can be traced to "frequentes collocutiones," and he forbids any meetings in bedrooms (even meetings of masters of arts) for the purpose of feasting or of talking. if anyone wishes to (p.  ) receive a friend at dinner or supper, he must apply to the master for leave, and such leave is to be very rarely given. conversation in hall was prohibited by the rule of silence and by the provision of a reader, which we have already found at merton. the book read was almost invariably the bible. william of wykeham, who was followed in this, as in other respects, by later college founders, forbade his scholars to remain in hall after dinner or supper, on the ground that they were likely to talk scandal and quarrel; but on great feast days, when a fire was allowed in the hall, they might sit round and indulge in canticles and in listening to poems and chronicles and "mundi hujus mirabilia." the words, of the statute (which reappear in those of later colleges) seem to imply that even on winter evenings a fire burned in the hall only on feast days, and the medieval student must have suffered severely from cold. there were, as a rule, no fireplaces in private rooms until the sixteenth century, when we find references to them, _e.g._ in the statutes of corpus christi college, oxford; and the wooden shutters which took the place of windows shut out the scanty light of a winter day. when a disputation (_cf._ p. ) was held in hall at night, a fire was lit, but we are not told how, when there was no disputation or colleges meeting, the medieval student spent the time between supper and the "nightcap" which accompanied (p.  ) compline. dinner was at ten in the morning and supper at six in the evening. dr caius, in the middle of the sixteenth century, ordered his students to be in bed by eight o'clock in the evening, and "early to bed" must have been the custom on winter nights in a medieval college. "early to rise" was the stern law, even in the dark mornings, for the student's day began at six o'clock, and he must often have listened to lectures which commenced in the dark, although dawn overtook the lecturer before he finished his long exposition. in early times there was no provision for breakfast, and, though the existence of such a meal is distinctly contemplated in the statutes of queen's college, oxford, there is no hint of it in those of new college. probably some informal meal was usual everywhere, and was either paid for privately or winked at by the authorities. the absence of any general provision for breakfast led to its being taken in private rooms and not in hall, and this is the humble origin of the college breakfast party. the number of occupants of a single room varied in different colleges. special provision was made in later college statutes for the head of the college; at new college he was given (for the first time) a separate establishment and an allowance of plate and kitchen utensils; he (p.  ) was to dine in hall only on some twenty great feasts of the church, and to sit at a separate table on these occasions. henry vi. followed this precedent at king's, and elsewhere we find that the head of a college is to have "principalem mansionem" with garden and stabling for the horses, without which it was not becoming that he should travel on college business. it was generally the duty of the head to apportion the rooms among other members of the college, and to see that the juniors were under proper supervision. at peterhouse, and in many other colleges, there were to be two in each chamber. when william of wykeham built on a large scale, he ordered that there should be four occupants in the ground-floor rooms and three in the first-floor rooms. at king's, the numbers were three in ground-floor rooms and two in first-floor rooms. at magdalen, the numbers were the same as at new college, but two of the beds in the upper rooms and one in the lower were to be "lectuli rotales, _trookyll beddys_ vulgariter appellati." separate beds were usually provided, though sometimes boys under fourteen or fifteen years of age were denied this luxury. the bedrooms were also studies; at oxford there was no general sitting-room, except in monastic colleges, though cambridge college statutes speak of a "parlura," corresponding to the modern parlour or combination room. each of the occupants of a room in new college was the (p.  ) proprietor of a small window, at which he worked, probably at some "study" or desk like the old winchester "toys." the rooms had four windows and four "studiorum loca," and the general type of a college chamber, after the foundation of new college, was a room with one large window, and two, three, or four small windows for "studies." a large proportion of the care of statute-makers was devoted to the prohibition of amusements. the statutes of peterhouse forbade dogs or falcons, "for if one can have them in the house, all will want them, and so there will arise a constant howling" to disturb the studious. dice and chess, being forbidden games to clerks, were also prohibited, and the scholars of peterhouse were forbidden to frequent taverns, to engage in trade, to mix with actors, or to attend theatrical performances. these enactments are repeated in later college statutes, with such additions as the legislator's knowledge of human nature dictated and with occasional explanations of some interest in themselves. the keeping of dogs is often described as "taking the children's bread and giving it to dogs," and the founder of queen's college, oxford, ordered that no animals were to be kept under the fellows' rooms, since purity of air is essential for study. william of wykeham expressly forbade chess, which he classed with games (p.  ) leading to the loss of money or estate, but king henry vi., who made large use of the statutes of new college, omitted the mention of chess from his king's college statutes, while he added to wykeham's denunciation of ferrets and hawks, an _index expurgatorius_ of animals which included monkeys, bears, wolves, and stage, and he expressly forbade nets for hunting or fishing. the principle on which modern deans of colleges have sometimes decided that "gramophones are dogs" and therefore to be excluded from college, can be traced in numerous regulations against musical instruments, which disturb the peace essential to learning. that the medieval student felt the temptations of "ragging" in much the same way as his modern successors, appears from many threats directed against those who throw stones and other missiles to the danger of the buildings. wykeham thought it necessary to forbid the throwing of stones in chapel, to the danger of the windows and reredos, and for the safety of the reredos he prohibited dancing or jumping in the hall, which is contiguous to the chapel. games in the hall were also forbidden for the comfort of the chaplains who lived in the rooms underneath. king henry vi. forbade dancing or jumping, or other dangerous and improper games in the chapel, cloister, stalls, and hall of king's college. other disciplinary regulations common to all colleges deal with (p.  ) carrying arms, unpunctuality, talking during the reading in hall or disturbing the chapel services, bringing strangers into college, sleeping out of college, absence without leave, negligence and idleness, scurrilous or offensive language, spilling water in upper rooms to the detriment of the inhabitants of the lower rooms, and failure to attend the regular "scrutinies" or the stated general meetings for college business. at these scrutinies, any serious charges against members of the society were considered, and it is in keeping with some of the judicial ideas of the time that some statutes forbid the accused person to have a copy of the indictment against him. for contumacy, for grave moral offences, for crimes of violence, and for heresy, the penalty was expulsion. less serious offences were punished by subtraction of "commons," _i.e._ deprivation of allowances for a day or a week (or longer), or by pecuniary fines. when college founders provided clothes as well as board and lodging for their scholars, the forfeiture of a robe took its place among the penalties with which offenders were threatened. the "poor boys" who sang in chapel and waited on the fellows were whipped like boys elsewhere, who were being taught grammar, but the birch was unknown as a punishment for undergraduates till late in the middle ages. the introduction (p.  ) of corporal punishment into college life in england may be traced by a comparison of william of wykeham's statutes with those of henry vi. the king's college statute "de correctionibus faciendis circa delicta leviora" is largely a transcript of a new college statute, with the same title, and both contemplate subtraction of commons as the regular penalty. but the king's college statute contains an additional clause, to the effect that scholars and younger fellows may be punished with stripes. in the statutes of magdalen, dated some seventeen years later, william of waynflete returned to the new college form of the statute, but he provided that his demys (_i.e._ scholars who received half the commons of a fellow) should be subject to the penalty of whipping in the grammar school. the statutes of christ's college prescribe a fine of a farthing for unpunctuality on the part of the scholars, studying in the faculty of arts, and heavier fines for absence, and it is added that if the offender be not an adult, a whipping is to be substituted for the pecuniary penalty. at brasenose, where the fellows were all of the standing of at least a bachelor of arts, the undergraduate scholars were subjected to an unusually strict discipline, and offenders were to be punished either by fines or by the rod, the principal deciding the appropriate punishment in each case. for unpunctuality, for negligence and idleness, for playing, (p.  ) laughing, talking, making a noise or speaking english in, a lecture-room, for insulting fellow-students, or for disobedience to his pastors and masters, the brasenose undergraduate was to be promptly flogged. among the crimes for which the birch is ordered we find "making odious comparisons," a phrase which throws some light on the conversational subjects of sixteenth-century undergraduates. the kind of comparison is indicated in the statute; remarks about the country, the family, the manners, the studies, and the ability, or the person, of a fellow-student must be avoided. similarly, at jesus college, cambridge, it is forbidden to compare country to country, race to race, or science to science, and william of wykeham and other founders had to make similar injunctions. the medieval student was distinctly quarrelsome, and such records as the famous merton "scrutiny" of , and investigations by college visitors, show that the seniors set the undergraduates a bad example. the statutes of corpus christi college, oxford, provide for two new penalties. an offending undergraduate might be sentenced to feed by himself, at a small table in the middle of the hall, and in aggravated cases to the monastic penalty of bread and water. an alternative penalty was detention in the library at the most inconvenient time ("per horam (p.  ) vel horas cum minime vellet"), and the performance of an imposition to be shown up in due course. the rough and ready penalty of the birch is, however, frequently mentioned in the statutes of corpus and of other sixteenth-century colleges. cardinal wolsey thought it proper that an undergraduate should be whipped until he had completed his twentieth year. at trinity, cambridge (where offenders were sociably flogged before the assembled college on friday evenings) the age was eighteen. dr caius restricted the rod to scholars who were not adult. "we call those adults," he says, "who have completed their eighteenth year. for before that age, both in ancient times and in our own memory, youth was not accustomed to wear _brâccas_, being content with _tibialia_ reaching to the knees." the stern disciplinarian might find an excuse for prolonging the whipping age in the founder's wish that, "years alone should not make an adult, but along with years, gravity of deportment and good character." as late as the foundation of pembroke college at oxford ( ) whipping is the penalty contemplated for undergraduates under eighteen. but when we come to the statutes which were drawn up in with a view to the foundation of worcester college, not only is there no mention of the birch, but even pecuniary penalties are deprecated for minor offences, for which impositions (p.  ) and gating are suggested. minor penalties were enforced by the head of a college, the vice-head, the deans, and, in sixteenth-century colleges, by the tutors. by later college statutes, these officers received for their personal use a portion of the fines they inflicted, and appeals were sometimes permitted from an officer to the head, and even to the chancellor or vice-chancellor of the university. the oath taken by scholars frequently bound them to reveal to the authorities, any breach of the statutes, and there are indications that members of the college were encouraged to report each other's misdeeds. thus the master of christ's is to fine anyone whom he hears speaking one complete sentence in english, or anyone whom he may know to have been guilty of this offence, except in sleeping-rooms or at times when permission had been given. oxford and cambridge colleges were, as we have seen, endowed homes for the education of secular clerks. all of them, on entrance, had to have the tonsure, and provision was often made for the cutting of their hair and beard. at christ's college, there was a regular college barber "qui ... caput et barbam radet ac tondebit hebdomadis singulis." they wore ordinary clerical dress, and undue expenditure on clothes and ornaments was strictly prohibited, _e.g._ the fellows of (p.  ) peterhouse were forbidden to wear rings on their fingers "ad inanem gloriam et jactantiam." the early founders did not insist upon holy orders for the heads or fellows of their colleges, though many of them would naturally proceed to the priesthood, but in later college statutes all the fellows were ultimately to proceed, at stated times, to holy orders and to the priesthood, though dispensations for delay might be granted, and students of medicine were sometimes excused from the priesthood. when they became priests they were, like other priests, to celebrate mass regularly in the chapel, but were not to receive payment for celebrations outside the college. as mere tonsured undergraduates, they were not, at first, subject to regulations for daily attendance at divine service; but later founders were stricter in this, as in other matters. bishop bateman, who, in the middle of the fourteenth century, legislated for the infant gonville college, ordered that every fellow should hear one mass daily and say certain prayers, and in his own foundation of trinity hall, he repeated the injunction. the prescribed prayers included petitions for the founder, or for the repose of his soul; every fellow of trinity hall was to say, immediately upon rising in the morning and before going to bed at night, the prayer "rege quaesumus domine," during the bishop's lifetime, and after his death, "deus qui inter apostolicos sacerdotes," and (p.  ) to say the psalm "de profundis clamavi" and a "kurie eleeson" for the repose of the soul of the founder's father and mother, his predecessors in the see of norwich, and after his death for his own soul. the ten priests, who served the chapel at new college, said masses for the founder and his benefactors, but every fellow was to attend mass every day and to say prayers in his own room, morning and evening, including "rege, quaesumus, domine, willielmum pontificem fundatorem nostrum" or, after his death, "deus qui inter apostolicos sacredotes famulum tuum fundatorem nostrum pontificali dignitate"; and every day, both after high mass in chapel, and after dinner and supper in hall, the psalm "de profundis" was said. penalties were prescribed for negligence, and as time went on, a whipping was inflicted for absence from chapel, _e.g._ at christ's college, and at balliol, for which new statutes were drawn up in . residence in college was continuous throughout the year, even during the university vacation, which lasted from early in july to the beginning of october. leave of absence might be granted at any time in the year, on reasonable grounds, but was to be given generally in vacations. general rules were laid down for behaviour in keeping with the clerical profession during absence, and students on leave were (p.  ) forbidden to frequent taverns or otherwise transgress the rules which were binding upon them in the university. occasionally we find some relaxation in these strict regulations, as when the founder of corpus christi at oxford allows "moderate hunting or hawking" when one of his scholars is on holiday away from oxford. the same indulgent founder, after the usual prohibition of games in college, allows a game of ball in the garden for the sake of healthy exercise. ("non prohibemus tamen lusum pilae ad murum, tabulata, aut tegulas, in horto, causa solum modo exercendi corporis et sanitatis.") associations with home life were maintained by vacation visits, but the influx of "people" to the university was, of course, unknown. the ancient statutes of peterhouse permit a woman (even if she be not a relation) to talk with a fellow in the hall, preferably in the presence of another fellow, or at least, a servant; but the legislator had grave fears of the results of such "confabulationes," and the precedent he set was not followed. a fellow or scholar is frequently permitted by college statutes to entertain his father, brother, nephew, or a friend, obtaining first the consent of the head of the college, and paying privately for the entertainment, but no such guest might sleep in college, and the permission is carefully restricted to the male sex. women were, as (p.  ) a rule, not allowed within a college gate; if it was impossible to find a man to wash clothes, a laundress might be employed, but she must be old and of unprepossessing appearance. a scholar or fellow of a college had not, however, committed himself irrevocably to a celibate life, for marriage is included among the "causas rationabiles et honestas" which vacated a fellowship. it was possible, though probably infrequent, for a fellow who had not proceeded to holy orders to leave the college "uxore ducta," giving up his emolument, his clerical dress, and the tonsure. even if a fellow enjoyed the founder's provision for the long period of his course in arts and theology, and proceeded in due time to holy orders, it was not contemplated that he should remain a fellow till his death. "... he had geten him yet no benefyce, ne was so worldly for to have offyce," says chaucer, indicating the natural end of a scholar's career. he might betake himself to some "obsequium," and rise high in the service of the king, or of some great baron or bishop, and become, like one of wykeham's first new college scholars, henry chichele, an archbishop and a college founder himself. should no such great career open up for him, he can, at the least, succeed to one of the livings which the founders of english colleges purchased for this purpose. his "obsequium" would naturally lead to his ceasing to reside, and so vacate his (p.  ) fellowship, and his acceptance of a benefice over a certain value brought about the same result. some such event was expected to happen to every fellow; unless he happened to be elected to the headship, it was not intended that he should grow old in the college, and at queen's college, oxford, the arbitrary or unreasonable refusal of a benefice vacated a fellowship. the object of the college founder was, that there should never be wanting a succession of men qualified to serve god in church and state, and to chaucer's unworldly clerk, if he was a member of a college, there would come, in due course, the country living and goodbye to the university. but statutes were not always strictly observed and the idle life-fellow, who survived to be the scandal of early victorian days, was not unknown in the end of the middle ages. one of the causes of vacating a fellowship throws some light upon the class of men who became members of oxford and cambridge colleges. the opening sentences of founders' statutes usually contain some such phrase as "collegium pauperum et indigentium scholarium"; but later sections of the statutes contemplate the possibility of their succeeding to property--"patrimonium, haereditatem, feudumve saeculare, vel pensionem annuam"--and if such property exceeded the annual value of a hundred shillings, a fellowship was _ipso facto_ vacated. the (p.  ) "pauperes et indigentes" expressions must not be construed too literally; the founder was establishing a claim to the merits of him that considereth the poor, and the language he used was part of the ordinary formulas of the time, and ought not to be interpreted more strictly than the ordinary phrases of legal and diplomatic documents or than the conventional terms of courtesy, which begin and conclude a modern letter. that an english college founder wished to give help where help was required, is undeniable, but help was required by others than the poorest. the advancement of the study of theology was near the heart of every medieval founder, and the study of theology demanded the surrender of the best years of a man's life, and the extension of the period of education long after he might be expected to be earning his own living. a curriculum in the university which covered at least sixteen years, and might be followed by nothing more remunerative than the cure of chaucer's poor priest, required some substantial inducement if it was to attract the best men. canon law, civil law and medicine, if they offered more opportunity of attaining a competency, required also a very long period of apprenticeship in the university. there were many youths in the middle ages (as there are to-day) neither "pauperes" nor "indigentes" in the strict (p.  ) sense of the word, but too poor to be able to afford sixteen years of study in the university. the length of the medieval curriculum produced some of the necessities which colleges were established to meet. that the founders were not thinking of the poorest classes of the community, is evident from many provisions of their statutes. they frequently provided only board and lodging, and left their beneficiaries to find elsewhere the other necessities of life; they appointed penalties (such as the subtraction of commons for a month) which would have meant starvation to the penniless; they contemplated entertainments and journeys, and in the case of a new college doctor, even the maintenance of a private servant, at the personal expense of their scholars and fellows; they prohibited the expenditure of money on extravagant dress and amusements. william of wykeham made allowances for the expense of proceeding to degrees in the university when one of his fellows had no private means and no friends to assist him ("propter paupertatem, inopiam, et penuriam, carentiamque amicorum"); but the sum to be thus administered was strictly limited and the recipient had to prove his poverty, and to swear to the truth of his statement. the very frequent insistence upon provisions for a founder's kin, suggests that the society, to which he wished a (p.  ) large number of his relations to belong, was of higher social standing than an almshouse; and the liberal allowances for the food of the fellows, as contrasted with the sums allotted to servants and choristers, show that life in college was intended to be easy and comfortable. the fact that menial work was to be done by servants and that fellows were to be waited on at table by the "poor boys" is a further indication of the dignity of the society. at new college, it was the special duty of one servant to carry to the schools, the books of the fellows and scholars. the possession of considerable means by a medieval fellow, is illustrated by two wills, printed in "munimenta academica." henry scayfe, fellow of queen's college, left in , seven pounds to his father, smaller sums to a large number of friends, including sixpence to every scholar of the college, and also disposed by will of sheep, cattle and horses. in , john seggefyld, fellow of lincoln college, bequeathed to his brother tenements in kingston by hull, which had been left him by his father, twelve pence to each of his colleagues, and thirteen shillings and four pence to his executor. whether the possessions of these men ought to have led to the resignation of their fellowships, is a question which may have interested their colleagues at the time; to us the facts are important, as illustrating the private means of members of a (p.  ) society of "poor and indigent" scholars, and as indicating the class from which such scholars were drawn. college regulations in other countries add considerably to our knowledge of medieval student-life. in paris, where the system had its humble beginning in the hire of a room for eighteen poor scholars, by a benevolent englishman returning from a pilgrimage to palestine in , the college ideal progressed slowly and never reached its highest development. even when most of the students of paris came to live in colleges, the college was not the real unit of university life, nor was a parisian college a self-governing community like merton or peterhouse. the division of the university of paris into nations affected its social life, and the faculties were separated at paris in a manner unknown in england. a college at paris was organised in accordance with faculty divisions, an arrangement so little in harmony with the ideas of english founders, that william of wykeham provided that canonists and civilists, should be mixed in chambers with students of other faculties "ad nutriendam et conservandam majorem dilectionem, amicitiam et charitatem inter eosdem." as colleges at paris were frequently confined to natives of a particular district, they tended to become sub-divisions of the nations. the (p.  ) disadvantages of restricting membership of a college to a diocese or locality, were seen and avoided by the founder of the college of sorbonne, in the middle of the thirteenth century, and the founder of the sixteenth century college of mans protested against the custom, by instructing his executors to open his foundation to men, from every nation and province, insisting that association with companions of different languages and customs, would make the scholars "civiliores, eloquentiores, et doctiores," and that the friendships thus formed would enable them to render better service to the state. the tenure of his _bursa_ or emolument, by a member of a paris college, was so precarious that he could not count upon proceeding to a higher faculty in his own college, and the existence of an outside body of governors and of patrons or visitors, who had the power of filling up vacancies further checked the growth of corporate feeling and college patriotism. the large powers entrusted to an external authority made the position of the head of a college at paris, much less important than at oxford or cambridge. the differences between english and parisian colleges may best be realised by a reference to the statutes of some early paris founders. about , guillaume de saone, treasurer of rouen, founded at paris, the "treasurer's college" for natives of his own diocese. it was (p.  ) founded for poor clerks, twelve of whom were to be scholars in theology, and twelve in arts. they were to be selected by the archdeacons of the cathedral of rouen, who then resided at grand-caux and petit-caux, from natives of these places, or, failing them, from the diocese of rouen. the scholars were to have rooms and a weekly allowance, not for the whole year, but for forty-five weeks from the feast of st dionysius; no provision was made for the seven weeks of the vacation, except for two theologians, who were to take charge of the house at paris. the revenues were collected and distributed by the prior of the hospital of st mary magdalen at rouen, and the archbishop of rouen was rector and patron. the students in arts never formed part of the foundation, for the treasurer almost immediately restricted his community to theologians, and their tenure of the endowment was strictly limited to two years after obtaining their licence. "for we do not wish to grant them anything more, because our intention is only to induce them to proceed to the degree of master in theology." they were furnished with books, which they were forbidden to lend, and they were placed under the immediate superintendence of the senior bursar or foundationer, whose duty it was to call them together once a week, and inquire into their conduct and their progress in their (p.  ) studies. some general rules were laid down by the founder, and offenders against them were to be expelled at these meetings. they were permitted to receive a peaceful commoner, who paid for his chamber and was a student of theology. the interest of the treasurer of rouen in theology is characteristic, and the great college of the sorbonne, founded about the same time, was also restricted to theologians. the college of navarre, founded in , provided for twenty students of grammar, twenty in logic and philosophy (arts) and twenty in theology, each faculty forming a sub-college, with a separate hall. a doctor in grammar was to superintend both the studies and the morals of the grammarians and to receive double their weekly allowance of four shillings, and similarly, a master of arts was to supervise the artists and receive double their weekly allowance of six shillings. the "dean and university of the masters of the scholars of the theological faculty at paris" were to choose a secular clerk to be rector of the college, and to govern it in conjunction with the body that appointed him. the masters of the faculty of theology, or their representatives, were to visit the college annually, to inquire into the financial and domestic arrangements, and into the behaviour of the rector, masters, and scholars, and to punish as they deemed necessary. membership of the college was restricted to the kingdom of france. (p.  ) similarly, the college du plessis, founded in , by geoffrey du plessis, notary apostolic, and secretary of philip the long, was restricted to frenchmen, with preference to certain northern dioceses. its forty scholars were in separate societies, with a grand master who had to be a master or, at least, a bachelor in theology. the affairs of the college, as far as concerned the election, discipline and the deprivation of its members, were to be administered by two bishops and an abbot, in conjunction with the master and with the chancellor of the cathedral of paris, or, in the absence of the great dignitaries, by the master and the chancellor. but the financial administration was entrusted to a provisor or procurator, who undertook the collection and distribution of the revenues. the details of college statutes at paris, bear a general resemblance to the regulations of oxford and cambridge founders, and discipline became more stringent as time went on. attendance at chapel (the only meeting-place of students in different faculties in the same college) came to be strictly required. punctuality at meals was frequently insisted upon, under pain of receiving nothing but bread. silence was enjoined at meal times and the bible was read. latin was, from the first, the only lawful medium of conversation. all the members of (p.  ) a college, had to be within the gates when the curfew bell rang. bearing arms or wearing unusual clothes was forbidden, and singing, shouting and games were denounced as interfering with the studies of others, although the parisian legislators were more sympathetic with regard to games, than their english contemporaries. even the founder of the cistercian college of st bernard, contemplated that permission might be obtained for games, though not before dinner or after the bell rang for vespers. a sixteenth-century code of statutes for the college of tours, while recording the complaints of the neighbours about the noise made by the scholars playing ball ("de insolentiis, exclamationibus et ludis palmariis dictorum scolarium, qui ludunt ... pilis durissimis") permitted the game under less noisy conditions ("pilis seu scophis mollibus et manu, ac cum silentio et absque clamoribus tumultuosis"). the use of dice was, as a rule, absolutely prohibited, but the statutes of the college of cornouaille permitted it under certain conditions. it might be played to amuse a sick fellow on feast days, or without the plea of sickness, on the vigils of christmas, and of three holy days. but the stakes must be small and paid in kind, not in money ("pro aliquo comestibili vel potabili"). penalties for minor offences were much the same as in england--forfeiture of commons for varying periods, pecuniary fines, and in the (p.  ) sixteenth century, whipping. in the college of le mans, bursars who were not graduates were to be whipped for a first offence in a school, and for a second offence in the hall ("prout mos est in universitate parisiensi"). the obligation of reporting each other's faults, of which there are indications in english statutes, was almost universal at paris, where all were bound to reveal offences "sub secreto" to the authorities. the penalty of "sconcing," still inflicted at oxford, for offences against undergraduate etiquette, finds a place in the parisian statutes among serious punishments. we find it in the statutes of cornouaille for minor offences; if a man carries wine out of the college illicitly, he is to pay for double the quantity to be drunk by the members who were present at the time; if anyone walks through the confines or chambers in pattens ("cum calepodiis, id est cum patinis") he is to be mulcted in a pint of wine. if a stranger is introduced without leave ("ad mensam communitatis ad comedendum vel videndum secretum mensae"), the penalty is a quart of good wine for the fellows present in hall. for unseemly noise, especially at meals, and at time of prayers, the ordinary penalty is a quart of ordinary wine ("vini mediocris"). for speaking in the vernacular, there is a fine of "the price of a pint of wine," but, as the usual direction about drinking it, is omitted, this was probably not a sconce; at (p.  ) the cistercian college, the penalty for this offence was a sconce. so far, the offences for which a sconce is prescribed, might in most cases, be paralleled in more recent times in an english college, but the statutes of cornouaille also make sconcing the penalty for striking a servant, unless the injury was severe, in which case, more serious punishments were imposed. the whole sentence is an illustration of the lack of control over outbursts of bad temper, which is characteristic of medieval life. all the scholars are to be careful not to strike the servants in anger or with ill-will, or to injure them; he who inflicts a slight injury is to be fined a quart of wine; if the injury be more severe, the master is to deprive him of his burse for one day or more, at his own discretion and that of a majority of the scholars: if there is a large effusion of blood or a serious injury, the provisor (the bishop of paris or his vicar general) is to be informed, and to deprive the offender of his burse, or even punish him otherwise. at the sorbonne, an assault on a servant was to be followed by the drinking of a quart of specially good wine by the fellows, at the culprit's expense; for talking too loud in hall, the sconce was two quarts (presumably of ordinary wine). dr rashdall quotes from the ms. register of the sorbonne, actual instances of the infliction of sconces: "a doctor of divinity is sconced a quart of wine for (p.  ) picking a pear off a tree in the college garden, or again, for forgetting to shut the chapel door, or for taking his meals in the kitchen. clerks are sconced a pint for 'very inordinately' knocking 'at the door during dinner ...' for 'confabulating' in the court late at night, and refusing to go to their chambers when ordered.... the head cook is sconced for 'badly preparing the meat for supper,' or for not putting salt in the soup." among the examples given by dr rashdall from this source are a sconce of two shillings for drunkenness and a sconce in wine inflicted upon the head cook for being found "cum una meretrice." an offence so serious in a bursar, is by many college statutes to be followed by expulsion, and dr rashdall quotes an instance of this penalty: but parisian college founders, were less severe in dealing with moral offences than english founders. at the monastic college of marmoutier, it was only on the second offence that bringing into college ("mulierem suspectam et inhonestam") led to expulsion, and at the college of cornouaille, the penalty for a first offence was loss of commons or bursa for fifteen days, and for a second offence a month's deprivation; but even at cornouaille actual incontinence was to be punished by expulsion. a late code of statutes of the fourteenth-century college of (p.  ) dainville, give us a picture of a student's day. the hour of rising was five o'clock, except on sundays and feast days when an hour's grace was allowed. chapel service began at . , prayers, meditation, and a new testament lesson being followed by the mass of the college at six. all students resident in the college had to be present. the reception of commoners, an early instance of which we noted in the college of the treasurer, had developed to such an extent, that all colleges had, in addition to their bursars or foundations, a large number of "foranei scholares," who paid their own expenses but were subject to college discipline, and received a large part of their education in college. after mass, the day's work began; attendance at the schools and the performance of exercises for their master in college. dinner was about twelve o'clock, when either a bursar or an external student read, "first holy scripture, then a book appointed by the master, then a passage from a martyrology." after dinner, an hour was allowed for recreation--walking within the precincts of the college, or conversation--and then everyone went to his own chamber. supper was at seven, with reading as at dinner, and the interval until . was again free for "deambulatio vel collocutio." at . the gates of the college were closed, and evening chapel began. rules against remaining in hall after supper occur in parisian as well (p.  ) as in english statutes, and we find prohibitions against carrying off wood to private rooms. the general arrangement of parisian college chambers, probably resembled those of oxford, or cambridge, and we find references to "studies." the statutes of the monastic college of clugny order that "because the mind is rendered prudent by sitting down and keeping quiet, the said students at the proper and wonted hours for study shall be, and sit, alone in their cells and at their studies." parisian statutes are stricter than english statutes in insisting upon frequent inspections of students' chambers, and a sixteenth-century code for a parisian college orders the officials to see their pupils every night before bed time, and to make sure, before they themselves retire for the night, that the students are asleep and not wandering about the quadrangles. strict supervision is found in colleges in other french universities, even in those which belong to the student type. it was, of course, especially strict in monastic colleges, which carried their own customs to the university; in the college of notre dame de pitié, at avignon, the master of the novices lived in a room adjoining their dormitory, and had a window, through which he might watch their proceedings. supervision was sometimes connected with precautions against fire, _e.g._ at the college of saint ruf, at montpellier, (p.  ) an officer was appointed every week to go round all chambers and rooms at night, and to warn anyone who had a candle or a fire in a dangerous position, near his bed or his study. he was to carry a pail of water with him to be ready for emergencies. a somewhat similar precaution was taken in the collegium maius at leipsic, where water was kept in pails beside the dormitories, and leather pails, some centuries old, are still to be seen at oxford. as a rule, the dormitories seem to have contained a separate bed for each occupant, but in the college of st nicholas de pelegry at cahors, students in arts (who entered about the age of fourteen) were to sleep two in a bed. insistence on the use of latin is almost universal; the scholars of the college de foix at toulouse are warned that only ploughmen, swineherds and other rustics, use their mother tongues. silence and the reading of the bible at meals was usual, and students are sometimes told to make their needs known, if possible, by signs. fines for lateness at meals are common, and there are injunctions against rushing into hall with violence and greed: no one is to go near the kitchen to seize any food, and those who enter hall first, are to wait till the rest arrive, and all are to sit down in the proper order. prohibitions against dogs are infrequent in the french statutes; at the college des douze medecins at montpellier, one watchdog was allowed to live in college. women (p.  ) were often forbidden to enter a college, "quia mulier caput est peccati, arma dyaboli, expulsio paradysi, et corruptio legis antiquae." the college of saint ruf at montpellier, in the statutes of which this formula occurs, did, however, allow women to stand in the chapel at mass, provided that they did not enter the choir. the monastic institution of our lady of pity at avignon, went so far as to have a matron for the young boys, an old woman, entitled "mater novitiorum collegiatorum." at the college of breuil at angers, a woman might visit the college by day if the principal was satisfied that no scandal could arise. penalties for going about the town in masked bands and singing or dancing, occur in many statutes, but processions in honour of saints and choruses to celebrate the taking of degrees, are sometimes permitted. blasphemy and bad language greatly troubled the french statute-makers, and there are many provisions against blaspheming the blessed virgin. at the college of breuil at angers, a fine of twopence, was imposed for speaking or singing "verba inhonesta tam alte," especially in public places of the college; in germany, the collegium minus at leipsic provides also against writing "impudentia dicta" on the walls of the college. the usual penalties for minor offences are fines and subtraction of commons: references to (p.  ) flogging are rare, though it is found in both french and german colleges. more serious crimes were visited with suspension and expulsion. at the college of pelegry, at cahors, to enter the college by a window or otherwise after the great gate was closed, involved rustication for two months for the first offence, six months for the second offence, and expulsion for a third. at the college de verdale, at toulouse, expulsion was the penalty for a list of crimes which includes theft, entering the college by stealth, breaking into the cellar, bringing in a meretrix, witch-craft, alchemy, invoking demons or sacrificing to them, forgery, and contracting "carnale vel spirituale matrimonium." we may close our survey of the medieval college, with a glimpse of a french college in the fourteenth century. we have the record of a visitation of the benedictine foundation of st benedict, at montpellier, partly a monastery and partly a college. the prior is strictly questioned about the conduct of the students. he gives a good character to most of them: but the little flock contained some black sheep. peter is somewhat light-headed ("aliquantulum est levis capitis") but not incorrigible; he has been guilty of employing "verba injuriosa et provocativa," but the prior has corrected him, and he has taken the correction patiently. bertrand's life is "aliquantulum (p.  ) dissoluta," and he has made a conspiracy to beat (and, as some think, to kill) dominus savaricus, who had beaten him along with the rest, when he did not know his lessons. (bertrand says he is eighteen and looks like twenty-one, but this is a monastic college and the beating is monastic discipline.) the prior further reports that bertrand is quarrelsome; he has had to make him change his bed and his chamber, because the others could not stand him; he is idle and often says openly, that he would rather be a "claustralis" than a student. breso is simple and easily led, and was one of bertrand's conspirators. william is "pessimae conversationis" and incorrigible, scandalous in word and deed, idle and given to wandering about the town. correction is vain in his case. after the prior has reported, the students are examined _viva voce_ upon the portions of the decretals, which they are studying, and the results of the examination bear out generally the prior's views. bertrand, breso and william, are found to know nothing, and to have wasted their time. the others acquit themselves well, and the examiners are merciful to a boy who is nervous in _viva voce_, but of whose studies dominus savaricus, who has recovered from the attack made upon him, gives a good account. monks, and especially novices, were human, and the experience of st benedict's at montpellier was probably similar to that of secular colleges in (p.  ) france and elsewhere. even in democratic bologna, it was found necessary in the spanish college (from the ms. statutes of which, dr rashdall quotes) to establish a discipline which included a penalty of five days in the stocks and a meal of bread and water, eaten sitting on the floor of the hall, for an assault upon a brother student; if blood was shed, the penalty was double. the statutes of the spanish college were severe for the fourteenth century, and they penalise absence from lecture, unpunctuality, nocturnal wanderings and so forth, as strictly as any english founder. chapter v (p.  ) university discipline the growing tradition of strict college discipline ultimately led to disciplinary statutes in the universities. from very early times, universities had, of course, made regulations about the curriculum, and the border-line between a scholar's studies and his manners and morals, could not be absolutely fixed. at paris, indeed, it is not until the fifteenth century that we find any detailed code of disciplinary statutes; but fourteenth-century regulations about dress were partly aimed at checking misdeeds of students disguised as laymen, and in the english nation prohibited an undue number of "potationes et convivia," in celebration of the "jocund advent" of a freshman or on other occasions. it was not till the middle of the fifteenth century that the university of paris, awoke to the realisation of its own shortcomings in manners and morals; cardinal william de estoutville was commissioned by nicholas v. to reform it, and internal reform, the necessity of which had been recognised for some years, began about the same time with an edict of the faculty of arts ordering a general improvement, and especially forbidding the (p.  ) celebration of feasts "cum mimis seu instrumentis altis." estoutville's ordinances are largely concerned with the curriculum, he was at least as anxious to reform the masters as the pupils, and his exhortations are frequently in general or scriptural terms. the points of undergraduate discipline on which he lays stress are feasting, dressing improperly or wearing the clothes of laymen, quarrelling, and games and dances "dissolutas et inhonestas." four masters or doctors are to inspect annually the colleges and pedagogies, in which the students live, and are to see that proper discipline is maintained. from time to time, similar regulations were made by the faculty of arts, _e.g._ in , it is ordered that no student is to wear the habit of a fool, except for a farce or a morality (amusements permitted at this period). any one carrying arms or wearing fools' dress is to be beaten in public and in his own hall. these last regulations are doubtless connected with town and gown riots, for which the feast of fools afforded a tempting opportunity. the absence of disciplinary regulations in the records of the university of paris, is largely to be explained by the fact that criminal charges against parisian scholars were tried in the bishop's court, and civil actions in the court of the provost of paris. at oxford, where the whole jurisdiction belonged to the chancellor of (p.  ) the university, disciplinary statutes are much more numerous. we find, from the middle of the thirteenth century onwards, a series of edicts against scholars who break the peace or carry arms, who enter citizens' houses to commit violence, who practise the art of sword and buckler, or who are guilty of gross immorality. a statute of forbids scholars to celebrate their national feast days disguised with masks or garlands, and one of restricts the carrying of arms to students who are entering on, or returning from, long journeys. offenders who refuse to go to prison, or who escape from it, are to be expelled. as early as the middle of the thirteenth century, it was the duty of the proctors and of the principals of halls, to investigate into, and to report the misdeeds of scholars who broke the rules of the university or lived evil lives. a list of fines drawn up in (a period when in the opinion of the university a pecuniary penalty was more dreaded than anything else) prescribes fines of twelve pence for threatening violence, two shillings for wearing arms, four shillings for a violent shove with the shoulders or a blow with the fist, six shillings and eight pence for a blow with a stone or stick, ten shillings for a blow with a sword, a knife, a dagger or any similar "bellicose weapon," twenty shillings for carrying bows and arrows with evil intent, thirty shillings for collecting an (p.  ) assembly to break the peace, hinder the execution of justice, or make an attack upon anyone, and forty shillings for resisting the execution of justice or wandering about by night. in every case damages have also to be paid to any injured person. the device of overaweing a court (familiar in scottish history) is prohibited by a regulation that no one shall appear before the chancellor with more than two companions. the records of the chancellor's court furnish us with instances of the enforcement of these regulations. in , a scholar is found wearing a dagger and is sentenced to be "inbocardatus,"[ ] _i.e._ imprisoned in the tower of the north gate of the city, and another offender, in , suffers a day's imprisonment, pays his fine of two shillings, and forfeits his arms. in the same year, john hordene, a scholar of peckwater inn, is fined six shillings and eightpence for breaking the head of thomas walker, manciple of pauline hall, and thomas walker is fined the like sum for drawing his sword on hordene and for gambling. in , two scholars, guilty of attacking master thomas rygby in bagley wood and stealing twelve shillings and sevenpence from him, fail to appear, and are expelled from the university, their goods (estimated to be worth about thirteen shillings) being (p.  ) confiscated. in , four scholars are caught entering with weapons into a warren or park to hunt deer and rabbits; they are released on taking an oath that, while they are students of the university, they will not trespass again, in closed parks or warrens. in , a scholar of haburdaysh hall is imprisoned for using threatening language to a tailor, and is fined twelvepence and imprisoned; the tailor insults the prisoner and is fined six shillings and eightpence. we have quoted instances of undergraduate offences, but the evil-doers are by no means invariably young students, _e.g._ in the vicar of st giles has to take an oath to keep the peace, his club is forfeited, and he is fined two shillings; and in the same year the master of st john's hospital, who has been convicted of divers enormous offences, is expelled the university for breaking prison. [footnote : the prison was called "bocardo" because, like the mood known as "bocardo" in the syllogism, it was difficult to get out of.] the increased stringency of disciplinary regulations at oxford in the end of the medieval period is best illustrated by the statutes which, in the fifteenth century, the university enforced upon members of the unendowed halls. students who were not members of a college lived, for the most part, in one of the numerous halls which, up to the reformation, were so important a feature of the university. a code of these statutes, printed for the first time by dr rashdall, shows that the liberty of the earlier medieval undergraduate had largely (p.  ) disappeared, and that the life of a resident in a hall, in the end of the fifteenth century, was almost as much governed by statute and regulation as if he were the partaker of a founder's bounty. he must hear mass and say matins and vespers every day, under pain of a fine of a penny, and attend certain services on feast days. his table manners are no longer regulated by the customs and etiquette of his fellows, but by the rules of the university. his lapses from good morals are no longer to be visited with penalties imposed by his own society; if he gambles or practises with sword and buckler, he is to pay fourpence; if he sins with his tongue, or shouts or makes melody when others wish to study or sleep, or brings to table an unsheathed knife, or speaks english, or goes into the town or the fields unaccompanied by a fellow-student, he is fined a farthing; if he comes in after p.m. in winter or p.m. in summer, he contracts a gate bill of a penny; if he sleeps out, or puts up a friend for the night, without leave of his principal, the fine is fourpence; if he sleeps with another student in the hall but not in his own bed, he pays a penny; if he brings a stranger to a meal or a lecture or any other "actum communem" in the hall, he is fined twopence; if he is pugnacious and offensive and makes odious comparisons, he is to pay sixpence; if he attacks a fellow-member or a servant, the university has (p.  ) appointed penalties varying with the severity of the assault, and for a second offence he must be expelled. he has to obey his principal much as members of a college obey their head, and, in lieu of the pecuniary penalties, the principal may flog him publicly on saturday nights, even though his own master may certify that he has already corrected him, or declare his willingness to correct him, for his breaches of the statutes. the private master or tutor was, as dr rashdall suggests, probably a luxury of the rich boy, to whom his wealth might thus bring its own penalty. it is startling to the modern mind to find university statutes and disciplinary regulations forbidding not only extravagant and unbecoming dress, but sometimes also the wearing of distinctive academic costume by undergraduates, for distinctive academic costume was the privilege of a graduate. the scholar wore ordinary clerical dress, unless the founder of a college prescribed a special livery. the master had a _cappa_ or cope, such as a cambridge vice-chancellor wears on degree days, with a border and hood of minever, such as oxford proctors still wear, and a _biretta_ or square cap. in , the insolence of many oxford scholars had grown to such a pitch that they were not afraid to wear hoods in the fashion of masters, whereas bachelors, to their own damnation and the ruin of the university, (p.  ) were so regardless of their oaths as to wear hoods not lined throughout with fur. penalties were prescribed for both kinds of offenders; but though the oxford undergraduate never succeeded in annexing the hood, he gradually acquired the _biretta_, which his successor of to-day is occasionally fined for not wearing. the modern gown or toga is explained by dr rashdall as derived from the robe or cassock which a medieval master of arts wore under his _cappa_. the disciplinary regulations of fifteenth-and sixteenth-century oxford may be paralleled from other universities. at louvain there was a kind of proctorial walk undertaken by the university official known as the promotor. on receiving three or four hours' notice from the rector, the promotor, with a staff of servants, perambulated the streets at night, and he and his "bulldogs" received a fine from anyone whom they apprehended. offending students caught _in flagrante delicto_ he conducted to the university prison, and others he reported to the rector. "notabiles personæ" might be incarcerated in a monastery incorporated with the university. arms found upon anyone were forfeited. the promotor was also the university gaoler, and was responsible for the safe custody of prisoners, and he might place in fetters dangerous prisoners or men accused of serious crimes. (p.  ) interviews with captives had to take place in his presence; male visitors had to give up their knives or other weapons before being admitted, and female visitors had to leave their cloaks behind them. students were forbidden to walk in the streets at night after the bell of st michael's church had been rung at nine o'clock in winter, and ten o'clock in summer, unless they were accompanied by a doctor or a "gravis persona" and were bearing a torch or lantern. the list of offences at louvain are much the same as elsewhere, but an eighteenth-century code of statutes specially prohibits bathing and skating. the laws against borrowing and lending were unusually strict, and no student under twenty-five years was allowed to sell books without the consent of his regent, the penalty for a sixteenth-century student in arts being a public flogging in his own college. at leipsic, the university was generally responsible for the discipline, sometimes even when the offences had been committed in the colleges; and a record of the proceedings of the rector's court from to , which was published by friedrich zarncke, the learned historian of leipsic, gives us a large variety of incidents of university life in sixteenth-century germany. leipsic possessed a university prison, and we find, in , two students, philippus (p.  ) josman and erasmus empedophillus, who had quarrelled, and insulted each other, sentenced to perform, in the prison, impositions for the rector. six or eight days' imprisonment is a frequent penalty for a drunken row. a college official brings to the rector's court in one of his pupils, john ditz, who had lost much money by gambling. ditz and one of his friends, caspar winckler, who had won six florins and some books from him, have already been flogged by their preceptors; they are now sentenced to imprisonment, but as the weather is very cold, they are to be released after one day's detention, and sent back to their preceptors to be flogged again. their companions are sentenced to return any money, books or garments which they had won in gambling games. a student of the name of valentine muff complains to the rector that his pedagogue has beaten and reproved him undeservedly: after an inquiry he is condemned to the rods "once and again." for throwing stones at windows a student is fined one florin in addition to the cost of replacing them. for grave moral offences fines of three florins are imposed, and the penalty is not infrequently reduced. a month's imprisonment is the alternative of the fine of three florins, but if the weather is cold, the culprit, who has been guilty of gross immorality, is let off with two florins. a drunken youth who meets some girls in the evening and tries to (p.  ) compel them to enter his college, is sentenced to five days' imprisonment, but is released on the intercession of the girls and many others. an attack on a servant with a knife is punished by forfeiture of the knife and a fine of half a florin, and a penalty of a florin (divided among the four victims) is inflicted for entering a house with arms and wounding the fingers of some of its inhabitants. a ruffian of noble birth, who had been guilty of gross immorality and of violence, declines to appear in the rector's court, and is duly sentenced to expulsion. but his father promises to satisfy the university and the injured party, and seven nobles write asking that he should be pardoned, and a compromise is made, by which he appears in court and pays a fine. for the university offence of having as an attendant a boy who is not enrolled, valentine leo is fined three florins, which were paid. "but since he appeared to be good and learned, and produced an excellent specimen of his singular erudition, and wrote learned verses and other compositions to the rector and his assessors, by which he begged pardon and modestly purged his offence, and especially as a doctor, whose sons he taught, and others interceded for him, he easily procured that the florins, should be returned to the doctor who had paid them for him." the leniency of the punishments for grave moral offences, as (p.  ) contrasted with the strict insistence upon the lesser matters of the law, cannot fail to impress modern readers, but this is not a characteristic peculiar to leipsic. fines, and in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, whippings were frequently inflicted in all universities for violent attacks upon the person. dr rashdall quotes a case at ingolstadt where a student who had killed another in a drunken bout was let off with the confiscation of his goods, and the penalty of expulsion was remitted; and the eighteenth-century history of corpus christi college at oxford supplies more recent instances of punishments which could scarcely be said to fit the crime. the statutes of the french universities outside paris and of the three medieval scottish universities (st andrews, glasgow, and aberdeen) supply many illustrations of the regulations we have noted elsewhere, but contain little that is unusual. st andrews, which allowed hawking, forbade the dangerous game of football. the faculty of arts at glasgow in issued an edict which has a curious resemblance to the eton custom of "shirking." reverence and filial fear were so important, said the masters, that no student was to meet the rector, the dean, or one of the regents openly in the streets, by day or by night; immediately he was observed he must slink away and escape as best (p.  ) he could, and he must not be found again in the streets without special leave. the penalty was a public flogging. similarly, even a lawful game must not be played in the presence of a regent. flogging was a recognised penalty in all the scottish universities; it found its way into the system at st andrews and glasgow, and was introduced at once at aberdeen. the early statutes of aberdeen university (king's college) unfortunately exist only in the form in which they were edited in the seventeenth century. they include a rhymed series of rules for behaviour at table, which, though post-medieval in date, give us some clue to the table manners of the medieval students:-- majorem ne praevenia- } locum assignatum tenea- } mensae assignatae accumba- } manibus mundis nudis eda- } aperientes caput faciem ne obtega- } vultus hilares habea- } rite in convictu comeda- } sal cultello capia- } salinum ne dejicia- } manubrium haud aciem porriga- } tis tribus cibos digitis prehenda- } cultro priusquam dente tera- } . . . . . } ossa in orbem depona- } vel pavimentum jacia- } modeste omnia facia- } ossa si in convivas jacia- } nedum si illos vulnera- } ne queramini si vapula- } . . . . . } post haustum labia deterga- } (p.  ) modicum, sed crebro biba- } . . . . . } os ante haustum evacua- } ungues sordidulos fugia- } tis . . . . . } ructantes terga reflecta- } ne scalpatis cavea- } . . . . . } edere mementote ut viva- } non vivere ut comed- } the economist's accounts at aberdeen have been preserved for part of the year , and show that the food of a scottish student, just after the medieval period, consisted of white bread, oat bread, beef, mutton, butter, small fish, partans (crabs), eggs, a bill of fare certainly above the food of the lower classes in scotland at the time. the drinks mentioned are best ale, second ale, and beer. his victuals interested the medieval student; the conversation of two german students, as pictured in a "students' guide" to heidelberg (_cf._ p. ), is largely occupied with food. "the veal is soft and bad: the calf cannot have seen its mother three times: no one in my country would eat such stuff: the drink is bitter." the little book shows us the two students walking in the meadows, and when they reach the neckar, one dissuades the other from bathing (a dangerous enterprise forbidden in the statutes of some universities, including louvain (p.  ) and glasgow). they quarrel about a book, and nearly come to blows; one complains that the other reported him to the master for sleeping in lecture. both speak of the "lupi," the spies who reported students using the vernacular or visiting the kitchen. the "wolves" were part of the administrative machinery of a german university; a statute of leipsic in orders that, according to ancient custom, "lupi" or "signatores" be appointed to note the names of any student who talked german ("vulgarisantes") that they might be fined in due course, the money being spent on feasts. one of the two heidelberg students complains of having been given a "signum" or bad mark "pro sermone vulgariter prolato," and the other has been caught in the kitchen. they discuss their teachers; one of them complains of a lecture because "nimis alta gravisque materia est." the little book gives, in some ways, a remarkable picture of german student life, with its interests and its temptations; but it raises more problems than it solves, and affords a fresh illustration of the difficulty of attempting to recreate the life of the past. chapter vi (p.  ) the jocund advent the medieval student began his academic career with an initiation ceremony which varied in different countries and at different dates, but which, so far as we know, always involved feasting and generally implied considerable personal discomfort. the designation, "bejaunus" or bajan, which signifies yellow-beak ("bec jaune"), seems to have been given almost everywhere to the freshman, and the custom of receiving the fledgeling into the academic society was, towards the close of the middle ages, no mere tradition of student etiquette, but an acknowledged and admitted academic rite. the tradition, which dates from very early times, and which has so many parallels outside university history, was so strong that the authorities seem to have deemed it wisest to accept it and to be content with trying to limit the expense and the "ragging" which it entailed. we have no detailed knowledge of the initiation of the parisian student, but a statute made by the university in proves that the two elements of bullying the new-comer and feasting at his expense were both involved in it. it relates that quarrels frequently (p.  ) arise through the custom of seizing the goods of simple scholars on the occasion of their "bejaunia," and compelling them to expend on feasting the money on which they intended to live. insults, blows, and other dangers are the general results of the system, and the university orders that no one shall exact money or anything else from bajans except the "socii" with whom they live, and they may take only a free-will offering. bajans are to reveal, under heavy penalties, the names of any who molest them by word or blow, threatening them or offering them insults. offenders are to be handed over to the provost of paris to be punished, but not "ad penam sanguinis." a fifteenth-century code of statutes of the cistercian college at paris (generally much less stern than one would expect in a house of that severe order) refers to the traditions that had grown up in the college about the initiation of a bajan, and to the "insolentias et enormitates multas" which accompanied their observance. the whole of the ceremonies of initiation are therefore forbidden--"omnes receptiones noviter venientium, quos voluntaria opinione bejanos nuncupare solent, cum suis consequentiis, necnon bajulationes, fibrationes ... tam in capitulo, in dormitorio, in parvis scholis, in jardinis, quam ubiubi, et tam de die quam de nocte." with these evil customs is to go the very name of the abbas bejanorum, and all (p.  ) "vasa, munimenta, et instrumenta" used for these ceremonies are to be given up. new-comers in future are to be entrusted to the care of discreet seniors, who will instruct them in the honourable customs of the college, report their shortcomings in church, in walks, and in games, supervise their expenditure, and prevent their being overcharged "pro jocundo adventu" or in other ways. so strong was the tradition of the "jocund advent" that it thus finds a place even in a reformer's constitution, and we find references to it elsewhere in the statutes of parisian colleges. an undated early code, drawn up for the treasurer's college, orders the members to fulfil honestly their jocund advent in accordance with the advice of their fellow students. at cornouaille, the new-comer is instructed to pay for his jocund advent neither too meanly nor with burdensome extravagance, but in accordance with his rank and his means. at the college of dainville the expense of the bajan-hood is limited to a quart of good wine ("ultra unum sextarium vini non mediocris suis sociis pro novo sub ingressu seu bejanno non solvat"). at the college of cambray, a bursar is to pay twenty shillings for utensils, and to provide a pint of good wine for the fellows then present in hall. dr rashdall quotes from the register of the sorbonne an instance in which the abbot of the bajans was fined eight shillings (to be expended in wine) because he had (p.  ) not fulfilled his duties in regard to the cleansing of the bajans by an aspersion of water on innocents' day. the bajans were not only washed, but carried in procession upon asses. the statutes of the universities of southern france, and especially of avignon and aix, give us some further information, and we possess a record of the proceedings at avignon of the court of the abbot of the bajans, referred to in the passage we have quoted from the regulations of the cistercian college at paris. similar prohibitions occur in other college statutes. at avignon, the confraternity of st sebastian existed largely for the purgation of bajans and the control of the abuses which had grown up in connection with the jocund advent. one of its statutes, dated about , orders that no novice, commonly called a bajan, shall be admitted to the purgation of his sins or take the honourable name of student until he has paid the sum of six _grossi_ as entrance money to the confraternity. there is also an annual subscription of three _grossi_, and the payment of these sums is to be enforced by the seizure of books, unless the defaulter can prove that he is unable to pay his entrance fee or subscription, as the case may be. the prior and councillors of the fraternity have power to grant a dispensation on the ground of poverty. after providing his feast, and taking an (p.  ) oath, the bajan is to be admitted "jocose et benigne," is to lose his base name, and after a year is to bear the honourable title of student. noblemen and beneficed clergy are to pay double. the bajan is implored to comply with these regulations "corde hilarissimo," and his "socii" are adjured to remember that they should not seek their own things but the things of christ, and should therefore not spend on feasts anything over six _grossi_ paid by a bajan, but devote it to the honour of god and st sebastian. the court of the abbot of the bajans, at the college of annecy, in the same university, throws a little more light on the actual ceremony of purgation. the bajans are summoned into the abbot's court, where each of them receives, _pro forma_, a blow from a ferule. they all stand in the court, with uncovered heads and by themselves ("mundus ab immundo venit separandus"); under the penalty of two blows they are required to keep silence ("quia vox funesta in judiciis audiri non debet.") the bajan who has patiently and honestly served his time and is about to be purged, is given, in parody of an inception in the university, a passage in the institutes to expound, and his fellow-bajans, under pain of two blows, have to dispute with him. if he obtains licence, the two last-purged bajans bring water "pro lavatione et purgatione." the other rules of the abbot's court deal with the duties to be (p.  ) performed by the youngest freshman in chapel (and at table if servants are lacking), and order bajans to give place to seniors and not to go near the fire in hall when seniors are present. no one, either senior or freshman, is to apply the term "domine" to a bajan, and no freshman is to call a senior man a bajan. the court met twice a week, and it could impose penalties upon senior men as well as bajans, but corporal punishment is threatened only against the "infectos et fetidissimos bejannos." at aix, a fifteenth-century code of statutes orders every bajan to pay fees to the university, and to give a feast to the rector, the treasurer, and the promotor. the rector is to bring one scholar with him, and the promotor two, to help "ad purgandum bejaunum," and the bajan is to invite a bedel and others. dispensations on the ground of poverty could be obtained from the rector, and two or three freshmen might make their purgation together, "cum infinitas est vitanda," even an infinity of feasts is to be avoided. the promotor gives the first blow with a frying-pan, and the scholars who help in the purgation are limited to two or three blows each, since an infinity of blows is also to be avoided. the rector may remit a portion of the penalty at the request of noble or honourable ladies who happen to be present, (p.  ) for it is useless to invite ladies if no remission is to be obtained. if the bajan is proud or troublesome, the pleas of the ladies whom he has invited will not avail; he must have his three blows from each of his purgators, without any mercy. if a freshman failed to make his purgation within a month, it was to take place "in studio sub libro super anum"; the choice between a book and a frying-pan as a weapon of castigation is characteristic of the solemn fooling of the jocund advent. the seizure of goods and of books, mentioned in some of the statutes we have quoted, is frequently forbidden. at orleans the statutes prohibit leading the bajan "ut ovis ad occisionem" to a tavern to be forced to spend his money, and denounce the custom as provocative of "ebrietates, turpiloquia, lascivias, pernoctationes" and other evils. they also forbid the practice of compelling him to celebrate the jocund advent by seizing books, one or more, or by exacting anything from him. there are numerous other references in french statutes, some of which denounce the _bejaunia_ as sufficiently expensive to deter men from coming to the university, but details are disappointingly few. the initiation of the bajan attained its highest development in the german universities, where we find the french conception of the bajan, as afflicted with mortal sin and requiring purification, combined (p.  ) with the characteristic german conception of him as a wild animal who has to be tamed. his reformation was accomplished by the use of planes, augers, saws, pincers and other instruments suitable for removing horns, tusks and claws from a dangerous animal, and the deposition, or "modus deponendi cornua iis qui in numerum studiosorum co-optari volunt," became a recognised university ceremony. the statutes attempt to check it, _e.g._ at vienna the bajan is not to be oppressed with undue exactions or otherwise molested or insulted, and at leipsic the insults are not to take the form of blows, stones, or water. at prague, "those who lay down (deponent) their rustic manners and ignorance are to be treated more mildly and moderately than in recent years ( ), and their lips or other parts of their bodies are not to be defiled with filth or putrid and impure substances which produce sickness." but the prague statute contemplates a deposition ceremony in which the freshman is assumed to be a goat with horns to be removed. a black-letter handbook or manual for german students, consisting of dialogues or conversational latin (much on the principle of tourists' conversational dictionaries), opens with a description of the preparations for a deposition. the book, which has been reprinted in zarncke's _die deutschen universitäten im mittelalter_, is (p.  ) (from internal evidence) a picture of life at heidelberg, but it is written in general terms. the new-comer seeks out a master that he may be entered on the roll of the university and be absolved from his bajan-ship. "are your parents rich?" is one of the master's first questions, and he is told that they are moderately prosperous mechanics who are prepared to do the best for their son. the master takes him to the rector to be admitted, and then asks him, "where do you intend to have your 'deposition' as a bajan?" the boy leaves all arrangements in the master's hands, reminding him of his poverty, and it is agreed to invite three masters, two bachelors, and some friends of the master to the ceremony. with a warning that he must not be afraid if strangers come and insult him, for it is all part of the tradition of a bajan's advent, the master goes to make arrangements for the feast. two youths, camillus and bartoldus, then arrive, and pretend to be greatly disturbed by a foul smell, so strong that it almost drives them from the room. camillus prepares to go, but bartoldus insists upon an investigation of the cause. camillus then sees a monster of terrible aspect, with huge horns and teeth, a nose curved like the beak of an owl, wild eyes and threatening lips. "let us flee," he says, "lest it attack us." bartoldus then guesses that it is a bajan, a creature (p.  ) which camillus has never seen, but of whose ferocity he has heard. the bold bartoldus then addresses the bajan. "domine joannes," he says, "whence do you come? certainly you are a compatriot of mine, give me your hand." joannes stretches out his hand, but is met with the indignant question, "do you come to attack me with your nails? why do you sit down, wild ass? do you not see that masters are present, venerable men, in whose presence it becomes you to stand?" joannes stands, and is further insulted. his tormentors then affect to be sorry for him and make touching references to his mother's feelings ("quid, si mater sciret, quae unice eum amat?"), but relapse into abuse (o beane, o asine, o foetide hirce, o olens capra, o bufo, o cifra, o figura nihili, o tu omnino nihil). "what are we to do with him?" says camillus, and bartoldus suggests the possibility of his reformation and admission into their society. but they must have a doctor. camillus is famous and learned in the science of medicine, and can remove his horns, file down his teeth, cure his blindness, and shave his long and horrible beard. while he goes for the necessary instruments, bartoldus tells the victim to cheer up, for he is about to be cured from every evil of mind and body, and to be admitted to the privileges of the university. camillus returns with ointment, (p.  ) and they proceed to some horseplay which joannes resists (compesce eius impetus et ut equum intractatum ipsum illum constringe). tusks and teeth having been removed, the victim is supposed to be dying, and is made to confess to bartoldus a list of crimes. his penance is to entertain his masters "largissima coena," not forgetting the doctor who has just healed him, and the confessor who has just heard his confession, for they also must be entertained "pingui refectione." but this confessor can only define the penance, he cannot give absolution, a right which belongs to the masters. joannes is then taken to his master for the deposition proper. dr rashdall describes the scene, from a rare sixteenth-century tract, which contains an illustration of a deposition, and a defence of it by luther, who justified his taking part in one of these ceremonies by giving it a moral and symbolical meaning. the bajan lies upon a table, undergoing the planing of his tusks, "while a saw lies upon the ground, suggestive of the actual de-horning of the beast. the work itself and later apologies for the institution mention among the instruments of torture a comb and scissors for cutting the victim's hair, an _auriscalpium_ for his ears, a knife for cutting his nails; while the ceremony further appears to include the adornment of the youth's chin with a beard by means of burned cork or other pigment, and the administration, (p.  ) internal or external, of salt and wine." in the english universities we have no trace of the "jocund advent" during the medieval period, but it is impossible to doubt that this kind of horseplay existed at oxford and cambridge. the statutes of new college refer to "that most vile and horrid sport of shaving beards"; it was "wont to be practised on the night preceding the inception of a master of arts," but the freshmen may have been the victims, as they were in similar ceremonies at the feast of fools in france. antony à wood, writing of his own undergraduate days in the middle of the seventeenth century, tells that charcoal fires were made in the hall at merton on holy days, from all saints' eve to candlemas, and that "at all these fires every night, which began to be made a little after five of the clock, the senior undergraduates would bring into the hall the juniors or freshmen between that time and six of the clock, there make them sit downe on a forme in the middle of the hall, joyning to the declaiming desk; which done, every one in order was to speake some pretty apothegme, or make a jest or bull, or speake some eloquent nonsense, to make the company laugh. but if any of the freshmen came off dull, or not cleverly, some of the forward or pragmatised seniors would "tuck" them, that is, set the nail of their thumb to their chin, just (p.  ) under the lower lipp, and by the help of their other fingers under the chin, they would give him a mark, which sometimes would produce blood." on shrove tuesday, , merton freshmen entertained the other undergraduates to a brass pot "full of cawdel." wood, who was a freshman, describes how "every freshman according to seniority, was to pluck off his gowne and band and if possible to make himself look like a scoundrell. this done, they conducted each other to the high table, and there made to stand on a forme placed thereon; from whence they were to speak their speech with an audible voice to the company; which if well done, the person that spoke it was to have a cup of cawdle and no salted drink; if indifferently, some cawdle and some salted drink; but if dull, nothing was given to him but salted drink or salt put in college beere, with tucks to boot. afterwards when they were to be admitted into the fraternity, the senior cook was to administer to them an oath over an old shoe, part of which runs thus: 'item tu jurabis quod penniless bench (a seat at carfax) non visitabis' &c. the rest is forgotten, and none there are now remembers it. after which spoken with gravity, the freshman kist the shoe, put on his gown and band and took his place among the seniors." "this," says wood, "was the way and custom that had been used in (p.  ) the college, time out of mind, to initiate the freshmen; but between that time and the restoration of k. ch. it was disused, and now such a thing is absolutely forgotten." his whole description, and especially the parody of the master's oath not to visit stamford, goes to show that he was right in attributing the ceremonies to remote antiquity, and there are indications that the initiation of freshmen was practised elsewhere in oxford. hearne speaks of similar customs at balliol and at brasenose, and an eighteenth-century editor of wood asserts, that "striking traces" of the practice "may be found in many societies in this place, and in some a very near resemblance of it has been kept up till within these few years." our quotation from wood may therefore serve to illustrate the treatment of the medieval freshman at oxford. we possess no details of the jocund advent at cambridge, but in the medieval scottish universities, where the name of bajan still survives, there were relics of it within recent times. at st andrews, a feast of raisins was the last survival of the bajan's "standing treat," and attacks made by "semis" (second year men) upon a bajan class emerging from a lecture-room were an enlivening feature of student life at aberdeen up to the end of the nineteenth century. the weapons in use were notebooks, and the belabouring of aberdeen (p.  ) bajans with these instruments may be historically connected with the chastisement which we have found in some of the medieval initiation ceremonies. it would be fanciful to connect the gown-tearing, which was also a feature of these attacks, with the assaults upon the rector's robe at bologna. chapter vii (p.  ) town and gown the violence which marked medieval life as a whole was not likely to be absent in towns where numbers of young clerks were members of a corporation at variance with the authorities of the city. university records are full of injuries done to masters and students by the townsfolk, and of privileges and immunities obtained from pope or king or bishop at the expense of the burgesses. when a new university was founded, it was sometimes taken for granted that these conflicts must arise, and that the townsmen were certain to be in the wrong. thus, when duke rudolf iv. founded the university of vienna in , he provided beforehand for such contingencies by ordaining that an attack on a student leading to the loss of a limb or other member of the body was to be punished by the removal of the same member from the body of the assailant, and that for a lesser injury the offender's hand was to be wounded ("debet manus pugione transfigi"). the criminal might redeem his person by a fine of a hundred silver marks for a serious injury and of forty marks for slighter damages, the victim to (p.  ) receive half of the fine. assailants of students were not to have benefit of sanctuary. oxford history abounds in town and gown riots, the most famous of which is the battle of st scholastica's day ( th february) . the riot originated in a tavern quarrel; some clerks disapproved of the wine at an inn near carfax, and (in antony wood's words) "the vintner giving them stubborn and saucy language, they threw the wine and vessel at his head." his friends urged the inn-keeper "not to put up with the abuse," and rang the bell of st martin's church. a mob at once assembled, armed with bows and arrows and other weapons; they attacked every scholar who passed, and even fired at the chancellor when he attempted to allay the tumult. the justly indignant chancellor retorted by ringing st mary's bell and a mob of students assembled, also armed (in spite of many statutes to the contrary). a battle royal raged till nightfall, at which time the fray ceased, no one scholar or townsman being killed or mortally wounded or maimed. if the matter had ended then, little would have been heard of the story, but next day the townsmen stationed eighty armed men in st giles's church, who sallied out upon "certain scholars walking after dinner in beaumont killed one of them, and wounded others." a second battle followed, in which the citizens, aided by some countrymen, defeated the scholars, and ravaged their halls, (p.  ) slaying and wounding. night interrupted their operations, but on the following day, "with hideous noises and clamours they came and invaded the scholars' houses ... and those that resisted them and stood upon their defence (particularly some chaplains) they killed or else in a grievous sort wounded.... the crowns of some chaplains, that is, all the skin so far as the tonsure went, these diabolical imps flayed off in scorn of their clergy." the injured university was fully avenged. the king granted it jurisdiction over the city, and, especially, control of the market, and the bishop of lincoln placed the townsmen under an interdict which was removed only on condition that the mayor and bailiffs, for the time being, and "threescore of the chiefest burghers, should personally appear" every st scholastica's day in st. mary's church, to attend a mass for the souls of the slain. the tradition that they were to wear halters or silken cords has no authority, but they were each "to offer at the altar one penny, of which oblation forty pence should be distributed to forty poor scholars of the university." the custom, with some modifications, survived the reformation, and it was not till the nineteenth century that the mayor of oxford ceased to have cause to regret the battle of st scholastica's day. the accounts of st scholastica's day and of most other riots which (p.  ) have come down to us are written from the standpoint of the scholars, but the records of the city of oxford give less detailed but not less credible instances of assaults by members of the university. on the eve of st john baptist's day in , for example, the tailors of oxford were celebrating midsummer "cum cytharis viellis et aliis diversis instrumentis." after midnight, they went out "de shoppis suis" and danced and sang in the streets. a clerk, irritated by the noise, attacked them with a drawn sword, wounded one of them, and was himself mortally wounded in the skirmish. of twenty-nine coroners' inquests which have been preserved for the period - , thirteen are murders committed by scholars. attacks on townsmen were not mere undergraduate follies, but were countenanced and even led by officials of the university, _e.g._ on a march night in one of the proctors "sate uppon a blocke in the streete afore the shoppe of one robert jermyns, a barber, havinge a pole axe in his hand, a black cloake on his backe, and a hatt on his head," and organised a riot in which many townsmen were "striken downe and sore beaten." citizens' houses were attacked and "the saide proctour and his company ... called for fire," threatening to burn the houses, and insulting the inmates with opprobrious names. when such an incident as this was possible, it (p.  ) was of little use for the university to issue regulations or even to punish less exalted sinners, and the town must have suffered much from the outrages of scholars and of the "chamber-dekens" or pretended scholars of the university, who were responsible for much of the mischief. at paris things became so bad that the parlement had to issue a series of police regulations to suppress the bands of scholars, or pretended scholars, who wandered about the streets at night, disguised and armed. they attacked passers-by, and if they were wounded in the affray, their medical friends, we are told, dressed their wounds, so that they eluded discovery in the morning. the history of every university town provides instances of street conflicts--the records of orleans and toulouse abound in them--but we must be content with a tale from leipsic. the pages of the "acta rectorum" at leipsic are full of illustrations of the wilder side of student life, from which we extract the story of one unhappy year. the year opened very badly, says the "rector's chronicle," with three homicides. on holy innocents' day, a bachelor was murdered by a skinner in a street riot, and the murderer, though he was seen by some respectable citizens, was allowed to escape. a student who killed a man on the night of the sunday after the (p.  ) epiphany was punished by the university in accordance with its statutes (_i.e._ by imprisonment for life in the bishop's prison). the third murder was that of a young bachelor who was walking outside the city, when two sons of rustics in the neighbourhood fell on him and killed him. their names were known, but the city authorities refused to take action, and the populace, believing that they would not be punished, pursued the members of the university with continued insults and threats. after an unusually serious attack _cum bombardis_, (in which, "by the divine clemency," a young mechanic was wounded), the university, failing to obtain redress, appealed to prince maurice of saxony, who promised to protect the university. a conference between the university and the city authorities took place, and edicts against carrying arms were published, but the skinners immediately indulged in another outrage. one of them, hans von buntzell on whitsunday, attacked, with a drawn sword, the son of a doctor of medicine, "a youth (as all agree) most guiltless," and wounded him in the arm, and if another student had not unexpectedly appeared, "would without doubt have killed this excellent boy." the criminal was pursued to the house of a skinner called meysen, where he took refuge. the city authorities, inspired by the prince's intervention, offered to impose three (p.  ) alternative sentences, and the university was asked to say whether hans von buntzell should lose one of his hands, or be publicly whipped and banished for ten years, or should have a certain stigma ("quod esset manus amittendae signum") burned in his hand and be banished. the university replied that it was for the city to carry out the commands of the prince, and declined to select the penalty. on the following monday a scaffold was erected in the market-place, on which were placed rods and a knife for cutting off the hand, "which apparatus was thought by the skinners to be much too fierce and cruel, and a concourse began from all parts, composed not of skinners alone, but of mechanics of every kind, interceding with the council for the criminal." the pleadings of the multitude gained the day, and all the preparations were removed from the market-place amid the murmurs of the students. after supper, three senior members of the skinners came to the rector, begging for a commutation of the punishment, and offering to beat hans themselves in presence of representatives of the university and the town council, with greater ferocity than the public executioner could do if he were to whip him three times in public. the rector replied that he must consult the university, and the proposal was thrown out in congregation. on the saturday after the feast of (p.  ) trinity, the stigma was burned on the criminal's hand, and as a necessary consequence he was banished. town riots do not complete the tale of violence. there were struggles with jews, and a jewish row at oxford in resulted in the erection of a cross, with the following inscription:-- quis meus auctor erat? judaei. quomodo? sumptu quis jussit? regnans. quo procurante? magistri. cur? cruce pro fracta ligni. quo tempore? festo ascensus domini. quis est locus? hic ubi sisto. clerks' enemies were not always beyond their own household. the history of paris, the earlier history of oxford, and the record of many another university give us instances of mortal combats between the nations. the scholars of paris, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, had to face the mortal enmity of the monks of the abbey of st germain, the meadow in front of which was claimed by the faculty of arts. the sight of paris students walking or playing on the pré-aux-clercs had much the same effect upon the abbot and monks as the famous donkeys had upon the strong-minded aunt of david copperfield, but the measures they took for suppressing the nuisance were less exactly proportioned to the offence. one summer day in , masters and scholars went for recreation to the meadow, when the (p.  ) abbot sent out armed servants and retainers of the monastery to attack them. they came shouting "ad mortem clericorum," death to the clerks, "verbis crudelibus, _ad mortem ad mortem_, inhumaniter pluries repetitis." a "famous bachelor of arts" and other clerks were seriously wounded and thrown into horrible dungeons; another victim lost an eye. the retreat into the city was cut off, and fugitives were pursued far into the country. blood flowed freely, and the scholars who escaped returned to their halls with broken heads and limbs and their clothes torn to fragments. some of the victims died of their wounds, and the monks were punished by king and pope, the abbot being pensioned off and the abbey compelled to endow two chaplains to say masses for scholars. forty years later the university had again to appeal to the pope to avenge assaults by retainers of the abbey upon scholars who were fishing in the moat outside the abbey walls. the monks, of course, may have given a different version of the incidents. chapter viii (p.  ) subjects of study, lectures and examinations the student of a medieval university was, as we have seen, expected to converse in latin, and all instruction was given in that language. it was therefore essential that, before entering on the university curriculum, he should have a competent knowledge of latin. college founders attempted to secure this in various ways, sometimes by an examination (_e.g._ at the college of cornouaille, at paris no one was admitted a bursar until he was examined and found to be able to read) and sometimes by making provision for young boys to be taught by a master of grammar. the founder of new college met the difficulty by the foundation of winchester college, at which all wykehamists (except the earliest members of new college) were to be thoroughly grounded in latin. it was more difficult for a university to insist upon such a test, but in , the university of paris had ordered that before a youth was admitted to the privileges of "scholarity" or studentship, he must appear before the rector and make his own application in continuous latin, without any french words. formulae for this (p.  ) purpose would, doubtless, soon be invented and handed down by tradition, and the precaution cannot have been of much practical value. there were plenty of grammar schools in the middle ages, and a clever boy was likely to find a patron and a place of education in the neighbourhood of his home. the grammar schools in university towns had therefore originally no special importance, but many of the undergraduates who came up at thirteen or fourteen required some training such as william of waynflete provided for his younger demies in connexion with the grammar school which he attached to magdalen, or such as walter de merton considered desirable when he ordained that there should be a master of grammar in his college to teach the poor boys, and that their seniors were to go to him in any difficulty without any false shame ("absque rubore"). many universities extended certain privileges to boys studying grammar, by placing their names on matriculation rolls, though such matriculation was not part of the curriculum for a degree. masters in grammar were frequently, but not necessarily, university graduates; at paris there were grammar mistresses as well as grammar masters. the connexion between the grammar schools and the university was exceptionally close at oxford and cambridge, where degrees in grammar came to be given. the (p.  ) university of oxford early legislated for "inceptors" who were taking degrees in grammar, and ordered the grammar masters who were graduates to enrol, _pro forma_, the names of pupils of non-graduates, and to compel non-graduate masters to obey the regulations of the university. a meeting of the grammar masters twice a term for discussions about their subject and the method of teaching it was also ordered by the university, which ultimately succeeded in wresting the right of licensing grammar masters from the archdeacon or other official to whom it naturally belonged. a fourteenth-century code of statutes for the oxford grammar schools orders the appointment of two masters of arts to superintend them, and gives some minute instructions about the teaching. grammar masters are to set verses and compositions, to be brought next day for correction; and they are to be specially careful to see that the younger boys can recognise the different parts of speech and parse them accurately. in choosing books to read with their pupils, they are to avoid the books of ovid "de arte amandi" and similar works. boys are to be taught to construe in french as well as in english, lest they be ignorant of the french tongue. the study of french was not confined to the grammar boys: the university recognised the wisdom of learning a language necessary for composing (p.  ) charters, holding lay-courts, and pleading in the english fashion, and lectures in french were permitted at any hour that did not interfere with the regular teaching of arts subjects. such lectures were under the control of the superintendents of the grammar masters. the degrees which oxford and cambridge conferred in grammar did not involve residence or entitle the recipients to a vote in convocation; but the conferment was accompanied by ceremonies which were almost parodies of the solemn proceedings of graduation or inception in a recognised faculty, a birch taking the place of a book as a symbol of the power and authority entrusted to the graduand. a sixteenth-century esquire bedel of cambridge left, for the benefit of his successors, details of the form for the "enteryng of a master in gramer." the "father" of the faculty of grammar (at cambridge the mysterious individual known as the "master of glomery") brought his "sons" to st mary's church for eight o'clock mass. "when mass is done, fyrst shall begynne the acte in gramer. the father shall have hys sete made before the stage for physyke (one of the platforms erected in the church for doctors of the different faculties, etc.) and shall sytte alofte under the stage for physyke. the proctour shall say, incipiatis. when the father hath argyude as shall plese the proctour, the bedeyll in (p.  ) arte shall bring the master of gramer to the vyce-chancelar, delyveryng hym a palmer wyth a rodde, whych the vyce-chancelar shall gyve to the seyde master in gramer, and so create hym master. then shall the bedell purvay for every master in gramer a shrewde boy, whom the master in gramer shall bete openlye in the scolys, and the master in gramer shall give the boy a grote for hys labour, and another grote to hym that provydeth the rode and the palmer &c. de singulis. and thus endythe the acte in that facultye." we know of the existence of similar ceremonies at oxford. "had the ambition to take these degrees in grammar been widely diffused," says dr rashdall, "the demand for whipping boys might have pressed rather hardly upon the youth of oxford; but very few of them are mentioned in the university register." the basis of the medieval curriculum in arts is to be found in the seven liberal arts of the dark ages, divided into the _trivium_ (grammar, rhetoric and dialectic) and the _quadrivium_ (music, arithmetic, geometry and astronomy). the _quadrivium_ was of comparatively little importance; geometry and music received small attention; and arithmetic, and astronomy were at first chiefly useful for finding the date of easter; but the introduction of mathematical learning from arabian sources in the thirteenth century greatly (p.  ) increased the scope of geometry and arithmetic, and added the study of algebra. the grammar taught in the universities assumed a knowledge of such a text-book as that of alexander de villa dei, and consisted of an analysis of the systems of popular grammarians, based on the section _de barbarismo_ in the _ars grammatica_ of Ælius donatus, a fourth-century grammarian, whose work became universally used throughout europe. latin poets were read in the grammar schools, and served for grammatical and philological expositions in the universities, and the study of rhetoric depended largely on the treatises of cicero. the "dialectic" of the _trivium_ was the real interest of the medieval student among the ancient seven subjects, but the curriculum in arts came to include also the three philosophies, physical, moral, and metaphysical. the arms of the university of oxford consist of a book with seven clasps surrounded by three crowns, the clasps representing the seven liberal arts and the crowns the three philosophies. the universities were schools of philosophy, mental and physical, and the attention of students in arts was chiefly directed to the logic, metaphysics, physics, and ethics of aristotle. up to the twelfth century, aristotle was known only through the translations into latin of the sections of the _organon_, (p.  ) entitled _de interpretatione_ and _categoriae_, and through the logical works of boethius. in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the range of medieval studies was greatly enlarged by the introduction of other works of aristotle from translations partly from the arabic and partly direct from the greek. the conservatism of the university of paris at first forbade the study of the new aristotle, but it soon became universal in the medieval universities. in addition to the works of aristotle, as they were known in the middle ages, medieval students read such books as porphyry's _isagoge_, or introduction to aristotle; the criticism of aristotle's _categories_, by gilbert de la porrée, known as the _sex principia_; the _summulae logicales_, a semi-grammatical, semi-logical treatise by petrus hispanus (pope john xxi.); the _parva logicalia_ of marsilius of inghen; the _labyrinthus_ and _grecismus_ of eberhard; the scriptural commentaries of nicolaus de lyra; the _tractatus de sphaera_, an astronomical work by a thirteenth-century scotsman, john holywood (joannes de sacro bosco); and they also studied priscian, donatus, boethius, euclid, and ptolemy. in the _nova rhetorica_ of cicero, the _metamorphoses_ of ovid, and the works of virgil were prescribed at oxford as alternatives to the fourth book of the _topica_ of boethius. by the end of the century humanism had found a place in the universities, (p.  ) and sixteenth-century colleges at oxford and cambridge provided for the study of the literatures of greece and rome. in scotland the medieval teaching of aristotle reigned supreme in all its three universities until the appointment of andrew melville as principal at glasgow in , and in he had some difficulty in persuading the masters at st andrews to "peruse aristotle in his ain language." lectures were either "ordinary" or "cursory," a distinction which, as dr rashdall has shown, corresponded to the "ordinary" and "extra-ordinary" lectures at bologna. the ordinary lectures were the statutable exercises appointed by the faculty, and delivered by its properly accredited teachers in the hours of the morning, which were sacred to the prelections of the masters. cursory lectures were delivered in the afternoon, frequently by bachelors; but as college teaching became more important than the lectures given in the schools, the distinction gradually disappeared. ordinary lectures were delivered "solemniter" and involved a slow and methodical analysis of the book. the statutes of vienna prescribe that no master shall read more than one chapter of the text "ante quaestionem vel etiam quaestione expedita." various references in college and university statutes show that the cursory lecture was not regarded as the (p.  ) full equivalent of an ordinary lecture. at oxford, attendance on a lecture on the books or any book of the metaphysics, or on the physics, or the ethics, was not to count for a degree, except in the case of a book largely dealing with the opinions of the ancients. the third and fourth books of the metaphysics were excepted from the rule, "they being usually read cursorily, that the ordinary reading of the other books might proceed more rapidly." the cursory lecture was clearly beloved of the pupil, for oxford grammar masters are reproved for lecturing "cursorie" instead of "ordinarie" for the sake of gain; and at vienna, the tariff for cursory lectures is double that for ordinary lectures. at paris the books of aristotle de dialectica were to be read "ordinarie et non ad cursum," and students of medicine had to read certain books "semel ordinarie, bis cursorie." the statutes of heidelberg contrast "cursorie" with "extense." in the faculty of canon law there was an additional distinction, the ordinary lecture being generally restricted to the decretum; at oxford, the book of decretals is to be read at the morning hours at which the doctors of law are wont to deliver ordinary lectures, and at vienna the doctors are forbidden to read anything but the decretals in the morning at ordinary lectures. the instructions given to the vienna doctors of (p.  ) law illustrate the thoroughness of the medieval lecture in all faculties. they are first to state the case carefully, then to read the text, then to restate the case, then to remark on "notabilia," and then to discuss questions arising out of the subject, and finally, to deal with the glosses. so, at oxford, the masters in arts are to read the books on logic and the philosophies "rite," with the necessary and adequate exposition of the text, and with questions and arguments pertinent to the subject-matter. a problem, still unsolved, about the methods of lecturing disturbed the minds of the parisian masters. were they to dictate lectures or to speak so fast that their pupils could not commit their words to writing? from the standpoint of teachers who delivered frequent lectures, all of the same type, and on a few set books, it was probably desirable that there should not be opportunities of possessing such copies of a professor's lectures as used to circulate, not many years ago, in scottish and in german universities. in the faculty of arts at paris made a statute on the methods of lecturing. it explains that there are two ways of reading books in the liberal arts. the masters of philosophy may deliver their expositions from their chairs so rapidly that, although the minds of their audience may grasp their meaning, their hands cannot write it (p.  ) down. this, they say, was the custom in other faculties. the other way is to speak so slowly that their hearers can take down what they say. on mature reflection, the faculty has decided that the former is the better way, and henceforth in any lecture, ordinary or cursory, or in any disputation or other manner of teaching, the master is to speak as in delivering a speech, and as if no one were writing in his presence. a lecturer who breaks the new rule is to be suspended for a year, and if the students showed their dislike to it, by shouting, hissing, groaning, or throwing stones, they were to be sent down for a year. more than two hundred years later, in , the statute was rescinded by cardinal estoutville, but it was probably never operative. estoutville permitted either method of lecturing, and contented himself with forbidding lecturers to use questions and lectures which were not of their own composition, or to deliver their lectures (however good) to be read by one of their scholars as a deputy. he instructs the masters to lecture regularly according to the statutes and to explain the text of aristotle, "de puncto in punctum," and, holding that fear and reverence are the life-blood of scholastic discipline, he repeats an injunction which we find in , that the students in arts are to sit not on benches or raised seats, but on (p.  ) the floor, "ut occasio superbiae a juvenibus secludatur." the name of the street in which lectures were given, vicus stramineus, is said to have been derived from the straw on which the students sat. the question whether lectures should be committed to writing or not, troubled the masters of other universities besides paris, and the statutes of the college de verdale at toulouse accept, in , the view taken at paris a hundred years earlier. since study is a vehement application of the mind, and requires the whole man, the scholars are forbidden to fatigue themselves with too many lectures--not more than two or three a day--and in lecture they are not to take down the lecturer's words, nor, trusting in writings of this kind, to blunt their "proprium intellectum." in the schools, they must not use "incausta" or pencils except for correcting a book, etc. and what they have been able to retain in their memory they must meditate on without delay. the insistence on meditation was a useful educational method, but as teaching became more organised, the student was not left without guidance in his meditations. the help which he received outside lectures was given in repetitions or resumptions. the procedure at repetitions may be illustrated from the statutes of the college of dainville at paris: "we ordain that all bursars in grammar and (p.  ) philosophy speak the latin tongue, and that those who hear the same book ordinarily and cursorily shall attend one and the same master (namely, one whom the master [of the college] assigns to them), and after the lecture they shall return home and meet in one place to repeat the lecture. one after another shall repeat the whole lecture, so that each of them may know it well, and the less advanced shall be bound daily to repeat the lectures to the more proficient." a later code of the same college provides that "all who study humane letters shall, on every day of the schools read in the morning a composition, that is a speech in latin, greek or the vernacular, to their master, being prepared to expound the writer or historian who is being read in daily lecture in their schools. at the end of the week, that is on friday or saturday, they shall show up to their master a résumé of all the lectures they have learned that week, and every day before they go to the schools they shall be bound to make repetitions to one of the philosophers or of the theologians whom the [college] master shall choose; for this work." at louvain, the time between a.m. and the first lecture (about seven) was spent in studying the lesson that the students might better understand the lecture; after hearing it, they returned to their own rooms to revise it and commit it to memory. after dinner, their books were placed on a table, and all the (p.  ) scholars of one faculty repeated their lesson and answered questions. a similar performance took place in the two hours before supper. after supper, the tutor treated them for half an hour to a "jocum honestum," and before sending them to bed gave them a light and pleasant disputation. the disputation was a preparation for the disputations which formed part of what we should now term the degree examinations. a thesis was propounded, attacked, and defended ("impugned and propugned") with the proper forms of syllogistic reasoning. the teaching, both in lectures and in disputations, was originally university teaching, and the younger masters of arts, the "necessary regents," were bound to stay up for some years and lecture in the schools. they were paid by their scholars, and the original meaning of the word "collections," still in frequent use at oxford, is traditionally supposed to be found in the payments made for lectures at the end of each term. thus, at oxford, a student paid threepence a term (one shilling a year) to his regent for lectures in logic, and fourpence a term for lectures in natural philosophy. the system was not a satisfactory one, and alike in paris, in oxford, and in cambridge, it succumbed to the growth of college teaching. the head of a parisian college, from the first, superintended the studies of (p.  ) the scholars, and, although this duty was not required of an oxford or cambridge head, provision was gradually made in the statutes of english colleges for the instruction of the junior members by their seniors. the first important step in this direction was taken by william of wykeham, who ordered special payment to be made by the college to fellows who undertook the tuition of the younger fellows. his example was followed in this, as in other matters, by subsequent founders both at oxford and at cambridge, and gradually university teaching was, in the faculty of arts, almost entirely superseded by college tuition. in other universities, lectures continued to be given by university officials. the medieval undergraduates had a tendency to "rag" in lectures, a tradition which is almost unknown at oxford and cambridge, but which persisted till quite recent times in the scottish universities. prohibitions of noise and disturbance in lecture-rooms abound in all statutes. at vienna, students in arts are exhorted to behave like young ladies (more virginum) and to refrain from laughter, murmurs, and hisses, and from tearing down the schedules in which the masters give notice of their lectures. at prague, also, the conduct of young ladies was held up as a model for the student at lecture, and, at angers, students who hissed in contempt of a doctor were to be expelled. the career of a student was divided into two parts by his (p.  ) "determination," a ceremony which is the origin of the bachelor's degree. at paris, where, at all events in the earlier period of its history, examinations were real, the "determination" was preceded by "responsions," and no candidate was admitted to determine until he had satisfied a regent master in the schools, in public, "de questione respondens." the determination itself was a public disputation, after which the determiner might wear the bachelor's "cappa" and lecture on the organon. he continued his attendance on the lectures in the schools up to the time of his "inception" as a master. the inception was preceded by an examination for licence and by a disputation known as the quodlibetica, at which the subject was chosen by the candidate. the bachelor who was successful in obtaining the chancellor's licence proceeded to the ceremony of inception, and received his master's _biretta_. the stringency of examinations varied in different universities and at different times. the proportion of successful candidates seems to have been everywhere very large, and in some universities rejection must have been almost unknown. we do find references to disappointed candidates, _e.g._ at caen, where medical students who have been "ploughed" have to take an oath not to bring "malum vel damnum" upon the examiners. but even at louvain, where the examination system (p.  ) was fully developed in the middle ages, and where there were class lists in the fifteenth century (the classes being distinguished as _rigorosi_, _transibiles_, and _gratiosi_), failure was regarded as an exceptional event ("si autem, quod absit, aliqui inveniantur simpliciter gratiosi seu refutabiles, erunt de quarto ordine"). the regulations for examinations at louvain prescribe that the examiners are not to ask disturbing questions ("animo turbandi aut confundendi promovendos") and forbid unfair treatment of pupils of particular masters and frivolous or useless questions; although at his quodlibeticum, the bachelor might indulge in "jocosas questiones ad auditorii recreationem." the element of display implied in the last quotation was never absent from medieval examinations, and at oxford, there seems to have been little besides this ceremonial element. a candidate had to prove that he had complied with the regulations about attendance at lectures, etc., and to obtain evidence of fitness from a number of masters. a bachelor had to dispute several times with a master, and these disputations, which were held at the augustinian convent, came to be known as "doing austins." the medieval system, as it lingered at oxford in the close of the eighteenth century, is thus described by vicesimus knox. "the youth whose heart pants for the honour of a bachelor of (p.  ) arts degree must wait patiently till near four years have revolved.... he is obliged during this period, once to oppose and once to respond.... this opposing and responding is termed, in the cant of the place, _doing generals_. two boys or men, as they call themselves, agree to _do generals_ together. the first step in this mighty work is to procure arguments. these are always handed down, from generation to generation, on long slips of paper, and consist of foolish syllogisms on foolish subjects, of the foundation or significance of which the respondent and opponent seldom know more than an infant in swaddling cloaths. the next step is to go for a _liceat_ to one of the petty officers, called the regent-master of the schools, who subscribes his name to the questions and receives sixpence as his fee. when the important day arrives, the two doughty disputants go into a large dusty room, full of dirt and cobwebs.... here they sit in mean desks, opposite to each other from one o'clock till three. not once in a hundred times does any officer enter; and, if he does, he hears a syllogism or two, and then makes a bow, and departs, as he came and remained, in solemn silence. the disputants then return to the amusement of cutting the desks, carving their names, or reading sterne's sentimental journey, or some other edifying novel. when the exercise is duly performed by both parties, they have a right to the title and insignia of _sophs_: but not before they have been formally _created_ (p.  ) by one of the regent-masters, before whom they kneel, while he lays a volume of aristotle's works on their heads, and puts on a hood, a piece of black crape, hanging from their necks, and down to their heels.... there remain only one or two trifling forms, and another disputation almost exactly similar to _doing generals_, but called _answering under bachelor_ previous to the awful examination. every candidate is obliged to be examined in the whole circle of the sciences by three masters of arts _of his own choice_.... _schemes_, as they are called, or little books containing forty or fifty questions on each science, are handed down from age to age, from one to another. the candidate employs three or four days in learning these by heart, and the examiners, having done the same before him, know what questions to ask, and so all goes on smoothly. when the candidate has displayed his universal knowledge of the sciences, he is to display his skill in philology. one of the masters therefore asks him to construe a passage in some greek or latin classic, which he does with no interruption, just as he pleases, and as well as he can. the statutes next require that he should translate familiar english phrases into latin. and now is the time when the masters show their wit and jocularity.... this familiarity, however, only takes place when the examiners are pot-companions of the candidate, which indeed is usually the case; for it is reckoned good management to get acquainted with two or three jolly (p.  ) young masters of arts, and supply them well with port previously to the examination. if the vice-chancellor and proctors happen to enter the school, a very uncommon event, then a little solemnity is put on.... as neither the officer, nor anyone else, usually enters the room (for it is reckoned very _ungenteel_), the examiners and the candidates often converse on the last drinking-bout, or on horses, or read the newspapers or a novel." the supply of port was the eighteenth-century relic of the feasts which used to accompany determination and inception, and with which so many sumptuary regulations of colleges and universities are concerned. there is a reference to a determining feast in the paston letters, in which the ill-fated walter paston, writing in the summer of , a few weeks before his premature death, says to his brother: "and yf ye wyl know what day i was mead baschyler, i was maad on fryday was sevynyth, and i mad my fest on the munday after. i was promysyd venyson ageyn my fest of my lady harcort, and of a noder man to, but i was desevyd of both; but my gestes hewld them plesyd with such mete as they had, blyssyd be god. hoo have yeo in hys keeping. wretyn at oxon, on the wedenys day next after seynt peter." a few glimpses of the life of this fifteenth-century oxonian may (p.  ) conclude our survey. walter paston had been sent to oxford in , under the charge of a priest called james gloys. his mother did not wish him to associate too closely with the son of their neighbour, thomas holler. "i wold," she says, "walter schuld be copilet with a better than holler son is ... howe be it i wold not that he schuld make never the lesse of hym, by cause he is his contre man and neghbour." the boy was instructed to "doo welle, lerne well, and be of good rewle and disposycion," and gloys was asked to "bydde hym that he be not to hasty of takyng of orderes that schuld bynd him." to take orders under twenty-three years of age might lead, in margaret paston's opinion, to repentance at leisure, and "i will love hym better to be a good secular man than to be a lewit priest." we next hear of walter in may when he writes to his mother recommending himself to her "good moderchypp," and asking for money. he has received £ , s. d., and his expenses amount to £ , s. d. "that comth over the reseytys in my exspenses i have borrowed of master edmund and yt draweth to shillings." he might have applied for a loan to one of the "chests" which benevolent donors had founded for such emergencies, depositing some article of value, and receiving a temporary loan: but he preferred to borrow from his new tutor, (p.  ) edmund alyard. by march , alyard was able to reassure the anxious mother about her boy's choice of a career; he was to go to law, taking his bachelor's degree in arts at midsummer. his brother, sir john, who was staying at the george at paul's wharf in london, intended to be present at the ceremony, but his letter miscarried: "martin brown had that same tyme mysch mony in a bage, so that he durst not bryng yt with hym, and that same letter was in that same bage, and he had forgete to take owt the letter, and he sent all togeder by london, so that yt was the next day after that i was maad bachyler or than the letter cam, and so the fawt was not in me." this is the last we hear of walter paston. on his way home, on the th august , he died at norwich, after a short illness. he left a number of "togae" to his oxford friends, including robert holler, the son of his norfolk neighbour, to whom he also bequeathed "unum pulvinar vocatum _le bolstar_." the rest of his oxford goods he left to alyard, but his sheep and his lands to his own family. the cost of his illness and funeral amounted to about thirty shillings. no books are mentioned in the will; possibly they were sold for his inception feast, or he may never have possessed any. as a junior student, he would not have been allowed to use the great library which humphrey of gloucester had (p.  ) presented to the university; but there were smaller libraries to which he might have access, for books were sometimes chained up in st mary's church that scholars might read them. appendix (p.  ) my attention has been called (too late for a reference in the text) to a medieval latin poem giving a gloomy account of student life in paris in the twelfth century. the verses, which have been printed in the _american journal of philology_ (vol. xi. p. ), insist upon the hardships of the student's life, and contrast his miserable condition with the happier lot of the citizens of paris. for him there is no rejoicing in the days of his youth, and no hope even of a competence in the future. his lodgings are wretched and neglected; his dress is miserable, and his appearance slovenly. his food consists of peas, beans, and cabbage, and "libido mensæ nulla venit nisi quod sale sparsa rigorem esca parum flectit." his bed is a hard mattress stretched on the floor, and sleep brings him only a meagre respite from the toils of the day:-- "sed in illa pace soporis pacis eget studii labor insopitus, et ipso cura vigil somno, libros operamque ministrat excitæ somnus animæ, nec prima sopori anxietas cedit, sed quæ vigilaverat ante sollicitudo redit, et major summa laboris curarum studiis in somnibus obicit hydram." in the early hours of the morning he goes to his lectures, and the (p.  ) whole of his day is given to study. the description of the student at lecture is interesting:-- "aure et mente bibit et verba cadentia promo promptus utroque levat, oculique et mentis in illo fixa vigilque manet acies aurisque maritat pronuba dilectam cupida cum meute minervam." selected bibliography (p.  ) savigny: geschichte der römischen rechts im mittelalter. (heidelberg, .) sir william hamilton: discussions on philosophy and literature, education, and university reform. (london, .) denifle: die entstehung der universitäten des mittelalters bis . (berlin, .) rashdall: the universities of europe in the middle ages. (oxford, .) kaufmann: geschichte der deutschen universitäten. (stuttgart, .) article on universities in the _encyclopædia britannica_. archiv für lit. u. kirchengeschichte des mittelalters. jurist statutes of padua ( ) in vol. vi.; salamanca documents in vol. v. malagola: statuti della università e dei collegi dello studio bolognese. (bologna, .) denifle and chatelain: chartularium universitatis parisiensis. (paris, - .) (many of the statutes of the colleges of paris will be found scattered through felibien: histoire de la ville de paris. paris, .) antony wood: history and antiquities of the university of oxford. (ed. gutch. oxford, - .) ---- history and antiquities of the colleges and halls in the university of oxford. (ed. gutch. oxford, .) anstey: munimenta academica. (rolls series, .) statutes of the colleges of oxford. (london, .) clark: the colleges of oxford. (london, .) (the best account of oxford will be found in vol. ii., part ii., of dr rashdall's "universities of europe." there are two short histories (p.  ) of the university by maxwell lyte (london, ) and brodrick (london, .).) documents relating to the university and colleges of cambridge. (london, .) mullinger: the university of cambridge from the earliest times to the royal injunctions of . (cambridge, .) in two subsequent volumes mr mullinger has continued the narrative to the latter half of the seventeenth century, and he has also written a short "history of the university of cambridge." (epochs of church history. london, .) gherardi: statuti della università e studio fiorentino. (florence, .) villanueva: statutes of the university of lerida in "viage literario á las iglesias de españa." t. xvi. (madrid, .) marcel fournier: les statuts et privilèges des universités françaises depuis leur fondation jusqu'en . (paris, - .) dittrich und spirk: monumenta historica universitatis pragensis. (prague, .) kink: geschichte der kaiserl. univ. zu wien. (vienna, .) hautz: geschichte der universität heidelberg. (mannheim, .) vernulæus: academia lovaniensis. (louvain, .) molanus: historiæ lovaniensium, ed. de ram. (brussels, .) zarncke: die statutenbücher der univ. leipzig. (leipzig, .) ---- acta rectorum univ. lipsiensis. (leipzig, .) evidence taken and received by the scottish universities commissioners of . (london, .) innes: fasti aberdonenses. spalding club. (aberdeen, .) index (p.  ) abelard, . aberdeen, univ. of, , , , - . Ælius donatus, . aix, univ. of, , , . alexander de villa dei, . alfonso the wise, . alyard, edmund, - . angers, univ. of, , . ---- coll. of breuil at, . anselm, st, . arezzo, studium at, . aristotle, - . arts, the seven liberal, - . avignon, univ. of, , . ---- college of annecy at, . ---- college of notre dame de pitié at, , . ---- confraternity of st sebastian at, . bagley wood, . bateman, bishop, . boethius, . bologna, spanish college at, , , . ---- studium generale at, , , . ---- universities of, - , , - , , . caen, univ. of, . cahors, college of st nicholas de pelegry at, , . caius, dr, , . cambridge, univ. of, , , , , - , - . ---- college discipline at, - . ---- colleges of-- caius, , , ; christ's, , , ; clare, ; jesus, ; king's, , , ; peterhouse, , , , , ; trinity, ; trinity hall, . chaucer, prologue to canterbury tales, - , , , . chichele, archbishop, . cicero, , . college, meaning of word, . cologne, univ. of, . dôle, univ. of, . eberhard, . ely, bishop of, . erfurt, univ. of, . estoutville, cardinal, - , - . euclid, . farleigh, , . florence, univ. of, - . france, universities of, . frederick barbarossa, - . frederick ii., . germany, universities of, - , . gilbert de la porrée, . glasgow, univ. of, , , . gloys, james, . gregory ix., . hearne, thomas, . heidelberg, univ. of, , - , , . henry ii., . henry vi., , , , . henry viii., . holler, thomas, . ---- robert, . holywood, john, . ingolstadt, univ. of, . innocent iii., , . ---- iv., , . john xxi., . ---- xxii., . ---- king, , . knox, vicesimus, . leipsic, univ. of, . ---- collegium maius at, . ---- collegium minus at, . ---- university discipline at, - , . ---- "town and gown" at, - . lerida, univ. of, - . lincoln, see of, , . louvain, univ. of, , - , . ---- university, discipline at, - , . lyons, studium at, , . lyra, nicolaus de, . maldon, , , . marsilius, . melville, andrew, . modena, studium at, , . merton, walter de, - , . montpellier, univ. of, . ---- college of douze medecins at, . ---- college of st benedict at, - . ---- college of saint ruf at, , . naples, univ. of, . "nations," , , , , , , , , , , . nicholas iv., , . orleans, univ. of, , , . ovid, . oxford, univ. of, , , , , , , , - , , , - . ---- college discipline at, - . ---- university discipline at, - . ---- "town and gown" at, - . oxford, colleges of-- balliol, , ; brasenose, , , ; christ church, ; corpus christi, , , , , ; jesus, ; lincoln, ; magdalen, , , ; merton, - , , , , , , ; new college, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; pembroke, ; queen's, , , , , ; worcester, . oxford, halls of-- haburdaysh hall, ; pauline hall, ; peckwater inn, . padua, univ. of, , , . palencia, studium at, . paris, univ. of, , , , , , - , , , , , , , - , , - . ---- college discipline at, - . ---- "jocund advent" at, - . ---- univ. discipline at, - . paris, colleges of-- cambray, ; clugny, ; cornouaille, , , , , , ; dainville, , , - ; le mans, , ; marmoutier, ; plessis, ; st bernard, , , , ; sorbonne, , , , , ; tours, ; treasurer's, , , , . paston, john, . ---- margaret, . ---- walter, - . peckham, archbishop, - . perpignan, univ. of, . petrus hispanus, . philip augustus, . plessis, geoffrey du, . porphyry, . prague, univ. of, , , . priscian, . ptolemy, . reggio, studium at, . reims, studium at, . rostock, univ. of, . rouen, , , . rudolf iv., . st andrews, univ. of, , , . st scholastica's day, - . salamanca, studium at, , , . salerno, univ. of, . saone, guillaume de, . scayfe, henry, . scotland, universities of, , , , . seggefyld, john, . studium generale, meaning of, - . toulouse, univ. of, , , . ---- college de foix at, . ---- college de verdale at, , . universitas, meaning of, , , , . valladolid, studium at, . vicenza, studium at, . vienna, univ. of, , , , , , . virgil, . waynflete, william of, , . wingfield, sir e., . wood, antony à, - , - . wolsey, cardinal, . würzburg, univ. of, . wykeham, william of, , , , , , , , . zarncke, friedrich, . turnbull and spears, printers, edinburgh the young pitcher by zane grey contents i. the varsity captain ii. a great arm iii. prisoner of the sophs iv. the call for candidates v. the cage vi. out on the field vii. annihilation viii. examinations ix. president halstead on college spirit x. new players xi. state university game xii. ken clashes with graves xiii. friendship xiv. the herne game xv. a matter of principle xvi. the first place game xvii. ken's day xviii. breaking training i the varsity captain ken ward had not been at the big university many days before he realized the miserable lot of a freshman. at first he was sorely puzzled. college was so different from what he had expected. at the high school of his home town, which, being the capital of the state, was no village, he had been somebody. then his summer in arizona, with its wild adventures, had given him a self-appreciation which made his present situation humiliating. there were more than four thousand students at the university. ken felt himself the youngest, the smallest, the one of least consequence. he was lost in a shuffle of superior youths. in the forestry department he was a mere boy; and he soon realized that a freshman there was the same as anywhere. the fact that he weighed nearly one hundred and sixty pounds, and was no stripling, despite his youth, made not one whit of difference. unfortunately, his first overture of what he considered good-fellowship had been made to an upper-classman, and had been a grievous mistake. ken had not yet recovered from its reception. he grew careful after that, then shy, and finally began to struggle against disappointment and loneliness. outside of his department, on the campus and everywhere he ventured, he found things still worse. there was something wrong with him, with his fresh complexion, with his hair, with the way he wore his tie, with the cut of his clothes. in fact, there was nothing right about him. he had been so beset that he could not think of anything but himself. one day, while sauntering along a campus path, with his hands in his pockets, he met two students coming toward him. they went to right and left, and, jerking his hands from his pockets, roared in each ear, "how dare you walk with your hands in your pockets!" another day, on the library step, he encountered a handsome bareheaded youth with a fine, clean-cut face and keen eyes, who showed the true stamp of the great university. "here," he said, sharply, "aren't you a freshman?" "why--yes," confessed ken. "i see you have your trousers turned up at the bottom." "yes--so i have." for the life of him ken could not understand why that simple fact seemed a crime, but so it was. "turn them down!" ordered the student. ken looked into the stern face and flashing eyes of his tormentor, and then meekly did as he had been commanded. "boy, i've saved your life. we murder freshmen here for that," said the student, and then passed on up the steps. in the beginning it was such incidents as these that had bewildered ken. he passed from surprise to anger, and vowed he would have something to say to these upper-classmen. but when the opportunity came ken always felt so little and mean that he could not retaliate. this made him furious. he had not been in college two weeks before he could distinguish the sophomores from the seniors by the look on their faces. he hated the sneering "sophs," and felt rising in him the desire to fight. but he both feared and admired seniors. they seemed so aloof, so far above him. he was in awe of them, and had a hopeless longing to be like them. and as for the freshmen, it took no second glance for ken to pick them out. they were of two kinds--those who banded together in crowds and went about yelling, and running away from the sophs, and those who sneaked about alone with timid step and furtive glance. ken was one of these lonesome freshmen. he was pining for companionship, but he was afraid to open his lips. once he had dared to go into carlton hall, the magnificent club-house which had been given to the university by a famous graduate. the club was for all students--ken had read that on the card sent to him, and also in the papers. but manifestly the upper-classmen had a different point of view. ken had gotten a glimpse into the immense reading-room with its open fireplace and huge chairs, its air of quiet study and repose; he had peeped into the brilliant billiard-hall and the gymnasium; and he had been so impressed and delighted with the marble swimming-tank that he had forgotten himself and walked too near the pool. several students accidentally bumped him into it. it appeared the students were so eager to help him out that they crowded him in again. when ken finally got out he learned the remarkable fact that he was the sixteenth freshman who had been accidentally pushed into the tank that day. so ken ward was in a state of revolt. he was homesick; he was lonely for a friend; he was constantly on the lookout for some trick; his confidence in himself had fled; his opinion of himself had suffered a damaging change; he hardly dared call his soul his own. but that part of his time spent in study or attending lectures more than made up for the other. ken loved his subject and was eager to learn. he had a free hour in the afternoon, and often he passed this in the library, sometimes in the different exhibition halls. he wanted to go into carlton club again, but his experience there made him refrain. one afternoon at this hour ken happened to glance into a lecture-room. it was a large amphitheatre full of noisy students. the benches were arranged in a circle running up from a small pit. seeing safety in the number of students who were passing in, ken went along. he thought he might hear an interesting lecture. it did not occur to him that he did not belong there. the university had many departments and he felt that any lecture-room was open to him. still, caution had become a habit with him, and he stepped down the steep aisle looking for an empty bench. how steep the aisle was! the benches appeared to be on the side of a hill. ken slipped into an empty one. there was something warm and pleasant in the close contact of so many students, in the ripple of laughter and the murmur of voices. ken looked about him with a feeling that he was glad to be there. it struck him, suddenly, that the room had grown strangely silent. even the shuffling steps of the incoming students had ceased. ken gazed upward with a queer sense of foreboding. perhaps he only imagined that all the students above were looking down at him. hurriedly he glanced below. a sea of faces, in circular rows, was turned his way. there was no mistake about it. he was the attraction. at the same instant when he prayed to sink through the bench out of sight a burning anger filled his breast. what on earth had he done now? he knew it was something; he felt it. that quiet moment seemed an age. then the waiting silence burst. "_fresh on fifth!_" yelled a student in one of the lower benches. "fresh on fifth!" bawled another at the top of his lungs. ken's muddled brain could make little of the matter. he saw he was in the fifth row of benches, and that all the way around on either side of him the row was empty. the four lower rows were packed, and above him students were scattered all over. he had the fifth row of benches to himself. "fresh on fifth!" again the call rang up from below. it was repeated, now from the left of the pit and then from the right. a student yelled it from the first row and another from the fourth. it banged back and forth. not a word came from the upper part of the room. ken sat up straight with a very red face. it was his intention to leave the bench, but embarrassment that was developing into resentment held him fast. what a senseless lot these students were! why could they not leave him in peace? how foolish of him to go wandering about in strange lecture-rooms! a hand pressed ken's shoulder. he looked back to see a student bending down toward him. "_hang, freshie!_" this fellow whispered. "what's it all about?" asked ken. "what have i done, anyway? i never was in here before." "all sophs down there. they don't allow freshmen to go below the sixth row. there've been several rushes this term. and the big one's coming. hang, freshie! we're all with you." "fresh on fifth!" the tenor of the cry had subtly changed. good-humored warning had changed to challenge. it pealed up from many lusty throats, and became general all along the four packed rows. "_hang, freshie!_" bellowed a freshman from the topmost row. it was acceptance of the challenge, the battle-cry flung down to the sophs. a roar arose from the pit. the freshmen, outnumbering the sophomores, drowned the roar in a hoarser one. then both sides settled back in ominous waiting. ken thrilled in all his being. the freshmen were with him! that roar told him of united strength. all in a moment he had found comrades, and he clenched his fingers into the bench, vowing he would hang there until hauled away. "fresh on fifth!" shouted a soph in ringing voice. he stood up in the pit and stepped to the back of the second bench. "fresh on fifth! watch me throw him out!" he was a sturdily built young fellow and balanced himself gracefully on the backs of the benches, stepping up from one to the other. there was a bold gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face. he showed good-natured contempt for a freshman and an assurance that was close to authority. ken sat glued to his seat in mingled fear and wrath. was he to be the butt of those overbearing sophomores? he thought he could do nothing but hang on with all his might. the ascending student jumped upon the fourth bench and, reaching up, laid hold of ken with no gentle hands. his grip was so hard that ken had difficulty in stifling a cry of pain. this, however, served to dispel his panic and make him angry clear through. the sophomore pulled and tugged with all his strength, yet he could not dislodge ken. the freshmen howled gleefully for him to "hang! hang!" then two more sophomores leaped up to help the leader. a blank silence followed this move, and all the freshmen leaned forward breathlessly. there was a sharp ripping of cloth. half of ken's coat appeared in the hands of one of his assailants. suddenly ken let go his hold, pushed one fellow violently, then swung his fists. it might have been unfair, for the sophomores were beneath him and balancing themselves on the steep benches, but ken was too angry to think of that. the fellow he pushed fell into the arms of the students below, the second slid out of sight, and the third, who had started the fray, plunged with a crash into the pit. the freshmen greeted this with a wild yell; the sophomores answered likewise. like climbing, tumbling apes the two classes spilled themselves up and down the benches, and those nearest ken laid hold of him, pulling him in opposite directions. then began a fierce fight for possession of luckless ken. both sides were linked together by gripping hands. ken was absolutely powerless. his clothes were torn to tatters in a twinkling; they were soon torn completely off, leaving only his shoes and socks. not only was he in danger of being seriously injured, but students of both sides were handled as fiercely. a heavy trampling roar shook the amphitheatre. as they surged up and down the steep room benches were split. in the beginning the sophomores had the advantage and the tug-of-war raged near the pit and all about it. but the superior numbers of the freshmen began to tell. the web of close-locked bodies slowly mounted up the room, smashing the benches, swaying downward now and then, yet irresistibly gaining ground. the yells of the freshmen increased with the assurance of victory. there was one more prolonged, straining struggle, then ken was pulled away from the sophomores. the wide, swinging doors of the room were knocked flat to let out the stream of wild freshmen. they howled like fiends; it was first blood for the freshman class; the first tug won that year. ken ward came to his senses out in the corridor surrounded by an excited, beaming, and disreputable crowd of freshmen. badly as he was hurt, he had to laugh. some of them looked happy in nothing but torn underclothes. others resembled a lot of ragamuffins. coats were minus sleeves, vests were split, shirts were collarless. blood and bruises were much in evidence. some one helped ken into a long ulster. "say, it was great," said this worthy. "do you know who that fellow was--the first one who tried to throw you out of number five?" "i haven't any idea," replied ken. in fact, he felt that his ideas were as scarce just then as his clothes. "that was the president of the sophs. he's the varsity baseball captain, too. you slugged him!... great!" ken's spirit, low as it was, sank still lower. what miserable luck he had! his one great ambition, next to getting his diploma, had been to make the varsity baseball team. ii a great arm the shock of that battle, more than the bruising he had received, confined ken to his room for a week. when he emerged it was to find he was a marked man; marked by the freshmen with a great and friendly distinction; by the sophomores for revenge. if it had not been for the loss of his baseball hopes, he would have welcomed the chance to become popular with his classmates. but for him it was not pleasant to be reminded that he had "slugged" the sophs' most honored member. it took only two or three meetings with the revengeful sophomores to teach ken that discretion was the better part of valor. he learned that the sophomores of all departments were looking for him with deadly intent. so far luck had enabled him to escape all but a wordy bullying. ken became an expert at dodging. he gave the corridors and campus a wide berth. he relinquished his desire to live in one of the dormitories, and rented a room out in the city. he timed his arrival at the university and his departure. his movements were governed entirely by painfully acquired knowledge of the whereabouts of his enemies. so for weeks ken ward lived like a recluse. he was not one with his college mates. he felt that he was not the only freshman who had gotten a bad start in college. sometimes when he sat near a sad-faced classmate, he knew instinctively that here was a fellow equally in need of friendship. still these freshmen were as backward as he was, and nothing ever came of such feelings. the days flew by and the weeks made months, and all ken did was attend lectures and study. he read everything he could find in the library that had any bearing on forestry. he mastered his text-books before the christmas holidays. about the vacation he had long been undecided; at length he made up his mind not to go home. it was a hard decision to reach. but his college life so far had been a disappointment; he was bitter about it, and he did not want his father to know. judge ward was a graduate of the university. often and long he had talked to ken about university life, the lasting benefit of associations and friendships. he would probably think that his son had barred himself out by some reckless or foolish act. ken was not sure what was to blame; he knew he had fallen in his own estimation, and that the less he thought of himself the more he hated the sophs. on christmas day he went to carlton hall. it was a chance he did not want to miss, for very few students would be there. as it turned out he spent some pleasant hours. but before he left the club his steps led him into the athletic trophy room, and there he was plunged into grief. the place was all ablaze with flags and pennants, silver cups and gold medals, pictures of teams and individuals. there were mounted sculls and oars, footballs and baseballs. the long and proud record of the university was there to be read. all her famous athletes were pictured there, and every one who had fought for his college. ken realized that here for the first time he was in the atmosphere of college spirit for which the university was famed. what would he not have given for a permanent place in that gallery! but it was too late. he had humiliated the captain of the baseball team. ken sought out the picture of the last season's varsity. what a stocky lot of young chaps, all consciously proud of the big letter on their shirts! dale, the captain and pitcher, was in the centre of the group. ken knew his record, and it was a splendid one. ken took another look at dale, another at the famous trainer, murray, and the professional coach, arthurs--men under whom it had been his dream to play--and then he left the room, broken-hearted. when the christmas recess was over he went back to his lectures resigned to the thought that the athletic side of college life was not for him. he studied harder than ever, and even planned to take a course of lectures in another department. also his adeptness in dodging was called upon more and more. the sophs were bound to get him sooner or later. but he did not grow resigned to that; every dodge and flight increased his resentment. presently he knew he would stop and take what they had to give, and retaliate as best he could. only, what would they do to him when they did catch him? he remembered his watch, his money, and clothes, never recovered after that memorable tug-of-war. he minded the loss of his watch most; that gift could never be replaced. it seemed to him that he had been the greater sufferer. one saturday in january ken hurried from his class-room. he was always in a hurry and particularly on saturdays, for that being a short day for most of the departments, there were usually many students passing to and fro. a runaway team clattering down the avenue distracted him from his usual caution, and he cut across the campus. some one stopped the horses, and a crowd collected. when ken got there many students were turning away. ken came face to face with a tall, bronze-haired, freckle-faced sophomore, whom he had dodged more than once. there was now no use to dodge; he had to run or stand his ground. "boys, here's that slugging freshie!" yelled the soph. "we've got him now." he might have been an indian chief so wild was the whoop that answered him. "lead us to him!" "oh, what we won't do to that freshie!" "come on, boys!" ken heard these yells, saw a number of boys dash at him, then he broke and ran as if for his life. the sophs, a dozen strong, yelling loudly, strung out after him. ken headed across the campus. he was fleet of foot, and gained on his pursuers. but the yells brought more sophs on the scene, and they turned ken to the right. he spurted for carlton hall, and almost ran into the arms of still more sophomores. turning tail, he fled toward the library. when he looked back it was to see the bronze-haired leader within a hundred yards, and back of him a long line of shouting students. if there was a place to hide round that library ken could not find it. in this circuit he lost ground. moreover, he discovered he had not used good judgment in choosing that direction. all along the campus was a high iron fence. ken thought desperately hard for an instant, then with renewed speed he bounded straight for college hall. this was the stronghold of the sophomores. as ken sped up the gravel walk his pursuers split their throats. "run, you freshie!" yelled one. "the more you run--" yelled another. "the more we'll skin you!" finished a third. ken ran into the passageway leading through college hall. it was full of sophs hurrying toward the door to see where the yells came from. when ken plunged into their midst some one recognized him and burst out with the intelligence. at the same moment ken's pursuers banged through the swinging doors. a yell arose then in the constricted passageway that seemed to ken to raise college hall from its foundation. it terrified him. like an eel he slipped through reaching arms and darted forward. ken was heavy and fast on his feet, and with fear lending him wings he made a run through college hall that would have been a delight to the football coach. for ken was not dodging any sophomores now. he had played his humiliating part of dodger long enough. he knocked them right and left, and many a surprised soph he tumbled over. reaching the farther door, he went through out into the open. the path before him was clear now, and he made straight for the avenue. it was several hundred yards distant, and he got a good start toward it before the sophs rolled like a roaring stream from the passage. ken saw other students running, and also men and boys out on the avenue; but as they could not head him off he kept to his course. on that side of the campus a high, narrow stairway, lined by railings, led up to the sidewalk. when ken reached it he found the steps covered with ice. he slipped and fell three times in the ascent, while his frantic pursuers gained rapidly. ken mounted to the sidewalk, gave vent to a gasp of relief, and, wheeling sharply, he stumbled over two boys carrying a bushel basket of potatoes. when he saw the large, round potatoes a daring inspiration flashed into his mind. taking the basket from the boys he turned to the head of the stairway. the bronze-haired soph was half-way up the steps. his followers, twelve or more, were climbing after him. then a line of others stretched all the way to college hall. with a grim certainty of his mastery of the situation ken threw a huge potato at his leading pursuer. fair and square on the bronze head it struck with a sharp crack. like a tenpin the soph went down. he plumped into the next two fellows, knocking them off their slippery footing. the three fell helplessly and piled up their comrades in a dense wedge half-way down the steps. if the sophs had been yelling before, it was strange to note how they were yelling now. deliberately ken fired the heavy missiles. they struck with sodden thuds against the bodies of the struggling sophomores. a poor thrower could not very well have missed that mark, and ken ward was remarkably accurate. he had a powerful overhand swing, and the potatoes flew like bullets. one wild-eyed soph slipped out of the tangle to leap up the steps. ken, throwing rather low, hit him on the shin. he buckled and dropped down with a blood-curdling yell. another shook himself loose and faced upward. a better-aimed shot took him in the shoulder. he gave an exhibition of a high and lofty somersault. then two more started up abreast. the first ken hit over the eye with a very small potato, which popped like an explosive bullet and flew into bits. as far as effect was concerned a martini could not have caused a more beautiful fall. ken landed on the second fellow in the pit of the stomach with a very large potato. there was a sound as of a suddenly struck bass-drum. the soph crumpled up over the railing, slid down, and fell among his comrades, effectually blocking the stairway. for the moment ken had stopped the advance. the sophomores had been checked by one wild freshman. there was scarcely any doubt about ken's wildness. he had lost his hat; his dishevelled hair stood up like a mane; every time he hurled a potato he yelled. but there was nothing wild about his aim. all at once he turned his battery on the students gathering below the crush, trying to find a way through the kicking, slipping mass on the narrow stairs. he scattered them as if they had been quail. some ran out of range. others dove for cover and tried to dodge. this dodging brought gleeful howls from ken. "dodge, you indian!" yelled ken, as he threw. and seldom it was that dodging was of any use. then, coming to the end of his ammunition, he surveyed the battle-field beneath him and, turning, ran across the avenue and down a street. at the corner of the block he looked back. there was one man coming, but he did not look like a student. so ken slackened his pace and bent his steps toward his boarding-house. "by george! i stole those potatoes!" he exclaimed, presently. "i wonder how i can make that good." several times as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw the man he had noticed at first. but that did not trouble him, for he was sure no one else was following him. ken reached his room exhausted by exertion and excitement. he flung himself upon his bed to rest and calm his mind so that he could think. if he had been in a bad light before, what was his position now? beyond all reasoning with, however, was the spirit that gloried in his last stand. "by george!" he kept saying. "i wouldn't have missed that--not for anything. they made my life a nightmare. i'll have to leave college--go somewhere else--but i don't care." later, after dinner as he sat reading, he heard a door-bell ring, a man's voice, then footsteps in the hall. some one tapped on his door. ken felt a strange, cold sensation, which soon passed, and he spoke: "come in." the door opened to admit a short man with little, bright eyes sharp as knives. "hello, kid," he said. then he leisurely removed his hat and overcoat and laid them on the bed. ken's fear of he knew not what changed to amazement. at least his visitor did not belong to the faculty. there was something familiar about the man, yet ken could not place him. "well up in your studies?" he asked, cordially. then he seated himself, put a hand on each knee, and deliberately and curiously studied ken. "why, yes, pretty well up," replied ken. he did not know how to take the man. there was a kindliness about him which relieved ken, yet there was also a hard scrutiny that was embarrassing. "all by your lonely here," he said. "it is lonely," replied ken, "but--but i don't get on very well with the students." "small wonder. most of 'em are crazy." he was unmistakably friendly. ken kept wondering where he had seen him. presently the man arose, and, with a wide smile on his face, reached over and grasped ken's right arm. "how's the whip?" "what?" asked ken. "the wing--your arm, kid, your arm." "oh--why, it's all right." "it's not sore--not after peggin' a bushel of potatoes on a cold day?" ken laughed and raised his arm up and down. "it's weak to-night, but not sore." "these boys with their india-rubber arms! it's youth, kid, it's youth. say, how old are you?" "sixteen." "what! no more than that?" "no." "how much do you weigh?" "about one hundred and fifty-six." "i thought you had some beef back of that stunt of yours to-day. say, kid, it was the funniest and the best thing i've seen at the university in ten years--and i've seen some fresh boys do some stunts, i have. well... kid, you've a grand whip--a great arm--and we're goin' to do some stunts with it." ken felt something keen and significant in the very air. "a great arm! for what?... who are you?" "say, i thought every boy in college knew me. i'm arthurs." "the baseball coach! are you the baseball coach?" exclaimed ken, jumping up with his heart in his throat. "that's me, my boy; and i'm lookin' you up." ken suddenly choked with thronging emotions and sat down as limp as a rag. "yes, kid, i'm after you strong. the way you pegged 'em to-day got me. you've a great arm!" iii prisoner of the sophs "but if--it's really true--that i've a great arm," faltered ken, "it won't ever do me any good. i could never get on the varsity." "why not?" demanded the coach. "i'll make a star of a youngster like you, if you'll take coachin'. why not?" "oh, you don't know," returned ken, with a long face. "say, you haven't struck me as a kid with no nerve. what's wrong with you?" "it was i who slugged captain dale and caused that big rush between the freshmen and sophomores. i've lived like a hermit ever since." "so it was you who hit dale. well--that's bad," replied arthurs. he got up with sober face and began to walk the floor. "i remember the eye he had. it was a sight.... but dale's a good fellow. he'll--" "i'd do anything on earth to make up for that," burst out ken. "good! i'll tell you what we'll do," said arthurs, his face brightening. "we'll go right down to dale's room now. i'll fix it up with him somehow. the sooner the better. i'm goin' to call the baseball candidates to the cage soon." they put on coats and hats and went out. evidently the coach was thinking hard, for he had nothing to say, but he kept a reassuring hand on ken's arm. they crossed the campus along the very path where ken had fled from the sophomores. the great circle of dormitories loomed up beyond with lights shining in many windows. arthurs led ken through a court-yard and into a wide, bright hallway. their steps sounded with hollow click upon the tiled floor. they climbed three flights of stairs, and then arthurs knocked at a door. ken's heart palpitated. it was all so sudden; he did not know what he was going to say or do. he did not care what happened to him if arthurs could only, somehow, put him right with the captain. a merry voice bade them enter. the coach opened the door and led ken across the threshold. ken felt the glow of a warm, bright room, colorful with pennants and posters, and cozy in its disorder. then he saw dale and, behind him, several other students. there was a moment's silence in which ken heard his heart beat. dale rose slowly from his seat, the look on his frank face changing from welcome to intense amazement and then wild elation. "whoop!" he shouted. "lock the door! worry arthurs, this's your best bet ever!" dale dashed at the coach, hugged him frantically, then put his head out of the door to bawl: "sophs! sophs! sophs! hurry call! number nine!... oh, my!" then he faced about, holding the door partially open. he positively beamed upon the coach. "say, cap, what's eatin' you?" asked arthurs. he looked dumfounded. ken hung to him desperately; he thought he knew what was coming. there were hurried footsteps in the corridor and excited voices. "worry, it's bully of you to bring this freshman here," declared the captain. "well, what of it?" demanded the coach. "i looked him up to-night. he's got a great arm, and will be good material for the team. he told me about the little scrap you had in the lecture-room. he lost his temper, and no wonder. anyway, he's sorry, cap, and i fetched him around to see if you couldn't make it up. how about it, kid?" "i'm sorry--awfully sorry, captain dale," blurted out ken. "i was mad and scared, too--then you fellows hurt me. so i hit right out.... but i'll take my medicine." "so--oh!" ejaculated dale. "well, this beats the deuce! _that's_ why you're here?" the door opened wide to admit half a dozen eager-faced youths. "fellows, here's a surprise," said dale. "young ward, the freshman! the elusive slugging freshman, fast on his feet, and, as worry here says, a lad with a great arm!" "ward!" roared the sophs in unison. "hold on, fellows--wait--no rough-house yet--wait," ordered dale. "ward's here of his own free will!" silence ensued after the captain spoke. while he turned to lock the door the sophs stared open-mouthed at ken. arthurs had a worried look, and he kept his hand on ken. dale went to a table and began filling his pipe. then he fixed sharp, thoughtful eyes upon his visitors. "worry, you say you brought this freshman here to talk baseball?" he asked. "sure i did," blustered arthurs. it was plain now where he got the name that dale called him. "what's in the wind, anyhow?" dale then gravely spoke to ken. "so you came here to see me? sorry you slugged me once? want to make up for it somehow, because you think you've a chance for the team, and don't want me to be sore on you? that it?" "not exactly," replied ken. "i'd want to let you get square with me even if you weren't the varsity captain." "well, you've more than squared yourself with me--by coming here. you'll realize that presently. but don't you know what's happened, what the freshmen have done?" "no; i don't." "you haven't been near the university since this afternoon when you pulled off the potato stunt?" "i should say i haven't." this brought a laugh from the sophs. "you were pretty wise," went on dale. "the sophs didn't love you then. but they're going to--understand?" ken shook his head, too bewildered and mystified to reply. "well, now, here's giraffe boswick. look what you did to him!" ken's glance followed the wave of dale's hand and took in the tall, bronze-haired sophomore who had led the chase that afternoon. boswick wore a huge discolored bruise over his left eye. it was hideous. ken was further sickened to recollect that boswick was one of the varsity pitchers. but the fellow was smiling amiably at ken, as amiably as one eye would permit. the plot thickened about ken. he felt his legs trembling under him. "boswick, you forgive ward, don't you--now?" continued dale, with a smile. "with all my heart!" exclaimed the pitcher. "to see him here would make me forgive anything." coach arthurs was ill at ease. he evidently knew students, and he did not relish the mystery, the hidden meaning. "say, you wise guys make me sick," he called out, gruffly. "here's a kid that comes right among you. he's on the level, and more'n that, he's game! now, cap, i fetched him here, and i won't stand for a whole lot. get up on your toes! get it over!" "sit down worry, here's a cigar--light up," said dale, soothingly. "it's all coming right, lovely, i say. ward was game to hunt me up, a thousand times gamer than he knows.... see here, ward, where are you from?" "i live a good long day's travel from the university," answered ken, evasively. "i thought so. did you ever hear of the bowl-fight, the great event of the year here at wayne university?" "yes, i've heard--read a little about it. but i don't know what it is." "i'll tell you," went on dale. "there are a number of yearly rushes and scrapes between the freshmen and sophomores, but the bowl-fight is the one big meeting, the time-honored event. it has been celebrated here for many years. it takes place on a fixed date. briefly, here's what comes off: the freshmen have the bowl in their keeping this year because they won it in the last fight. they are to select one of their number, always a scrappy fellow, and one honored by the class, and they call him the bowl-man. a week before the fight, on a certain date, the freshmen hide this bowl-man or protect him from the sophomores until the day of the fight, when they all march to grant field in fighting-togs. should the sophomores chance to find him and hold him prisoner until after the date of the bowl-fight they win the bowl. the same applies also in case the bowl is in possession of the sophomores. but for ten years neither class has captured the other's bowl-man. so they have fought it out on the field until the bowl was won." "well, what has all that got to do with me?" asked ken. he felt curiously light-headed. "it has a _little_ to do with you--hasn't it, fellows?" said dale, in slow, tantalizing voice. worry arthurs lost his worried look and began to smile and rub his hands. "ward, look here," added dale, now speaking sharply. "you've been picked for the bowl-man!" "me--me?" stammered ken. "no other. the freshmen were late in choosing a man this year. to-day, after your stunt--holding up that bunch of sophomores--they had a meeting in carlton club and picked you. most of them didn't even know your name. i'll bet the whole freshman class is hunting for you right now." "what for?" queried ken, weakly. "why, i told you. the bowl-fight is only a week off--and here you are. _and here you'll stay until that date's past!_" ken drew a quick breath. he began to comprehend. the sudden huzzahs of dale's companions gave him further enlightenment. "but, captain dale," he said, breathlessly, "if it's so--if my class has picked me--i can't throw them down. i don't know a soul in my class. i haven't a friend. but i won't throw them down--not to be forever free of dodging sophs--not even to square myself with you." "ward, you're all right!" shouted dale, his eyes shining. in the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching him intently, ken ward instinctively felt that his measure had been taken. "i won't stay here," said ken, and for the first time his voice rang. "oh yes, you will," replied dale, laughing. quick as a cat ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half open before some one clutched him. then dale was on him close and hard. ken began to struggle. he was all muscle, and twice he broke from them. "his legs! grab his legs! he's a young bull!" "we'll trim you now, freshie!" "you potato-masher!" "go for his wind!" fighting and wrestling with all his might ken went down under a half dozen sophomores. then dale was astride his chest, and others were sitting on his hands and feet. "boys, don't hurt that arm!" yelled worry arthurs. "ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?" asked dale. "you can't get away. the thing to do is to give your word not to try. we want to make this easy for you. your word of honor, now?" "never!" cried ken. "i knew you wouldn't," said dale. "we'll have to keep you under guard." they let him get up. he was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and one of his knuckles was skinned. that short struggle had been no joke. the sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. still, he was made to feel at ease. they could not do enough for him. "it's tough luck, ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this way," said dale. "but you couldn't help it. you will be kept in my rooms until after the fifteenth. meals will be brought you, and your books; everything will be done for your comfort. your whereabouts, of course, will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. worry, remember you are bound to silence. and ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill wind that blew you here. you've had your last scrap with a soph, that's sure. as for what brought you here--it's more than square; and i'll say this: if you can play ball as well as you can scrap, old wayne has got a star." iv the call for candidates there were five rooms in dale's suite in the dormitory, and three other sophomores shared them with him. they confined ken in the end room, where he was safely locked and guarded from any possible chance to escape. for the first day or two it was irksome for ken; but as he and his captors grew better acquainted the strain eased up, and ken began to enjoy himself as he had not since coming to the university. he could not have been better provided for. his books were at hand, and even notes of the lectures he was missing were brought to him. the college papers and magazines interested him, and finally he was much amused by an account of his mysterious disappearance. all in a day he found himself famous. then dale and his room-mates were so friendly and jolly that if his captivity had not meant the disgrace of the freshman class, ken would have rejoiced in it. he began to thaw out, though he did not lose his backwardness. the life of the great university began to be real to him. almost the whole sophomore class, in squads of twos and threes and sixes, visited dale's rooms during that week. no soph wanted to miss a sight of a captive bowl-man. ken felt so callow and fresh in their presence that he scarcely responded to their jokes. worry arthur's nickname of "kid" vied with another the coach conferred on ken, and that was "peg." it was significant slang expressing the little baseball man's baseball notion of ken's throwing power. the evening was the most interesting time for ken. there was always something lively going on. he wondered when the boys studied. when some of the outside students dropped in there were banjo and guitar playing, college songs, and college gossip. "come on, peg, be a good fellow," they said, and laughed at his refusal to smoke or drink beer. "molly!" mocked one. "willy-boy!" added another. ken was callow, young, and backward; but he had a temper, and this kind of banter roused it easily. the red flamed into his cheeks. "i promised my mother i wouldn't smoke or drink or gamble while i was in college," he retorted, struggling with shame and anger. "and i--i won't." dale stopped the good-natured chaff. "fellows, stop guying ward; cut it out, i tell you. he's only a kid freshman, but he's liable to hand you a punch, and if he does you'll remember it. besides, he's right.... look here, ward, you stick to that promise. it's a good promise to stick to, and if you're going in for athletics it's the best ever." worry arthurs happened to be present on this evening, and he seconded dale in more forceful speech. "there's too much boozin' and smokin' of them coffin nails goin' on in this college. it's none of my affair except with the boys i'm coachin', and if i ketch any one breakin' my rules after we go to the trainin'-table he'll sit on the bench. there's murray; why, he says there are fellows in college who could break records if they'd train. half of sprintin' or baseball or football is condition." "oh, worry, you and mac always make a long face over things. wayne has won a few championships, hasn't she?" "the varsity ball team will be a frost this year, that's sure," replied arthurs, gloomily. "how do you make that out?" demanded dale, plainly nettled. "you've hinted it before to me. why won't we be stronger than last season? didn't we have a crackerjack team, the fastest that ever represented old wayne? didn't we smother the small college teams and beat place twice, shut out herne the first game, and play for a tie the second?" "you'll see, all right, all right," replied arthurs, gloomier than ever; and he took his hat and went out. dale slammed his cards down on the table. "fellows, is it any wonder we call him worry? already he's begun to fuss over the team. ever since he's been here he has driven the baseball captains and managers crazy. it's only his way, but it's so irritating. he's a magnificent coach, and wayne owes her great baseball teams to him. but he's hard on captains. i see my troubles. the idea of this year's team being a frost--with all the old stars back in college--with only two positions to fill! and there are half a dozen cracks in college to fight for these two positions--fellows i played against on the summer nines last year. worry's idea is ridiculous." this bit of baseball talk showed ken the obstacles in the way of a freshman making the varsity team. what a small chance there would be for him! still he got a good deal of comfort out of arthurs' interest in him, and felt that he would be happy to play substitute this season, and make the varsity in his sophomore year. the day of the bowl-fight passed, and ken's captivity became history. the biggest honor of the sophomore year went to dale and his room-mates. ken returned to his department, where he was made much of, as he had brought fame to a new and small branch of the great university. it was a pleasure to walk the campus without fear of being pounced upon. ken's dodging and loneliness--perhaps necessary and curbing nightmares in the life of a freshman--were things of the past. he made acquaintances, slowly lost his backwardness, and presently found college life opening to him bright and beautiful. ken felt strongly about things. and as his self-enforced exile had been lonely and bitter, so now his feeling that he was really a part of the great university seemed almost too good to be true. he began to get a glimmering of the meaning of his father's love for the old college. students and professors underwent some vague change in his mind. he could not tell what, he did not think much about it, but there was a warmer touch, a sense of something nearer to him. then suddenly a blow fell upon the whole undergraduate body. it was a thunderbolt. it affected every student, but ken imagined it concerned his own college fortunes more intimately. the athletic faculty barred every member of the varsity baseball team! the year before the faculty had advised and requested the players not to become members of the summer baseball nines. their wishes had not been heeded. captain dale and his fast players had been much in demand by the famous summer nines. some of them went to the orange athletic club, others to richfield springs, others to cape may, and dale himself had captained the atlantic city team. the action of the faculty was commended by the college magazine. even the students, though chafing under it, could not but acknowledge its justice. the other universities had adopted such a rule, and wayne must fall in line. the objections to summer ball-playing were not few, and the particular one was that it affected the amateur standing of the college player. he became open to charges of professionalism. at least, all his expenses were paid, and it was charged that usually he was paid for his services. ken's first feeling when he learned this news was one of blank dismay. the great varsity team wiped off the slate! how place and herne would humble old wayne this year! then the long, hard schedule, embracing thirty games, at least one with every good team in the east--how would an untried green team fare against that formidable array? then ken suddenly felt ashamed of a selfish glee, for he was now sure of a place on the varsity. for several days nothing else was talked about by the students. whenever dale or his players appeared at carlton hall they were at once surrounded by a sympathetic crowd. if it was a bitter blow to the undergraduates, what was it to the members of the varsity? their feeling showed in pale, stern faces. it was reported about the campus that murray and arthurs and dale, with the whole team, went to the directors of the athletic faculty and besought them to change or modify the decision. both the trainer and the coach, who had brought such glory to the university, threatened to resign their places. the disgrace of a pitiably weak team of freshmen being annihilated by minor colleges was eloquently put before the directors. but the decision was final. one evening early in february worry arthurs called upon ken. his face was long, and his mustache drooped. "kid, what do you think of 'em fat-heads on the faculty queerin' my team?" he asked. "best team i ever developed. say, but the way they could work the hit-and-run game! any man on the team could hit to right field when there was a runner goin' down from first." "maybe things will turn out all right," suggested ken, hopefully. worry regarded his youthful sympathizer with scorn. "it takes two years to teach most college kids the rudiments of baseball. look at this year's schedule." worry produced a card and waved it at ken. "the hardest schedule wayne ever had! and i've got to play a kid team." ken was afraid to utter any more of his hopes, and indeed he felt them to be visionary. "the call for candidates goes out to-morrow," went on the coach. "i'll bet there'll be a mob at the cage. every fool kid in the university will think he's sure of a place. now, ward, what have you played?" "everywhere; but infield mostly." "every kid has played the whole game. what position have you played most?" "third base." "good! you've the arm for that. well, i'm anxious to see you work, but don't exert yourself in the cage. this is a tip. see! i'll be busy weedin' out the bunch, and won't have time until we get out on the field. you can run around the track every day, get your wind and your legs right, hold in on your arm. the cage is cold. i've seen many a good wing go to the bad there. but your chance looks good. college baseball is different from any other kind. you might say it's played with the heart. i've seen youngsters go in through grit and spirit, love of playin' for their college, and beat out fellows who were their superiors physically. well, good-night.... say, there's one more thing. i forgot it. are you up in your subjects?" "i surely am," replied ken. "i've had four months of nothing but study." "the reason i ask is this: that faculty has made another rule, the one-year residence rule, they call it. you have to pass your exams, get your first year over, before you can represent any athletic club. so, in case i can use you on the team, you would have to go up for your exams two months or more ahead of time. that scare you?" "not a bit. i could pass mine right now," answered ken, confidently. "kid, you and me are goin' to get along.... well, good-night, and don't forget what i said." ken was too full for utterance; he could scarcely mumble good-night to the coach. he ran up-stairs three steps to the jump, and when he reached his room he did a war dance and ended by standing on his head. when he had gotten rid of his exuberance he sat down at once to write to his brother hal about it, and also his forest-ranger friend, dick leslie, with whom he had spent an adventurous time the last summer. at carlton hall, next day, ken saw a crowd of students before the bulletin-board and, edging in, he read the following notice: baseball! call for candidates for the varsity baseball team the athletic directors of the university earnestly request every student who can play ball, or who thinks he can, to present himself to coach arthurs at the cage on feb. rd. there will be no freshman team this year, and a new team entirely will be chosen for the varsity. every student will have a chance. applicants are requested to familiarize themselves with the new eligibility rules. v the cage ken ward dug down into his trunk for his old baseball suit and donned it with strange elation. it was dirty and torn, and the shoes that went with it were worn out, but ken was thinking of what hard ball-playing they represented. he put his overcoat on over his sweater, took up his glove and sallied forth. a thin coating of ice and snow covered the streets. winter still whistled in the air. to ken in his eagerness spring seemed a long way off. on his way across the campus he saw strings of uniformed boys making for grant field, and many wearing sweaters over their every-day clothes. the cage was situated at one end of the field apart from the other training-quarters. when ken got there he found a mob of players crowding to enter the door of the big barn-like structure. others were hurrying away. near the door a man was taking up tickets like a doorkeeper of a circus, and he kept shouting: "get your certificates from the doctor. every player must pass a physical examination. get your certificates." ken turned somewhat in disgust at so much red tape and he jostled into a little fellow, almost knocking him over. "wull! why don't you fall all over me?" growled this amiable individual. "for two cents i'd hand you one." the apology on ken's lips seemed to halt of its own accord. "sorry i haven't any change in these clothes," returned ken. he saw a wiry chap, older than he was, but much smaller, and of most aggressive front. he had round staring eyes, a protruding jaw, and his mouth turned down at the corners. he wore a disreputable uniform and a small green cap over one ear. "aw! don't get funny!" he replied. ken moved away muttering to himself: "that fellow's a grouch." much to his amazement, when he got to the training-house, ken found that he could not get inside because so many players were there ahead of him. after waiting an hour or more he decided he could not have his physical examination at that time, and he went back to the cage. the wide door was still blocked with players, but at the other end of the building ken found an entrance. he squeezed into a crowd of students and worked forward until stopped by a railing. ken was all eyes and breathless with interest. the cage was a huge, open, airy room, lighted by many windows, and, with the exception of the platform where he stood, it was entirely enclosed by heavy netting. the floor was of bare ground well raked and loosened to make it soft. this immense hall was full of a motley crowd of aspiring ball-players. worry arthurs, with his head sunk in the collar of his overcoat, and his shoulders hunched up as if he was about to spring upon something, paced up and down the rear end of the cage. behind him a hundred or more players in line slowly marched toward the slab of rubber which marked the batting position. ken remembered that the celebrated coach always tried out new players at the bat first. it was his belief that batting won games. "bunt one and hit one!" he yelled to the batters. from the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the plate. ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was no pitcher. "stop posin', and pitch!" yelled arthurs. one by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at balls and essayed bunts. few hit the ball out and none made a creditable bunt. after their turn at bat they were ordered to the other end of the cage, where they fell over one another trying to stop the balls that were hit. every few moments the coach would yell for one of them, any one, to take a turn at pitching. ken noticed that arthurs gave a sharp glance at each new batter, and one appeared to be sufficient. more and more ambitious players crowded into the cage, until there were so many that batted balls rarely missed hitting some one. presently ken ward awoke from his thrilling absorption in the scene to note another side of it. the students around him were making game of the players. "what a bunch!" "look at that fuzzy gosling with the yellow pants!" "keep your shanks out of the way, freshie!" "couldn't hit a balloon!" whenever a batter hit a ball into the crowd of dodging players down the cage these students howled with glee. ken discovered that he was standing near captain dale and other members of the barred varsity. "say, dale, how do the candidates shape up?" asked a student. "this is a disgrace to wayne," declared dale, bitterly. "i never saw such a mob of spindle-legged kids in my life. look at them! scared to death! that fellow never swung at a ball before--that one never heard of a bunt--they throw like girls--oh! this is sickening, fellows. i see where worry goes to his grave this year and old wayne gets humbled by one-horse colleges." ken took one surprised glance at the captain he had admired so much and then he slipped farther over in the crowd. perhaps dale had spoken truth, yet somehow it jarred upon ken's sensitive nature. the thing that affected ken most was the earnestness of the uniformed boys trying their best to do well before the great coach. some were timid, uncertain; others were rash and over-zealous. many a ball cracked off a player's knee or wrist, and more than once ken saw a bloody finger. it was cold in the cage. even an ordinarily hit ball must have stung the hands, and the way a hard grounder cracked was enough to excite sympathy among those scornful spectators, if nothing more. but they yelled in delight at every fumble, at everything that happened. ken kept whispering to himself: "i can't see the fun in it. i can't!" arthurs dispensed with the bunting and ordered one hit each for the batters. "step up and hit!" he ordered, hoarsely. "don't be afraid--never mind that crowd--step into the ball and swing natural.... next! hurry, boys!" suddenly a deep-chested student yelled out with a voice that drowned every other sound. "hard luck, worry! no use! you'll never find a hitter among those misfits!" the coach actually leaped up in his anger and his face went from crimson to white. ken thought it was likely that he recognized the voice. "you knocker! you knocker!" he cried. "that's a fine college spirit, ain't it? you're a fine lot of students, i don't think. now shut up, every one of you, or i'll fire you out of the cage.... and right here at the start you knockers take this from me--i'll find more than one hitter among those kids!" a little silence fell while the coach faced that antagonistic crowd of spectators. ken was amazed the second time, and now because of the intensity of feeling that seemed to hang in the air. ken felt a warm rush go over him, and that moment added greatly to his already strong liking for worry arthurs. then the coach turned to his work, the batting began again, and the crack of the ball, the rush of feet, the sharp cries of the players mingled once more with the laughter and caustic wit of the unsympathetic audience. ken ward went back to his room without having removed his overcoat. he was thoughtful that night and rebellious against the attitude of the student body. a morning paper announced the fact that over three hundred candidates had presented themselves to coach arthurs. it went on to say that the baseball material represented was not worth considering and that old wayne's varsity team must be ranked with those of the fifth-rate colleges. this, following ken's experience at the cage on the first day, made him angry and then depressed. the glamour of the thing seemed to fade away. ken lost the glow, the exhilaration of his first feelings. everybody took a hopeless view of wayne's baseball prospects. ken ward, however, was not one to stay discouraged long, and when he came out of his gloom it was with his fighting spirit roused. once and for all he made up his mind to work heart and soul for his college, to be loyal to arthurs, to hope and believe in the future of the new varsity, whether or not he was lucky enough to win a place upon it. next day, going early to the training-quarters, he took his place in a squad waiting for the physical examination. it was a wearisome experience. at length ken's turn came with two other players, one of whom he recognized as the sour-complexioned fellow of the day before. "wull, you're pretty fresh," he said to ken as they went in. he had a most exasperating manner. "say, i don't like you a whole lot," retorted ken. then a colored attendant ushered them into a large room in which were several men. the boys were stripped to the waist. "come here, murray," said the doctor. "there's some use in looking these boys over, particularly this husky youngster." a tall man in a white sweater towered over ken. it was the famous trainer. he ran his hands over ken's smooth skin and felt of the muscles. "can you run?" he asked. "yes," replied ken. "are you fast?" "yes." further inquiries brought from ken his name, age, weight, that he had never been ill, had never used tobacco or intoxicating drinks. "ward, eh? 'peg' ward," said murray, smiling. "worry arthurs has the call on you--else, my boy, i'd whisper football in your ear. mebbe i will, anyhow, if you keep up in your studies. that'll do for you." ken's companions also won praise from the trainer. they gave their names as raymond and weir. the former weighed only one hundred and twenty-two, but he was a knot of muscles. the other stood only five feet, but he was very broad and heavy, his remarkably compact build giving an impression of great strength. both replied in the negative to the inquiries as to use of tobacco or spirits. "boys, that's what we like to hear," said the doctor. "you three ought to pull together." ken wondered what the doctor would have said if he had seen the way these three boys glared at each other in the dressing-room. and he wondered, too, what was the reason for such open hostility. the answer came to him in the thought that perhaps they were both trying for the position he wanted on the varsity. most likely they had the same idea about him. that was the secret of little raymond's pugnacious front and weir's pompous air; and ken realized that the same reason accounted for his own attitude toward them. he wanted very much to tell raymond that he was a little grouch and weir that he looked like a puffed-up toad. all the same ken was not blind to weir's handsome appearance. the sturdy youngster had an immense head, a great shock of bright brown hair, flashing gray eyes, and a clear bronze skin. "they'll both make the team, i'll bet," thought ken. "they look it. i hope i don't have to buck against them." then as they walked toward the cage ken forced himself to ask genially: "raymond, what're you trying for? and you, weir?" "wull, if it's any of your fresh business, i'm not _trying_ for any place. i'm going to play infield. you can carry my bat," replied raymond, sarcastically. "much obliged," retorted ken, "i'm not going to substitute. i've a corner on that varsity infield myself." weir glanced at them with undisguised disdain. "you can save yourselves useless work by not trying for my position. i intend to play infield." "wull, puff-up, now, puff-up!" growled raymond. thus the three self-appointed stars of the varsity bandied words among themselves as they crossed the field. at the cage door they became separated to mingle with the pushing crowd of excited boys in uniforms. by dint of much squeezing and shoulder-work ken got inside the cage. he joined the squad in the upper end and got in line for the batting. worry arthurs paced wildly to and fro yelling for the boys to hit. a dense crowd of students thronged the platform and laughed, jeered, and stormed at the players. the cage was in such an uproar that arthurs could scarcely be heard. watching from the line ken saw weir come to bat and stand aggressively and hit the ball hard. it scattered the flock of fielders. then raymond came along, and, batting left-handed, did likewise. arthurs stepped forward and said something to both. after ken's turn at bat the coach said to him: "get out of here. go run round the track. do it every day. don't come back until monday." as ken hurried out he saw and felt the distinction with which he was regarded by the many players whom he crowded among in passing. when he reached the track he saw weir, raymond, and half a dozen other fellows going round at a jog-trot. weir was in the lead, setting the pace. ken fell in behind. the track was the famous quarter-mile track upon which murray trained his sprinters. when ken felt the spring of the cinder-path in his feet, the sensation of buoyancy, the eager wildfire pride that flamed over him, he wanted to break into headlong flight. the first turn around the track was delight; the second pleasure in his easy stride; the third brought a realization of distance. when ken had trotted a mile he was not tired, he still ran easily, but he began to appreciate that his legs were not wings. the end of the second mile found him sweating freely and panting. two miles were enough for the first day. ken knew it and he began to wonder why the others, especially weir, did not know it. but weir jogged on, his head up, his hair flying, as if he had not yet completed his first quarter. the other players stretched out behind him. ken saw raymond's funny little green cap bobbing up and down, and it made him angry. why could not the grouch get a decent cap, anyway? at the end of the third mile ken began to labor. his feet began to feel weighted, his legs to ache, his side to hurt. he was wringing wet; his skin burned; his breath whistled. but he kept doggedly on. it had become a contest now. ken felt instinctively that every runner would not admit he had less staying power than the others. ken declared to himself that he could be as bull-headed as any of them. still to see weir jogging on steady and strong put a kind of despair on ken. for every lap of the fourth mile a runner dropped out, and at the half of the fifth only weir, raymond, and ken kept to the track. ken hung on gasping at every stride. he was afraid his heart would burst. the pain in his side was as keen as a knife thrust. his feet were lead. every rod he felt must be his last, yet spurred on desperately, and he managed to keep at the heels of the others. it might kill him, but he would not stop until he dropped. raymond was wagging along ready to fall any moment, and weir was trotting slowly with head down. on the last lap of the fifth mile they all stopped as by one accord. raymond fell on the grass; ken staggered to a bench, and weir leaned hard against the fence. they were all blowing like porpoises and regarded each other as mortal enemies. weir gazed grandly at the other two; raymond glowered savagely at him and then at ken; and ken in turn gave them withering glances. without a word the three contestants for a place on the varsity then went their several ways. vi out on the field when ken presented himself at the cage on the following monday it was to find that arthurs had weeded out all but fifty of the candidates. every afternoon for a week the coach put these players through batting and sliding practice, then ordered them out to run around the track. on the next monday only twenty-five players were left, and as the number narrowed down the work grew more strenuous, the rivalry keener, and the tempers of the boys more irascible. ken discovered it was work and not by any means pleasant work. he fortified himself by the thought that the pleasure and glory, the real play, was all to come as a reward. worry arthurs drove them relentlessly. nothing suited him; not a player knew how to hold a bat, to stand at the plate, to slide right, or to block a ground ball. "don't hit with your left hand on top--unless you're left-handed. don't grip the end of the bat. there! hold steady now, step out and into the ball, and swing clean and level. if you're afraid of bein' hit by the ball, get out of here!" it was plain to ken that not the least of arthurs' troubles was the incessant gibing of the students on the platform. there was always a crowd watching the practice, noisy, scornful, abusive. they would never recover from the shock of having that seasoned champion varsity barred out of athletics. every once in a while one of them would yell out: "wait, worry! oh! worry, wait till the old varsity plays your yanigans!" and every time the coach's face would burn. but he had ceased to talk back to the students. besides, the athletic directors were always present. they mingled with the candidates and talked baseball to them and talked to arthurs. some of them might have played ball once, but they did not talk like it. their advice and interference served only to make the coach's task harder. another monday found only twenty players in the squad. that day arthurs tried out catchers, pitchers, and infielders. he had them all throwing, running, fielding, working like trojans. they would jump at his yell, dive after the ball, fall over it, throw it anywhere but in the right direction, run wild, and fight among themselves. the ever-flowing ridicule from the audience was anything but a stimulus. so much of it coming from the varsity and their adherents kept continually in the minds of the candidates their lack of skill, their unworthiness to represent the great university in such a popular sport as baseball. so that even if there were latent ability in any of the candidates no one but the coach could see it. and often he could not conceal his disgust and hopelessness. "battin' practice!" he ordered, sharply. "two hits and a bunt to-day. get a start on the bunt and dig for first. hustle now!" he placed one player to pitch to the hitters, another to catch, and as soon as the hitters had their turn they took to fielding. two turns for each at bat left the coach more than dissatisfied. "you're all afraid of the ball," he yelled. "this ain't no dodgin' game. duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. forget it. another turn now. i'm goin' to umpire. let's see if you know the difference between a ball and a strike." he changed the catcher and, ordering ken to the pitcher's box, he stepped over behind him. "peg," he said, speaking low, "you're not tryin' for pitcher, i know, but you've got speed and control and i want you to peg 'em a few. mind now, easy with your arm. by that i mean hold in, don't whip it. and you peg 'em as near where i say as you can; see?" as the players, one after another, faced the box, the coach kept saying to ken: "drive that fellow away from the plate... give this one a low ball... now straight over the pan. say, peg, you've got a nice ball there... put a fast one under this fellow's chin." "another turn, now, boys!" he yelled. "i tell you--_stand up to the plate!_" then he whispered to ken. "hit every one of 'em! peg 'em now, any place." "hit them?" asked ken, amazed. "that's what i said." "but--mr. arthurs--" "see here, peg. don't talk back to me. do as i say. we'll peg a little nerve into this bunch. now i'll go back of the plate and make a bluff." arthurs went near to the catcher's position. then he said: "now, fellows, ward's pretty wild and i've told him to speed up a few. stand right up and step into 'em." the first batter was weir. ken swung easily and let drive. straight as a string the ball sped for the batter. like a flash he dropped flat in the dust and the ball just grazed him. it was a narrow escape. weir jumped up, his face flaring, his hair on end, and he gazed hard at ken before picking up the bat. "batter up!" ordered the coach. "do you think this's a tea-party?" weir managed by quick contortions to get through his time at bat without being hit. three players following him were not so lucky. "didn't i say he was wild?" yelled the coach. "batter up, now!" the next was little raymond. he came forward cautiously, eying ken with disapproval. ken could not resist putting on a little more steam, and the wind of the first ball whipped off raymond's green cap. raymond looked scared and edged away from the plate, and as the second ball came up he stepped wide with his left foot. "step into the ball," said the coach. "don't pull away. step in or you'll never hit." the third ball cracked low down on raymond's leg. "oh!--oh!--oh!" he howled, beginning to hop and hobble about the cage. "next batter!" called out arthurs. and so it went on until the most promising player in the cage came to bat. this was graves, a light-haired fellow, tall, built like a wedge. he had more confidence than any player in the squad and showed up well in all departments of the game. moreover, he was talky, aggressive, and more inclined to be heard and felt. he stepped up and swung his bat at ken. "you wild freshman! if you hit me!" he cried. ken ward had not fallen in love with any of his rivals for places on the team, but he especially did not like graves. he did not stop to consider the reason of it at the moment, still he remembered several tricks graves had played, and he was not altogether sorry for the coach's order. swinging a little harder, ken threw straight at graves. "_wham!_" the ball struck him fair on the hip. limping away from the plate he shook his fist at ken. "batter up!" yelled arthurs. "a little more speed now, peg. you see it ain't nothin' to get hit. why, that's in the game. it don't hurt much. i never cared when i used to get hit. batter up!" ken sent up a very fast ball, on the outside of the plate. the batter swung wide, and the ball, tipping the bat, glanced to one side and struck arthurs in the stomach with a deep sound. arthurs' round face went red; he gurgled and gasped for breath; he was sinking to his knees when the yelling and crowing of the students on the platform straightened him up. he walked about a few minutes, then ordered sliding practice. the sliding-board was brought out. it was almost four feet wide and twenty long and covered with carpet. "run hard, boys, and don't let up just before you slide. keep your speed and dive. now at it!" a line of players formed down the cage. the first one dashed forward and plunged at the board, hitting it with a bang. the carpet was slippery and he slid off and rolled in the dust. the second player leaped forward and, sliding too soon, barely reached the board. one by one the others followed. "run fast now!" yelled the coach. "don't flinch.... go down hard and slide... light on your hands... keep your heads up... slide!" this feature of cage-work caused merriment among the onlookers. that sliding-board was a wonderful and treacherous thing. most players slid off it as swift as a rocket. arthurs kept them running so fast and so close together that at times one would shoot off the board just as the next would strike it. they sprawled on the ground, rolled over, and rooted in the dust. one skinned his nose on the carpet; another slid the length of the board on his ear. all the time they kept running and sliding, the coach shouted to them, and the audience roared with laughter. but it was no fun for the sliders. raymond made a beautiful slide, and graves was good, but all the others were ludicrous. it was a happy day for ken, and for all the candidates, when the coach ordered them out on the field. this was early in march. the sun was bright, the frost all out of the ground, and a breath of spring was in the air. how different it was from the cold, gloomy cage! then the mocking students, although more in evidence than before, were confined to the stands and bleachers, and could not so easily be heard. but the presence of the regular varsity team, practising at the far end of grant field, had its effect on the untried players. the coach divided his players into two nines and had them practise batting first, then fielding, and finally started them in a game, with each candidate playing the position he hoped to make on the varsity. it was a weird game. the majority of the twenty candidates displayed little knowledge of baseball. school-boys on the commons could have beaten them. they were hooted and hissed by the students, and before half the innings were played the bleachers and stands were empty. that was what old wayne's students thought of arthurs' candidates. in sharp contrast to most of them, weir, raymond, and graves showed they had played the game somewhere. weir at short-stop covered ground well, but he could not locate first base. raymond darted here and there quick as a flash, and pounced upon the ball like a huge frog. nothing got past him, but he juggled the ball. graves was a finished and beautiful fielder; he was easy, sure, yet fast, and his throw from third to first went true as a line. graves's fine work accounted for ken ward's poor showing. both were trying for third base, and when ken once saw his rival play out on the field he not only lost heart and became confused, but he instinctively acknowledged that graves was far his superior. after all his hopes and the kind interest of the coach it was a most bitter blow. ken had never played so poor a game. the ball blurred in his tear-wet eyes and looked double. he did not field a grounder. he muffed foul flies and missed thrown balls. it did not occur to him that almost all of the players around him were in the same boat. he could think of nothing but the dashing away of his hopes. what was the use of trying? but he kept trying, and the harder he tried the worse he played. at the bat he struck out, fouled out, never hit the ball square at all. graves got two well-placed hits to right field. then when ken was in the field graves would come down the coaching line and talk to him in a voice no one else could hear. "you've got a swell chance to make this team, you have, _not!_ third base is my job, freshie. why, you tow-head, you couldn't play marbles. you butter-finger, can't you stop anything? you can't even play sub on this team. remember, ward, i said i'd get you for hitting me that day. you hit me with a potato once, too. i'll chase you off this team." for once ken's spirit was so crushed and humbled that he could not say a word to his rival. he even felt he deserved it all. when the practice ended, and he was walking off the field with hanging head, trying to bear up under the blow, he met arthurs. "hello! peg," said the coach, "i'm going your way." ken walked along feeling arthurs' glance upon him, but he was ashamed to raise his head. "peg, you were up in the air to-day--way off--you lost your nut." he spoke kindly and put his hand on ken's arm. ken looked up to see that the coach's face was pale and tired, with the characteristic worried look more marked than usual. "yes, i was," replied ken, impulsively. "i can play better than i did to-day--but--mr. arthurs, i'm not in graves's class as a third-baseman. i know it." ken said it bravely, though there was a catch in his voice. the coach looked closely at him. "so you're sayin' a good word for graves, pluggin' his game." "i'd love to make the team, but old wayne must have the best players you can get." "peg, i said once you and me were goin' to get along. i said also that college baseball is played with the heart. you lost your heart. so did most of the kids. well, it ain't no wonder. this's a tryin' time. i'm playin' them against each other, and no fellow knows where he's at. now, i've seen all along that you weren't a natural infielder. i played you at third to-day to get that idea out of your head. to-morrow i'll try you in the outfield. you ain't no quitter, peg." ken hurried to his room under the stress of a complete revulsion of feeling. his liking for the coach began to grow into something more. it was strange to ken what power a few words from arthurs had to renew his will and hope and daring. how different arthurs was when not on the field. there he was stern and sharp. ken could not study that night, and he slept poorly. his revival of hope did not dispel his nervous excitement. he went out into grant field next day fighting himself. when in the practice arthurs assigned him to a right-field position, he had scarcely taken his place when he became conscious of a queer inclination to swallow often, of a numbing tight band round his chest. he could not stand still; his hands trembled; there was a mist before his eyes. his mind was fixed upon himself and upon the other five outfielders trying to make the team. he saw the players in the infield pace their positions restlessly, run without aim when the ball was hit or thrown, collide with each other, let the ball go between their hands and legs, throw wildly, and sometimes stand as if transfixed when they ought to have been in action. but all this was not significant to ken. he saw everything that happened, but he thought only that he must make a good showing; he must not miss any flies, or let a ball go beyond him. he absolutely must do the right thing. the air of grant field was charged with intensity of feeling, and ken thought it was all his own. his baseball fortune was at stake, and he worked himself in such a frenzy that if a ball had been batted in his direction he might not have seen it at all. fortunately none came his way. the first time at bat he struck out ignominiously, poking weakly at the pitcher's out-curves. the second time he popped up a little fly. on the next trial the umpire called him out on strikes. at his last chance ken was desperate. he knew the coach placed batting before any other department of the game. almost sick with the torture of the conflicting feelings, ken went up to the plate and swung blindly. to his amaze he cracked a hard fly to left-centre, far between the fielders. like a startled deer ken broke into a run. he turned first base and saw that he might stretch the hit into a three-bagger. he knew he could run, and never had he so exerted himself. second base sailed under him, and he turned in line for the third. watching graves, he saw him run for the base and stand ready to catch the throw-in. without slacking his speed in the least ken leaped into the air headlong for the base. he heard the crack of the ball as it hit graves's glove. then with swift scrape on hands and breast he was sliding in the dust. he stopped suddenly as if blocked by a stone wall. something hard struck him on the head. a blinding light within his brain seemed to explode into glittering slivers. a piercing pain shot through him. then from darkness and a great distance sounded a voice: "ward, i said i'd get you!" vii annihilation that incident put ken out of the practice for three days. he had a bruise over his ear as large as a small apple. ken did not mind the pain nor the players' remarks that he had a swelled head anyway, but he remembered with slow-gathering wrath graves's words: "i said i'd get you!" he remembered also graves's reply to a question put by the coach. "i was only tagging him. i didn't mean to hurt him." that rankled inside ken. he kept his counsel, however, even evading a sharp query put by arthurs, and as much as it was possible he avoided the third-baseman. hard practice was the order of every day, and most of it was batting. the coach kept at the candidates everlastingly, and always his cry was: "toe the plate, left foot a little forward, step into the ball and swing!" at the bat ken made favorable progress because the coach was always there behind him with encouraging words; in the field, however, he made a mess of it, and grew steadily worse. the directors of the athletic association had called upon the old varsity to go out and coach the new aspirants for college fame. the varsity had refused. even the players of preceding years, what few were in or near the city, had declined to help develop wayne's stripling team. but some of the older graduates, among them several of the athletic directors, appeared on the field. when arthurs saw them he threw up his hands in rage and despair. that afternoon ken had three well-meaning but old-fashioned ball-players coach him in the outfield. he had them one at a time, which was all that saved him from utter distraction. one told him to judge a fly by the sound when the ball was hit. another told him to play in close, and when the ball was batted to turn and run with it. the third said he must play deep and sprint in for the fly. then each had different ideas as to how batters should be judged, about throwing to bases, about backing up the other fielders. ken's bewilderment grew greater and greater. he had never heard of things they advocated, and he began to think he did not know anything about the game. and what made his condition of mind border on imbecility was a hurried whisper from arthurs between innings: "peg, don't pay the slightest attention to 'em fat-head grad. coaches." practice days succeeding that were worse nightmares to ken ward than the days he had spent in constant fear of the sophomores. it was a terribly feverish time of batting balls, chasing balls, and of having dinned into his ears thousands of orders, rules of play, talks on college spirit in athletics--all of which conflicted so that it was meaningless to him. during this dark time one ray of light was the fact that arthurs never spoke a sharp word to him. ken felt vaguely that he was whirling in some kind of a college athletic chaos, out of which he would presently emerge. toward the close of march the weather grew warm, the practice field dried up, and baseball should have been a joy to ken. but it was not. at times he had a shameful wish to quit the field for good, but he had not the courage to tell the coach. the twenty-fifth, the day scheduled for the game with the disgraced varsity team, loomed closer and closer. its approach was a fearful thing for ken. every day he cast furtive glances down the field to where the varsity held practice. ken had nothing to say; he was as glum as most of the other candidates, but he had heard gossip in the lecture-rooms, in the halls, on the street, everywhere, and it concerned this game. what would the old varsity do to arthurs' new team? curiosity ran as high as the feeling toward the athletic directors. resentment flowed from every source. ken somehow got the impression that he was blamable for being a member of the coach's green squad. so ken ward fluctuated between two fears, one as bad as the other--that he would not be selected to play, and the other that he would be selected. it made no difference. he would be miserable if not chosen, and if he was--how on earth would he be able to keep his knees from wobbling? then the awful day dawned. coach arthurs met all his candidates at the cage. he came late, he explained, because he wanted to keep them off the field until time for practice. to-day he appeared more grave than worried, and where the boys expected a severe lecture, he simply said: "i'll play as many of you as i can. do your best, that's all. don't mind what these old players say. they were kids once, though they seem to have forgotten it. try to learn from them." it was the first time the candidates had been taken upon the regular diamond of grant field. ken had peeped in there once to be impressed by the beautiful level playground, and especially the magnificent turreted grand-stand and the great sweeping stretches of bleachers. then they had been empty; now, with four thousand noisy students and thousands of other spectators besides, they stunned him. he had never imagined a crowd coming to see the game. perhaps arthurs had not expected it either, for ken heard him mutter grimly to himself. he ordered practice at once, and called off the names of those he had chosen to start the game. as one in a trance ken ward found himself trotting out to right field. a long-rolling murmur that was half laugh, half taunt, rose from the stands. then it quickly subsided. from his position ken looked for the players of the old varsity, but they had not yet come upon the field. of the few balls batted to ken in practice he muffed only one, and he was just beginning to feel that he might acquit himself creditably when the coach called the team in. arthurs had hardly given his new players time enough to warm up, but likewise they had not had time to make any fumbles. all at once a hoarse roar rose from the stands, then a thundering clatter of thousands of feet as the students greeted the appearance of the old varsity. it was applause that had in it all the feeling of the undergraduates for the championship team, many of whom they considered had been unjustly barred by the directors. love, loyalty, sympathy, resentment--all pealed up to the skies in that acclaim. it rolled out over the heads of arthurs' shrinking boys as they huddled together on the bench. ken ward, for one, was flushing and thrilling. in that moment he lost his gloom. he watched the varsity come trotting across the field, a doughty band of baseball warriors. each wore a sweater with the huge white "w" shining like a star. many of those players had worn that honored varsity letter for three years. it did seem a shame to bar them from this season's team. ken found himself thinking of the matter from their point of view, and his sympathy was theirs. more than that, he gloried in the look of them, in the trained, springy strides, in the lithe, erect forms, in the assurance in every move. every detail of that practice photographed itself upon ken ward's memory, and he knew he would never forget. there was dale, veteran player, captain and pitcher of the nine, hero of victories over place and herne. there was hogan, catcher for three seasons, a muscular fellow, famed for his snap-throw to the bases and his fiendish chasing of foul flies. there was hickle, the great first-baseman, whom the professional leagues were trying to get. what a reach he had; how easily he scooped in the ball; low, high, wide, it made no difference to him. there was canton at second, hollis at short, burns at third, who had been picked for the last year's all-american college team. then there was dreer, brightest star of all, the fleet, hard-hitting centre-fielder. this player particularly fascinated ken. it was a beautiful sight to see him run. the ground seemed to fly behind him. when the ball was hit high he wheeled with his back to the diamond and raced out, suddenly to turn with unerring judgment--and the ball dropped into his hands. on low line hits he showed his fleetness, for he was like a gleam of light in his forward dash; and, however the ball presented, shoulder high, low by his knees, or on a short bound, he caught it. ken ward saw with despairing admiration what it meant to be a great outfielder. then arthurs called "play ball!" giving the old varsity the field. with a violent start ken ward came out of his rhapsody. he saw a white ball tossed on the diamond. dale received it from one of the fielders and took his position in the pitcher's box. the uniform set off his powerful form; there was something surly and grimly determined in his face. he glanced about to his players, as if from long habit, and called out gruffly: "get in the game, fellows! no runs for this scrub outfit!" then, with long-practised swing, he delivered the ball. it travelled plateward swift as the flight of a white swallow. the umpire called it a strike on weir; the same on the next pitch; the third was wide. weir missed the fourth and was out. raymond followed on the batting list. to-day, as he slowly stepped toward the plate, seemingly smaller and glummer than ever, it was plain he was afraid. the bleachers howled at the little green cap sticking over his ear. raymond did not swing at the ball; he sort of reached out his bat at the first three pitches, stepping back from the plate each time. the yell that greeted his weak attempt seemed to shrivel him up. also it had its effect on the youngsters huddling around arthurs. graves went up and hit a feeble grounder to dale and was thrown out at first. ken knew the half-inning was over; he saw the varsity players throw aside their gloves and trot in. but either he could not rise or he was glued to the bench. then arthurs pulled him up, saying, "watch sharp, peg, these fellows are right-field hitters!" at the words all ken's blood turned to ice. he ran out into the field fighting the coldest, most sickening sensation he ever had in his life. the ice in his veins all went to the pit of his stomach and there formed into a heavy lump. other times when he had been frightened flitted through his mind. it had been bad when he fought with greaser, and worse when he ran with the outlaws in pursuit, and the forest fire was appalling. but ken felt he would gladly have changed places at that moment. he dreaded the mocking bleachers. of the candidates chosen to play against the varsity ken knew mccord at first, raymond at second, weir at short, graves at third. he did not know even the names of the others. all of them, except graves, appeared too young to play in that game. dreer was first up for the varsity, and ken shivered all over when the lithe centre-fielder stepped to the left side of the plate. ken went out deeper, for he knew most hard-hitting left-handers hit to right field. but dreer bunted the first ball teasingly down the third-base line. fleet as a deer, he was across the bag before the infielder reached the ball. hollis was next up. on the first pitch, as dreer got a fast start for second, hollis bunted down the first-base line. pitcher and baseman ran for the bunt; hollis was safe, and the sprinting dreer went to third without even drawing a throw. a long pealing yell rolled over the bleachers. dale sent coaches to the coaching lines. hickle, big and formidable, hurried to the plate, swinging a long bat. he swung it as if he intended to knock the ball out of the field. when the pitcher lifted his arm dreer dashed for home-base, and seemed beating the ball. but hickle deftly dumped it down the line and broke for first while dreer scored. this bunt was not fielded at all. how the bleachers roared! then followed bunts in rapid succession, dashes for first, and slides into the bag. the pitcher interfered with the third-baseman, and the first-baseman ran up the line, and the pitcher failed to cover the bag, and the catcher fell all over the ball. every varsity man bunted, but in just the place where it was not expected. they raced around the bases. they made long runs from first to third. they were like flashes of light, slippery as eels. the bewildered infielders knew they were being played with. the taunting "boo-hoos" and screams of delight from the bleachers were as demoralizing as the illusively daring runners. closer and closer the infielders edged in until they were right on top of the batters. then dale and his men began to bunt little infield flies over the heads of their opponents. the merry audience cheered wildly. but graves and raymond ran back and caught three of these little pop flies, thus retiring the side. the old varsity had made six runs on nothing but deliberate bunts and daring dashes around the bases. ken hurried in to the bench and heard some one call out, "ward up!" he had forgotten he would have to bat. stepping to the plate was like facing a cannon. one of the players yelled: "here he is, dale! here's the potato-pegger! knock his block off!" the cry was taken up by other players. "peg him, dale! peg him, dale!" and then the bleachers got it. ken's dry tongue seemed pasted to the roof of his mouth. this dale in baseball clothes with the lowering frown was not like the dale ken had known. suddenly he swung his arm. ken's quick eye caught the dark, shooting gleam of the ball. involuntarily he ducked. "strike," called the umpire. then dale had not tried to hit him. ken stepped up again. the pitcher whirled slowly this time, turning with long, easy motion, and threw underhand. the ball sailed, floated, soared. long before it reached ken it had fooled him completely. he chopped at it vainly. the next ball pitched came up swifter, but just before it crossed the plate it seemed to stop, as if pulled back by a string, and then dropped down. ken fell to his knees trying to hit it. the next batter's attempts were not as awkward as ken's, still they were as futile. as ken sat wearily down upon the bench he happened to get next to coach arthurs. he expected some sharp words from the coach, he thought he deserved anything, but they were not forthcoming. the coach put his hand on ken's knee. when the third batter fouled to hickle, and ken got up to go out to the field, he summoned courage to look at arthurs. something in his face told ken what an ordeal this was. he divined that it was vastly more than business with worry arthurs. "peg, watch out this time," whispered the coach. "they'll line 'em at you this inning--like bullets. now try hard, won't you? _just try!_" ken knew from arthurs' look more than his words that _trying_ was all that was left for the youngsters. the varsity had come out early in the spring, and they had practised to get into condition to annihilate this new team practically chosen by the athletic directors. and they had set out to make the game a farce. but arthurs meant that all the victory was not in winning the game. it was left for his boys to try in the face of certain defeat, to try with all their hearts, to try with unquenchable spirit. it was the spirit that counted, not the result. the old varsity had received a bitter blow; they were aggressive and relentless. the students and supporters of old wayne, idolizing the great team, always bearing in mind the hot rivalry with place and herne, were unforgiving and intolerant of an undeveloped varsity. perhaps neither could be much blamed. but it was for the new players to show what it meant to them. the greater the prospect of defeat, the greater the indifference or hostility shown them, the more splendid their opportunity. for it was theirs to try for old wayne, to try, to fight, and never to give up. ken caught fire with the flame of that spirit. "boys, come on!" he cried, in his piercing tenor. "_they can't beat us trying!_" as he ran out into the field members of the varsity spoke to him. "you green-backed freshman! shut up! you scrub!" "i'm not a varsity has-been!" retorted ken, hurrying out to his position. the first man up, a left-hander, rapped a hard twisting liner to right field. ken ran toward deep centre with all his might. the ball kept twisting and curving. it struck squarely in ken's hands and bounced out and rolled far. when he recovered it the runner was on third base. before ken got back to his position the second batter hit hard through the infield toward right. the ball came skipping like a fiendish rabbit. ken gritted his teeth and went down on his knees, to get the bounding ball full in his breast. but he stopped it, scrambled for it, and made the throw in. dale likewise hit in his direction, a slow low fly, difficult to judge. ken over-ran it, and the hit gave dale two bases. ken realized that the varsity was now executing worry arthurs' famous right-field hitting. the sudden knowledge seemed to give ken the blind-staggers. the field was in a haze; the players blurred in his sight. he heard the crack of the ball and saw raymond dash over and plunge down. then the ball seemed to streak out of the grass toward him, and, as he bent over, it missed his hands and cracked on his shin. again he fumbled wildly for it and made the throw in. the pain roused his rage. he bit his lips and called to himself: "i'll stop them if it kills me!" dreer lined the ball over his head for a home-run. hollis made a bid for a three-bagger, but ken, by another hard sprint, knocked the ball down. hickle then batted up a tremendously high fly. it went far beyond ken and he ran and ran. it looked like a small pin-point of black up in the sky. then he tried to judge it, to get under it. the white sky suddenly glazed over and the ball wavered this way and that. ken lost it in the sun, found it again, and kept on running. would it never come down? he had not reached it, he had run beyond it. in an agony he lunged out, and the ball fell into his hands and jumped out. then followed a fusillade of hits, all between second base and first, and all vicious-bounding grounders. to and fro ken ran, managing somehow to get some portion of his anatomy in front of the ball. it had become a demon to him now and he hated it. his tongue was hanging out, his breast was bursting, his hands were numb, yet he held before him the one idea to keep fiercely trying. he lost count of the runs after eleven had been scored. he saw mccord and raymond trying to stem the torrent of right-field hits, but those they knocked down gave him no time to recover. he blocked the grass-cutters with his knees or his body and pounced upon the ball and got it away from him as quickly as possible. would this rapid fire of uncertain-bounding balls never stop? ken was in a kind of frenzy. if he only had time to catch his breath! then dreer was at bat again. he fouled the first two balls over the grand-stand. some one threw out a brand-new ball. farther and farther ken edged into deep right. he knew what was coming. "let him--hit it!" he panted. "i'll try to get it! this day settles me. i'm no outfielder. but i'll try!" the tired pitcher threw the ball and dreer seemed to swing and bound at once with the ringing crack. the hit was one of his famous drives close to the right-field foul-line. ken was off with all the speed left in him. he strained every nerve and was going fast when he passed the foul-flag. the bleachers loomed up indistinct in his sight. but he thought only of meeting the ball. the hit was a savage liner, curving away from him. cinders under his flying feet were a warning that he did not heed. he was on the track. he leaped into the air, left hand outstretched, and felt the ball strike in his glove. then all was dark in a stunning, blinding crash-- viii examinations when ken ward came fully to his senses he was being half carried and half led across the diamond to the players' bench. he heard worry arthurs say: "he ain't hurt much--only butted into the fence." ken tried manfully to entertain worry's idea about it, but he was too dazed and weak to stand alone. he imagined he had broken every bone in his body. "did i make the catch--hang to the ball?" he asked. "no, peg, you didn't," replied the coach, kindly. "but you made a grand try for it." he felt worse over failing to hold the ball than he felt over half killing himself against the bleachers. he spent the remainder of that never-to-be-forgotten game sitting on the bench. but to watch his fellow-players try to play was almost as frightful as being back there in right field. it was no consolation for ken to see his successor chasing long hits, misjudging flies, failing weakly on wicked grounders. even graves weakened toward the close and spoiled his good beginning by miserable fumbles and throws. it was complete and disgraceful rout. the varsity never let up until the last man was out. the team could not have played harder against place or herne. arthurs called the game at the end of the sixth inning with the score to . many beaten and despondent players had dragged themselves off grant field in bygone years. but none had ever been so humiliated, so crushed. no player spoke a word or looked at another. they walked off with bowed heads. ken lagged behind the others; he was still stunned and lame. presently arthurs came back to help him along, and did not speak until they were clear of the campus and going down ken's street. "i'm glad that's over," said worry. "i kicked against havin' the game, but 'em fat-head directors would have it. now we'll be let alone. there won't be no students comin' out to the field, and i'm blamed glad." ken was sick and smarting with pain, and half crying. "i'm sorry, mr. arthurs," he faltered, "we were--so--so--rotten!" "see here, peg," was the quick reply, "that cuts no ice with me. it was sure the rottenest exhibition i ever seen in my life. but there's excuses, and you can just gamble i'm the old boy who knows. you kids were scared to death. what hurts me, peg, is the throw-down we got from my old team and from the students. we're not to blame for rules made by fat-head directors. i was surprised at dale. he was mean, and so were hollis and hickle--all of 'em. they didn't need to disgrace us like that." "oh, mr. arthurs, what players they are!" exclaimed ken. "i never saw such running, such hitting. you said they'd hit to right field like bullets, but it was worse than bullets. and dreer!... when he came up my heart just stopped beating." "peg, listen," said worry. "three years ago when dreer came out on the field he was greener than you, and hadn't half the spunk. i made him what he is, and i made all of 'em--i made that team, and i can make another." "you are just saying that to--to encourage me," replied ken, hopelessly. "i can't play ball. i thought i could, but i know now. i'll never go out on the field again." "peg, are you goin' to throw me down, too?" "mr. arthurs! i--i--" "listen, peg. cut out the dumps. get over 'em. you made the varsity to-day. understand? you earned your big w. you needn't mention it, but i've picked you to play somewhere. you weren't a natural infielder, and you didn't make much of a showin' in the outfield. but it's the spirit i want. to-day was a bad day for a youngster. there's always lots of feelin' about college athletics, but here at wayne this year the strain's awful. and you fought yourself and stage-fright and the ridicule of 'em quitter students. you _tried_, peg! i never saw a gamer try. you didn't fail me. and after you made that desperate run and tried to smash the bleachers with your face the students shut up their guyin'. it made a difference, peg. even the varsity was a little ashamed. cheer up, now!" ken was almost speechless; he managed to mumble something, at which the coach smiled in reply and then walked rapidly away. ken limped to his room and took off his baseball suit. the skin had been peeled from his elbow, and his body showed several dark spots that ken knew would soon be black-and-blue bruises. his legs from his knees down bore huge lumps so sore to the touch that ken winced even at gentle rubbing. but he did not mind the pain. all the darkness seemed to have blown away from his mind. "what a fine fellow worry is!" said ken. "how i'll work for him! i must write to brother hal and dick leslie, to tell them i've made the varsity.... no, not yet; worry said not to mention it.... and now to plug. i'll have to take my exams before the first college game, april th, and that's not long." in the succeeding days ken was very busy with attendance at college in the mornings, baseball practice in the afternoons, and study at night. if worry had picked any more players for the varsity, ken could not tell who they were. of course graves would make the team, and weir and raymond were pretty sure of places. there were sixteen players for the other five positions, and picking them was only guesswork. it seemed to ken that some of the players showed streaks of fast playing at times, and then as soon as they were opposed to one another in the practice game they became erratic. his own progress was slow. one thing he could do that brought warm praise from the coach--he could line the ball home from deep outfield with wonderful speed and accuracy. after the varsity had annihilated worry's "kids," as they had come to be known, the students showed no further interest. when they ceased to appear on the field the new players were able to go at their practice without being ridiculed. already an improvement had been noticeable. but rivalry was so keen for places, and the coach's choice so deep a mystery, that the contestants played under too great a tension, and school-boys could have done better. it was on the first of april that arthurs took ken up into college hall to get permission for him to present himself to the different professors for the early examinations. while ken sat waiting in the office he heard arthurs talking to men he instantly took to be the heads of the athletic association. they were in an adjoining room with the door open, and their voices were very distinct, so that ken could not help hearing. "gentlemen, i want my answer to-day," said the coach. "is there so great a hurry? wait a little," was the rejoinder. "i'm sorry, but this is april st, and i'll wait no longer. i'm ready to send some of my boys up for early exams, and i want to know where i stand." "arthurs, what is it exactly that you want? things have been in an awful mess, we know. state your case and we'll try to give you a definite answer." "i want full charge of the coachin'--the handlin' of the team, as i always had before. i don't want any grad coaches. the directors seem divided, one half want this, the other half that. they've cut out the trainin' quarters. i've had no help from murray; no baths or rub-downs or trainin' for my candidates. here's openin' day a week off and i haven't picked my team. i want to take them to the trainin'-table and have them under my eye all the time. if i can't have what i want i'll resign. if i can i'll take the whole responsibility of the team on my own shoulders." "very well, arthurs, we'll let you go ahead and have full charge. there has been talk this year of abolishing a private training-house and table for this green varsity. but rather than have you resign we'll waive that. you can rest assured from now on you will not be interfered with. give us the best team you can under the circumstances. there has been much dissension among the directors and faculty because of our new eligibility rules. it has stirred everybody up, and the students are sore. then there has been talk of not having a professional coach this year, but we overruled that in last night's meeting. we're going to see what you can do. i may add, arthurs, if you shape up a varsity this year that makes any kind of a showing against place and herne you will win the eternal gratitude of the directors who have fostered this change in athletics. otherwise i'm afraid the balance of opinion will favor the idea of dispensing with professional coaches in the future." ken saw that arthurs was white in the face when he left the room. they went out together, and worry handed ken a card that read for him to take his examinations at once. "are you up on 'em?" asked the coach, anxiously. "i--i think so," replied ken. "well, peg, good luck to you! go at 'em like you went at dreer's hit." much to his amazement it was for ken to discover that, now the time had come for him to face his examinations, he was not at all sanguine. he began to worry. he forgot about the text-books he had mastered in his room during the long winter when he feared to venture out because of the sophomores. it was not very long till he had worked himself into a state somewhat akin to his trepidation in the varsity ball game. then he decided to go up at once and have it done with. his whole freshman year had been one long agony. what a relief to have it ended! ken passed four examinations in one morning, passed them swimmingly, smilingly, splendidly, and left college hall in an ecstasy. things were working out fine. but he had another examination, and it was in a subject he had voluntarily included in his course. whatever on earth he had done it for he could not now tell. the old doctor who held the chair in that department had thirty years before earned the name of crab. and slowly in the succeeding years he had grown crabbier, crustier, so student rumor had it. ken had rather liked the dry old fellow, and had been much absorbed in his complex lectures, but he had never been near him, and now the prospect changed color. foolishly ken asked a sophomore in what light old crab might regard a student who was ambitious to pass his exams early. the picture painted by that sophomore would have made a flaming-mouthed dragon appear tame. nerving himself to the ordeal, ken took his card and presented himself one evening at the doctor's house. a maid ushered him into the presence of a venerable old man who did not look at all, even in ken's distorted sight, like a crab or a dragon. his ponderous brow seemed as if it had all the thought in the world behind it. he looked over huge spectacles at ken's card and then spoke in a dry, quavering voice. "um-m. sit down, mr. ward." ken found his breath and strangely lost his fear and trembling. the doctor dryly asked him why he thought he knew more than the other students, who were satisfied to wait months longer before examination. ken hastened to explain that it was no desire of his; that, although he had studied hard and had not missed many lectures, he knew he was unprepared. then he went on to tell about the baseball situation and why he had been sent up. "um-m." the professor held a glass paperweight up before ken and asked a question about it. next he held out a ruler and asked something about that, and also a bottle of ink. following this he put a few queries about specific gravity, atomic weight, and the like. then he sat thrumming his desk and appeared far away in thought. after a while he turned to ken with a smile that made his withered, parchment-like face vastly different. "where do you play?" he asked. "s-sir?" stammered ken. "in baseball, i mean. what place do you play? catch? thrower? i don't know the names much." ken replied eagerly, and then it seemed he was telling this stern old man all about baseball. he wanted to know what fouls were, and how to steal bases, and he was nonplussed by such terms as "hit-and-run." ken discoursed eloquently on his favorite sport, and it was like a kind of dream to be there. strange things were always happening to him. "i've never seen a game," said the professor. "i used to play myself long ago, when we had a yarn ball and pitched underhand. i'll have to come out to the field some day. president halstead, why, he likes baseball, he's a--a--what do you call it?" "a fan--a rooter?" replied ken, smiling. "um-m. i guess that's it. well, mr. ward, i'm glad to meet you. you may go now." ken got up blushing like a girl. "but, doctor, you were to--i was to be examined." "i've examined you," he drawled, with a dry chuckle, and he looked over his huge spectacles at ken. "i'll give you a passing mark. but, mr. ward, you know a heap more about baseball than you know about physics." as ken went out he trod upon air. what a splendid old fellow! the sophomore had lied. for that matter, when had a sophomore ever been known to tell the truth? but, he suddenly exclaimed, he himself was no longer a freshman. he pondered happily on the rosy lining to his old cloud of gloom. how different things appeared after a little time. that old doctor's smile would linger long in ken's memory. he felt deep remorse that he had ever misjudged him. he hurried on to worry arthurs' house to tell him the good news. and as he walked his mind was full with the wonder of it all--his lonely, wretched freshman days, now forever past; the slow change from hatred; the dawning of some strange feeling for the college and his teachers; and, last, the freedom, the delight, the quickening stir in the present. ix president halstead on college spirit wayne's opening game was not at all what ken had dreamed it would be. the opposing team from hudson school was as ill-assorted an aggregation as ken had ever seen. they brought with them a small but noisy company of cheering supporters who, to the shame of ken and his fellows, had the bleachers all to themselves. if any wayne students were present they either cheered for hudson or remained silent. hudson won, to . it was a game that made arthurs sag a little lower on the bench. graves got wayne's two tallies. raymond at second played about all the game from the fielding standpoint. ken distinguished himself by trying wildly and accomplishing nothing. when he went to his room that night he had switched back to his former spirits, and was disgusted with wayne's ball team, himself most of all. that was on a wednesday. the next day rain prevented practice, and on friday the boys were out on the field again. arthurs shifted the players around, trying resignedly to discover certain positions that might fit certain players. it seemed to ken that all the candidates, except one or two, were good at fielding and throwing, but when they came to play a game they immediately went into a trance. travers college was scheduled for saturday. they had always turned out a good minor team, but had never been known to beat wayne. they shut arthurs' team out without a run. a handful of wayne students sat in the bleachers mocking their own team. arthurs used the two pitchers he had been trying hard to develop, and when they did locate the plate they were hit hard. ken played or essayed to play right field for a while, but he ran around like a chicken with its head off, as a travers player expressed it, and then arthurs told him that he had better grace the bench the rest of the game. ashamed as ken was to be put out, he was yet more ashamed to feel that he was glad of it. hardest of all to bear was the arrogant air put on by the travers college players. wayne had indeed been relegated to the fifth rank of college baseball teams. on monday announcements were made in all the lecture-rooms and departments of the university, and bulletins were posted to the effect, that president halstead wished to address the undergraduates in the wayne auditorium on tuesday at five o'clock. rumor flew about the campus and carlton club, everywhere, that the president's subject would be "college spirit," and it was believed he would have something to say about the present condition of athletics. ken ward hurried to the hall as soon as he got through his practice. he found the immense auditorium packed from pit to dome, and he squeezed into a seat on the steps. the students, as always, were exchanging volleys of paper-balls, matching wits, singing songs, and passing time merrily. when president halstead entered, with two of his associates, he was greeted by a thunder of tongues, hands, and heels of the standing students. he was the best-beloved member of the university faculty, a distinguished, scholarly looking man, well-stricken in years. he opened his address by declaring the need of college spirit in college life. he defined it as the vital thing, the heart of a great educational institution, and he went on to speak of its dangers, its fluctuations. then he made direct reference to athletics in its relation to both college spirit and college life. "sport is too much with us. of late years i have observed a great increase in the number of athletic students, and a great decrease in scholarship. the fame of the half-back and the short-stop and the stroke-oar has grown out of proportion to their real worth. the freshman is dazzled by it. the great majority of college men cannot shine in sport, which is the best thing that could be. the student's ideal, instead of being the highest scholarship, the best attainment for his career, is apt to be influenced by the honors and friendships that are heaped upon the great athlete. this is false to university life. you are here to prepare yourselves for the battle with the world, and i want to state that that battle is becoming more and more intellectual. the student who slights his studies for athletic glory may find himself, when that glory is long past, distanced in the race for success by a student who had not trained to run the hundred in ten seconds. "but, gentlemen, to keep well up in your studies and _then_ go in for athletics--that is entirely another question. it is not likely that any student who keeps to the front in any of the university courses will have too much time for football or baseball. i am, as you all know, heartily in favor of all branches of college sport. and that brings me to the point i want to make to-day. baseball is my favorite game, and i have always been proud of wayne's teams. the new eligibility rules, with which you are all familiar, were brought to me, and after thoroughly going over the situation i approved of them. certainly it is obvious to you all that a university ball-player making himself famous here, and then playing during the summer months at a resort, is laying himself open to suspicion. i have no doubt that many players are innocent of the taint of professionalism, but unfortunately they have become members of these summer teams after being first requested, then warned, not to do so. "wayne's varsity players of last year have been barred by the directors. they made their choice, and so should abide by it. they have had their day, and so should welcome the opportunity of younger players. but i am constrained to acknowledge that neither they nor the great body of undergraduates welcomed the change. this, more than anything, proves to me the evil of championship teams. the football men, the baseball men, the crew men, and all the student supporters want to win _all_ the games _all_ the time. i would like to ask you young gentlemen if you can take a beating? if you cannot, i would like to add that you are not yet fitted to go out into life. a good beating, occasionally, is a wholesome thing. "well, to come to the point now: i find, after studying the situation, that the old varsity players and undergraduates of this university have been lacking in--let us be generous and say, college spirit. i do not need to go into detail; suffice it to say that i know. i will admit, however, that i attended the game between the old varsity and the new candidates. i sat unobserved in a corner, and a more unhappy time i never spent in this university. i confess that my sympathies were with the inexperienced, undeveloped boys who were trying to learn to play ball. _put yourselves in their places._ say you are mostly freshmen, and you make yourselves candidates for the team because you love the game, and because you would love to bring honor to your college. you go out and try. you meet, the first day, an implacable team of skilled veterans who show their scorn of your poor ability, their hatred of your opportunity, and ride roughshod--i should say, run with spiked shoes--over you. you hear the roar of four thousand students applauding these hero veterans. you hear your classmates, your fellow-students in wayne, howl with ridicule at your weak attempts to compete with better, stronger players.... gentlemen, how would you feel? "i said before that college spirit fluctuates. if i did not know students well i would be deeply grieved at the spirit shown that day. i know that the tide will turn.... and, gentlemen, would not you and the old varsity be rather in an embarrassing position if--if these raw recruits should happen to develop into a team strong enough to cope with place and herne? stranger things have happened. i am rather strong for the new players, not because of their playing, which is poor indeed, but for the way they _tried_ under peculiarly adverse conditions. "that young fellow ward--what torture that inning of successive hard hits to his territory! i was near him in that end of the bleachers, and i watched him closely. every attempt he made was a failure--that is, failure from the point of view of properly fielding the ball. but, gentlemen, that day was not a failure for young ward. it was a grand success. some one said his playing was the poorest exhibition ever seen on grant field. that may be. i want to say that to my mind it was also the most splendid effort ever made on grant field. for it was made against defeat, fear, ridicule. it was elimination of self. it was made for his coach, his fellow-players, his college--that is to say, for the students who shamed themselves by scorn for his trial. "young men of wayne, give us a little more of such college spirit!" x new players when practice time rolled around for ken next day, he went upon the field once more with his hopes renewed and bright. "i certainly do die hard," he laughed to himself. "but i can never go down and out now--never!" something seemed to ring in ken's ears like peals of bells. in spite of his awkwardness coach arthurs had made him a varsity man; in spite of his unpreparedness old crab had given him a passing mark; in spite of his unworthiness president halstead had made him famous. "i surely am the lucky one," said ken, for the hundredth time. "and now i'm going to force my luck." ken had lately revolved in his mind a persistent idea that he meant to propound to the coach. ken arrived on the field a little later than usual, to find arthurs for once minus his worried look. he was actually smiling, and ken soon saw the reason for this remarkable change was the presence of a new player out in centre field. "hello, peg! things are lookin' up," said the coach, beaming. "that's homans out there in centre--roy homans, a senior and a crackerjack ball-player. i tried to get him to come out for the team last year, but he wouldn't spare the time. but he's goin' to play this season--said the president's little talk got him. he's a fast, heady, scientific player, just the one to steady you kids." before ken could reply his attention was attracted from homans to another new player in uniform now walking up to arthurs. he was tall, graceful, powerful, had red hair, keen dark eyes, a clean-cut profile and square jaw. "i've come out to try for the team," he said, quietly, to the coach. "you're a little late, ain't you?" asked worry, gruffly; but he ran a shrewd glance over the lithe form. "yes." "must have been stirred up by that talk of president halstead's, wasn't you?" "yes." there was something quiet and easy about the stranger, and ken liked him at once. "where do you play?" went on worry. "left." "can you hit? talk sense now, and mebbe you'll save me work. can you hit?" "yes." "can you throw?" "yes." he spoke with quiet assurance. "can you run?" almost shouted worry. he was nervous and irritable those days, and it annoyed him for unknown youths to speak calmly of such things. "run? yes, a little. i did the hundred last year in nine and four-fifths." "what! you can't kid me! who are you?" cried worry, getting red in the face. "i've seen you somewhere." "my name's ray." "say! not _ray_, the intercollegiate champion?" "i'm the fellow. i talked it over with murray. he kicked, but i didn't mind that. i promised to try to keep in shape to win the sprints at the intercollegiate meet." "say! get out there in left field! quick!" shouted worry.... "peg, hit him some flies. lam 'em a mile! that fellow's a sprinter, peg. what luck it would be if he can play ball! hit 'em at him!" ken took the ball worry tossed him, and, picking up a bat, began to knock flies out to ray. the first few he made easy for the outfielder, and then he hit balls harder and off to the right or left. without appearing to exert himself ray got under them. ken watched him, and also kept the tail of his eye on worry. the coach appeared to be getting excited, and he ordered ken to hit the balls high and far away. ken complied, but he could not hit a ball over ray's head. he tried with all his strength. he had never seen a champion sprinter, and now he marvelled at the wonderful stride. "oh! but his running is beautiful!" exclaimed ken. "that's enough! come in here!" yelled worry to ray.... "peg, he makes dreer look slow. i never saw as fast fieldin' as that." when ray came trotting in without seeming to be even warmed up, worry blurted out: "you ain't winded--after all that? must be in shape?" "i'm always in shape," replied ray. "pick up a bat!" shouted worry. "here, duncan, pitch this fellow a few. speed 'em, curve 'em, strike him out, hit him--anything!" ray was left-handed, and he stood up to the plate perfectly erect, with his bat resting quietly on his shoulder. he stepped straight, swung with an even, powerful swing, and he hit the first ball clear over the right-field bleachers. it greatly distanced dreer's hit. "what a drive!" gasped ken. "oh!" choked worry. "that's enough! you needn't lose my balls. bunt one, now." ray took the same position, and as the ball came up he appeared to drop the bat upon it and dart away at the same instant. worry seemed to be trying to control violent emotion. "next batter up!" he called, hoarsely, and sat down on the bench. he was breathing hard, and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. ken went up to worry, feeling that now was the time to acquaint the coach with his new idea. eager as ken was he had to force himself to take this step. all the hope and dread, nervousness and determination of the weeks of practice seemed to accumulate in that moment. he stammered and stuttered, grew speechless, and then as worry looked up in kind surprise, ken suddenly grew cool and earnest. "mr. arthurs, will you try me in the box?" "what's that, peg?" queried the coach, sharply. "will you give me a trial in the box? i've wanted one all along. you put me in once when we were in the cage, but you made me hit the batters." "pitch? you, peg? why not? why didn't i think of it? i'm sure gettin' to be like 'em fat-head directors. you've got steam, peg, but can you curve a ball? let's see your fingers." "yes, i can curve a ball round a corner. please give me a trial, mr. arthurs. i failed in the infield, and i'm little good in the outfield. but i know i can pitch." the coach gave ken one searching glance. then he called all the candidates in to the plate, and ordered dean, the stocky little catcher, to don his breast-protector, mask, and mitt. "peg," said the coach, "dean will sign you--one finger for a straight ball, two for a curve." when ken walked to the box all his muscles seemed quivering and tense, and he had a contraction in his throat. this was his opportunity. he was not unnerved as he had been when he was trying for the other positions. all ken's life he had been accustomed to throwing. at his home he had been the only boy who could throw a stone across the river; the only one who could get a ball over the high-school tower. a favorite pastime had always been the throwing of small apples, or walnuts, or stones, and he had acquired an accuracy that made it futile for his boy comrades to compete with him. curving a ball had come natural to him, and he would have pitched all his high-school games had it not been for the fact that no one could catch him, and, moreover, none of the boys had found any fun in batting against him. when ken faced the first batter a feeling came over him that he had never before had on the ball field. he was hot, trembling, hurried, but this new feeling was apart from these. his feet were on solid ground, and his arm felt as it had always in those throwing contests where he had so easily won. he seemed to decide from mccord's position at the plate what to throw him. ken took his swing. it was slow, easy, natural. but the ball travelled with much greater speed than the batter expected from such motion. mccord let the first two balls go by, and arthurs called them both strikes. then ken pitched an out-curve which mccord fanned at helplessly. arthurs sent trace up next. ken saw that the coach was sending up the weaker hitters first. trace could not even make a foul. raymond was third up, and ken had to smile at the scowling second-baseman. remembering his weakness for pulling away from the plate, ken threw raymond two fast curves on the outside, and then a slow wide curve, far out. raymond could not have hit the first two with a paddle, and the third lured him irresistibly out of position and made him look ridiculous. he slammed his bat down and slouched to the bench. duncan turned out to be the next easy victim. four batters had not so much as fouled ken. and ken knew he was holding himself in--that, in fact, he had not let out half his speed. blake, the next player, hit up a little fly that ken caught, and schoonover made the fifth man to strike out. then weir stood over the plate, and he was a short, sturdy batter, hard to pitch to. he looked as if he might be able to hit any kind of a ball. ken tried him first with a straight fast one over the middle of the plate. weir hit it hard, but it went foul. and through ken's mind flashed the thought that he would pitch no more speed to weir or players who swung as he did. accordingly ken tried the slow curve that had baffled raymond. weir popped it up and retired in disgust. the following batter was graves, who strode up smiling, confident, sarcastic, as if he knew he could do more than the others. ken imagined what the third-baseman would have said if the coach had not been present. graves always ruffled ken the wrong way. "i'll strike him out if i break my arm!" muttered ken to himself. he faced graves deliberately and eyed his position at bat. graves as deliberately laughed at him. "pitch up, pitch up!" he called out. "right over the pan!" retorted ken, as quick as an echo. he went hot as fire all over. this fellow graves had some strange power of infuriating him. ken took a different swing, which got more of his weight in motion, and let his arm out. like a white bullet the ball shot plateward, rising a little so that graves hit vainly under it. the ball surprised dean, knocked his hands apart as if they had been paper, and resounded from his breast-protector. ken pitched the second ball in the same place with a like result, except that dean held on to it. graves had lost his smile and wore an expression of sickly surprise. the third ball travelled by him and cracked in dean's mitt, and arthurs called it a strike. "easy there--that'll do!" yelled the coach. "come in here, peg. out on the field now, boys." homans stopped ken as they were passing each other, and ken felt himself under the scrutiny of clear gray eyes. "youngster, you look good to me," said homans. ken also felt himself regarded with astonishment by many of the candidates; and ray ran a keen, intuitive glance over him from head to foot. but it was the coach's manner that struck ken most forcibly. worry was utterly unlike himself. "why didn't you tell me about this before--you--you--" he yelled, red as a beet in the face. he grasped ken with both hands, then he let him go, and picking up a ball and a mitt he grasped him again. without a word he led ken across the field and to a secluded corner behind the bleachers. ken felt for all the world as if he was being led to execution. worry took off his coat and vest and collar. he arranged a block of wood for a plate and stepped off so many paces and placed another piece of wood to mark the pitcher's box. then he donned the mitt. "peg, somethin's comin' off. i know it. i never make mistakes in sizin' up pitchers. but i've had such hard luck this season that i can't believe my own eyes. we've got to prove it. now you go out there and pitch to me. just natural like at first." ken pitched a dozen balls or more, some in-curves, some out-curves. then he threw what he called his drop, which he executed by a straight overhand swing. "oh--a beauty!" yelled worry. "where, peg, where did you learn that? another, lower now." worry fell over trying to stop the glancing drop. "try straight ones now, peg, right over the middle. see how many you can pitch." one after another, with free, easy motion, ken shot balls squarely over the plate. worry counted them, and suddenly, after the fourteenth pitch, he stood up and glared at ken. "are you goin' to keep puttin' 'em over this pan all day that way?" "mr. arthurs, i couldn't miss that plate if i pitched a week," replied ken. "stop callin' me mister!" yelled worry. "now, put 'em where i hold my hands--inside corner... outside corner... again... inside now, low... another... a fast one over, now... high, inside. oh, peg, this ain't right. i ain't seein' straight. i think i'm dreamin'. come on with 'em!" fast and true ken sped the balls into worry's mitt. seldom did the coach have to move his hands at all. "peg ward, did you know that pitchin' was all control, puttin' the ball where you wanted to?" asked worry, stopping once more. "no, i didn't," replied ken. "how did you learn to peg a ball as straight as this?" ken told him how he had thrown at marks all his life. "why didn't you tell me before?" worry seemed not to be able to get over ken's backwardness. "look at the sleepless nights and the gray hairs you could have saved me." he stamped around as if furious, yet underneath the surface ken saw that the coach was trying to hide his elation. "here now," he shouted, suddenly, "a few more, and _peg_ 'em! see? cut loose and let me see what steam you've got!" ken whirled with all his might and delivered the ball with all his weight in the swing. the ball seemed to diminish in size, it went so swiftly. near the plate it took an upward jump, and it knocked worry's mitt off his hand. worry yelled out, then he looked carefully at ken, but he made no effort to go after the ball or pick up the mitt. "did i say for you to knock my block off?... come here, peg. you're only a youngster. do you think you can keep that? are you goin' to let me teach you to pitch? have you got any nerve? are you up in the air at the thought of place and herne?" then he actually hugged ken, and kept hold of him as if he might get away. he was panting and sweating. all at once he sat down on one of the braces of the bleachers and began mopping his face. he seemed to cool down, to undergo a subtle change. "peg," he said, quietly, "i'm as bad as some of 'em fat-head directors.... you see i didn't have no kind of a pitcher to work on this spring. i kept on hopin'. strange why i didn't quit. and now--my boy, you're a kid, but you're a natural born pitcher." xi state university game arthurs returned to the diamond and called the squad around him. he might have been another coach from the change that was manifest in him. "boys, i've picked the varsity, and sorry i am to say you all can't be on it. ward, dean, mccord, raymond, weir, graves, ray, homans, trace, duncan, and schoonover--these men will report at once to trainer murray and obey his orders. then pack your trunks and report to me at spring street to-night. that's all--up on your toes now.... the rest of you boys will each get his uniform and sweater, but, of course, i can't give you the varsity letter. you've all tried hard and done your best. i'm much obliged to you, and hope you'll try again next year." led by arthurs, the players trotted across the field to murray's quarters. ken used all his eyes as he went in. this was the sacred precinct of the chosen athletes, and it was not open to any others. he saw a small gymnasium, and adjoining it a large, bright room with painted windows that let in the light, but could not be seen through. around the room on two sides were arranged huge box-like bins with holes in the lids and behind them along the wall were steam-pipes. on the other two sides were little zinc-lined rooms, with different kinds of pipes, which ken concluded were used for shower baths. murray, the trainer, was there, and two grinning negroes with towels over their shoulders, and a little dried-up scotchman who was all one smile. "murray, here's my bunch. look 'em over, and to-morrow start 'em in for keeps," said arthurs. "well, worry, they're not a bad-looking lot. slim and trim. we won't have to take off any beef. here's reddy ray. i let you have him this year, worry, but the track team will miss him. and here's peg ward. i was sure you'd pick him, worry. and this is homans, isn't it? i remember you in the freshmen games. the rest of you boys i'll have to get acquainted with. they say i'm a pretty hard fellow, but that's on the outside. now, hustle out of your suits, and we'll give you all a good stew and a rub-down." what the stew was soon appeared plain to ken. he was the first player undressed, and murray, lifting up one of the box-lids, pushed ken inside. "sit down and put your feet in that pan," he directed. "when i drop the lid let your head come out the hole. there!" then he wrapped a huge towel around ken's neck, being careful to tuck it close and tight. with that he reached round to the back of the box and turned on the steam. ken felt like a jack-in-the-box. the warm steam was pleasant. he looked about him to see the other boys being placed in like positions. raymond had the box on one side, and reddy ray the one on the other. "it's great," said ray, smiling at ken. "you'll like it." raymond looked scared. ken wondered if the fellow ever got any enjoyment out of things. then ken found himself attending to his own sensations. the steam was pouring out of the pipe inside the box, and it was growing wetter, thicker, and hotter. the pleasant warmth and tickling changed to a burning sensation. ken found himself bathed in a heavy sweat. then he began to smart in different places, and he was hard put to it to keep rubbing them. the steam grew hotter; his body was afire; his breath labored in great heaves. ken felt that he must cry out. he heard exclamations, then yells, from some of the other boxed-up players, and he glanced quickly around. reddy ray was smiling, and did not look at all uncomfortable. but raymond was scarlet in the face, and he squirmed his head to and fro. "_ough!_" he bawled. "let me out of here!" one of the negro attendants lifted the lid and helped raymond out. he danced about as if on hot bricks. his body was the color of a boiled lobster. the attendant put him under one of the showers and turned the water on. raymond uttered one deep, low, "o-o-o-o!" then mccord begged to be let out; weir's big head, with its shock of hair, resembled that of an angry lion; little trace screamed, and duncan yelled. "peg, how're you?" asked murray, walking up to ken. "it's always pretty hot the first few times. but afterward it's fine. look at reddy." "murray, give peg a good stewin'," put in arthurs. "he's got a great arm, and we must take care of it." ken saw the other boys, except ray, let out, and he simply could not endure the steam any longer. "i've got--enough," he stammered. "scotty, turn on a little more stew," ordered murray, cheerfully; then he rubbed his hand over ken's face. "you're not hot yet." scotty turned on more steam, and ken felt it as a wet flame. he was being flayed alive. "please--please--let me out!" he implored. with a laugh murray lifted the lid, and ken hopped out. he was as red as anything red he had ever seen. then scotty shoved him under a shower, and as the icy water came down in a deluge ken lost his breath, his chest caved in, and he gasped. scotty led him out into the room, dried him with a towel, rubbed him down, and then, resting ken's arm on his shoulder, began to pat and beat and massage it. in a few moments ken thought his arm was a piece of live india rubber. he had never been in such a glow. when he had dressed he felt as light as air, strong, fresh, and keen for action. "hustle now, peg," said arthurs. "get your things packed. supper to-night at the trainin'-house." it was after dark when ken got an expressman to haul his trunk to the address on spring street. the house was situated about the middle of a four-storied block, and within sight of grant field. worry answered his ring. "here you are, peg, the last one. i was beginnin' to worry about you. have your trunk taken right up, third floor back. hurry down, for dinner will be ready soon." ken followed at the heels of the expressman up to his room. he was surprised and somewhat taken back to find raymond sitting upon the bed. "hello! excuse me," said ken. "guess i've got the wrong place." "the coach said you and i were to room together," returned raymond. "us? room-mates?" ejaculated ken. raymond took offence at this. "wull, i guess i can stand it," he growled. "i hope i can," was ken's short reply. it was ken's failing that he could not help retaliating. but he was also as repentant as he was quick-tempered. "oh, i didn't mean that.... see here, raymond, if we've got to be room-mates--" ken paused in embarrassment. "wull, we're both on the varsity," said raymond. "that's so," rejoined ken, brightening. "it makes a whole lot of difference, doesn't it?" raymond got off the bed and looked at ken. "what's your first name?" queried he. "i don't like 'peg.'" "kenneth. ken, for short. what's yours?" "mine's kel. wull, ken--" having gotten so far raymond hesitated, and it was ken who first offered his hand. raymond eagerly grasped it. that broke the ice. "kel, i haven't liked your looks at all," said ken, apologetically. "ken, i've been going to lick you all spring." they went down-stairs arm in arm. it was with great interest and curiosity that ken looked about the cozy and comfortable rooms. the walls were adorned with pictures of varsity teams and players, and the college colors were much in evidence. college magazines and papers littered the table in the reading-room. "boys, we'll be pretty snug and nice here when things get to runnin' smooth. the grub will be plain, but plenty of it." there were twelve in all at the table, with the coach seated at the head. the boys were hungry, and besides, as they had as yet had no chance to become acquainted, the conversation lagged. the newness and strangeness, however, did not hide the general air of suppressed gratification. after dinner worry called them all together in the reading-room. "well, boys, here we are together like one big family, and we're shut in for two months. now, i know you've all been fightin' for places on the team, and have had no chance to be friendly. it's always that way in the beginnin', and i dare say there'll be some scraps among you before things straighten out. we'll have more to say about that later. the thing now is you're all varsity men, and i'm puttin' you on your word of honor. your word is good enough for me. here's my rules, and i'm more than usually particular this year, for reasons i'll tell later. "you're not to break trainin'. you're not to eat anything anywhere but here. you're to cut out cigarettes and drinks. you're to be in bed at ten o'clock. and i advise, although i ain't insistin', that if you have any leisure time you'll spend most of it here. that's all." for ken the three days following passed as so many hours. he did not in the least dread the approaching game with state university, but his mind held scarcely anything outside of arthurs' coaching. the practice of the players had been wholly different. it was as if they had been freed from some binding spell. worry kept them at fielding and batting for four full hours every afternoon. ken, after pitching to dean for a while, batted to the infield and so had opportunity to see the improvement. graves was brilliant at third, weir was steady and sure at short, raymond seemed to have springs in his legs and pounced upon the ball with wonderful quickness, and mccord fielded all his chances successfully. on the afternoon of the game worry waited at the training-house until all the players came down-stairs in uniform. "boys, what's happened in the past doesn't count. we start over to-day. i'm not goin' to say much or confuse you with complex team coachin'. but i'm hopeful. i sort of think there's a nigger in the woodpile. i'll tell you to-night if i'm right. think of how you have been roasted by the students. play like tigers. put out of your mind everything but tryin'. nothin' counts for you, boys. errors are nothin'; mistakes are nothin'. play the game as one man. don't think of yourselves. you all know when you ought to hit or bunt or run. i'm trustin' you. i won't say a word from the bench. and don't underrate our chances. remember that i think it's possible we may have somethin' up our sleeves. that's all from me till after the game." worry walked to grant field with ken. he talked as they went along, but not on baseball. the state team was already out and practising. worry kept ken near him on the bench and closely watched the visitors in practice. when the gong rang to call them in he sent his players out, with a remark to ken to take his warming-up easily. ken thought he had hardly warmed up at all before the coach called him in. "peg, listen!" he whispered. his gaze seemed to hypnotize ken. "do you have any idea what you'll do to this bunch from state?" "why--no--i--" "listen! i tell you i know they won't be able to touch you.... size up batters in your own way. if they look as if they'd pull or chop on a curve, hand it up. if not, peg 'em a straight one over the inside corner, high. if you get in a hole with runners on bases use that fast jump ball, as hard as you can drive it, right over the pan.... go in with perfect confidence. i wouldn't say that to you, peg, if i didn't feel it myself, honestly. i'd say for you to do your best. but i've sized up these state fellows, and they won't be able to touch you. remember what i say. that's all." "i'll remember," said ken, soberly. when the umpire called the game there were perhaps fifty students in the bleachers and a few spectators in the grand-stand, so poor an attendance that the state players loudly voiced their derision. "hey! boys," yelled one, "we drew a crowd last year, and look at that!" "it's wayne's dub team," replied another. they ran upon the field as if the result of the game was a foregone conclusion. their pitcher, a lanky individual, handled the ball with assurance. homans led off for wayne. he stood left-handed at the plate, and held his bat almost in the middle. he did not swing, but poked at the first ball pitched and placed a short hit over third. raymond, also left-handed, came next, and, letting two balls go, he bunted the third. running fast, he slid into first base and beat the throw. homans kept swiftly on toward third, drew the throw, and, sliding, was also safe. it was fast work, and the wayne players seemed to rise off the bench with the significance of the play. worry arthurs looked on from under the brim of his hat, and spoke no word. then reddy ray stepped up. "they're all left-handed!" shouted a state player. the pitcher looked at reddy, then motioned for his outfielders to play deeper. with that he delivered the ball, which the umpire called a strike. reddy stood still and straight while two more balls sped by, then he swung on the next. a vicious low hit cut out over first base and skipped in great bounds to the fence. homans scored. raymond turned second, going fast. but it was ray's speed that electrified the watching players. they jumped up cheering. "oh, see him run!" yelled ken. he was on third before raymond reached the plate. weir lifted a high fly to left field, and when the ball dropped into the fielder's hands ray ran home on the throw-in. three runs had been scored in a twinkling. it amazed the state team. they were not slow in bandying remarks among themselves. "fast! who's that red-head? is this your dub team? get in the game, boys!" they began to think more of playing ball and less of their own superiority. graves, however, and mccord following him, went out upon plays to the infield. as ken walked out toward the pitcher's box homans put a hand on his arm, and said: "kid, put them all over. don't waste any. make every batter hit. keep your nerve. we're back of you out here." then reddy ray, in passing, spoke with a cool, quiet faith that thrilled ken, "peg, we've got enough runs now to win." ken faced the plate all in a white glow. he was far from calmness, but it was a restless, fiery hurry for the action of the game. he remembered the look in worry's eyes, and every word that he had spoken rang in his ears. receiving the ball from the umpire, he stepped upon the slab with a sudden, strange, deep tremor. it passed as quickly, and then he was eying the first batter. he drew a long breath, standing motionless, with all the significance of worry's hope flashing before him, and then he whirled and delivered the ball. the batter struck at it after it had passed him, and it cracked in dean's mitt. "speed!" called the state captain. "quick eye, there!" the batter growled some unintelligible reply. then he fouled the second ball, missed the next, and was out. the succeeding state player hit an easy fly to homans, and the next had two strikes called upon him, and swung vainly at the third. dean got a base on balls for wayne, trace went out trying to bunt, and ken hit into short, forcing dean at second. homans lined to third, retiring the side. the best that the state players could do in their half was for one man to send a weak grounder to raymond, one to fly out, and the other to fail on strikes. wayne went to bat again, and raymond got his base by being hit by a pitched ball. reddy ray bunted and was safe. weir struck out. graves rapped a safety through short, scoring raymond, and sending ray to third. then mccord fouled out to the catcher. again, in state's inning, they failed to get on base, being unable to hit ken effectively. so the game progressed, state slowly losing its aggressive playing, and wayne gaining what its opponents had lost. in the sixth homans reached his base on an error, stole second, went to third on raymond's sacrifice, and scored on reddy's drive to right. state flashed up in their half, getting two men to first on misplays of mccord and weir, and scored a run on a slow hit to graves. with the bases full, ken let his arm out and pitched the fast ball at the limit of his speed. the state batters were helpless before it, but they scored two runs on passed strikes by dean. the little catcher had a hard time judging ken's jump ball. that ended the run-getting for state, though they came near scoring again on more fumbling in the infield. in the eighth ken landed a safe fly over second, and tallied on a double by homans. before ken knew the game was half over it had ended--wayne , state . his players crowded around him and some one called for the wayne yell. it was given with wild vehemence. from that moment until dinner was over at the training-house ken appeared to be the centre of a humming circle. what was said and done he never remembered. then the coach stopped the excitement. "boys, now for a heart-to-heart talk," he said, with a smile both happy and grave. "we won to-day, as i predicted. state had a fairly strong team, but if ward had received perfect support they would not have got a man beyond second. that's the only personal mention i'll make. now, listen...." he paused, with his eyes glinting brightly and his jaw quivering. "i expected to win, but before the game i never dreamed of our possibilities. i got a glimpse now of what hard work and a demon spirit to play together might make this team. i've had an inspiration. we are goin' to beat herne and play place to a standstill." not a boy moved an eyelash as arthurs made this statement, and the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard. "to do that we must pull together as no boys ever pulled together before. we must be all one heart. we must be actuated by one spirit. listen! if you will stick together and to me, i'll make a team that will be a wonder. never the hittin' team as good as last year's varsity, but a faster team, a finer machine. think of that! think of how we have been treated this year! for that we'll win all the greater glory. it's worth all there is in you, boys. you would have the proudest record of any team that ever played for old wayne. "i love the old college, boys, and i've given it the best years of my life. if it's anything to you, why, understand that if i fail to build up a good team this year i shall be let go by those directors who have made the change in athletics. i could stand that, but--i've a boy of my own who's preparin' for wayne, and my heart is set on seein' him enter--and he said he never will if they let me go. so, you youngsters and me--we've much to gain. go to your rooms now and think, think as you never did before, until the spirit of this thing, the possibility of it, grips you as it has me." xii ken clashes with graves two weeks after the contest with state university four more games with minor colleges had been played and won by wayne. hour by hour the coach had drilled the players; day by day the grilling practice told in quickening grasp of team-play, in gradual correction of erratic fielding and wild throwing. every game a few more students attended, reluctantly, in half-hearted manner. "we're comin' with a rush," said worry to ken. "say, but dale and the old gang have a surprise in store for 'em! and the students--they're goin' to drop dead pretty soon.... peg, murray tells me he's puttin' weight on you." "why, yes, it's the funniest thing," replied ken. "to-day i weighed one hundred and sixty-four. worry, i'm afraid i'm getting fat." "fat, nothin'," snorted worry. "it's muscle. i told murray to put beef on you all he can. pretty soon you'll be able to peg a ball through the back-stop. dean's too light, peg. he's plucky and will make a catcher, but he's too light. you're batterin' him all up." worry shook his head seriously. "oh, he's fine!" exclaimed ken. "i'm not afraid any more. he digs my drop out of the dust, and i can't get a curve away from him. he's weak only on the jump ball, and i don't throw that often, only when i let drive." "you'll be usin' that often enough against herne and place. i'm dependin' on that for those games. peg, are you worryin' any, losin' any sleep, over those games?" "indeed i'm not," replied ken, laughing. "say, i wish you'd have a balloon ascension, and have it quick. it ain't natural, peg, for you not to get a case of rattles. it's comin' to you, and i don't want it in any of the big games." "i don't want it either. but worry, pitching is all a matter of control, you say so often. i don't believe i could get wild and lose my control if i tried." "peg, you sure have the best control of any pitcher i ever coached. it's your success. it'll make a great pitcher out of you. all you've got to learn is where to pitch 'em to herne and place." "how am i to learn that?" "listen!" worry whispered. "i'm goin' to send you to washington next week to see place and herne play georgetown. you'll pay your little money and sit in the grand-stand right behind the catcher. you'll have a pencil and a score card, and you'll be enjoyin' the game. but, peg, you'll also be usin' your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot it down on your card. you'll watch place's hard hitters with hawk eyes, my boy, and a pitcher's memory. and when they come along to grant field you'll have 'em pretty well sized up." "that's fine, worry, but is it fair?" queried ken. "fair? why, of course. they all do it. we saw place's captain in the grand-stand here last spring." the coach made no secret of his pride and faith in ken. it was this, perhaps, as much as anything, which kept ken keyed up. for ken was really pitching better ball than he knew how to pitch. he would have broken his arm for worry; he believed absolutely in what the coach told him; he did not think of himself at all. worry, however, had plenty of enthusiasm for his other players. every evening after dinner he would call them all about him and talk for an hour. sometimes he would tell funny baseball stories; again, he told of famous wayne-place games, and how they had been won or lost; then at other times he dwelt on the merits and faults of his own team. in speaking of the swift development of this year's varsity he said it was as remarkable as it had been unforeseen. he claimed it would be a bewildering surprise to wayne students and to the big college teams. he was working toward the perfection of a fast run-getting machine. in the five games already played and won a good idea could be gotten of wayne's team, individually and collectively. homans was a scientific short-field hitter and remarkably sure. raymond could not bat, but he had developed into a wonder in reaching first base, by bunt or base on balls, or being hit. reddy ray was a hard and timely batter, and when he got on base his wonderful fleetness made him almost sure to score. of the other players graves batted the best; but taking the team as a whole, and comparing them with place or herne, it appeared that reddy and homans were the only great hitters, and the two of them, of course, could not make a great hitting team. in fielding, however, the coach said he had never seen the like. they were all fast, and homans was perfect in judgment on fly balls, and raymond was quick as lightning to knock down base hits, and as to the intercollegiate sprinter in left field, it was simply a breath-taking event to see him run after a ball. last of all was ken ward with his great arm. it was a strangely assorted team, worry said, one impossible to judge at the moment, but it was one to watch. "boys, we're comin' with a rush," he went on to say. "but somethin's holdin' us back a little. there's no lack of harmony, yet there's a drag. in spite of the spirit you've shown--and i want to say it's been great--the team doesn't work together as one man _all_ the time. i advise you all to stick closer together. stay away from the club, and everywhere except lectures. we've got to be closer 'n brothers. it'll all work out right before we go up against herne in june. that game's comin', boys, and by that time the old college will be crazy. it'll be _our_ turn then." worry's talks always sank deeply into ken's mind and set him to thinking and revolving over and over the gist of them so that he could remember to his profit. he knew that some of the boys had broken training, and he pondered if that was what caused the drag worry mentioned. ken had come to feel the life and fortunes of the varsity so keenly that he realized how the simplest deviations from honor might affect the smooth running of the team. it must be perfectly smooth. and to make it so every player must be of one mind. ken proved to himself how lack of the highest spirit on the part of one or two of the team tended toward the lowering of the general spirit. for he began to worry, and almost at once it influenced his playing. he found himself growing watchful of his comrades and fearful of what they might be doing. he caught himself being ashamed of his suspicions. he would as lief have cut off his hand as break his promise to the coach. perhaps, however, he exaggerated his feeling and sense of duty. he remembered the scene in dale's room the night he refused to smoke and drink; how dale had commended his refusal. nevertheless, he gathered from dale's remark to worry that breaking training was not unusual or particularly harmful. "with dale's team it might not have been so bad," thought ken. "but it's different with us. we've got to make up in spirit what we lack in ability." weir and mccord occupied the room next to ken's, and graves and trace, rooming together, were also on that floor. ken had tried with all his might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. he had caught graves carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window open. one night graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them to kel, trace, and ken, who all happened to be in ken's room at the time. trace readily accepted; kel demurred at first, but finally took one. graves then tossed the pack to ken. "no, i don't smoke. besides, it's breaking training," said ken. "you make me sick, ward," retorted graves. "you're a wet blanket. do you think we're going to be as sissy as that? it's hard enough to stand the grub we get here, without giving up a little smoke." ken made no reply, but he found it difficult to smother a hot riot in his breast. when the other boys had gone to their rooms ken took kel to task about his wrong-doing. "do you think that's the right sort of thing? what would worry say?" "ken, i don't care about it, not a bit," replied kel, flinging his cigarette out of the window. "but graves is always asking me to do things--i hate to refuse. it seems so--" "kel, if worry finds it out you'll lose your place on the team." "no!" exclaimed raymond, staring. "mark what i say. i wish you'd stop letting graves coax you into things." "ken, he's always smuggling pie and cake and candy into his room. i've had some of it. trace said he'd brought in something to drink, too." "it's a shame," cried ken, in anger. "i never liked him and i've tried hard to change it. now i'm glad i couldn't." "he doesn't have any use for you," replied kel. "he's always running you down to the other boys. what'd you ever do to him, ken?" "oh, it was that potato stunt of mine last fall. he's a soph, and i hit him, i guess." "i think it's more than that," went on raymond. "anyway, you look out for him, because he's aching to spoil your face." "he is, is he?" snapped ken. ken was too angry to talk any more, and so the boys went to bed. the next few days ken discovered that either out of shame or growing estrangement raymond avoided him, and he was bitterly hurt. he had come to like the little second-baseman, and had hoped they would be good friends. it was easy to see that graves became daily bolder, and more lax in training, and his influence upon several of the boys grew stronger. and when dean, schoonover, and duncan appeared to be joining the clique, ken decided he would have to talk to some one, so he went up to see ray and homans. the sprinter was alone, sitting by his lamp, with books and notes spread before him. "hello, peg! come in. you look a little glum. what's wrong?" reddy ray seemed like an elder brother to ken, and he found himself blurting out his trouble. ray looked thoughtful, and after a moment he replied in his quiet way: "peg, it's new to you, but it's an old story to me. the track and crew men seldom break training, which is more than can be said of the other athletes. it seems to me baseball fellows are the most careless. they really don't have to train so conscientiously. it's only a kind of form." "but it's different this year," burst out ken. "you know what worry said, and how he trusts us." "you're right, peg, only you mustn't take it so hard. things will work out all right. homans and i were talking about that to-day. you see, worry wants the boys to elect a captain soon. but perhaps he has not confided in you youngsters. he will suggest that you elect homans or me. well, i won't run for the place, so it'll be homans. he's the man to captain us, that's certain. graves thinks, though, that he can pull the wires and be elected captain. he's way off. besides, peg, he's making a big mistake. worry doesn't like him, and when he finds out about this break in training we'll have a new third-baseman. no doubt blake will play the bag. graves is the only drag in worry's baseball machine now, and he'll not last.... so, peg, don't think any more about it. mind you, the whole team circles round you. you're the pivot, and as sure as you're born you'll be wayne's captain next year. that's something for you to keep in mind and work for. if graves keeps after you--hand him one! that's not against rules. punch him! if worry knew the truth he would pat you on the back for slugging graves. cheer up, peg! even if graves has got all the kids on his side, which i doubt, homans and i are with you. and you can just bet that worry arthurs will side with us.... now run along, for i must study." this conversation was most illuminating to ken. he left reddy's room all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's quiet praise and advice. to make such a friend was worth losing a hundred friends like graves. he dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from mind, and believed reddy as he had believed arthurs. but ken thought much of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college baseball team. he had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming captain of wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more of that. the day dawned for ken to go to washington, and he was so perturbed at his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game wayne had to play in his absence. arthurs intended to pitch schoonover in that game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. the coach went to the station with ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the train. certainly there was no more important personage on board that washington limited than ken ward. in fact, ken was so full of importance and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride in his being chosen to "size up" the great college teams and fearful conjecture as to his ability. at any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was on the georgetown field. it was lucky that he arrived early and got a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in attendance when the players came on the diamond. the noisy bleachers, the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave ken pleasurable consciousness of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. at wayne he had pitched to empty seats. remembering worry's prophecy, however, he was content to wait. from that moment his duty absorbed him. he found it exceedingly fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility. not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have pitched to them with what was actually pitched. of course, he had no test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the better of it. watching so closely, ken had forced home to him arthurs' repeated assertion that control of the ball made a pitcher. both pitchers in this game were wild. locating the plate with them was more a matter of luck than ability. the herne pitcher kept wasting balls and getting himself in the hole, and then the heavy georgetown players would know when he had to throw a strike, if he could, and accordingly they hit hard. they beat herne badly. the next day in the game with place it was a different story. ken realized he was watching a great team. they reminded him of dale's varsity, though they did not play that fiendish right-field-hitting game. ken had a numbness come over him at the idea of facing this place team. it soon passed, for they had their vulnerable places. it was not so much that they hit hard on speed and curves, for they got them where they wanted them. keene flied out on high fast balls over the inside corner; starke bit on low drops; martin was weak on a slow ball; macneff, the captain, could not touch speed under his chin, and he always struck at it. on the other hand, he killed a low ball. prince was the only man who, in ken's judgment, seemed to have no weakness. these men represented the batting strength of place, and ken, though he did not in the least underestimate them, had no fear. he would have liked to pitch against them right there. "it's all in control of the ball," thought ken. "here are seventeen bases on balls in two games--four pitchers. they're wild.... but suppose i got wild, too?" the idea made ken shiver. he travelled all night, sleeping on the train, and got home to the training-house about nine the next morning. worry was out, scotty said, and the boys had all gone over to college. ken went up-stairs and found raymond in bed. "why, kel, what's the matter?" asked ken. "i'm sick," replied kel. he was pale and appeared to be in distress. "oh, i'm sorry. can't i do something? get you some medicine? call murray?" "ken, don't call anybody, unless you want to see me disgraced. worry got out this morning before he noticed my absence from breakfast. i was scared to death." "scared? disgraced?" "ken, i drank a little last night. it always makes me sick. you know i've a weak stomach." "kel, you didn't drink, _say_ you didn't!" implored ken, sitting miserably down on the bed. "yes, i did. i believe i was half drunk. i can't stand anything. i'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. and i hate graves." ken jumped up with kindling eyes. "kel, you've gone back on me--we'd started to be such friends--i tried to persuade you--" "i know. i'm sorry, ken. but i really liked you best. i was--you know how it is, ken. if only worry don't find it out!" "tell him," said ken, quickly. "what?" groaned kel, in fright. "tell him. let me tell him for you." "no--no--no. he'd fire me off the team, and i couldn't stand that." "i'll bet worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. maybe he knows more than you think." "i'm afraid to tell him, ken. i just can't tell him." "but you gave your word of honor not to break training. the only thing left is to confess." "i won't tell, ken. it's not so much my own place on the team--there are the other fellows." ken saw that it was no use to argue with raymond while he was so sick and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make him comfortable. raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better. "i won't be able to practise to-day," he said; "but i'll go down to lunch." as he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling up the stairs. graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste. "how're you feeling?" he asked. "pretty rocky. graves--i told ward about it," said raymond. upon his hurried entrance graves had not observed ken. "what did you want to do that for?" he demanded, arrogantly. raymond looked at him, but made no reply. "ward, i suppose you'll squeal," said graves, sneeringly. "that'll about be your speed." ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent. "you sissy!" cried graves, hotly. "will you peach on us to arthurs?" "no. but if you don't get out of my room i'll hand you one," replied ken, his voice growing thick. graves's face became red as fire. "what? why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! i've been aching to punch you!" "well, why don't you commence?" with the first retort ken had felt a hot trembling go over him, and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened. "ken--graves," pleaded raymond, white as a sheet. "don't--please!" he turned from one to the other. "don't scrap!" "graves, it's up to some one to call you, and i'm going to do it," said ken, passionately. "you've been after me all season, but i wouldn't care for that. it's your rotten influence on kel and the other boys that makes me wild. you are the drag in this baseball team. you are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college spirit means. you're a mucker!" "i'll lick you for that!" raved graves, shaking his fists. "you can't lick me!" "come outdoors. i dare you to come outdoors. i dare you!" ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. "come on!" he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. graves hesitated a moment, then followed. raymond suddenly called after them: "give it to him, ken! slug him! beat him all up!" xiii friendship a half-hour or less afterward ken entered the training-house. it chanced that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the hall to the dining-room, and with them was worry arthurs. "hello! you back? what's the matter with you?" demanded the coach. ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. sundry red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. his eyes were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow. "you've been in a scrap," declared worry. "i know it," said ken. "let me go up and wash." worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of ken. the boys stood silent and aghast. suddenly there came thumps upon the stairs, and raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. he dodged under worry's arm and plunged at ken to hold him with both hands. "ken! you're all bloody!" he exclaimed, in great excitement. "he didn't lick you? say he didn't! he's got to fight me, too! you're all bunged up!" "wait till you see him!" muttered ken. "a-huh!" said worry. "been scrappin' with graves! what for?" "it's a personal matter," replied ken. "come, no monkey-biz with me," said the coach, sharply. "out with it!" there was a moment's silence. "mr. arthurs, it's my fault," burst out raymond, flushed and eager. "ken was fighting on my account." "it wasn't anything of the kind," retorted ken, vehemently. "yes it was," cried raymond, "and i'm going to tell why." the hall door opened to admit graves. he was dishevelled, dirty, battered, and covered with blood. when he saw the group in the hall he made as if to dodge out. "here, come on! take your medicine," called worry, tersely. graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow from his usual vaunting self. "now, raymond, what's this all about?" demanded worry. raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant. "ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. i told him i had been half drunk last night--and that graves had gotten me to drink. then graves came in. he and ken had hard words. they went outdoors to fight." "would you have told me?" roared the coach in fury. "would you have come to me with this if i hadn't caught peg?" raymond faced him without flinching. "at first i thought not--when ken begged me to confess i just couldn't. but now i know i would." at that worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken graves. "mebbe it'll surprise you, graves, to learn that i knew a little of what you've been doin'. i told homans to go to you in a quiet way and tip off your mistake. i hoped you'd see it. but you didn't. then you've been knockin' ward all season, for no reason i could discover but jealousy. now, listen! peg ward has done a lot for me already this year, and he'll do more. but even if he beats place, it won't mean any more to me than the beatin' he's given you. now, you pack your things and get out of here. there's no position for you on this varsity." without a word in reply and amid intense silence graves went slowly up-stairs. when he disappeared worry sank into a chair, and looked as if he was about to collapse. little trace walked hesitatingly forward with the manner of one propelled against his will. "mr. arthurs, i--i," he stammered--"i'm guilty, too. i broke training. i want to--" the coach waved him back. "i don't want to hear it, not another word--from anybody. it's made me sick. i can't stand any more. only i see i've got to change my rules. there won't be any rules any more. you can all do as you like. i'd rather have you all go stale than practise deceit on me. i cut out the trainin' rules." "_no!_" the team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach. "worry, we won't stand for that," spoke up reddy ray. his smooth, cool voice was like oil on troubled waters. "i think homans and i can answer for the kids from now on. graves was a disorganizer--that's the least i'll say of him. we'll elect homans captain of the team, and then we'll cut loose like a lot of demons. it's been a long, hard drill for you, worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. we've been a kind of misfit team all spring. you've had a blind faith that something could be made out of us. homans has waked up to our hidden strength. and i go further than that. i've played ball for years. i know the game. i held down left field for two seasons on the greatest college team ever developed out west. that's new to you. well, it gives me license to talk a little. i want to tell you that i can _feel_ what's in this team. it's like the feeling i have when i'm running against a fast man in the sprints. from now on we'll be a family of brothers with one idea. and that'll be to play place off their feet." coach arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life. likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell of a powerful stimulus. the sprinter's words struck fire from all present. homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. "boys! one rousing cheer for worry arthurs and for wayne!" lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar. it was strange and significant at that moment to see graves, white-faced and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the door. it was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him. arthurs and homans and ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson to the young players. dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room. "mr. arthurs, i done call yo' all. lunch is sho' gittin' cold." that afternoon wayne played the strong hornell university nine. blake, new at third base for wayne, was a revelation. he was all legs and arms. weir accepted eight chances. raymond, sick or not, was all over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. to mccord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. trace caught a foul fly right off the bleachers. homans fielded with as much speed as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. besides, he made four hits and four runs. reddy ray drove one ball into the bleachers, and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that murray said was wonderful. dean stood up valiantly to his battering, and for the first game had no passed balls. and ken ward whirled tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over the plate. he made the hornell players hit; he had no need to extend himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only two safe hits. all through the game worry arthurs sat on the bench without giving an order or a sign. his worried look had vanished with the crude playing of his team. that night the hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable ability, was entertained at carlton club by wayne friends, and he expressed himself forcibly: "we came over to beat wayne's weak team. it'll be some time till we discover what happened. young ward has the most magnificent control and speed. he's absolutely relentless. and that frog-legged second-baseman--oh, say, can't he cover ground! homans is an all-round star. then, your red-headed ray, the sprinter--he's a marvel. ward, homans, ray--they're demons, and they're making demons of the kids. i can't understand why wayne students don't support their team. it's strange." what the hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club, and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to dormitory, and thus over all the university. "boys, the college is wakin' up," said worry, rubbing his hands. "yesterday's game jarred 'em. they can't believe their own ears. why, hornell almost beat dale's team last spring. now, kids, look out. we'll stand for no fussin' over us. we don't want any jollyin'. we've waited long for encouragement. it didn't come, and now we'll play out the string alone. there'll be a rush to grant field. it cuts no ice with us. let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the spring. we'll show 'em a few things. we'll make 'em speechless. we'll make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. we'll repay all their slights by beatin' place." worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that ken was a pitcher. "one more word, boys," he went on. "keep together now. run back here to your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. be civil when you are approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. keep to yourselves. your reward is comin'. it'll be great. only wait!" and that was the last touch of fire which moulded worry's players into a family of brothers. close and warm and fine was the culmination of their friendship. on the field they were dominated by one impulse, almost savage in its intensity. when they were off the field the springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun. in the mornings when the mail-man came there was always a wild scramble for letters. and it developed that weir received more than his share. he got mail every day, and his good-fortune could not escape the lynx eyes of his comrades. nor could the size and shape of the envelope and the neat, small handwriting fail to be noticed. weir always stole off by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of tantalizing remarks. "oh! sugar!" "dreamy eyes!" "gawge, the pink letter has come!" weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of puff. one morning, for some unaccountable reason, weir did not get down-stairs when the mail arrived. duncan got the pink letter, scrutinized the writing closely, and put the letter in his coat. presently weir came bustling down. "who's got the mail?" he asked, quickly. "no letters this morning," replied some one. "is this sunday?" asked weir, rather stupidly. "nope. i meant no letters for you." weir looked blank, then stunned, then crestfallen. duncan handed out the pink envelope. the boys roared, and weir strode off in high dudgeon. that day duncan purchased a box of pink envelopes, and being expert with a pen, he imitated the neat handwriting and addressed pink envelopes to every boy in the training-house. next morning no one except weir seemed in a hurry to answer the postman's ring. he came in with the letters and his jaw dropping. it so happened that his letter was the very last one, and when he got to it the truth flashed over him. then the peculiar appropriateness of the nickname puff was plainly manifest. one by one the boys slid off their chairs to the floor, and at last weir had to join in the laugh on him. each of the boys in turn became the victim of some prank. raymond betrayed ken's abhorrence of any kind of perfume, and straightway there was a stealthy colloquy. cheap perfume of a most penetrating and paralyzing odor was liberally purchased. in ken's absence from his room all the clothing that he did not have on his back was saturated. then the conspirators waited for him to come up the stoop, and from their hiding-place in a window of the second floor they dropped an extra quart upon him. ken vowed vengeance that would satisfy him thrice over, and he bided his time until he learned who had perpetrated the outrage. one day after practice his opportunity came. raymond, weir, and trace, the guilty ones, went with ken to the training quarters to take the steam bath that murray insisted upon at least once every week. it so turned out that the four were the only players there that afternoon. while the others were undressing, ken bribed scotty to go out on an errand, and he let murray into his scheme. now, murray not only had acquired a strong liking for ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke. "all i want to know," whispered ken, "is if i might stew them too much--really scald them, you know?" "no danger," whispered murray. "that'll be the fun of it. you can't hurt them. but they'll think they're dying." he hustled raymond, weir, and trace into the tanks and fastened the lids, and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam. "lots of stew to-day," he said, turning the handles. "hello! where's scotty?... peg, will you watch these boys a minute while i step out?" "you bet i will," called ken to the already disappearing murray. the three cooped-in boys looked askance at ken. "wull, i'm not much stuck--" raymond began glibly enough, and then, becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to ken, he swallowed his tongue. "what'd you say?" asked ken, pretending curiosity. suddenly he began to jump up and down. "oh, my! hullabelee! schoodoorady! what a chance! you gave it away!" "look what he's doing!" yelled trace. "hyar!" added weir. "keep away from those pipes!" chimed in raymond. "boys, i've been laying for you, but i never thought i'd get a chance like this. if murray only stays out three minutes--just three minutes!" "three minutes! you idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?" asked weir, in alarm. "oh no, not at all.... puff, i think you can stand a little more steam." ken turned the handle on full. "kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch." to the accompaniment of raymond's threats he turned the second handle. "trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? now roast!" the heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and their faces to take on a flush. ken leisurely surveyed them and then did an indian war-dance in the middle of the room. "here, let me out! ken, you know how delicate i am," implored raymond. "i couldn't entertain the idea for a second," replied ken. "i'll lick you!" yelled raymond. "my lad, you've got a brain-storm," returned ken, in grieved tones. "not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said anything so impossible as that." "ken, dear ken, dear old peggie," cried trace, "you know i've got a skinned place on my hip where i slid yesterday. steam isn't good for that, worry says. he'll be sore. you must let me out." "i intend to see, willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over," replied ken. "open this lid! at once!" roared weir, in sudden anger. his big eyes rolled. "bah!" taunted ken. then all three began to roar at ken at once. "brute! devil! help! help! help! we'll fix you for this!... it's hotter! it's fire! aghh! ouch! oh! ah-h-h!... o-o-o-o!... murder! murder-r!" at this juncture murray ran in. "what on earth! peg, what did you do?" "i only turned on the steam full tilt," replied ken, innocently. "why, you shouldn't have done that," said murray, in pained astonishment. "stop talking about it! let me out!" shrieked raymond. ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room. xiv the herne game on the morning of the first of june, the day scheduled for the opening game with herne, worry arthurs had ken ward closeted with homans and reddy ray. worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard to the outcome of the game. he was always trying to impress ken with the uncertainty of baseball. but a much younger and less observing boy than ken could have seen through the coach. worry was dead sure of the result, certain that the day would see a great gathering of wayne students, and he could not hide his happiness. and the more he betrayed himself the more he growled at ken. "well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?" he demanded. "here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't been up in the air yet. i tell you it ain't right." "but, worry, i couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please you, could i?" implored ken. to ken this strain of the coach's had grown to be as serious as it was funny. "aw! talk sense," said worry. "why, you haven't pitched to a college crowd yet. wait! wait till you see that crowd over to place next week! thousands of students crazier 'n indians, and a flock of girls that'll make you bite your tongue off. ten thousand yellin' all at once." "let them yell," replied ken; "i'm aching to pitch before a crowd. it has been pretty lonesome at grant field all season." "let 'em yell, eh?" retorted worry. "all right, my boy, it's comin' to you. and if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't come to me for sympathy." "i wouldn't. i can take a licking. why, worry, you talk as if--as if i'd done something terrible. what's the matter with me? i've done every single thing you wanted--just as well as i could do it. what are you afraid of?" "you're gettin' swelled on yourself," said the coach, deliberately. the blood rushed to ken's face until it was scarlet. he was so astounded and hurt that he could not speak. worry looked at him once, then turning hastily away, he walked to the window. "peg, it ain't much wonder," he went on, smoothly, "and i'm not holdin' it against you. but i want you to forget yourself--" "i've never had a thought of myself," retorted ken, hotly. "i want you to go in to-day like--like an automatic machine," went on worry, as if ken had not spoken. "there'll be a crowd out, the first of the season. mebbe they'll throw a fit. anyway, it's our first big game. as far as the university goes, this is our trial. the students are up in the air; they don't know what to think. mebbe there won't be a cheer at first.... but, peg, if we beat herne to-day they'll tear down the bleachers." "well, all i've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the bleachers--because we're going to win," replied ken, with a smouldering fire in his eyes. "there you go again! if you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much confidence. you won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe. listen! the herne players got into town last night, and some of them talked a little. it's just as well you didn't see the morning papers. it came to me straight that gallagher, the captain, and stern, the first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. they expect you to explode before the third innin'. i wasn't goin' to tell you, peg, but you're so--" "they said that, did they?" cried ken. he jumped up with paling cheek and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under worry's nose trembled like a shaking leaf. "what i won't do to them will be funny! swelled! explode! stand the gaff! look here, worry, maybe it's true, but i don't believe it.... _i'll beat this herne team!_ do you get that?" "now you're talkin'," replied worry, with an entire change of manner. "you saw the herne bunch play. they can field, but how about hittin'?" "gallagher, stern, hill, and burr are the veterans of last year's varsity," went on ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. "they can hit--if they get what they like." "now you're talkin'. how about gallagher?" "he hits speed. he couldn't hit a slow ball with a paddle." "now you're talkin'. there's stern, how'd you size him?" "he's weak on a low curve, in or out, or a drop." "peg, you're talkin' some now. how about hill?" "hill is a bunter. a high ball in close, speedy, would tie him in a knot." "come on, hurry! there's burr." "burr's the best of the lot, a good waiter and hard hitter, but he invariably hits a high curve up in the air." "all right. so far so good. how about the rest of the team?" "i'll hand them up a straight, easy ball and let them hit. i tell you i've got herne beaten, and if gallagher or any one else begins to guy me i'll laugh in his face." "oh, you will?... say, you go down to your room now, and stay there till time for lunch. study or read. don't think another minute about this game." ken strode soberly out of the room. it was well for ken that he did not see what happened immediately after his exit. worry and homans fell into each other's arms. "say, fellows, how i hated to do it!" worry choked with laughter and contrition. "it was the hardest task i ever had. but, cap, you know we had to make peg sore. he's too blamed good-natured. oh, but didn't he take fire! he'll make some of those herne guys play low-bridge to-day. wouldn't it be great if he gave gallagher the laugh?" "worry, don't you worry about that," said homans. "and it would please me, too, for gallagher is about as wordy and pompous as any captain i've seen." "i think you were a little hard on ken," put in reddy. his quiet voice drew worry and homans from their elation. "of course, it was necessary to rouse ken's fighting blood, but you didn't choose the right way. you hurt his feelings. you know, worry, that the boy is not in the least swelled." "'course i know it, reddy. why, peg's too modest. but i want him to be dead in earnest to-day. mind you, i'm thinkin' of place. he'll beat herne to a standstill. i worked on his feelin's just to get him all stirred up. you know there's always the chance of rattles in any young player, especially a pitcher. if he's mad he won't be so likely to get 'em. so i hurt his feelin's. i'll make it up to him, don't you fear for that, reddy." "i wish you had waited till we go over to place next week," replied ray. "you can't treat him that way twice. over there's where i would look for his weakening. but it may be he won't ever weaken. if he ever does it'll be because of the crowd and not the players." "i think so, too. a yellin' mob will be new to peg. but, fellows, i'm only askin' one game from herne and one, or a good close game, from place. that'll give wayne the best record ever made. look at our standin' now. why, the newspapers are havin' a fit. since i picked the varsity we haven't lost a game. think of that! those early games don't count. we've had an unbroken string of victories, peg pitchin' twelve, and schoonover four. and if wet grounds and other things hadn't cancelled other games we'd have won more." "yes, we're in the stretch now, worry, and running strong. we'll win three out of these four big games," rejoined reddy. "oh, say, that'd be too much! i couldn't stand it! oh, say, cap, don't you think reddy, for once, is talkin' about as swift as he sprints?" "i'm afraid to tell you, worry," replied homans, earnestly. "when i look back at our work i can't realize it. but it's time to wake up. the students over at college are waking up. they will be out to-day. you are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. we keep on making runs. it's runs that count. i think, honestly, worry, that after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors. and i hold my breath when i tell you." it was remarkably quiet about the training-house all that morning. the coach sent a light lunch to the boys in their rooms. they had orders to be dressed, and to report in the reading-room at one-thirty. raymond came down promptly on time. "where's peg?" asked worry. "why, i thought he was here, ahead of me," replied raymond, in surprise. a quick survey of the uniformed players proved the absence of ken ward and reddy ray. worry appeared startled out of speech, and looked helplessly at homans. then ray came down-stairs, bat in one hand, shoes and glove in the other. he seated himself upon the last step and leisurely proceeded to put on his shoes. "reddy, did you see peg?" asked worry, anxiously. "sure, i saw him," replied the sprinter. "well?" growled the coach. "where is he? sulkin' because i called him?" "not so you'd notice it," answered reddy, in his slow, careless manner. "i just woke him up." "what!" yelled arthurs. "peg came to my room after lunch and went to sleep. i woke him just now. he'll be down in a minute." worry evidently could not reply at the moment, but he began to beam. "what would gallagher say to that?" asked captain homans, with a smile. "wayne's varsity pitcher asleep before a herne game! oh no, i guess that's not pretty good! worry, could you ask any more?" "cap, i'll never open my face to him again," blurted out the coach. ken appeared at the head of the stairs and had started down, when the door-bell rang. worry opened the door to admit murray, the trainer; dale, the old varsity captain, and the magnificently built stevens, guard and captain of the football team. "hello! worry," called out murray, cheerily. "how're the kids? boys, you look good to me. trim and fit, and all cool and quiet-like. reddy, be careful of your ankles and legs to-day. after the meet next week you can cut loose and run bases like a blue streak." dale stepped forward, earnest and somewhat concerned, but with a winning frankness. "worry, will you let stevens and me sit on the bench with the boys to-day?" worry's face took on the color of a thunder-cloud. "i'm not the captain," he replied. "ask homans." "how about it, roy?" queried dale. homans was visibly affected by surprise, pleasure, and something more. while he hesitated, perhaps not trusting himself to reply quickly, stevens took a giant stride to the fore. "homans, we've got a hunch that wayne's going to win," he said, in a deep-bass voice. "a few of us have been tipped off, and we got it straight. but the students don't know it yet. so dale and i thought we'd like them to see how we feel about it--before this game. you've had a rotten deal from the students this year. but they'll more than make it up when you beat herne. the whole college is waiting and restless." homans, recovering himself, faced the two captains courteously and gratefully, and with a certain cool dignity. "thank you, fellows! it's fine of you to offer to sit with us on the bench. i thank you on behalf of the varsity. but--not to-day. all season we've worked and fought without support, and now we're going to beat herne without support. when we've done that you and dale--all the college--can't come too quick to suit us." "i think i'd say the same thing, if i were in your place," said dale. "and i'll tell you right here that when i was captain i never plugged any harder to win than i'll plug to-day." then these two famous captains of championship teams turned to homans' players and eyed them keenly, their faces working, hands clenched, their powerful frames vibrating with the feeling of the moment. that moment was silent, eloquent. it linked homans' team to the great athletic fame of the university. it radiated the spirit to conquer, the glory of past victories, the strength of honorable defeats. then dale and stevens went out, leaving behind them a charged atmosphere. "i ain't got a word to say," announced worry to the players. "and i've very little," added captain homans. "we're all on edge, and being drawn down so fine we may be over-eager. force that back. it doesn't matter if we make misplays. we've made many this season, but we've won all the same. at the bat, remember to keep a sharp eye on the base-runner, and when he signs he is going down, bunt or hit to advance him. that's all." ken ward walked to the field between worry arthurs and reddy ray. worry had no word to say, but he kept a tight grip on ken's arm. "peg, i've won many a sprint by not underestimating my opponent," said reddy, quietly. "now you go at herne for all you're worth from the start." when they entered the field there were more spectators in the stands than had attended all the other games together. in a far corner the herne players in dark-blue uniforms were practising batting. upon the moment the gong called them in for their turn at field practice. the wayne team batted and bunted a few balls, and then homans led them to the bench. upon near view the grand-stand and bleachers seemed a strange sight to ken ward. he took one long look at the black-and-white mass of students behind the back-stop, at the straggling lines leading to the gates, at the rapidly filling rows to right and left, and then he looked no more. already an immense crowd was present. still it was not a typical college baseball audience. ken realized that at once. it was quiet, orderly, expectant, and watchful. very few girls were there. the students as a body had warmed to curiosity and interest, but not to the extent of bringing the girls. after that one glance ken resolutely kept his eyes upon the ground. he was conscious of a feeling that he wanted to spring up and leap at something. and he brought all his will to force back his over-eagerness. he heard the crack of the ball, the shouts of the herne players, the hum of voices in the grand-stand, and the occasional cheers of herne rooters. there were no wayne cheers. "warm up a little," said worry, in his ear. ken peeled off his sweater and walked out with dean. a long murmur ran throughout the stands. ken heard many things said of him, curiously, wonderingly, doubtfully, and he tried not to hear more. then he commenced to pitch to dean. worry stood near him and kept whispering to hold in his speed and just to use his arm easily. it was difficult, for ken felt that his arm wanted to be cracked like a buggy-whip. "that'll do," whispered worry. "we're only takin' five minutes' practice.... say, but there's a crowd! are you all right, peg--cool-like and determined?... good! say--but peg, you'd better look these fellows over." "i remember them all," replied ken. "that's gallagher on the end of the bench; burr is third from him; stern's fussing over the bats, and there's hill, the light-headed fellow, looking this way. there's--" "that'll do," said worry. "there goes the gong. it's all off now. homans has chosen to take the field. i guess mebbe you won't show 'em how to pitch a new white ball! get at 'em now!" then he called ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice: "it's been tough for you and for me. listen! here's where it begins to be sweet." ken trotted out to the box, to the encouraging voices of the infield, and he even caught reddy ray's low, thrilling call from the far outfield. "play!" with the ringing order, which quieted the audience, the umpire tossed a white ball to ken. for a single instant ken trembled ever so slightly in all his limbs, and the stands seemed a revolving black-and-white band. then the emotion was as if it had never been. he stepped upon the slab, keen-sighted, cool, and with his pitching game outlined in his mind. burr, the curly-haired leader of herne's batting list, took his position to the left of the plate. ken threw him an underhand curve, sweeping high and over the inside corner. burr hit a lofty fly to homans. hill, the bunter, was next. for him ken shot one straight over the plate. hill let it go by, and it was a strike. ken put another in the same place, and hill, attempting to bunt, fouled a little fly, which dean caught. gallagher strode third to bat. he used a heavy club, stood right-handed over the plate, and looked aggressive. ken gave the captain a long study and then swung slowly, sending up a ball that floated like a feather. gallagher missed it. on the second pitch he swung heavily at a slow curve far off the outside. for a third ken tried the speedy drop, and the captain, letting it go, was out on strikes. the sides changed. worry threw a sweater around ken. "the ice's broke, peg, and you've got your control. that settles it." homans went up, to a wavering ripple of applause. he drew two balls and then a strike from murphy, and hit the next hard into short field. frick fumbled the ball, recovered it, and threw beautifully, but too late to catch homans. raymond sacrificed, sending his captain to second. murphy could not locate the plate for reddy ray and let him get to first on four balls. weir came next. homans signed he was going to run on the first pitch. weir, hitting with the runner, sent a double into right field, and homans and ray scored. the bleachers cheered. homans ran down to third base to the coaching lines, and ray went to first base. both began to coach the runner. dean hit into short field, and was thrown out, while weir reached third on the play. "two out, now! hit!" yelled homans to blake. blake hit safely over second, scoring weir. then trace flied out to left field. "three runs!" called homans. "boys, that's a start! three more runs and this game's ours! now, peg, now!" ken did not need that trenchant thrilling _now_. the look in worry's eyes had been enough. he threw speed to halloway, and on the third ball retired him, raymond to mccord. stern came second to bat. in ken's mind this player was recorded with a weakness on low curves. and ken found it with two balls pitched. stern popped up to blake. frick, a new player to ken, let a strike go by, and missed a drop and a fast ball. "they can't touch you, ken," called raymond, as he tossed aside his glove. faint cheers rose from scattered parts of the grand-stand, and here and there shouts and yells. the audience appeared to stir, to become animated, and the herne players settled down to more sober action on the field. mccord made a bid for a hit, but failed because of fast work by stern. ken went up, eager to get to first in any way. he let murphy pitch, and at last, after fouling several good ones, he earned his base on balls. once there, he gave homans the sign that he would run on the first pitch, and he got a fair start. he heard the crack of the ball and saw it glinting between short and third. running hard, he beat the throw-in to third. with two runners on bases, raymond hit to deep short. ken went out trying to reach home. again reddy ray came up and got a base on balls, filling the bases. the crowd began to show excitement, and seemed to be stifling cheers in suspense. weir hurried to bat, his shock of hair waving at every step. he swung hard on the first ball, and, missing it, whirled down, bothering the catcher. homans raced home on a half-passed ball. then weir went out on a fly to centre. "peg, keep at them!" called reddy ray. "we've got murphy's measure." it cost ken an effort to deliberate in the box, to think before he pitched. he had to fight his eagerness. but he wasted few balls, and struck mercer out. van sant hit to weir, who threw wild to first, allowing the runner to reach third. murphy, batting next, hit one which ken put straight over the plate, and it went safe through second, scoring van sant. the herne rooters broke out in loud acclaim. burr came up, choking his bat up short. again ken gave him the high, wide curve. he let it pass and the umpire called it a strike. ken threw another, a little outside this time. evidently burr was trying out ken's control. "he can't put them over!" yelled gallagher, from the coaching line. "here's where he goes up! wait him out, burr. good eye, old man! here's where we explode the freshman!" ken glanced at gallagher and laughed. then he sped up another high curve, which the umpire called a strike. "that's the place, peg! put another there!" floated from reddy in the outfield. burr swung viciously, hitting a bounder toward second base. raymond darted over, went down with his bird-like quickness, came up with the ball, and then he touched the bag and threw to first. it was a play in which he excelled. the umpire called both runners out, retiring the side. a short, sharp yell, like a bark, burst from the bleachers. worry was smilingly thoughtful as his boys trotted in to bat. "say, if you get a couple of runs this time we'll be _it_. look at the students. ready to fall out of the stands.... peg, i'm glad herne got a run. now we won't think of a shut-out. that'll steady us up. and, boys, break loose now, for the game's ours." dean started off with a clean single. on the first pitch he broke for second, and had to slide to make it, as blake missed the strike. then blake went out to first. trace walked. mccord poked a little fly over the infield, scoring dean. ken fouled out. the unerring homans again hit safely, sending trace in. with two out and mccord on third and homans on second, raymond laid down a beautiful bunt, tallying mccord. and when the herne catcher tried to head homans from making third raymond kept on toward second. it was a daring dash, and he dove to the bag with a long slide, but the decision was against him. the coach called homans, ward, and ray to him and gathered them close together. "boys, listen!" he said, low and tense. "macneff and prince, of place, are in the grand-stand just behind the plate. they're up there to get a line on peg. we'll fool 'em, and make 'em sick in the bargain. peg, you let out this innin' and show up the first three hitters. then i'll take you out and let schoonover finish the game. see?" "take me--out?" echoed ken. "that's it, if you make these next three hitters look like monkeys. don't you see? we've got the herne game cinched. we don't need to use our star twirler. see? that'll be a bone for place to chew on. how about it, cap? what do you think, reddy?" "oh, worry, if we dared to do it!" homans exclaimed, under his breath. "herne would never get over it. and it would scare place to death.... but, worry, reddy, dare we risk it?" "it's playin' into our very hands," replied worry. his hazel eyes were afire with inspiration. reddy ray's lean jaw bulged. "homans, it's the trick, and we can turn it." "what's the score-- to ?" muttered homans. it was a tight place for him, and he seemed tortured between ambition and doubt. "that fellow murphy hasn't got one in my groove yet," said reddy. "i'm due to lace one. we're good for more runs." that decided homans. he patted ken on the shoulder and led him out to the box, but he never spoke a word. ken felt like a wild colt just let loose. he faced hill with a smile, and then, taking his long, overhand swing, he delivered the jump ball. hill made no move. the umpire called strike. the crowd roared. ken duplicated the feat. then hill missed the third strike. gallagher walked up doggedly, and ken smiled at him, too. then using three wicked, darting drops, ken struck gallagher out. "that's twice!" called reddy's penetrating voice from the outfield. "give him a paddle!" halloway drew two balls and then three strikes. ken ran for the bench amid an uproar most strange and startling to his untried ear. the long, tardy, and stubborn students had broken their silence. dale leaped out of the grand-stand to lead the cheering. the giant stevens came piling out of the bleachers to perform a like office. and then they were followed by bryan, captain of the crew, and hilbrandt, captain of the track team. four captains of wayne teams inspiriting and directing the cheering! ken's bewildered ears drank in one long, thundering "_ward! ward! ward!_" and then his hearing seemed drowned. the whole mass of students and spectators rose as one, and the deafening stamp of feet only equalled the roar of voices. but now the volume of sound was regular and rhythmic. it was like the approach of a terrible army. for minutes, while the umpire held play suspended, the wayne supporters in hoarse and stamping tumult came into their own again. it was a wild burst of applause, and as it had been long delayed, so now it was prolonged fiercely to the limit of endurance. when those waves of sound had rolled away ken ward felt a difference in grant field, in the varsity, in himself. a different color shone from the sky. ken saw reddy ray go to bat and drive the ball against the right-field fence. then as the sprinter got into his wonderful stride once more the whole audience rose in yelling, crashing clamor. and when on weir's fly to the outfield reddy raced in to the plate, making the throw-in look feeble, again the din was terrific. as one in a glorious dream, ken ward crouched upon the bench and watched the remainder of that game. he grasped it all as if baseball was all that made life worth living, and as if every moment was his last. he never thought of himself. he was only a part of the team, and that team, every moment, grew sharper, faster, fiercer. he revelled in the game. schoonover was hit hard, but fast play by raymond and weir kept herne's score down. the little second-baseman was here, there, everywhere, like a glint of light. herne made runs, but wayne also kept adding runs. blake caught a foul fly off the bleachers; trace made a beautiful catch; mccord was like a tower at first base, and little dean went through the last stages of development that made him a star. once in the eighth inning ken became aware that worry was punching him in the back and muttering: "look out, peg! listen! murphy'll get one in reddy's groove this time.... oh-h!" the crack of the ball, as well as worry's yell, told ken what had happened. besides, he could see, and as the ball lined away for the fence, and the sprinter leaped into action, ken jumped up and screamed: "oh, reddy, it's over--over! no! run! run! oh-h-h!" in the shrill, piercing strife of sound ken's scream seemed only a breath at his ears. he held to it, almost splitting his throat, while the sprinter twinkled round third base and came home like a thunderbolt. another inning passed, a confusion of hits, throws, runs, and plays to ken, and then worry was pounding him again. "dig for the trainin'-house!" yelled worry, mouth on his ear. "the students are crazy! they'll eat us alive! they're tearin' the bleachers down! run for it, peg!" xv a matter of principle ken found himself running across grant field, pursued by a happy, roaring mob of students. they might have been indians, judging from the way ken and his fellow-players fled before them. the trained athletes distanced their well-meaning but violent pursuers and gained the gate, but it was a close shave. the boys bounded up the street into the training-house and locked the door till the puffing arthurs arrived. they let him in and locked the door again. in another moment the street resounded with the rush of many feet and the yells of frantic students. murray, the trainer, forced a way through the crowd and up the stoop. he closed and barred the outside door, and then pounded upon the inside door for admittance. worry let him in. "they'd make a bowl-fight or a football rush look tame," panted murray. "hey! scotty--lock up tight down in the basement. for heaven's sake don't let that push get in on us! lock the windows in the front." "who's that poundin' on the door?" yelled worry. he had to yell, for the swelling racket outside made ordinary conversation impossible. "don't open it!" shouted murray. "what do we care for team-captains, college professors, athletic directors, or students? they're all out there, and they're crazy, i tell you. i never saw the like. it'd be more than i want to get in that jam. and it'd never do for the varsity. somebody would get crippled sure. i'm training this baseball team." murray, in his zealous care of his athletes, was somewhat overshooting the mark, for not one of the boys had the slightest desire to be trusted to the mob outside. in fact, ken looked dazed, and raymond scared to the point of trembling; trace was pale; and all the others, except homans and reddy ray, showed perturbation. nor were the captain and sprinter deaf to the purport of that hour; only in their faces shone a kindling glow and flush. by-and-by the boys slipped to their rooms, removed their uniforms, dressed and crept down-stairs like burglars and went in to dinner. outside the uproar, instead of abating, gathered strength as time went by. at the dinner-table the boys had to yell in each other's ears. they had to force what they ate. no one was hungry. when worry rose from the table they all flocked after him. it was growing dark outside, and a red glow, brightening upon the windows, showed the students had lighted bonfires. "they're goin' to make a night of it," yelled worry. "how'll my boys be able to sleep?" shouted murray. both coach and trainer were as excited as any of the boys. "the street's packed solid. listen!" the tramp, tramp, tramp of thousands of feet keeping time was like the heavy tread of a marching multitude. then the tramp died away in a piercing cheer, "_wayne!_" nine times, clear and sustained--a long, beautiful college cheer. in the breathing spell that followed, the steady tramp of feet went on. one by one, at intervals, the university yells were given, the broken rattling rally, the floating melodious crew cheer, and the hoarse, smashing boom of football. then again the inspiriting "_wayne!_" nine times. after that came shrill calls for the varsity, for homans, reddy ray, raymond, and peggie ward. "come up-stairs to the windows, boys!" shouted worry. "we've got to show ourselves." worry threw up the windows in weir's room, and the boys gingerly poked their heads out. a roar greeted their appearance. the heads all popped in as if they had been struck. "homans, you'll have to make a speech," cried the coach. "i will not!" "you've got to say somethin'. we can't have this crazy gang out here all night." then worry and murray coaxed and led homans to the window. the captain leaned out and said something that was unintelligible in the hubbub without. the crowd cheered him and called for reddy, ward, and raymond. worry grasped the second-baseman and shoved him half over the sill. raymond would have fallen out but for the coach's strong hold. "come on, peg!" yelled worry. "not on your life!" cried ken, in affright. he ran away from the coach, and dived under the bed. but reddy ray dragged him out and to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. then he lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd. "fellows, here he is--worry's demon, wayne's pitcher!" called reddy, in ringing, far-reaching voice. "listen! peggie didn't lose his nerve when he faced herne to-day, but he's lost it now. he's lost his voice, too. but he says for you to go away and save your cheers for this day two weeks, when we meet place. then, he says, you'll have something to cheer for!" the crafty sprinter knew how to appeal to the students. all of voice and strength and enthusiasm left in them went up in a mighty bawl that rattled the windows and shook the house. they finished with nine "_waynes!_" and a long, rousing "_peggie ward!_" and then they went away. "by george! look here, peg," said reddy, earnestly, "they gave you wayne's nine! _wayne's nine!_ do you hear? i never knew a freshman varsity man to get that cheer." "you've got to beat place now, after tellin' 'em you'd do it," added worry. "but, worry, i didn't say a word--it was reddy," replied ken, in distress. "same thing," rejoined the coach. "now, boys, let's quiet down and talk over the game. i won't waste any time jollyin' you. i couldn't praise you enough if i spent the rest of the season tryin' to. one and all, by yourselves and in a bunch, you played herne off their feet. i'll bet macneff and prince are dizzy figurin' what'll happen saturday week. as to the score, why, scores don't mean much to us--" "what was the score, anyway?" asked ken. the boys greeted this with shouts of doubtful laughter, and worry glanced with disapproval at his star. "peg, you keep me guessin' a lot. but not to know how much we beat herne would be more 'n i could stand. on the level, now, don't you know the score?" "fair and square, i don't, worry. you never would let me think of how many runs we had or needed. i can count seven--yes, and one more, that was reddy's home-run." "peg, you must have been up in the air a little; to , that's it. and we didn't take our bat in the last of the ninth." then followed worry's critical account of the game, and a discussion in which the boys went over certain plays. during the evening many visitors called, but did not gain admission. the next morning, however, worry himself brought in the newspapers, which heretofore he had forbidden the players to read, and he told them they were now free to have any callers or to go where they liked. there was a merry scramble for the papers, and presently the reading-room was as quiet as a church. the account that held ken ward in rapt perusal was the _morning times-star's_. at first the print blurred in ken's sight. then he read it over again. he liked the glowing praise given the team, and was shamefully conscious of the delight in his name in large letters. a third time he read it, guiltily this time, for he did not dream that his comrades were engrossed in like indulgence. wayne outclasses herne arthurs develops another great team. peggie ward and reddy ray stars. wayne defeated herne yesterday to , and thereby leaped into the limelight. it was a surprise to every one, herne most of all. owing to the stringent eligibility rules now in force at wayne, and the barring of the old varsity, nothing was expected of this season's team. arthurs, the famous coach, has built a wonderful nine out of green material, and again establishes the advisability of professional coaches for the big universities. with one or two exceptions wayne's varsity is made up of players developed this year. homans, the captain, was well known about town as an amateur player of ability. but arthurs has made him into a great field captain and a base-getter of remarkable skill. an unofficial computing gives him the batting average of . . no captain or any other player of any big college team in the east ever approached such percentage as that. it is so high that it must be a mistake. reddy ray, the intercollegiate champion in the sprints, is the other seasoned player of the varsity, and it is safe to say that he is the star of all the college teams. a wonderful fielder, a sure and heavy hitter, and like a flash on the bases, he alone makes homans' team formidable. then there is peg ward, worry arthurs' demon pitcher, of freshman bowl-fight fame. this lad has been arriving since spring, and now he has arrived. he is powerful, and has a great arm. he seems to pitch without effort, has twice the speed of dale, and is as cool in the box as a veteran. but it is his marvellous control of the ball that puts him in a class by himself. in the fourth inning of yesterday's game he extended himself, probably on orders from coach arthurs, and struck out herne's three best hitters on eleven pitched balls. then he was taken out and schoonover put in. this white-headed lad is no slouch of a pitcher, by-the-way. but it must have been a bitter pill for herne to swallow. the proud herne varsity have been used to knocking pitchers out of the box, instead of seeing them removed because they were too good. also, macneff and prince, of place, who saw the game, must have had food for reflection. they did not get much of a line on young ward, and what they saw will not give them pleasant dreams. we pick ward to beat the heavy-hitting place team. other youngsters of arthurs' nine show up well, particularly raymond and weir, who have springs in their feet and arms like whips. altogether arthurs' varsity is a strangely assorted, a wonderfully chosen group of players. we might liken them to the mechanism of a fine watch, with ward as the mainspring, and the others with big or little parts to perform, but each dependent upon the other. wayne's greatest baseball team! ken read it all thirstily, wonderingly, and recorded it deep in the deepest well of his memory. it seemed a hundred times as sweet for all the misery and longing and fear and toil which it had cost to gain. and each succeeding day grew fuller and richer with its meed of reward. all the boys of the varsity were sought by the students, ken most of all. everywhere he went he was greeted with a regard that made him still more bashful and ashamed. if he stepped into carlton club, it was to be surrounded by a frankly admiring circle of students. he could not get a moment alone in the library. professors had a smile for him and often stopped to chat. the proudest moment of his college year was when president halstead met him in the promenade, and before hundreds of students turned to walk a little way with him. there seemed not to be a single student of the university or any one connected with it, who did not recognize him. bryan took him to watch the crew practise; stevens played billiards with him at the club; dale openly sought his society. then the fraternities began to vie with one another for ken. in all his life he had not imagined a fellow could be treated so well. it was an open secret that ken ward was extremely desired in the best fraternities. he could not have counted his friends. through it all, by thinking of worry and the big games coming, he managed to stay on his feet. one morning, when he was at the height of this enjoyable popularity, he read a baseball note that set him to thinking hard. the newspaper, commenting on the splendid results following wayne's new athletic rules, interpreted one rule in a way astounding to ken. it was something to the effect that all players who had been _on_ a team which paid any player or any expenses of any player were therefore ineligible. interpretation of the rules had never been of any serious moment to ken. he had never played on any but boy teams. but suddenly he remembered that during a visit to the mountains with his mother he had gone to a place called eagle's nest, a summer hotel colony. it boasted of a good ball team and had a rival in the glenwoods, a team from an adjoining resort. ken had been in the habit of chasing flies for the players in practice. one day eagle's nest journeyed over to glenwood to play, and being short one player they took ken to fill in. he had scarcely started in the game when the regular player appeared, thus relieving him. the incident had completely slipped ken's mind until recalled by the newspaper note. whereupon ken began to ponder. he scouted the idea of that innocent little thing endangering his eligibility at wayne. but the rule, thus made clear, stood out in startlingly black-and-white relief. eagle's nest supported a team by subscription among the hotel guests. ken had ridden ten miles in a 'bus with the team, and had worn one of the uniforms for some few minutes. therefore, upon a technicality, perhaps, he had been _on_ a summer nine, and had no right to play for wayne. ken went to homans and told him the circumstance. the captain looked exceedingly grave, then getting more particulars he relaxed. "you're safe, peg. you're perfectly innocent. but don't mention it to any one else, especially worry. he'd have a fit. what a scare you'd throw into the varsity camp! forget the few minutes you wore that eagle's nest suit." for the time being this reassured ken, but after a while his anxiety returned. homans had said not to mention it, and that bothered ken. he lay awake half of one night thinking about the thing. it angered him and pricked his conscience and roused him. he wanted to feel absolutely sure of his position, for his own sake first of all. so next morning he cornered worry and blurted out the secret. "peg, what're you givin' me!" he ejaculated. ken repeated his story, somewhat more clearly and at greater length. worry turned as white as a ghost. "good gracious, peg, you haven't told anybody?" "no one but homans." worry gave a long sigh of relief, and his face regained some of its usual florid color. "well, that's all right then.... say, didn't i tell you once that i had a weak heart? peg, of course you're an amateur, or there never was one. but 'em fat-head directors! why, i wouldn't have 'em find that out for a million dollars. they're idiots enough to make a shinin' example of you right before the place games. keep it under your hat, see!" this last was in the nature of a command, and ken had always religiously obeyed worry. he went to his room feeling that the matter had been decided for him. relief, however, did not long abide with him. he began to be torn between loyalty to worry and duty to himself. he felt guiltless, but he was not sure of it, and until he was sure he could not be free in mind. suddenly he thought of being actually barred from the varsity, and was miserable. that he could not bear. strong temptation now assailed ken and found him weak. a hundred times he reconciled himself to worry's command, to homan's point of view, yet every time something rose within him and rebelled. but despite the rebellion ken almost gave in. he fought off thought of his new sweet popularity, of the glory of being wayne's athletic star. he fought to look the thing fairly in the face. to him it loomed up a hundredfold larger than an incident of his baseball career. and so he got strength to do the thing that would ease the voice of conscience. he went straight to the coach. "worry, i've got to go to the directors and tell them. i--i'm sorry, but i've got to do it." he expected a storm of rage from worry, but never had the coach been so suave, so kindly, so magnetic. he called homans and raymond and weir and others who were in the house at the moment and stated ken's case. his speech flowed smooth and rapid. the matter under his deft argument lost serious proportions. but it seemed to ken that worry did not tell the boys the whole truth, or they would not have laughed at the thing and made him out over-sensitive. and ken was now growing too discouraged and bewildered to tell them. moreover, he was getting stubborn. the thing was far from a joke. the cunning of the coach proved that. worry wound the boys round his little finger. at this juncture reddy ray entered the training-house. more than once ken had gone to the great sprinter with confidences and troubles, and now he began impulsively, hurriedly, incoherently, to tell the story. "and reddy," concluded ken, "i've got to tell the directors. it's something--hard for me to explain. i couldn't pitch another game with this hanging over me. i must--tell them--and take my medicine." "sure. it's a matter of principle," replied reddy, in his soft, slow voice. his keen eyes left ken's pale face and met the coach's. "worry, i'll take peg up to see the athletic faculty. i know andrews, the president, and he's the one to hear peg's story." worry groaned and sank into a chair crushed and beaten. then he swore, something unusual in him. then he began to rave at the fat-headed directors. then he yelled that he would never coach another ball team so long as he lived. ken followed reddy out of the training-house and along the street. the fact that the sprinter did not say a word showed ken he was understood, and he felt immeasurably grateful. they crossed the campus and entered college hall, to climb the winding stairway. to ken that was a long, hateful climb. andrews, and another of the directors whom ken knew by sight, were in the office. they greeted the visitors with cordial warmth. "gentlemen," began reddy, "ward thinks he has violated one of the eligibility rules." there was no beating about the bush with reddy ray, no shading of fact, no distortion of the truth. coolly he stated the case. but, strangely to ken, the very truth, told by reddy in this way, somehow lost its terrors. ken's shoulders seemed unburdened of a terrible weight. andrews and his colleague laughed heartily. "you see--i--i forgot all about it," said ken. "yes, and since he remembered he's been worrying himself sick," resumed reddy. "couldn't rest till he'd come over here." "ward, it's much to your credit that you should confide something there was never any chance of becoming known," said the president of the athletic faculty. "we appreciate it. you may relieve your mind of misgivings as to your eligibility. even if we tried i doubt if we could twist a rule to affect your standing. and you may rest assured we wouldn't try in the case of so fine a young fellow and so splendid a pitcher for wayne." then andrews courteously shook hands with ken and reddy and bowed them out. ken danced half-way down the stairway and slid the rest on the bannister. "reddy, wasn't he just fine?" cried ken, all palpitating with joy. "well, peg, andrews is a nice old thing if you approach him right," replied reddy, dryly. "you wouldn't believe me, would you, if i said i had my heart in my throat when we went in?" "no, i wouldn't," replied ken, bluntly. "i thought not," said reddy. then the gravity that had suddenly perplexed ken cleared from the sprinter's face. "peg, let's have some fun with worry and the boys." "i'm in for anything now." "we'll go back to the training-house with long faces. when we get in you run up-stairs as if you couldn't face any one, but be sure to sneak back to the head of the stairs to see and hear the fun. i'll fix worry all right. now, don't flunk. it's a chance." ken could not manage to keep a straight face as they went in, so he hid it and rushed up-stairs. he bumped into raymond, knocking him flat. "running to a fire again?" growled raymond. "got a fire-medal, haven't you? always falling over people." ken tried to simulate ungovernable rage and impotent distress at once. he waved one fist and tore his hair with the other hand. "get out of my way!" roared ken. "what'll you say when i tell you i'm barred from the varsity!" "oh! ken! no, no--don't say it," faltered raymond, all sympathy in an instant. ken ran into his room, closed the door and then peeped out. he saw raymond slowly sag down-stairs as if his heart was broken. then ken slipped out and crawled down the hall till he could see into the reading-room. all the boys were there, with anxious faces, crowded round the coach. worry was livid. reddy ray seemed the only calm person in the room and he had tragedy written all over him. "out with it!" shouted worry. "don't stand there like a mournful preacher. what did 'em fat-heads say?" reddy threw up his hands with a significant gesture. "i knew it!" howled worry, jumping up and down. "i knew it! why did you take the kid over there? why didn't you let me and homans handle this thing? you red-headed, iron-jawed, cold-blooded wind-chaser! you've done it now, haven't you? i--oh--" worry began to flounder helplessly. "they said a few more things," went on reddy. "peg is barred, raymond is barred, i am barred. i told them about my baseball career out west. the directors said some pretty plain things about you, worry, i'm sorry to tell. you're a rotten coach. in fact, you ought to be a coach at an undertaker's. homans gets the credit for the work of the team. they claim you are too hard on the boys, too exacting, too brutal, in fact. andrews recited a record of your taking sandwiches from us and aiding and abetting murray in our slow starvation. the directors will favor your dismissal and urge the appointment of professor rhodes, who as coach will at least feed us properly." reddy stopped to catch his breath and gain time for more invention. of all the unhappy mortals on earth worry arthurs looked the unhappiest. he believed every word as if it had been gospel. and that about professor rhodes was the last straw. ken could stand the deception no longer. he marvelled at reddy's consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on worry's face. bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, ken burst like a bomb upon the sad-faced group. "oh, worry, it's all a joke!" xvi the first place game rain prevented the second herne game, which was to have been played on the herne grounds. it rained steadily all day friday and saturday, to the disappointment of wayne's varsity. the coach, however, admitted that he was satisfied to see the second contest with herne go by the board. "i don't like big games away from home," said worry. "it's hard on new teams. besides, we beat herne to death over here. mebbe we couldn't do it over there, though i ain't doubtin'. but it's place we're after, and if we'd had that game at herne we couldn't have kept place from gettin' a line on us. so i'm glad it rained." the two place games fell during a busy week at wayne. wednesday was the beginning of the commencement exercises and only a comparatively few students could make the trip to place. but the night before the team left, the students, four thousand strong, went to the training-house and filled a half-hour with college songs and cheers. next morning dale and stevens, heading a small band of wayne athletes and graduates, met the team at the railroad station and boarded the train with them. worry and homans welcomed them, and soon every wayne player had two or more for company. either by accident or design, ken could not tell which, dale and stevens singled him out for their especial charge. the football captain filled one seat with his huge bulk and faced ken, and dale sat with a hand on ken's shoulder. "peg, we're backing you for all we're worth," said stevens. "but this is your first big game away from home. it's really the toughest game of the season. place is a hard nut to crack any time. and her players on their own backyard are scrappers who can take a lot of beating and still win out. then there's another thing that's no small factor in their strength: they are idolized by the students, and rooting at place is a science. they have a yell that beats anything you ever heard. it'll paralyze a fellow at a critical stage. but that yell is peculiar in that it rises out of circumstances leading to almost certain victory. that is, place has to make a strong bid for a close, hard game to work up that yell. so if it comes to-day you be ready for it. have your ears stuffed with cotton, and don't let that yell blow you up in the air." dale was even more earnest than stevens. "peg, place beat me over here last year, beat me - . they hit me harder than i ever was hit before, i guess. you went down to washington, worry said, to look them over. tell me what you think--how you sized them up." dale listened attentively while ken recited his impressions. "you've got prince and macneff figured exactly right," replied dale. "prince is the football captain, by-the-way. be careful how you run into second base. if you ever slide into him head first--good-bye! he's a great player, and he can hit any kind of a ball. macneff now, just as you said, is weak on a high ball close in, and he kills a low ball. kills is the word! he hits them a mile. but, peg, i think you're a little off on keene, starke, and martin, the other place cracks. they're veterans, hard to pitch to; they make you cut the plate; they are as apt to bunt as hit, and they are fast. they keep a fellow guessing. i think starke pulls a little on a curve, but the others have no weakness i ever discovered. but, peg, i expect you to do more with them than i did. my control was never any too good, and you can throw almost as straight as a fellow could shoot a rifle. then your high fast ball, that one you get with the long swing, it would beat any team. only i'm wondering, i'm asking--can you use it right along, in the face of such coaching and yelling and hitting as you'll run against to-day? i'm asking deliberately, because i want to give you confidence." "why, yes, dale, i think i can. i'm pretty sure of it. that ball comes easily, only a little longer swing and more snap, and honestly, dale, i hardly ever think about the plate. i know where it is, and i could shut my eyes and throw strikes." "peg, you're a wonder," replied dale, warmly. "if you can do that--and hang me if i doubt it--you will make place look like a lot of dubs. we're sure to make a few runs. homans and ray will hit salisbury hard. there's no fence on place field, and every ball reddy hits past a fielder will be a home-run. you can gamble on that. so set a fast clip when you start in, and hang." some time later, when ken had changed seats and was talking to raymond, he heard worry say to somebody: "well, if peg don't explode to-day he never will. i almost wish he would. he'd be better for it, afterward." this surprised ken, annoyed him, and straightway he became thoughtful. why this persistent harping on the chance of his getting excited from one cause or another, losing his control and thereby the game? ken had not felt in the least nervous about the game. he would get so, presently, if his advisers did not stop hinting. then worry's wish that he might "explode" was puzzling. a little shade of gloom crept over the bright horizon of ken's hopes. almost unconsciously vague doubts of himself fastened upon him. for the first time he found himself looking forward to a baseball game with less eagerness than uncertainty. stubbornly he fought off the mood. place was situated in an old college town famed for its ancient trees and quaint churches and inns. the wayne varsity, arriving late, put on their uniforms at the st. george, a tavern that seemed never to have been in any way acquainted with a college baseball team. it was very quiet and apparently deserted. for that matter the town itself appeared deserted. the boys dressed hurriedly, in silence, with frowning brows and compressed lips. worry arthurs remained down-stairs while they dressed. homans looked the team over and then said: "boys, come on! to-day's our hardest game." it was only a short walk along the shady street to the outskirts of the town and the athletic field. the huge stands blocked the view from the back and side. homans led the team under the bleachers, through a narrow walled-in aisle, to the side entrance, and there gave the word for the varsity to run out upon the field. a hearty roar of applause greeted their appearance. ken saw a beautiful green field, level as a floor, with a great half-circle of stands and bleachers at one end. one glance was sufficient to make ken's breathing an effort. he saw a glittering mass, a broad, moving band of color. everywhere waved place flags, bright gold and blue. white faces gleamed like daisies on a golden slope. in the bleachers close to the first base massed a shirt-sleeved crowd of students, row on row of them, thousands in number. ken experienced a little chill as he attached the famous place yell to that significant placing of rooters. a soft breeze blew across the field, and it carried low laughter and voices of girls, a merry hum, and subdued murmur, and an occasional clear shout. the whole field seemed keenly alive. from the bench ken turned curious, eager eyes upon the practising place men. never had he regarded players with as sharp an interest, curiosity being mingled with admiration, and confidence with doubt. macneff, the captain, at first base, veteran of three years, was a tall, powerful fellow, bold and decisive in action. prince, place's star on both gridiron and diamond, played at second base. he was very short, broad and heavy, and looked as if he would have made three of little raymond. martin, at short-stop, was of slim, muscular build. keene and starke, in centre and left, were big men. salisbury looked all of six feet, and every inch a pitcher. he also played end on the football varsity. ken had to indulge in a laugh at the contrast in height and weight of wayne when compared to place. the laugh was good for him, because it seemed to loosen something hard and tight within his breast. besides, worry saw him laugh and looked pleased, and that pleased ken. "husky lot of stiffs, eh, peg?" said worry, reading ken's thought. "but, say! this ain't no football game. we'll make these heavyweights look like ice-wagons. i never was much on beefy ball-players. aha! there goes the gong. place's takin' the field. that suits me.... peg, listen! the game's on. i've only one word to say to you. _try to keep solid on your feet!_" a short cheer, electrifying in its force, pealed out like a blast. then homans stepped to the plate amid generous hand-clapping. the place adherents had their favorites, but they always showed a sportsmanlike appreciation of opponents. salisbury wound up, took an enormous stride, and pitched the ball. he had speed. homans seldom hit on the first pitch, and this was a strike. but he rapped the next like a bullet at griffith, the third-baseman. griffith blocked the ball, and, quickly reaching it, he used a snap underhand throw to first, catching homans by a narrow margin. it was a fine play and the crowd let out another blast. raymond, coming up, began his old trick of trying to work the pitcher for a base. he was small and he crouched down until a wag in the bleachers yelled that this was no kindergarten game. raymond was exceedingly hard to pitch to. he was always edging over the plate, trying to get hit. if anybody touched him in practice he would roar like a mad bull, but in a game he would cheerfully have stopped cannon-balls. he got in front of salisbury's third pitch, and, dropping his bat, started for first base. the umpire called him back. thereupon raymond fouled balls and went through contortions at the plate till he was out on strikes. when reddy ray took his position at bat audible remarks passed like a wave through the audience. then a long, hearty cheer greeted the great sprinter. when roar once again subsided into waiting suspense a strong-lunged wayne rooter yelled, "_watch him run!_" the outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. macneff called low to salisbury: "don't let this fellow walk! keep them high and make him hit!" it was evident that place had gotten a line on one wayne player. salisbury delivered the ball and reddy whirled with his level swing. there was a sharp crack. up started the crowd with sudden explosive: "oh!" straight as a bee-line the ball sped to keene in deep centre, and reddy was out. wayne players went running out and place players came trotting in. ken, however, at worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's box. he received an ovation from the audience that completely surprised him and which stirred him to warm gratefulness. then, receiving the ball, he drew one quick breath, and faced the stern issue of the day. as always, he had his pitching plan clearly defined in mind, and no little part of it was cool deliberation, study of the batter to the point of irritating him, and then boldness of action. he had learned that he was not afraid to put the ball over the plate, and the knowledge had made him bold, and boldness increased his effectiveness. for keene, first batter up, ken pitched his fast ball with all his power. like a glancing streak it shot over. a low whistling ran through the bleachers. for the second pitch ken took the same long motion, ending in the sudden swing, but this time he threw a slow, wide, tantalizing curve that floated and waved and circled around across the plate. it also was a strike. keene had not offered to hit either. in those two balls, perfectly controlled, ken deliberately showed the place team the wide extremes of his pitching game. "keene, he don't waste any. hit!" ordered macneff from the bench. the next ball, a high curve, keene hit on the fly to homans. the flaxen-haired prince trotted up with little, short steps. ken did not need the wild outburst from the crowd to appreciate this sturdy hero of many gridiron and diamond battles. he was so enormously wide, almost as wide as he was long, that he would have been funny to ken but for the reputation that went with the great shoulders and stumpy legs. "ward, give me a good one," said prince, in a low, pleasant voice. he handled his heavy bat as if it had been light as a yardstick. it was with more boldness than intention of gratifying prince that ken complied, using the same kind of ball he had tried first on keene. prince missed it. the next, a low curve, he cracked hard to the left of raymond. the second-baseman darted over, fielded the ball cleanly, and threw prince out. then the long, rangy macneff, home-run hitter for place, faced ken. his position at bat bothered ken, for he stood almost on the plate. remembering macneff's weakness, ken lost no time putting a swift in-shoot under his chin. the place captain lunged round at it, grunting with his swing. if he had hit the ball it would have been with the handle of his bat. so ken, knowing his control, and sure that he could pitch high shoots all day over the incomer of the plate, had no more fear of the place slugger. and it took only three more pitches to strike him out. from that on the game see-sawed inning by inning, ken outpitching salisbury, but neither team scored. at intervals cheers marked the good plays of both teams, and time and again the work of the pitchers earned applause. the crowd seemed to be holding back, and while they waited for the unexpected the short, sharp innings slipped by. trace for wayne led off in the seventh with a safe fly over short. ken, attempting to sacrifice, rolled a little bunt down the third-base line and beat the throw. with no one out and the head of the batting list up, the wayne players awoke to possibilities. the same fiery intensity that had characterized their play all season now manifested itself. they were all on their feet, and weir and mccord on the coaching lines were yelling hoarsely at salisbury, tearing up the grass with their spikes, dashing to and fro, shouting advice to the runners. "here's where we score! oh! you pitcher! we're due to trim you now! steady, boys, play it safe, play it safe!--don't let them double you!" up by the bench homans was selecting a bat. "worry, i'd better dump one," he whispered. "that's the trick," replied the coach. "advance them at any cost. there's reddy to follow." the reliable salisbury rolled the ball in his hands, feinted to throw to the bases, and showed his steadiness under fire. he put one square over for homans and followed it upon the run. homans made a perfect bunt, but instead of going along either base line, it went straight into the pitcher's hands. salisbury whirled and threw to prince, who covered the bag, and forced trace. one out and still two runners on bases. the crowd uttered a yell and then quickly quieted down. raymond bent low over the plate and watched salisbury's slightest move. he bunted the first ball, and it went foul over the third-base line. he twisted the second toward first base, and it, too, rolled foul. and still he bent low as if to bunt again. the infield slowly edged in closer. but raymond straightened up on salisbury's next pitch and lined the ball out. prince leaped into the air and caught the ball in his gloved hand. homans dove back into first base; likewise ken into second, just making it in the nick of time, for martin was on the run to complete a possible double play. a shout at once hoarse and shrill went up, and heavy clattering thunder rolled along the floor of the bleachers. two out and still two men on bases. if there was a calm person on place field at that moment it was reddy ray, but his eyes glinted like sparks as he glanced at the coach. "worry, i'll lace one this time," he said, and strode for the plate. weir and mccord were shrieking: "oh, look who's up! oh-h! oh-h! play it safe, boys!" "_watch him run!_" that came from the same deep-chested individual who had before hinted of the sprinter's fleetness, and this time the wayne players recognized the voice of murray. how hopeful and thrilling the suggestion was, coming from him! the place infield trotted to deep short-field; the outfielders moved out and swung around far to the right. salisbury settled down in the box and appeared to put on extra effort as he delivered the ball. it was wide. the next also went off the outside of the plate. it looked as if salisbury meant to pass reddy to first. then those on the bench saw a glance and a nod pass between reddy ray and coach arthurs. again salisbury pitched somewhat to the outside of the plate, but this time reddy stepped forward and swung. _crack!_ swift as an arrow and close to the ground the ball shot to left field. starke leaped frantically to head it off, and as it took a wicked bound he dove forward head first, hands outstretched, and knocked it down. but the ball rolled a few yards, and starke had to recover from his magnificent effort. no one on the field saw ward and homans running for the plate. all eyes were on the gray, flitting shadow of a sprinter. one voice only, and that was murray's, boomed out in the silence. when reddy turned second base starke reached the ball and threw for third. it was a beautiful race between ball and runner for the bag. as reddy stretched into the air in a long slide the ball struck and shot off the ground with a glancing bound. they reached the base at the same time. but griffith, trying to block the runner, went spinning down, and the ball rolled toward the bleachers. reddy was up and racing plateward so quickly that it seemed he had not been momentarily checked. the few wayne rooters went wild. "three runs!" yelled the delirious coaches. weir was so overcome that he did not know it was his turn at bat. when called in he hurried to the plate and drove a line fly to centre that keene caught only after a hard run. ken ward rose from the bench to go out on the diamond. the voices of his comrades sounded far away, as voices in a dream. "three to the good now, ward! it's yours!" said captain homans. "only nine more batters! peg, keep your feet leaded!" called reddy ray. "it's the seventh, and place hasn't made a safe hit! oh, ken!" came from raymond. so all the boys vented their hope and trust in their pitcher. there was a mist before ken's eyes that he could not rub away. the field blurred at times. for five innings after the first he had fought some unaccountable thing. he had kept his speed, his control, his memory of batters, and he had pitched magnificently. but something had hovered over him, and had grown more tangible as the game progressed. there was a shadow always before his sight. in the last of the seventh, with keene at bat, ken faced the plate with a strange unsteadiness and a shrinking for which he hated himself. what was wrong with him? had he been taken suddenly ill? anger came to his rescue, and he flung himself into his pitching with fierce ardor. he quivered with a savage hope when keene swung ineffectually at the high in-shoot. he pitched another and another, and struck out the batter. but now it meant little to see him slam down his bat in a rage. for ken had a foreboding that he could not do it again. when prince came up ken found he was having difficulty in keeping the ball where he wanted it. prince batted a hot grounder to blake, who fumbled. macneff had three balls and one strike called upon him before he hit hard over second base. but raymond pounced upon the ball like a tiger, dashed over the bag and threw to first, getting both runners. "wull, ken, make them hit to me," growled raymond. ken sat down upon the bench far from the coach. he shunned worry in that moment. the warm praise of his fellow-players was meaningless to him. something was terribly wrong. he knew he shrank from going into the box again, yet dared not admit it to himself. he tried to think clearly, and found his mind in a whirl. when the wayne batters went out in one, two, three order, and it was time for ken to pitch again, he felt ice form in his veins. "only six more hitters!" called reddy's warning voice. it meant cheer and praise from reddy, but to ken it seemed a knell. "am i weakening?" muttered ken. "am i going up in the air? _what_ is wrong with me?" he was nervous now and could not stand still and he felt himself trembling. the ball was wet from the sweat in his hands; his hair hung damp over his brow and he continually blew it out of his eyes. with all his spirit he crushed back the almost overwhelming desire to hurry, hurry, hurry. once more, in a kind of passion, he fought off the dreaded unknown weakness. with two balls pitched to starke he realized that he had lost control of his curve. he was not frightened for the loss of his curve, but he went stiff with fear that he might lose control of his fast ball, his best and last resort. grimly he swung and let drive. starke lined the ball to left. the crowd lifted itself with a solid roar, and when homans caught the hit near the foul flag, subsided with a long groan. ken set his teeth. he knew he was not right, but did any one else know it? he was getting magnificent support and luck was still with him. "over the pan, peg! don't waste one!" floated from reddy, warningly. then ken felt sure that reddy had seen or divined his panic. how soon would the place players find it out? with his throat swelling and his mouth dry and his whole body in a ferment ken pitched to martin. the short-stop hit to weir, who made a superb stop and throw. two out! from all about ken on the diamond came the low encouraging calls of his comrades. horton, a burly left-hander, stepped forward, swinging a wagon-tongue. ken could no longer steady himself and he pitched hurriedly. one ball, two balls, one strike, three balls--how the big looming horton stood waiting over the plate! almost in despair ken threw again, and horton smote the ball with a solid rap. it was a low bounder. raymond pitched forward full length toward first base and the ball struck in his glove with a crack, and stuck there. raymond got up and tossed it to mccord. a thunder of applause greeted this star play of the game. the relief was so great that ken fairly tottered as he went in to the bench. worry did not look at him. he scarcely heard what the boys said; he felt them patting him on the back. then to his amaze, and slowly mounting certainty of disaster, the side was out, and it was again his turn to pitch. "only three more, peg! the tail end of the batting list. _hang on!_" said reddy, as he trotted out. ken's old speed and control momentarily came back to him. yet he felt he pitched rather by instinct than intent. he struck griffith out. "only two more, peg!" called reddy. the great audience sat in depressed, straining silence. long since the few wayne rooters had lost their vocal powers. conroy hit a high fly to mccord. "oh, peg, _only one more!_" came the thrilling cry. no other wayne player could speak a word then. with salisbury up, ken had a momentary flash of his old spirit and he sent a straight ball over the plate, meaning it to be hit. salisbury did hit it, and safely, through short. the long silent, long waiting crowd opened up with yells and stamping feet. a horrible, cold, deadly sickness seized upon ken as he faced the fleet, sure-hitting keene. he lost his speed, he lost his control. before he knew what had happened he had given keene a base on balls. two on bases and two out! the place players began to leap and fling up their arms and scream. when out of their midst prince ran to the plate a piercing, ear-splitting sound pealed up from the stands. as in a haze ken saw the long lines of white-sleeved students become violently agitated and move up and down to strange, crashing yells. then ken ward knew. that was the famed place cheer for victory at the last stand. it was the trumpet-call of ken's ordeal. his mind was as full of flashes of thought as there were streaks and blurs before his eyes. he understood worry now. he knew now what was wrong with him, what had been coming all through that terrible game. the whole line of stands and bleachers wavered before him, and the bright colors blended in one mottled band. still it was in him to fight to the last gasp. the pain in his breast, and the nausea in his stomach, and the whirling fury in his mind did not make him give up, though they robbed him of strength. the balls he threw to prince were wide of the plate and had nothing of his old speed. prince, also, took his base on balls. bases full and two out! macneff, the captain, fronted the plate, and shook his big bat at ken. of all the place hitters ken feared him the least. he had struck macneff out twice, and deep down in his heart stirred a last desperate rally. he had only to keep the ball high and in close to win this game. oh! for the control that had been his pride! the field and stands seemed to swim round ken and all he saw with his half-blinded eyes was the white plate, the batter, and dean and the umpire. then he took his swing and delivered the ball. it went true. macneff missed it. ken pitched again. the umpire held up one finger of each hand. one ball and one strike. two more rapid pitches, one high and one wide. two strikes and two balls. ken felt his head bursting and there were glints of red before his eyes. he bit his tongue to keep it from lolling out. he was almost done. that ceaseless, infernal din had benumbed his being. with a wrenching of his shoulder ken flung up another ball. macneff leaned over it, then let it go by. three and two! it was torture for ken. he had the game in his hands, yet could not grasp it. he braced himself for the pitch and gave it all he had left in him. "_too low!_" he moaned. macneff killed low balls. the big captain leaped forward with a terrific swing and hit the ball. it lined over short, then began to rise, shot over homans, and soared far beyond, to drop and roll and roll. through darkening sight ken ward saw runner after runner score, and saw homans pick up the ball as macneff crossed the plate with the winning run. in ken's ears seemed a sound of the end of the world. he thought himself the centre of a flying wheel. it was the boys crowding around him. he saw their lips move but caught no words. then choking and tottering, upheld by reddy ray's strong arm, the young pitcher walked off the field. xvii ken's day the slow return to the tavern, dressing and going to the station, the ride home, the arrival at the training-house, the close-pressing, silent companionship of reddy ray, worry, and raymond--these were dim details of that day of calamity. ken ward's mind was dead--locked on that fatal moment when he pitched a low ball to macneff. his friends left him in the darkness of his room, knowing instinctively that it was best for him to be alone. ken undressed and crawled wearily into bed and stretched out as if he knew and was glad he would never move his limbs again. the silence and the darkness seemed to hide him from himself. his mind was a whirling riot of fire, and in it was a lurid picture of that moment with macneff at bat. over and over and over he lived it in helpless misery. his ears were muffled with that huge tide of sound. again and again and again he pitched the last ball, to feel his heart stop beating, to see the big captain lunge at the ball, to watch it line and rise and soar. but gradually exhaustion subdued his mental strife, and he wandered in mind and drifted into sleep. when he woke it was with a cold, unhappy shrinking from the day. his clock told the noon hour; he had slept long. outside the june sunlight turned the maple leaves to gold. was it possible, ken wondered dully, for the sun ever to shine again? then scotty came bustling in. "mr. wau-rd, won't ye be hovin' breakfast?" he asked, anxiously. "scotty, i'll never eat again," replied ken. there were quick steps upon the stairs and worry burst in, rustling a newspaper. "hello, old man!" he called, cheerily. "say! look at this!" he thrust the paper before ken's eyes and pointed to a column: place beat wayne by a lucky drive. young ward pitched the greatest game ever pitched on place field and lost it in the ninth, with two men out and three and two on macneff ken's dull, gloom-steeped mind underwent a change, but he could not speak. he sat up in bed, clutching the paper, and gazing from it to the coach. raymond came in, followed by homans, and, last, reddy ray, who sat down upon the bed. they were all smiling, and that seemed horrible to ken. "but, worry--reddy--i--i lost the game--threw it away!" faltered ken. "oh no, peg. you pitched a grand game. only in the stretch you got one ball too low," said reddy. "peg, you started to go up early in the game," added worry, with a smile, as if the fact was amusing. "you made your first balloon-ascension in the seventh. and in the ninth you exploded. i never seen a better case of up-in-the-air. but, peg, in spite of it you pitched a wonderful game. you had me guessin'. i couldn't take you out of the box. darn me if i didn't think you'd shut place out in spite of your rattles!" "then--after all--it's not so terrible?" ken asked, breathlessly. "why, boy, it's all right. we can lose a game, and to lose one like that--it's as good as winnin'. say! i'm a liar if i didn't see 'em place hitters turnin' gray-headed! listen! that game over there was tough on all the kids, you most of all, of course. but you all stood the gaff. you've fought out a grillin' big game away from home. that's over. you'll never go through that again. but it was the makin' of you.... here, look this over! mebbe it'll cheer you up." he took something from raymond and tossed it upon the bed. it looked like a round, red, woolly bundle. ken unfolded it, to disclose a beautiful sweater, with a great white "w" in the centre. "the boys all got 'em this mornin'," added worry. it was then that the tragedy of the place game lost its hold on ken, and retreated until it stood only dimly in outline. "i'll--i'll be down to lunch," said ken, irrelevantly. his smiling friends took the hint and left the room. ken hugged the sweater while reading the _times-star's_ account of the game. whoever the writer was, ken loved him. then he hid his face in the pillow, and though he denied to himself that he was crying, when he arose it was certain that the pillow was wet. an hour later ken presented himself at lunch, once more his old amiable self. the boys freely discussed baseball--in fact, for weeks they had breathed and dreamed baseball--but ken noted, for the first time, where superiority was now added to the old confidence. the wayne varsity had found itself. it outclassed herne; it was faster than place; it stood in line for championship honors. "peg, you needn't put on your uniform to-day," said the coach. "you rest up. but go over to murray and have your arm rubbed. is it sore or stiff?" "not at all. i could work again to-day," replied ken. that afternoon, alone in his room, he worked out his pitching plan for saturday's game. it did not differ materially from former plans. but for a working basis he had self-acquired knowledge of the place hitters. it had been purchased at dear cost. he feared none of them except prince. he decided to use a high curve ball over the plate and let prince hit, trusting to luck and the players behind him. ken remembered how the place men had rapped hard balls at raymond. most of them were right-field hitters. ken decided to ask homans to play reddy ray in right field. also he would arrange a sign with reddy and raymond and mccord so they would know when he intended to pitch speed on the outside corner of the plate. for both his curve and fast ball so pitched were invariably hit toward right field. when it came to macneff, ken knew from the hot rankling deep down in him that he would foil that hitter. he intended to make the others hit, pitching them always, to the best of his judgment and skill, those balls they were least likely to hit safely, yet which would cut the corners of the plate if let go. no bases on balls this game, that he vowed grimly. and if he got in a pinch he would fall back upon his last resort, the fast jump ball; and now that he had gone through his baptism of fire he knew he was not likely to lose his control. so after outlining his plan he believed beyond reasonable doubt that he could win the game. the evening of that day he confided his plan to reddy ray and had the gratification of hearing it warmly commended. while ken was with reddy the coach sent word up to all rooms that the boys were to "cut" baseball talk. they were to occupy their minds with reading, study, or games. "it's pretty slow," said reddy. "peg, let's have some fun with somebody." "i'm in. what'll we do?" "can't you think? you're always leaving schemes to me. use your brains, boy." ken pondered a moment and then leaped up in great glee. "reddy, i've got something out of sight," he cried. "spring it, then." "well, it's this: kel raymond is perfectly crazy about his new sweater. he moons over it and he carries it around everywhere. now it happens that kel is a deep sleeper. he's hard to wake up. i've always had to shake him and kick him to wake him every morning. i'm sure we could get him in that sweater without waking him. so to-morrow morning you come down early, before seven, and help me put the sweater on kel. we'll have worry and the boys posted and we'll call them in to see kel, and then we'll wake him and swear he slept in his sweater." "peg, you've a diabolical bent of mind. that'll be great. i'll be on the job bright and early." ken knew he could rely on the chattering of the sparrows in the woodbine round his window. they always woke him, and this morning was no exception. it was after six and a soft, balmy breeze blew in. ken got up noiselessly and dressed. raymond snored in blissful ignorance of the conspiracy. presently a gentle tapping upon the door told ken that reddy was in the hall. ken let him in and they held a whispered consultation. "let's see," said reddy, picking up the sweater. "it's going to be an all-fired hard job. this sweater's tight. we'll wake him." "not on your life!" exclaimed ken. "not if we're quick. now you roll up the sweater so--and stretch it on your hands--so--and when i lift kel up you slip it over his head. it'll be like pie." the operation was deftly though breathlessly performed, and all it brought from raymond was a sleepy: "aw--lemme sleep," and then he was gone again. ken and reddy called all the boys, most of whom were in their pajamas, and worry and scotty and murray, and got them all up-stairs in raymond's room. raymond lay in bed very innocently asleep, and no one would have suspected that he had not slept in his sweater. "well, i'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated worry, laughing till he cried. murray was hugely delighted. these men were as much boys as the boys they trained. the roar of laughter awakened raymond, and he came out of sleep very languid and drowsy. "aw, ken, lemme sleep s'more." he opened his eyes and, seeing the room full of boys and men, he looked bewildered, then suspicious. "wull, what do all you guys want?" "we only came in to see you asleep in your new varsity sweater," replied ken, with charming candor. at this raymond discovered the sweater and he leaped out of bed. "it's a lie! i never slept in it! somebody jobbed me! i'll lick him!... it's a lie, i say!" he began to hop up and down in a black fury. the upper half of him was swathed in the red sweater; beneath that flapped the end of his short nightgown; and out of that stuck his thin legs, all knotted and spotted with honorable bruises won in fielding hard-batted balls. he made so ludicrous a sight that his visitors roared with laughter. raymond threw books, shoes, everything he could lay his hands upon, and drove them out in confusion. saturday seemed a long time in arriving, but at last it came. all morning the boys kept close under cover of the training-house. some one sent them a package of placards. these were round, in the shape of baseballs. they were in the college colors, the background of which was a bright red, and across this had been printed in white the words: "_peg ward's day!_" "what do you think of that?" cried the boys, with glistening eyes. but ken was silent. worry came in for lunch and reported that the whole west end of the city had been placarded. "the students have had millions of 'em cards printed," said worry. "they're everywhere. murray told me there was a hundred students tackin' 'em up on the stands and bleachers. they've got 'em on sticks of wood for pennants for the girls.... 'peg ward's day!' well, i guess!" at two-thirty o'clock the varsity ran upon the field, to the welcoming though somewhat discordant music of the university band. what the music lacked in harmony it made up in volume, and as noise appeared to be the order of the day, it was most appropriate. however, a great booming cheer from the crowded stands drowned the band. it was a bright summer day, with the warm air swimming in the thick, golden light of june, with white clouds sailing across the blue sky. grant field resembled a beautiful crater with short, sloping sides of white and gold and great splashes of red and dots of black all encircling a round lake of emerald. flashes of gray darted across the green, and these were the place players in practice. everywhere waved and twinkled and gleamed the red-and-white wayne placards. and the front of the stands bore wide-reaching bands of these colored cards. the grand-stand, with its pretty girls and gowns, and waving pennants, and dark-coated students, resembled a huge mosaic of many colors, moving and flashing in the sunlight. one stand set apart for the place supporters was a solid mass of blue and gold. and opposite to it, in vivid contrast, was a long circle of bleachers, where five thousand red-placarded, red-ribboned wayne students sat waiting to tear the air into shreds with cheers. dale and stevens and bryan, wearing their varsity sweaters, strode to and fro on the cinder-path, and each carried a megaphone. cheers seemed to lurk in the very atmosphere. a soft, happy, subdued roar swept around the field. fun and good-nature and fair-play and love of college pervaded that hum of many voices. yet underneath it all lay a suppressed spirit, a hidden energy, waiting for the battle. when wayne had finished a brief, snappy practice, kern, a national league umpire, called the game, with place at bat. ken ward walked to the pitcher's slab amid a prolonged outburst, and ten thousand red cards bearing his name flashed like mirrors against the sunlight. then the crashing place yell replied in defiance. ken surveyed his fellow-players, from whom came low, inspiriting words; then, facing the batter, keene, he eyed him in cool speculation, and swung into supple action. the game started with a rush. keene dumped the ball down the third-base line. blake, anticipating the play, came rapidly in, and bending while in motion picked up the ball and made a perfect snap-throw to mccord, beating keene by a foot. prince drove a hot grass-cutter through the infield, and the place stand let out shrill, exultant yells. macneff swung powerfully on the first ball, which streaked like a flitting wing close under his chin. prince, with a good lead, had darted for second. it was wonderful how his little, short legs carried him so swiftly. and his slide was what might have been expected of a famous football player. he hit the ground and shot into the bag just as raymond got dean's unerring throw too late. again the place rooters howled. macneff watched his second strike go by. the third pitch, remorselessly true to that fatal place, retired him on strikes; and a roll of thunder pealed from under the wayne bleachers. starke struck at the first ball given him. the place waiters were not waiting on ken to-day; evidently the word had gone out to hit. ken's beautiful, speedy ball, breast high, was certainly a temptation. starke lifted a long, lofty fly far beyond homans, who ran and ran, and turned to get it gracefully at his breast. worry arthurs sat stern and intent upon the wayne bench. "get that hit back and go them a run better!" was his sharp order. the big, loose-jointed salisbury, digging his foot into the dirt, settled down and swung laboriously. homans waited. the pitch was a strike, and so was the next. but strikes were small matters for the patient homans. he drew three balls after that, and then on the next he hit one of his short, punky safeties through the left side of the infield. the wayne crowd accepted it with vigor of hands and feet. raymond trotted up, aggressive and crafty. he intended to bunt, and the place infield knew it and drew in closer. raymond fouled one, then another, making two strikes. but he dumped the next and raced for the base. salisbury, big and slow as he was, got the ball and threw raymond out. homans over-ran second, intending to go on, but, halted by weir's hoarse coaching, he ran back. when reddy ray stepped out it was to meet a rousing cheer, and then the thousands of feet went crash! crash! crash! reddy fouled the first ball over the grand-stand. umpire kern threw out a new one, gleaming white. the next two pitches were wide; the following one reddy met with the short poke he used when hitting to left field. the ball went over martin's head, scoring homans with the first run of the game. that allowed the confident wayne crowd to get up and yell long and loud. weir fouled out upon the first ball pitched, and blake, following him, forced reddy out at second on an infield hit. place tied the score in the second inning on weir's fumble of martin's difficult grounder, a sacrifice by horton, and griffith's safe fly back of second. with the score tied, the teams blanked inning after inning until the fifth. wayne found salisbury easy to bat, but a place player was always in front of the hit. and place found peg ward unsolvable when hits meant runs. ken kept up his tireless, swift cannonading over the plate, making his opponents hit, and when they got a runner on base he extended himself with the fast raise ball. in the first of the fifth, with two out, prince met one of ken's straight ones hard and fair and drove the ball into the bleachers for a home-run. that solid blue-and-gold square of place supporters suddenly became an insane tossing, screeching mêlée. the great hit also seemed to unleash the fiery spirit which had waited its chance. the wayne players came in for their turn like angry bees. trace got a base on balls. dean sacrificed. ken also essayed to bunt and fouled himself out on strikes. again homans hit safely, but the crafty keene, playing close, held trace at third. "we want the score!" crash! crash! crash! went the bleachers. with raymond up and two out, the chance appeared slim, for he was not strong at batting. but he was great at trying, and this time, as luck would have it, he hit clean through second. trace scored, and homans, taking desperate risk, tried to reach home on the hit and failed. it was fast, exciting work, and the crowd waxed hotter and hotter. for place the lumbering horton hit a twisting grounder to mccord, who batted it down with his mitt, jumped for it, turned and fell on the base, but too late to get his man. griffith swung on ken's straight ball and, quite by accident, blocked a little bunt out of reach of both dean and ken. it was a safe hit. conroy stepped into ken's fast ball, which ticked his shirt, and the umpire sent him down to first amid the vociferous objections of the wayne rooters. three runners on bases and no one out. how the place students bawled and beat their seats and kicked the floor! ken took a longer moment of deliberation. he showed no sign that the critical situation unnerved him. but his supple shoulders knit closer, and his long arm whipped harder as he delivered the ball. salisbury, a poor batter, apparently shut his eyes and swung with all his might. all present heard the ringing crack of the bat, but few saw the ball. raymond leaped lengthwise to the left and flashed out his glove. there was another crack, of different sound. then raymond bounded over second base, kicking the bag, and with fiendish quickness sped the ball to first. kern, the umpire, waved both arms wide. then to the gasping audience the play became clear. raymond had caught salisbury's line hit in one hand, enabling him to make a triple play. a mighty shout shook the stands. then strong, rhythmic, lusty cheers held the field in thrall for the moment, while the teams changed sides. in wayne's half of the sixth both weir and mccord hit safely, but sharp fielding by place held them on base. again the formidable head of place's batting order was up. keene lined to right field, a superb hit that looked good for a triple, but it had not the speed to get beyond the fleet sprinter. ken eyed the curly-haired prince as if he was saying to himself: "i'm putting them over to-day. hit if you can!" prince appeared to jump up and chop ken's first pitch. the ball struck on fair ground and bounded very high, and was a safe hit. prince took a long lead off first base, and three times slid back to the bag when ken tried to catch him. the fast football man intended to steal; ken saw it, dean saw it; everybody saw it. whereupon ken delivered a swift ball outside of the plate. as prince went down little dean caught the pitch and got the ball away quick as lightning. raymond caught it directly in the base-line, and then, from the impact of the sliding prince, he went hurtling down. runner, baseman, and ball disappeared in a cloud of dust. kern ran nimbly down the field and waved prince off. but raymond did not get up. the umpire called time. worry arthurs ran out, and he and weir carried raymond to the bench, where they bathed his head and wiped the blood from his face. presently raymond opened his eyes. "wull, what struck me?" he asked. "oh, nothin'. there was a trolley loose in the field," replied worry. "can you get up? why did you try to block that football rusher?" raymond shook his head. "did i tag the big fat devil?" he queried, earnestly. "is he out?" "you got him a mile," replied worry. after a few moments raymond was able to stand upon his feet, but he was so shaky that worry sent schoonover to second. then the cheering leaders before the bleachers bellowed through their megaphones, and the students, rising to their feet, pealed out nine ringing "_waynes!_" and added a roaring "raymond!" to the end. with two out, kern called play. once again macneff was at bat. he had not made a foul in his two times up. he was at ken's mercy, and the wayne rooters were equally merciless. "ho! the slugging captain comes!" "get him a board!" "fluke hitter!" "mac, that was a lucky stab of yours wednesday! hit one _now_!" no spectator of that game missed ken's fierce impetuosity when he faced macneff. he was as keen strung as a wire when he stood erect in the box, and when he got into motion he whirled far around, swung back bent, like a spring, and seemed to throw his whole body with the ball. one--two--three strikes that waved up in their velocity, and macneff for the third time went out. clatter and smash came from the bleachers, long stamping of feet, whistle and bang, for voices had become weak. a hit, an error, a double play, another hit, a steal, and a forced out--these told wayne's dogged, unsuccessful trial for the winning run. but worry arthurs had curtly said to his pitcher: "peg, cut loose!" and man after man for place failed to do anything with his terrific speed. it was as if ken had reserved himself wholly for the finish. in the last of the eighth dean hit one that caromed off griffith's shin, and by hard running the little catcher made second. ken sent him to third on a fielder's choice. it was then the run seemed forthcoming. salisbury toiled in the box to coax the wary homans. the wayne captain waited until he got a ball to his liking. martin trapped the hit and shot the ball home to catch dean. it was another close decision, as dean slid with the ball, but the umpire decided against the runner. "peg, lam them over now!" called reddy ray. it was the first of the ninth, with the weak end of place's hitting strength to face ken. griffith, conroy, salisbury went down before him as grass before a scythe. to every hitter ken seemed to bring more effort, more relentless purpose to baffle them, more wonderful speed and control of his fast ball. through the stands and bleachers the word went freely that the game would go to ten innings, eleven innings, twelve innings, with the chances against the tiring salisbury. but on the wayne bench there was a different order of conviction. worry sparkled like flint. homans, for once not phlegmatic, faced the coaching line at third. raymond leaned pale and still against the bench. ken was radiant. reddy ray bent over the row of bats and singled out his own. his strong, freckled hands clenched the bat and whipped it through the air. his eyes were on fire when he looked at the stricken raymond. "kel, something may happen yet before i get up to the plate," he said. "but if it doesn't--" then he strode out, knocked the dirt from his spikes, and stepped into position. something about reddy at that moment, or something potent in the unforeseen play to come, quieted the huge crowd. salisbury might have sensed it. he fussed with the ball and took a long while to pitch. reddy's lithe form whirled around and seemed to get into running motion with the crack of the ball. martin made a beautiful pick-up of the sharply bounding ball, but he might as well have saved himself the exertion. the championship sprinter beat the throw by yards. suddenly the whole wayne contingent arose in a body, a tribute to what they expected of reddy, and rent grant field with one tremendous outburst. as it ceased a hoarse voice of stentorian volume rose and swelled on the air. "_wayne wins!_ watch him run!" it came from murray, who loved his great sprinter. thrice salisbury threw to macneff to hold reddy close to first base, but he only wasted his strength. then he turned toward the batter, and he had scarcely twitched a muscle in the beginning of his swing, when the keen sprinter was gone like a flash. his running gave the impression of something demon-like forced by the wind. he had covered the ground and was standing on the bag when prince caught conroy's throw. pandemonium broke out in the stands and bleachers, and a piercing, continuous scream. the sprinter could not be stopped. that was plain. he crouched low, watching salisbury. again and again the pitcher tried to keep reddy near second base, but as soon as martin or prince returned the ball reddy took his lead off the bag. he meant to run on the first pitch; he was on his toes. and the audience went wild, and the place varsity showed a hurried, nervous strain. they yelled to salisbury, but neither he nor any one else could have heard a thunderbolt in that moment. again salisbury toed the rubber, and he hesitated, with his face turned toward second. but he had to pitch the ball, and as his elbow trembled the sprinter shot out of his tracks with the start that had made him famous. his red hair streaked in the wind like a waving flame. his beautiful stride swallowed distance. then he sailed low and slid into the base as the ball struck griffith's hands. reddy was on third now, with no one out, with two balls upon weir and no strikes. in the fury of sound runner and batter exchanged a glance that was a sign. the sprinter crouched low, watching salisbury. for the third time, as the pitcher vibrated with the nervous force preceding his delivery, reddy got his start. he was actually running before the ball left salisbury's hand. almost it seemed that with his marvellous fleetness he was beating the ball to the plate. but as the watchers choked in agony of suspense weir bunted the ball, and reddy ray flashed across the plate with the winning run. then all that seemed cheering, din, and stamping roar deadened in an earth-shaking sound like an avalanche. the students piled out of the bleachers in streams and poured on the field. an irresistible, hungry, clamoring flood, they submerged the players. up went ken upon sturdy shoulders, and up went reddy ray and kel and homans and dean--all the team, and last the red-faced worry arthurs. then began the triumphant march about grant field and to the training-house. it was a wayne day, a day for the varsity, for homans and raymond, and for the great sprinter, but most of all it was peg ward's day. xviii breaking training the wayne varsity was a much-handled, storm-tossed team before it finally escaped the clutches of the students. every player had a ringing in his ears and a swelling in his heart. when the baseball uniforms came off they were carefully packed in the bottoms of trunks, and twelve varsity sweaters received as tender care as if they were the flimsy finery dear to the boys' sisters. at six the players were assembled in the big reading-room, and there was a babel of exultant conversation. worry suddenly came in, shouting to persons without, who manifestly wanted to enter. "nothin' doin' yet! i'll turn the boys over to you in one hour!" then he banged the door and locked it. worry was a sight to behold. his collar was unbuttoned, and his necktie disarranged. he had no hat. his hair was damp and rumpled, and his red face worked spasmodically. "where's peg?" he yelled, and his little bright eyes blinked at his players. it was plain that worry could not see very well then. some one pushed ken out, and worry fell on his neck. he hugged him close and hard. then he dived at reddy and mauled him. next he fell all over little crippled raymond, who sat propped up in an arm-chair. for once raymond never murmured for being jumped on. upon every player, and even the substitutes, worry expressed his joy in violent manner, and then he fell down himself, perspiring, beaming, utterly exhausted. this man was not the cold, caustic coach of the cage-days, nor the stern, hard ruler from the bench, nor the smooth worker on his players' feelings. this was worry arthurs with his varsity at the close of a championship season. no one but the boys who had fought at his bidding for wayne ever saw him like that. "oh, peg, it was glorious! this game gives us the record and the championship. say, peg, this was the great game for you to win. for you made place hit, and then when they got runners on bases you shut down on 'em. you made macneff look like a dub. you gave that home-run to prince." "i sure was after macneff's scalp," replied ken. "and i put the ball over for prince to hit. what else could i do? why, that little chunky cuss has an eye, and he can sting the ball--he's almost as good as reddy. but, worry, you mustn't give me the credit. reddy won the game, you know." "you talk like a kid," replied reddy, for once not cool and easy. "i cut loose and ran some; but, peg, you and raymond won the game." "wull, you make me sick," retorted raymond, threatening to get up. "there wasn't anything to this day but peg ward." ken replied with more heat than dignity, and quick as a flash he and reddy and raymond were involved in a wordy war, trying to place the credit for winning the game. they dragged some of the other boys into the fierce argument. worry laughed and laughed; then, as this loyal bunch of players threatened to come to blows, he got angry. "_shut up!_" he roared. "i never seen such a lot of hot-headed kids. shut up, and let me tell you who won this place game. it'll go down on record as a famous game, so you'll do well to have it straight. listen! the wayne varsity won this game. homans, your captain, won it, because he directed the team and followed orders. he hit and run some, too. reddy ray won this game by bein' a blue streak of chain lightnin' on the bases. raymond won it by makin' a hit when we all expected him to fall dead. he won it twice, the second time with the greatest fieldin' play ever pulled off on grant field. dean won the game by goin' up and hangin' onto peg's jump ball. mccord won it by diggin' low throws out of the dirt. weir was around when it happened, wasn't he--and blake and trace? then there was peg himself. he won the game a _little_. say! he had place trimmed when he stepped on the slab in the first innin'. so you all won the big wayne-place game." then worry advanced impressively to the table, put his hand in his breast pocket and brought forth a paper. "you've won this for me, boys," he said, spreading the paper out. "what is it?" they asked, wonderingly. "nothin' of much importance to you boys as compared with winnin' the game, but some to worry arthurs." he paused with a little choke. "it's a five-year contract to coach wayne's baseball teams." a thundering cheer attested to the importance of that document to the boys. "oh, worry, but i'm glad!" cried ken. "then your son harry will be in college next year--will be on the team?" "say, he'll have to go some to make next year's varsity, with only two or three vacancies to fill. now, fellows, i want to know things. sit down now and listen." they all took seats, leaving the coach standing at the table. "homans, is there any hope of your comin' back to college next year?" "none, i'm sorry to say," replied the captain. "father intends to put me in charge of his business." "reddy, how about a post-graduate course for you? you need that p.g." "worry, come to think of it, i really believe my college education would not be complete without that p.g.," replied reddy, with the old cool speech, and a merry twinkle in his eye. at this the boys howled like indians, and worry himself did a little war-dance. "raymond, you'll come back?" went on the coach. the second-baseman appeared highly insulted. "come back? wull, what do you take me for? i'd like to see the guy who can beat me out of my place next season." this brought another hearty cheer. further questioning made clear that all the varsity except homans, blake, and mccord would surely return to college. "fine! fine! fine!" exclaimed worry. then he began to question each player as to what he intended to do through the summer months, and asked him to promise not to play ball on any summer nines. "peg, you're the one i'm scared about," said worry, earnestly. "these crack teams at the seashore and in the mountains will be hot after you. they've got coin too, peg, and they'll spend it to get you." "all i've got to say is they'll waste their breath talking to me," replied ken, with a short laugh. "what are you goin' to do all summer?" asked worry, curiously. "where will you be?" "i expect to go to arizona." "arizona? what in the deuce are you goin' way out there for?" ken paused, and then when about to reply raymond burst out. "worry, he says it's forestry, but he only took up that fool subject because he likes to chase around in the woods. he's nutty about trees and bears and mustangs. he was in arizona last summer. you ought to hear some of the stories he's told me. why, if they're true he's got frank nelson and jim hawkins skinned to a frazzle." "for instance?" asked worry, very much surprised and interested. "why stories about how he was chased and captured by outlaws, and lassoed bears, and had scraps with mexicans, and was in wild caves and forest fires, and lots about a texas ranger who always carried two big guns. i've had the nightmare ever since we've been in the training-house. oh, ken can tell stories all right. he's as much imagination as he's got speed with a ball. and say, worry, he's got the nerve to tell me that this summer he expects to help an old hunter lasso mountain-lions out there in arizona. what do you think of that?" "it's straight goods!" protested ken, solemnly facing the bright-eyed boys. "we want to go along!" yelled everybody. "say, peg, i ain't stuck on that idee, not a little bit," replied the coach, dubiously. "worry has begun to worry about next season. he's afraid peg will get that arm chewed off," put in reddy. "well, if i've got to choose between lettin' peg chase mountain-lions and seein' him chased by 'em fat-head directors, i'll take my chances with the lions." then all in a moment worry became serious. "boys, it's time to break trainin'. i ain't got much to say. you're the best team i ever developed. let it go at that. in a few minutes you are free to go out to the banquets and receptions, to all that's waitin' for you. and it will be great. to-morrow you will be sayin' good-bye to me and to each other and scatterin' to your homes. but let's not forget each other and how we plugged this year. sure, it was only baseball, but, after all, i think good, hard play, on the square and against long odds, will do as much for you as your studies. let the old baseball coach assure you of that." he paused, paced a few steps to and fro, hands behind his back, thoughtful and somewhat sad. the members of the varsity sat pale and still, faces straight before them, eyes shining with memory of that long up-hill struggle, and glistening, too, with the thought that the time had come for parting. "homans, will you please see to the election of the new captain?" said worry. homans stepped out briskly and placed a hat, twelve folded slips of paper, and a pencil upon the table. "fellows, you will follow me in our regular batting order," directed homans. "each man is to write his name on one side of a slip of paper and his choice for captain on the other side. drop the paper in the hat." homans seated himself at the table and quickly cast his vote. raymond hobbled up next. reddy ray followed him. and so, in silence, and with a certain grave dignity of manner that had yet a suggestion of pleasure, the members of the varsity voted. when they had resumed their seats homans turned the slips out of the hat and unfolded them. "these votes will be given to the athletic directors and kept on record," he said. "but we will never see but one side of them. that is wayne's rule in electing captains, so the players will not know how each voted. but this is an occasion i am happy to see when we shall all know who voted for who. it shall be a little secret of which we will never speak." he paused while he arranged the slips neatly together. "there are here twelve votes. eleven have been cast for one player--one for another player! will you all please step forward and look?" in an intense stillness the varsity surrounded the table. there was a sudden sharp gasp from one of them. with a frank, glad smile homans held out his hand. "captain ward!" the end [illustration: the "show" was a tremendous success] betty wales, sophomore a story for girls by margaret warde author of "betty wales, freshman" "betty wales, junior" "betty wales, senior" "betty wales, b.a." illustrated by eva m. nagel contents chap introduction i moving in ii eleanor's freshman iii parades and parties iv eleanor watson, authoress v points of view vi on ambition vii on to midyears viii the "first four" ix the complications of life x in the "argus" sanctum xi a problem in ethics xii a brief for the defense xiii victory or defeat xiv a distinguished guest xv disappointments xvi dora carlson's "sugaring-off" xvii a may-day resolution xviii triumphs and troubles xix good-byes illustrations the "show" was a tremendous success "don't put that green vase there" "well," said miss ferris, "that won't be new work" "let us make a fair start," he said the green line was shouting itself hoarse eleanor did not answer "never mind that now," said betty introduction readers who did not make the acquaintance of betty wales and her friends while they were freshmen may like to know that there were nine girls in all who spent their first year together at mrs. chapin's. two of them, however, took very little part in the life of the house and left college at the end of the year. katherine kittredge, "of kankakee," was the fly- away of the group, rachel morrison its steadiest, strongest member. shy, sensitive roberta lewis found her complement in a volatile little sophomore, the only one in the house, named mary brooks. mary had a talent for practical jokes and original methods of entertainment, and supplied much of the fun and frolic at the chapin house. it was she who put betty's picture into the sophomore "grind book," who let out the secret of the mountain day mishap, and who frightened not only the chapin house freshmen but the whole class with an absurd "rumor" of her own invention. helen adams, betty's roommate, was a forlorn, awkward little body, who came to college expecting to study all the time, and was amazed and disappointed at what she considered the frivolity of her companions. betty wales, in particular, with her fascinating, merry ways, her love of fun, and her easygoing fashion of getting through her work, was a revelation to helen. she began by placing her roommate rather scornfully in the category of pretty girls, who, being pretty, can afford to be stupid, and ended by loving her dearly, and fully appreciating what betty had done to make her more like other girls and so happier in her environment. in spite of her beauty and cleverness, eleanor watson was not a favorite with the chapin house girls. she was snobbish and overbearing, intent upon making herself prominent in class and college affairs, and utterly regardless of the happiness of other people, as well as of the rules and moral standards of harding. betty, who was unreasonably fond of eleanor, though she recognized her faults, unconsciously exerted a great deal of influence over her. how she finally managed at the instigation of her upper-class friend, dorothy king, and with the help of miss ferris, a very lovable member of the faculty, to extricate eleanor watson from an extremely unpleasant position, and finally to make her willing and even eager to finish her course at harding, is told at length in "betty wales, freshman." there are also recorded many of the good times that she and her house-mates and a few other friends had during the first of their four happy years at harding college. the story of what betty did at harding and elsewhere will be found continued in "betty wales, junior," "betty wales, senior," and "betty wales, b.a." margaret warde. chapter i moving in betty wales sat down on the one small bare spot on the floor of her new room at the belden house, and looked about her with a sigh of mingled relief and weariness. "well," she remarked to the little green lizard, who was perched jauntily on a pile of pillows, "anyhow the things are all out of the trunks and boxes, and i suppose after a while they'll get into their right places." she looked at her watch. quarter to eight,--that left just about two hours before ten o'clock. somebody rapped on the door. "come in," sang betty. it was eleanor watson. betty leaped over a motley collection of cups and saucers, knocked down a japanese screen--which fortunately landed against a bed, instead of on the cups and saucers--and caught eleanor in her arms. "isn't it great to be back?" she said when she could speak, meanwhile setting up the screen again, and moving trunk-trays so they might sit down on the bed. "are you settled, eleanor?" "a little," said eleanor, surveying betty's quarters with amusement. "quite settled compared to this, i should say. why do you take everything out at once, betty?" "oh, then they're all right where i can get at them," returned betty easily. "i hate to keep stopping to fish something out of the bottom of a box that i haven't unpacked." "i see," laughed eleanor. "did you have a lovely summer?" "perfectly lovely. i can swim like a fish, eleanor, and so can emily davis. you don't know her much, do you? but you must. she's lots of fun. did you have a good time too?" "beautiful," said eleanor, eagerly. "father is coming east before long to see jim and me, and he and jim are coming on together from cornell. you'll help me entertain them, won't you, betty?" "i should think i would," betty was saying heartily, when there was another bang on the door and rachel and katherine appeared. then there was more leaping over teacups, more ecstatic greetings, and more readjustment of betty's belongings to make room for the newcomers. "where's helen?" demanded rachel, when everybody was seated. "coming the first thing to-morrow morning," explained betty. "you see she lives so near that she can come down at the last minute." "it's lucky she's not here now," laughed katherine. "there's no room for her, to say nothing of her things." "i should think not," agreed betty, tragically. "girls, these campus rooms are certainly the smallest places! this isn't half as big as ours at mrs. chapin's. and see the closet!" she picked her way across the room, and threw open a door, disclosing a five-by-three cupboard. "i ask you how we're going to get all our clothes into that." "helen hasn't many clothes," suggested katherine, cheerfully. "she has plenty to put on half those hooks," answered betty, with finality, closing the door on the subject, and coming back to sit between eleanor and rachel. "isn't the chapin house crowd scattered this year?" said katherine. "let me see. you and helen and mary brooks are here. has mary come yet?" betty shook her head. "her steamer isn't due till to-morrow morning. didn't you know she'd been in ireland all summer?" "won't it be fun to hear her tell about it?" put in rachel. "you three here," went on katherine, intent on her census, "and you're at the hilton, aren't you, eleanor?" "yes," answered eleanor with a grimace. "i wanted to be here, of course, but miss stuart wouldn't manage it. which house are you in, rachel?" "i'm off the campus," answered rachel, quietly, "at the little white house just outside the gate. it's a dear, quaint place, and delightfully quiet. of course, i'd rather have been on the campus, but father couldn't afford it this year." "make way, make way for us!" sang a noisy chorus out in the hall. there were shouts and shrieks and bangs and more shrieks, and then the din died away suddenly into an ominous stillness that evidently heralded the approach of some dreaded power. "it's lucky one of us lives in a quiet place, where the rest of us can take refuge occasionally," said eleanor. "isn't it?" chimed in katherine. "i'm at the westcott myself, and i never heard anything like the racket there was, when the girls began to come in from the eight o'clock train." "our crowd seems to have been on hand early," said rachel. "you know betty's father doesn't like her to travel alone," jeered katherine, "especially after dark. did he telegraph the registrar again this year, betty?" "please don't," begged betty, blushing prettily. "weren't we green little freshmen though, at this time last fall?" "and isn't it fun to be coming back as sophomores?" asked rachel. "we haven't quite finished with the residences of the chapin house girls," said eleanor. "how about roberta?" "she's going to stay on at mrs. chapin's, i think," answered katherine. "she couldn't get in here at the belden, and she and mary want to be together." "and the riches aren't coming back, i believe," added rachel. "and now i, for one, must go back and finish unpacking." katherine and eleanor rose too, astonished to find how fast the evening had slipped away, and how little time there was left in which to get ready for the busy "first day" ahead of them. when they had all three gone, betty lay back on the bed, her head pillowed on her arms, to rest for a moment longer. she was tired. the journey from rockport had been hot and disagreeable, and some of her box covers had been nailed on with disheartening thoroughness. but besides being tired, she was also very happy--too happy to turn her attention again at once to the trying business of getting settled. in spite of the "perfectly lovely" summer at the seashore, she was glad to be back at harding. she was passionately fond of the life there. there had been only one little blot to mar her perfect enjoyment of freshman year, and that was eleanor's unexplainable defection. and now eleanor had come back, fascinating as ever, but wonderfully softened and sweetened. the old hauteur had not left her face, but it was in the background, veiled, as it were, by a determination to be different,--to meet life in a more friendly spirit, and to make the most of it and of herself. betty could have hugged her for her cordial greetings to katherine and rachel, and for the kindly little speech about rachel's boarding-place. the other girls had been tactful too, ready to meet eleanor half-way and to let bygones be bygones. it was all "just lovely." betty was picking herself up, intent upon clearing helen's half of the room at least, before she went to bed, when another tap sounded on the door. "come in," she called eagerly, expecting to see roberta, or perhaps alice waite, or even dorothy king. instead, a tall, stately stranger opened the door, and entering, closed it again after her. "may i come in and talk to you?" she asked. "i live next door--that is, my trunks aren't here, so i haven't begun living there to any great extent as yet. don't stop working. i'll sit and watch; or i'll help, if i can. there seems to be plenty doing." and she sat down calmly in the place that betty had just vacated. betty was not easily embarrassed, but the strange girl's perfect composure and ease of manner disconcerted her. she did not know many upper classmen in the belden house, and she could not remember ever having seen this one before. and yet she surely was not a freshman. "yes, i--i am busy," she stammered. "i mean, i ought to be. but i've had callers all the evening long. oh, dear! i didn't mean that. i'm truly glad to have you come, and i will keep on working, if you don't mind." the stranger's eyes twinkled. "which class are you?" she asked. "sophomore," answered betty promptly. "and you're an upper-class girl, aren't you?" the stranger shook her head. "no?" questioned betty in bewilderment. "why, i'm sure you're not a sophomore--i know all the girls in my class at least by sight,--and of course you're not a freshman." "why not?" demanded the new girl gaily. betty laughed. "i know," she said, "but i don't believe i can explain. you seem too much at home, and too sure of yourself somehow. now, are you a freshman?" the stranger laughed in her turn. "technically, yes," she said, "really, no. this is my first year here, but i've passed up all the french and spanish and italian that the institution offers, and some of the german. i think myself that i ought to rank as a graduate student, but it seems there are some little preliminaries in the way of math, and latin and logic that i have to take before i can have my sheepskin, and there's also some history and some english literature which the family demand that i take. so i don't know just how long i may hang on here." "how--how funny!" gasped betty. "where do you live?" "bohemia, new york," answered the new girl promptly. betty looked puzzled. "why, you see," explained her mysterious friend, "it's no use saying one lives in new york. everybody--all sorts and conditions of people--live in new york. so i always add bohemia." "bohemia?" repeated betty helplessly. "yes, bohemia--the artistic new york. we have a studio and some other rooms up at the top of one of those queer old houses on washington square--you know it,--funny, ramshackle old place. father has afternoons, and mother and i feed the lions and the lesser animals with tea and strawberry jam. it's very good fun, living in bohemia." "and how did you learn so many languages?" "oh, a little from tutors, but mostly from living abroad. we're not in bohemia, new york, very much. we have a villa near sorrento--awfully out- at-elbows, but still a villa; and we've been in spain a good deal, and once father illustrated a book on vienna--that was where i learned my german. let me see--oh, it's french that i haven't accounted for. well, we have some french relatives. they love to have us visit them at their funny old chateau, because mother mends their moth-eaten tapestries beautifully, and father paints the family portraits." "and what do you do?" inquired betty, much impressed. "i? oh, i teach the girls american slang. it doesn't amount to much, teaching french girls slang, because they never have any chance to get it off on the men. but they always like it." "don't you know any other languages?" "no--why, yes i do, too. i know bengali. when mademoiselle asked me that very question this noon i forgot bengali. i learned one winter in india. i guess i'll telephone her--or no--i'd rather see her august face when i remind her of my humble linguistic existence. my name is madeline ayres. now it's your turn," ended the new girl suddenly. "but i haven't anything to tell," objected betty, "except that i'm betty wales, in the sophomore class, and live in cleveland. please go on. it sounds exactly like a fairy tale." madeline ayres shook her head. "it may now," she said, "but when you come to think it over, you'll decide that i talk too much. don't put that green vase there. it belongs on the bookcase. it just litters your desk and spoils the effect of that lovely water-color. do you mind my telling you?" it was ten o'clock when miss ayres took her departure. between them, she and betty had made astonishing progress toward bringing order out of the chaos that had reigned supreme an hour earlier. "it's so pretty, too," declared betty, alone once more with the little green lizard. "whatever she touches goes right into place. i suppose that's because she's always lived with artists. oh, dear, i wish i could do something interesting!" there was a tap on the door, and betty sprang for her light, for she had the new girl's terror of breaking the ten-o'clock rule, which is supposed by outsiders to be kept to the letter on the campus. however, it wasn't the matron, but only nita reese, who had a single room on the fourth floor and had come to say that the three b's were spending the night with her, and that they wished betty to hurry right along and help eat up the food. [illustration: "don't put that green vase there."] "lights don't count on the first night, they say," explained nita, who, like betty, had spent her freshman year off the campus. "so we've got to make the most of it." "but what are the b's doing over here?" demanded betty in perplexity. "have they moved away from the westcott?" nita laughed. "no indeed, but the rest of their floor hadn't come, and they felt lonely and came over to see me. they say their matron won't miss them the first night, and i'm sure i hope ours won't find them here. they seem to think it's all right." betty pulled on her gray kimono, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and followed nita through the hall and up-stairs to the fourth floor. there was a wilderness of trunks in the narrow passages. every girl must have three at least, betty thought. and their owners appeared to be in no haste about unpacking; the serious business of the hour was conversation. they stopped to talk with their neighbors to greet newcomers, to help or hinder other workers with questions and suggestions. betty and nita felt lost and rather friendless in the big house, and were strangely glad to see one familiar face down the corridor and to get a brisk little nod from a senior hurrying past them on the stairs. but on the fourth floor the b's pranced gaily out to meet them. "poor little lambs, just come on the campus," sang babe. "'fraid to death of the matron," jeered bob. "we've come to cheer you up," ended babbie. "girls," said betty, when the five-pound box of chocolates that bob's father had thoughtfully provided was nearly empty, "wouldn't it be dreadful if we didn't know each other or anybody? how did we ever manage last fall?" "oh, you can always do what you have to," returned bob practically. "one mattress is too narrow for four, though," announced babbie, somewhat irrelevantly. "i'm going down to sleep with you, betty. come along." thus ended betty's first evening on the campus. chapter ii eleanor's freshman it was early in the afternoon of the great day of the sophomore reception that betty wales ran up two flights of stairs at the hilton house, and bursting into eleanor's "extra-priced" corner single, flung herself, hot and breathless, into eleanor's morris chair. "oh, but i'm tired," she said, as soon as she could speak. "and dirty," she added, looking ruefully at the green stains on the front of her pink linen suit. "you also seem to be in a hurry," observed eleanor, who was always vastly entertained by betty's impetuous, haphazard methods. "i am," said betty. "we're awfully behind with the decorating, and i ought to rush back to the gym. this very minute, but i--" she paused, then finished quickly. "i wanted to see you." "that was nice of you," said eleanor absently, sorting over the pages of a theme she had just finished copying. "i helped wind the balcony railings with yellow cheese-cloth all the morning, and i thought i'd better finish this before i went back. i'm bound not to get behind with my work this year." "good for you," returned betty, cheerfully. "but i'm glad you're through now. i was hoping you would be." "did the chairman send you after me?" asked eleanor, fastening her sheets together, and writing her name on the first one. "oh, no," said betty, quickly. "she didn't at all. i wanted to see you myself." eleanor was too preoccupied to notice betty's embarrassment. "who is it that you're going to take to-night?" she asked. "you told me, but i've forgotten, and i want to put her name on my card." "i asked madeline ayres--" began betty. "you lucky thing!" broke in eleanor. "she's the most interesting girl in her class, i think, and she's going to be terribly popular. she's a class officer already, isn't she?" "yes, secretary. i'm glad you like her, because i came over to see if you wouldn't take her, in my place." "i?" said eleanor, in perplexity. "why, i'm going to take polly eastman, --jean's freshman cousin, you know. do you mean you want me to take miss ayres too? are you sick, betty?" "no," said betty, hastily, "but polly eastman is. she's got the mumps or the measles or something. jean told me about it, and an a.d.t. boy was just leaving a note for you--from polly, i suppose--when i came up. she's gone to the infirmary." "poor child," said eleanor. "she missed the freshman frolic, and she's been counting on to-night. i had such a lovely card for her, too. pity it's got to go to waste. well, she can have her violets all the same. i'll go down and telephone clarke's to send them to the infirmary. but i don't see yet why you want me to take miss ayres, betty." "because," said betty, "we've just discovered a left-over freshman. she lives way down at the end of market street, and she entered late, and somehow her name wasn't put on the official list. but this morning she was talking to a girl in her math. division, and when the other girl spoke about the reception this one--her name is dora carlson--hadn't heard of it. so the other freshmen very sensibly went in and told the registrar about it, and the registrar sent word to the gym. and then jean said that her cousin was ill, so i came over to see if you'd take madeline, and let me take miss carlson. now please say 'yes' right off, so that i can go and change my dress and hurry down and ask the poor little thing." eleanor got up and came over to sit on the arm of the morris chair. "betty wales," she said, with mock severity, but with an undertone of very real compunction in her voice, "do you think i'd do that? have i ever been quite so mean as you make me out? did you really think i'd take miss ayres and let you take miss carlson? you're absurd, betty,--you are absurd sometimes, you know." "yes, i suppose i am," began betty, "but--" "it's perfectly simple," broke in eleanor. "you go straight back to the gym. and work for the two of us, while i go and invite miss carlson to go with me to the reception. where did you say she lives?" "number market street. oh, eleanor, will you really take her? she's probably--oh, not a bit your kind, you know," ended betty, doubtfully. "trust me to give her the time of her life all the same," said eleanor, decidedly, putting on her hat. "oh, eleanor, you are a gem," declared betty, excitedly. "i'll go and get helen to take your place at the gym. good-bye." and she was off. as eleanor went down the steps of the hilton house, she looked regretfully over at the gymnasium. they were dumping another load of evergreen boughs at the door. the horse was restless. it took three girls to hold him, and three more, with much shouting and laughter, to unload the boughs. through one window she could see rachel and alice waite stringing incandescent lights into japanese lanterns. katherine kittredge was standing behind them in her gym suit. she had evidently been hanging lanterns along the rafters. it had been bad enough to stay at home and copy her theme. now the decorating would be finished and the fun almost over, before she could get back. eleanor shrugged her shoulders and turned resolutely away, trying to remember whether market street was just above or just below the station. before she had reached the campus gate, she heard some one calling her name. it was jean eastman. "what's your hurry?" panted jean. "did you get polly's note? and why aren't you at the gym.?" "yes, i got the note," answered eleanor. "i'm more than sorry for polly, and for myself, too. i shall get back to the gym. as soon as i can, but i have to ask another freshman to the reception first." "who?" demanded jean. "miss carlson," answered eleanor simply. "oh, that! don't you think, eleanor, that you're getting a little quixotic in your old age?" her scornful tone was very exasperating, and eleanor straightened haughtily. "i don't think either of us need worry about being too charitable just yet awhile," she began. then she caught herself up sharply. "don't let's get to bickering, jean. you know i ought to ask her, and you know how much i want to. but i'm going to do it, and i expect every girl on my program to help make her have just as good a time as if she were one of us." and eleanor was off down the hill, leaving jean gazing amazedly after her. jean had no clue to the new eleanor, whose strange toleration of the world in general annoyed the "hill girls" (as those who had come from the hill school were called) more than her high-handed attempts to run her own set, and her eventual wrecking of its influence, had done the year before. but the hill girls appreciated eleanor's ability, and they had resolved among themselves to wait a little and see what happened, before declaring open war. somebody came to call just before dinner, and betty was consequently late in dressing for the reception. but in the midst of her frantic efforts to make her own toilette and help helen with hers, she had time to wonder what dora carlson was like and how she and eleanor would get on together. she knew that eleanor was equal to any emergency, if she cared to exert herself, but the question was: would dora carlson in the concrete arouse the best--or the worst--of her nature? betty loved eleanor in spite of everything, but she had to admit to herself that a timid little freshman might infinitely prefer staying at home from the sophomore reception to going in eleanor's company, if she happened to be in a bad mood. and furthermore, as betty lost her temper over helen's girdle, which would go up in front and down behind, completely spoiling the effect of an otherwise pretty evening dress, she was in a position to realize that trying to help is by no means the soul-inspiring thing that it sometimes seems in contemplation. but she need not have worried about dora carlson, who, having lived alone with her father on a farm in the environs of a little village in ohio, and kept house for him ever since she was twelve years old, was abundantly able to take care of herself. she was not at all timid, though she was not aggressive either, and she had a quaint way of expressing herself that would have interested almost any one. but it was the frank good-nature with which she accepted her eleventh hour invitation that appealed most to eleanor, newly alive to the charm that lies in courageously making the best of a bad matter. for half an hour eleanor devoted herself to finding out something about miss carlson and to making her feel at ease and happy in her company. then she went off to order a carriage and twice as many violets as she had sent to polly eastman, and to find a maid who would press out her white mull dress,--this in spite of her decision, an hour earlier, that the white mull was much too pretty to waste on a promiscuous crush like the sophomore reception. as a result of all these preparations, dora carlson arrived at the gymnasium in a state of mind that she herself aptly compared to cinderella's on the night of her first ball. she had a keen appreciation of the beautiful, and she had never seen any one so absolutely lovely as eleanor in evening dress. it was pleasure enough just to watch her, to hear her talk to other people, and to feel that she--dora carlson--had some part and lot in this fascinating being, who had suddenly appeared to her as from another world. but eleanor had no intention of keeping her freshman in the background. all through the reception that preceded the dancing she took her from group to group, introducing her to sophomores whom she would dance with later and to prominent members of her own class. eleanor watson might be considered odd and freakish by the hill girls, and very snobbish by the rest of the college; but nobody of either persuasion cared to ignore her, when she chose to make advances. and there was, besides, a good deal of curiosity about the short, dark little freshman, with the merry brown eyes, the big, humorous mouth, and the enormous bunch of parma violets pinned to the front of her much-washed, tight-sleeved muslin. why in the world had the "snob of snobs" chosen to bring her to the reception? eleanor knew how to utilize this curiosity for miss carlson's advantage. she took pains, too, to turn the conversation to topics in which the child could join. she was determined that, as far as this one evening went, the plucky little freshman from ohio should have her chance. afterward her place in the college world would of course depend largely on herself. "do you dance?" asked eleanor, when the music for the first waltz began. and when miss carlson answered with a delighted "yes," eleanor, who always refused to lead, and detested both crowds and "girl dances," resolutely picked up her train and started off. betty wales and jean eastman, who had taken their freshmen up into the gallery, where they could look down at the dancers, saw her and exchanged glances. "more than she's ever done for me," said jean, resignedly. "isn't it nice of her?" returned betty, with enthusiasm. and jean, meditating on the matter later, decided shrewdly that betty wales was somehow at the bottom of eleanor's unexplainable change of heart, and advised the hill girls to make a determined effort to monopolize eleanor's time and interest, before she had become hopelessly estranged from their counsels. but to all their attentions eleanor paid as little heed as she did to the persistent appeals of paul west, a friend at winsted college, a few miles away, that she should give up "slaving over something you don't care about and come over to our next dance." to the hill girls eleanor gave courteous but firm denials, and she wrote paul west that once in three weeks was as often as she had time for callers. "and you really had a good time?" said eleanor, riding down to market street to see miss carlson home. "splendid!" said miss carlson, heartily. "i'm sorry your first partner was sick, but i guess i enjoyed it fully as much as she would. your friends were all so nice to me." "i'm glad of that," said eleanor, relieved to find that dora had not apparently noticed jean eastman's insolent manner, nor the careless self- absorption of one or two of her other partners. "and now that you've met the girls," she added practically, "you mustn't let them forget you. making friends is one of the nicest things about college." "yes, isn't it?" responded the little freshman, quickly. "i quite agree with you, but i don't expect to make any. i guess it's like other gifts. it doesn't come natural to some people. but," she added, brightening, "i came here to learn greek and latin, so that i can teach and support my father in his old age. and the good time i've had to-night is enough to last me for one while, i guess." eleanor put out a slim, white hand and caught miss carlson's hard, brown one impetuously in hers, "don't," she said. "that isn't the way things are here. good times don't have to last, because one always leads to another. why, i know another that's coming to you very soon. i've had a good deal of company for dinner lately and i can't ask for a place again right away, but the first sunday that i can arrange it, you're coming up to have dinner with me at the hilton house. will you?" jean eastman had a great deal to say about eleanor's freshman crush, as she called dora carlson. it was foolish, she said, and not in good taste, to send a bunch of violets as big as your head to a perfect stranger, whom you never expected to see again. later, after dora's appearance at the hilton for sunday dinner, jean declared that it was a shame for eleanor to invite her up there and make her think she really liked her, when it was only done for effect, and she would drop the poor child like a hot coal the minute she felt inclined to. even betty wales failed to understand eleanor's interest in the quaint little freshman, and she and the other chapin house girls rallied her heartily about miss carlson's open and unbounded adoration. "please don't encourage the poor thing so," laughed katherine, one day not long after the reception. "why, yesterday morning at chapel i looked up in the gallery and there she was in the front row, hanging over the railing as far as she dared, with her eyes glued to you. some day she'll fall off, and then think how you'll feel, when the president talks about the terrible evils of the crush system, and stares straight at you." eleanor took their banter with perfect good-nature, and seemed rather pleased than otherwise at miss carlson's devotion. "i like her," she said stoutly. "that's why i encourage her, as you call it. now, helen adams doesn't interest me at all. she keeps herself to herself too much. but dora carlson is so absolutely frank and straightforward, and so competent and quick to see through things. she ought to have been a man. then she could go west and make her fortune. as it is--" eleanor shrugged her shoulders, in token that she had no feasible suggestion ready in regard to dora carlson's future. to betty, in private, she went much further. "you don't know what you did for me, betty, when you made me ask that child to the reception. nobody ever cared for me, or trusted me, as she does--or for the reasons that she does. i hope i can show her that i'm worth it, but it's going to be hard work. and it will be a bad thing for her, and a worse thing for me, if i fail." chapter iii parades and parties it was surprising how well the girl from bohemia fitted into the life at harding. she had never experienced an examination or even a formal recitation until the beginning of her freshman term. she had seldom lived three months in any one place, and she had grown up absolutely without reference to the rules and regulations and conventions that meant so much to the majority of her fellow-students. but she did not find the recitations frightful, nor the simple routine of life irksome. she was willing to tell everybody who cared to listen what she had seen of french pensions, italian beggars, or spanish bullfights. it astonished her to find that her experiences were unique, because she had always accepted them as comparatively commonplace; but her pity for the girls who had never been east of cape cod nor west of harding,--there were two of them at the belden,--was quite untinged with self-congratulation. she was very much amused and not a little pleased, by her election to the post of class secretary. "they did it because i passed up four languages," she explained to betty. "somehow it got around--i'm sure i never meant to boast of it--and they seemed to think they ought to show their appreciation. nice of them, wasn't it? but i fancy i shan't have a large international correspondence. it would have been more to the point if they'd found out whether i can write plainly." and the girl from bohemia chuckled softly. "what's the joke?" inquired betty. "nothing," answered madeline, "only i can't. miss felton made me spell off every word of my spanish examination paper, because she couldn't read it, and i can't read my last theme myself," and she laughed again merrily. "let's see it," demanded betty, reaching for the paper at the top of the pile on madeline's desk. "that's next week's," said madeline. "i thought i'd do them both while i was at it. but this week's is funnier." "this week's" proved to be an absurd incident founded upon the illegibility of henry ward beecher's handwriting. it was cleverly told, but the cream of its humor lay in the fact that madeline's writing, if not so bad as mr. beecher's, was certainly bad enough. "maybe miss raymond can make out what he really wrote, but i've forgotten now, and i can't," said madeline, tossing the theme back on the pile. "and i didn't try to write badly either. it just happened." everything "just happened" with madeline ayres. betty had said that things fell into place for her, and people seemed to have a good deal the same pleasant tendency. but if they did not, madeline seldom exerted herself to make them do her bidding. she admired hard work, and did a good deal of it by fits and starts. but she detested wire-pulling, and took an instant dislike to eleanor watson because some injudicious person told her that eleanor had said she was sure to be popular and prominent at harding. "what nonsense!" she said, with a flash of scorn in her slumberous hazel eyes. "how it spoils life to count up the chances like that! how it takes the fun out of everything! the right way is to go ahead and enjoy yourself, and work your prettiest, and take things when they come. they always come--if you give them a little time," she added with a return of her usual serenity. so it was wholly a matter of chance that madeline ayres should have succeeded in turning helen chase adams into an athlete. helen had come to college with several very definite theories about life, most of which had been shattered at the start. she had promptly revised her idea of a college in conformity with what she found--and loved--at harding. she had decided, with some reluctance, that she had been mistaken in supposing that all pretty girls were stupid. but she still believed that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains--laying no very stringent emphasis on the "infinite"; and she was determined to prove the truth of that bold, if somewhat elusive, assertion, at least to the extent of showing that she, helen chase adams, could make a thoroughgoing success of her college course. success may mean anything. to helen adams it had meant, ever since the day of the sophomore-freshman basket-ball game, the ability to write something that would interest her classmates. it might be a song that they would care to sing, or a little verse or a story that miss raymond would read in her theme class, as she had mary brooks's version of the chapin house freshmen's letters home, and that the girls would listen to and laugh over, and later discuss and compliment her upon. it was not that she wanted the compliments, but they would measure her success. helen admired the girl from bohemia because she could write--betty had told her about the henry ward beecher theme,--also because she was quick and keen, seldom hurried or worried out of her habitual serenity, and finally because betty admired her. madeline ayres, for her part, thought of helen chiefly as betty's roommate, noticed the awkward little forward tilt of her head just as she had noticed the inharmonious arrangement of betty's green vase, and commented upon the one in exactly the same spirit that she had called attention to the other. "you ought to go in for gym," she said one afternoon when she had strolled into betty's room and found only helen. "it would straighten you up, and make you look like a different person. i'm going in for it myself, hard. i'm hoping that it will cure my slouchy walk, and turn me out 'a marvel of grace and beauty,' as the physical culture advertisements always say. let's be in the same class, so that we can practice things together at home." "but i should take sophomore gym and you'd be with the freshmen," objected helen. "why don't you take freshman gym too? you can't do the exercises any too well, can you?" "no," admitted helen, frankly. "i cut a lot last year, and i couldn't do them anyway." "don't you hate to struggle along when you're not ready to go?" asked the girl from bohemia. helen agreed that she did, and a moment later they were comparing schedules and deciding upon a class which they could both join. it came directly in the middle of the afternoon, and helen adams had always considered gym at any hour a flagrant waste of time; but she did not say so. there had been something in madeline's outspoken reference to her awkward carriage that, without hurting her, had struck home. helen chase adams aspired to literary honors at harding; to this desire was suddenly added a violent ambition to be what madeline had termed "a marvel of grace." betty was amazed, when she came in a little later, to find helen trying on her gym suit. "what in the world are you doing?" she demanded. "gym doesn't begin for two weeks yet." "i know it," said helen, "but the neck of my suit never was right. it's awfully unbecoming. how would you fix it?" "you frivolous thing!" laughed betty, squinting at the unbecoming neck for a moment. "it's too high behind, that's all. rip off the collar and i'll cut it down. and i have an extra blue tie that you can have--it needs a tie. but i thought you'd manage to get an excuse from gym, when you hate it so." "perhaps i shan't hate it this year," ventured helen, and neither then nor later did betty exactly understand her roommate's sudden devotion to parallel bars, ropes, the running track, and breathing exercises. but in time she did thoroughly appreciate the results of this physical training. helen chase adams was never exactly "a marvel of grace"; but she was erect and supple, with considerable poise and dignity of bearing, when she left harding. another thing that madeline ayres "happened upon" was the republican parade. presidential elections had been celebrated in various ways at harding. there had been banners spread to the breeze, songs and bells in the night-watches, mock caucuses and conventions, campaign speeches, and australian balloting, before election time. but the parade was of madeline's invention. it was about eight o'clock on the evening after election day that she appeared in mary brooks's door--she had made friends with mary almost as easily as betty had. "i say," she said, dropping off her rain-coat and displaying a suit of manly black beneath, to match the short brown wig above. "let's have a republican parade. who'll be the defeated candidate, in chains?" then she smiled broadly, displaying rows of even white teeth, and mary grasped the situation in a moment. "i'm with you, roosevelt," she said. "nita reese can be the defeated one. i'll go and get her." "and you be leader of the band," said madeline. "you get combs and i'll get tin pans." "let's take up a collection and have ice-cream later," proposed mary. "all right. i'll tell betty to see to that. i've got to lead a strenuous life finding clothes for fairbanks," and "president roosevelt" disappeared down the hall. promptly at nine the parade assembled on the third floor corridor. the president elect was drawn in an express wagon, except down the stairs between floors. out of consideration for the weight of his chains the defeated candidate was allowed to ride in a barouche, alias a rocking- chair. but he objected to riding backward, and the barouche would not move the other way round, so he accepted the arm of the leader of the band and walked, chains and all. the vice-president walked from the start. at intervals of five minutes one or both of the successful candidates made speeches. the defeated candidate wished to do likewise, but the other two drowned him out. between times the band, composed of all the belden house who could play on combs or who could find tin pans, discoursed sweet music. those who could not do either formed what mary brooks called "a female delegation of the g.o.p. from colorado," and closed in the rear of the procession in a most imposing manner. the vice-president elect wanted to make a tour of the campus houses, but the twenty minutes to ten bell rang, and there was only time to eat the ice cream. the fact that roberta lewis, who happened to be in mary's room when the president made his first call, laughed herself into hysterics over the parade, proves that it was funny. the further fact that she had firmly decided to leave college at christmas time, but changed her mind after she had seen the parade, shows that even "impromptu stunts" are not always as silly and futile as they seem. but before the republican parade came hallowe'en, and hallowe'en on the campus is not a thing to pass over lightly. each house has some sort of party, generally in costume. there is a good deal of rivalry, and as every house wishes to see and judge of the achievements of its neighbors, the most interesting encounters are likely to take place midway between houses, on the journeys from one party to another. in betty's sophomore year the belden had a masquerade ball, under the direction of mary brooks and the girl from bohemia. the hilton house indulged in an old-fashioned country hallowe'en, with a spelling match, dancing to "roger de coverley" and "money musk," apple-bobbing and all the other traditional methods of finding out about your lover on all saints' eve. the westcott gave a "spook" party, one of the other houses a play, still another a goblin dance, to which everybody carried jack-o'- lanterns, and the rest celebrated the holiday in other characteristic and amusing ways. the campus resembled a cross between the midway at a world's fair and the grand finale of a comic opera; for ghosts consorted there with ballet dancers and egyptian princesses, spooks and goblins linked arms with pirates in top-boots and rosy farmers' daughters in calico, and nuns and puritan maidens chatted familiarly with villainous and fascinating gentlemen, who twirled black mustaches and threatened to kiss them. by nine o'clock everybody had seen everybody else, and congratulations for successful costumes, clever acting, and thrilling ghost stories were nearly all distributed. toward the end of the evening there were a good many small gatherings, met to talk over the fun in detail and enjoy the numerous "spreads" that had been sent on from home,--for the college girl's family becomes almost as expert in detecting a festival afar off as is the girl herself. nan never let the wales household forget its duty in such matters, and a merry party was assembled in betty's room to eat the salad, sandwiches, jelly, olives, cake, candy, nuts, and fruit that her mother had provided. "how time flies," observed mary brooks sagely, helping herself to another sandwich. "i suppose you gay young sophomores don't realize it, but it's almost christmas time." "and after christmas, midyears," wailed a freshman from her corner. "and after midyears what? "'to be or not to be, that is the question,'" quoted katherine kittredge loudly. "but for sophomores who survive the midyears," went on mary, "the next thing of importance is the society elections." "that's so," said betty eagerly. "we can get into your wonderful societies after midyears, if we're brainy enough. i'd forgotten all about them." "then i'll wager you're about the only sophomore who hasn't thought of them occasionally this fall," announced mary. "and now i'm ready for some candy." "tell us how to go to work to get into those societies, can't you?" asked bob from her place beside the salad bowl. "work hard and write themes," said mary briefly, and the subject was dropped. betty thought no more about mary's remark then, but when she and helen were alone it came back to her. "i suppose some girls do think about the societies a lot, and plan and hope to get in," she said. "i suppose so," returned helen. "i shan't have to. i am perfectly safe to stay out." "oh, so am i, as far as that goes," said betty carelessly. helen, watching her closely, wondered how any popular girl could be as unconscious as betty seemed. she had overheard a belden house senior telling mary brooks that betty wales was sure to go into a society the minute she became eligible. helen opened her mouth to convey this information to betty, but stopped just in time. "for she's not unhappy about it," thought helen, "and it would be dreadful if they should be mistaken. but they can't be," concluded helen loyally, watching betty's face as she read a note that her mother had tucked in among the nuts. most pretty girls might be stupid, but the best of everything was none too good for betty wales, so thought her roommate. chapter iv eleanor watson, authoress eleanor watson leaned back in her morris chair, her eyes fixed absently on the opposite wall, her forehead knit in deep thought. "somehow there isn't enough of me to go round," she reflected. "i don't see why,--the other girls, no quicker or brighter than i, seem to get on all right. i wonder why i can't. i can't give up everything in the way of recreation." it was easy enough for an outsider to analyze her difficulty. never before had eleanor tried to "go round," as she put it. she had always done what she pleased, and let alone the things that did not appeal to her. now she had suddenly assumed responsibilities. she really wanted to do her college work, all of it, as it deserved to be done, and to do it honestly, without resort to any of the various methods of deception that she had employed almost unconsciously hitherto. she wanted to make life pleasanter for dora carlson. she wanted to write the long, newsy letters to jim and to judge watson; letters that brought characteristic replies, confidential from jim, genially humorous from her father, but both equally appreciative and as different as possible from their cold, formal notes of the year before. on the other hand, she wanted, both for selfish and unselfish reasons, to enter into the social life of the college. she had not lost her worldly ambitions in one summer; and she had not gained, at a bound, the concentration of mind that enabled other girls to get through an amazing amount of work and fun with perfect ease. she knew infinitely less of the value of time than betty wales; she had less sense of proportion than helen adams; and she was intensely eager to win all sorts of honors. so it was natural that she should stare at the wall opposite for some little time before she came to the conclusion that sitting empty-handed, thinking about her troubles, while the morning took to itself wings, was not the best way to mend matters. and when she did finally come back to earth, it was only to give an angry little exclamation, pick up a magazine from the table at her elbow, and go to reading it. at the end of half an hour, however, she tossed it aside, and sitting resolutely down at her desk, wrote diligently until lunch time. "have you done your theme, eleanor?" asked alice waite, overtaking her on the way down to the dining-room. eleanor nodded curtly. "did it between twelve and one." "really?" alice's brown eyes grew big with admiration. "oh, dear, it takes me days to do mine, and when they're done they're nothing, and yours are just fine. i do think it's queer--" "nonsense," interrupted eleanor crossly. "you don't know anything about my themes. you never saw one." "oh, but betty wales says--" began alice eagerly. "now what does betty wales really know about it either?" inquired eleanor a trifle more amiably. "why, i don't know," returned alice helplessly, "but i'm sure she's right. is your theme a story?" "yes." "oh, and is it about a man and a girl? betty says your man-and-girl stories are great, specially the love parts. now i could no more write love-making--" "well, there's no love-making in this one," interrupted eleanor crossly, "and it's not great at all. it's so poor that i'm not even sure i shall hand it in. so please don't say any more about it." all through luncheon eleanor sat silent, wearing the absent, harassed expression which meant that she was deciding something--something about which her better and her worse selves disagreed. just as she was leaving the lunch-table, christy mason rushed up to her in great excitement. "now, eleanor," she began, "don't say you can't come, for we simply won't let you off. it's a construction car ride. meet at the main street corner at four--right after lab., if you have it. it's positively the last ride of the season and an awfully jolly crowd's going,--betty and jean and kate denise and the three b's, and katherine kittredge and nita reese,-- oh, the whole sophomore push, you know. now, say you'll come, and give me twenty cents for the supper." "give me time to breathe," laughed eleanor. "now seriously, christy, why should i go off on one of those dirty, hard, bumping flat-cars, on a freezing night in november--" "it's moonlight," interrupted christy, "and we must have your guitar to help with the singing." "we shall nickname you dig, if you don't come," declared bob, who had danced up in the midst of the colloquy. "now, how will you like that--dig watson?" eleanor laughed good-naturedly. "don't be ironical," she said. "i'll come. i hadn't any intention of not coming. i only wanted to know why you will persist in lugging those horrid flat-cars into all your fun." "stunty," explained christy. "different," added bob. "but since you're coming, we can argue about it to-night," concluded christy, decidedly. "what i want now is your twenty cents." it was half past three when eleanor started over to the main building to deposit her theme in one of the tin boxes which miss raymond and her assistants opened at specified hours on specified days,--not, as mary brooks explained, because they wanted what was in the boxes, but because they wished to discover what was not in them, in order that they might make life a burden for those whose themes were late. just ahead of eleanor a little freshman walked up to the box and slipped in a stamped envelope. "pardon me, but this isn't a mail-box," explained eleanor. "why, it says 'collections made at p.m. tuesdays and thursdays,'" gasped the little freshman. then she glanced at the heading, "'themes of second class, l to z.' oh, i thought of course that said united states mail." "evidently you're fortunate enough not to have elected themes. when you do, remember that the collections are as prompt as the postman's," said eleanor. "come back at six, and you can get out your letter." but the freshman, blushing as red as her scarlet cap, had vanished down the hall. then, instead of dropping in her theme and hurrying home, as she had intended, to get into an old skirt and a heavy shirt-waist before four o'clock, eleanor sat down on the lowest step of the broad stairway, as if she had decided to wait there until six o'clock and rescue the freshman's letter herself. five--ten--fifteen minutes, she sat there. girl after girl came through the hall to deposit themes, or consult the bulletin boards. among them were one or two of the "sophomore push," as christy had called them. "aren't you a lady of leisure, though," called christy, dashing through the hall at quarter to four. "i have to go ahead and see about the ice cream. don't you be late, eleanor." eleanor looked after her wistfully; christy was one of the girls who always "went round." then she shrugged her shoulders, got up, and dropped her theme into the box. "what's the odds, anyhow?" she muttered, as it fell with a soft little swish on the top of the pile inside. "it's too late to write another now." and she hurried after christy down the hill. the construction car ride was a great success. the night was decidedly balmy for november, and the moon rode, full and glorious, in a cloudless sky. if the car bottom made a hard seat, the passengers' spirits were elastic enough to endure all the bumps and jolts with equanimity. hatless, though bundled in ulsters and sweaters, they laughed and sang and shouted in the indefatigably light-hearted fashion that is characteristic only of babies and collegians off on a frolic. eleanor's story of the absent-minded freshman was the hit of the evening, and the tinkle of her guitar added the crowning touch to the festivity of the occasion. as they rounded the last corner on the homeward stretch, she turned to betty wales, her eyes shining softly and her hair blown into distracting waves under her fluffy white tam. "it is fun, betty," she said. "flat-car and all,--though why it should be, i'm sure i don't see, and last year it wasn't--for me." then her face grew suddenly sombre, and she settled back in her corner, dropping into a moody silence that lasted until the car had dumped its merry load, and the "sophomore push" was making its way in noisy twos and threes up the hill to the campus. "come over for a minute, can't you, eleanor?" asked betty, when they reached the belden house gate. "why, yes--no, i can't, either. i'm sorry," said eleanor, and was starting across the grass toward home, when jean eastman overtook her. "come over to the westcott and warm up with coffee," said jean. eleanor repeated her refusal. "why not?" demanded jean with her usual directness. "because i want to see miss raymond a minute," returned eleanor, coolly. "well, you can't do that to-night," said jean. "she's entertaining professor morris of new york. i don't suppose you care to break into that, do you? she's probably having a select party of faculty stars in for a chafing-dish supper." "oh, dear!" there was genuine distress in eleanor's voice. "then i'm going home, jean. you're perfectly certain that she'll be engaged? you're sure this is the night he was coming?" having duly assured eleanor that professor morris and miss raymond had taken lunch at the westcott house and that miss mills had been invited out to dinner with them, jean went home to inform her roommate that eleanor watson was in more trouble over her english work--that she was rushing around the campus at nine in the evening, trying to find miss raymond. eleanor, left to herself at last, turned and went slowly back to the belden house. betty looked up in astonishment when she appeared in the door. "how'd you happen to change your mind?" she asked. "fate was against me," said eleanor shortly. "i wanted to see miss raymond about a theme, but she's busy." "won't morning do?" asked betty, sympathetically. "yes, i suppose so, only i wanted to have it off my hands." "i don't wonder," agreed betty. "she's none too agreeable about late themes." "it's not a late theme. i want to get back the one i handed in to-day. it ought never to have gone in." betty stared at eleanor for a moment in speechless amazement, then she danced across the room and pulling eleanor after her, tumbled back among the couch cushions. "oh, eleanor, you are the funniest thing," she said. "last year you didn't care about anything, and now i believe you're a worse fusser than helen chase adams. the idea of worrying over a theme that is done and copied and in on time! come and tell madeline ayres. she'll appreciate the joke, and she'll give us some of her lovely sweet chocolate that her cousins sent her from paris." but eleanor hung back. "please don't say anything about it to miss ayres. i'd really rather you didn't. it may be a joke to you, but it's a serious matter to me, betty." so more people than eleanor were surprised the next afternoon to find that the clever story which miss raymond read with great gusto to her prize theme class, and commented upon as "extraordinary work for an undergraduate," should prove to be eleanor watson's. as early in the morning as she dared eleanor had gone over to get back her theme "that should never have gone in," and to ask permission to try again. but miss raymond had been up betimes, working over her new batch of papers, and she met eleanor's apologies with amused approval of sophomores, who, contrary to the popular tradition about their cock- sureness, were inclined to underestimate their abilities, and imagine, like freshmen before midyears, that their work was below grade. so there was nothing for eleanor to do but submit gracefully and leave the theme. it did not occur to her to caution miss raymond against reading it to her class. in spite of hard struggles and little disappointments like helen adams's, it really takes very little to make a college reputation. one brilliant recitation may turn an unassuming student into a "prod."; and on the strength of one clever bit of writing another is given the title of "genius." this last distinction was at once bestowed on eleanor. she was showered with congratulations and compliments. her old school friends like lilian day and jean eastman hastened to declare that they had always known eleanor watson could write. solid, dependable students like dorothy king and marion lawrence regarded her with new respect; awed little freshmen pointed her out to one another as "that awfully pretty miss watson, who is a perfect star in themes, you know"; and her own class, who had cordially disliked her the year before, and not known what to think of her recent friendliness, immediately prepared to make a class heroine of her and lauded her performance to the skies. but eleanor would have none of all this "pleasant fuss," as mary brooks called it. suddenly and most inexplicably she reverted to her sarcastic, ungracious manner of the year before. she either ignored the pretty speeches that people made to her, or received them with a stare and a haughty "i really don't know what you mean," which fairly frightened her admirers into silence. "i hope," said mary brooks to betty, after having received a particularly scathing retort, "that hereafter miss raymond can be induced not to approve of the lady eleanor's themes. i've heard that prosperity turns people's heads, but i never knew it made them into bears. she's actually more unpleasant than she was before she reformed. and the moral of that is, don't reform," added mary sententiously. betty wales was completely mystified and bitterly disappointed by eleanor's strange behavior. "eleanor dear," she ventured timidly, "don't be so queer and--and disagreeable about your theme. why, you even hurt my feelings when i spoke to you about it, and the other girls think it's awfully funny that you shouldn't be pleased, and like to have them congratulate you. the theme must have been good, you see. miss raymond knows, and she liked it ever so much. she told the class about your rushing over to get it that morning, and she thought it was such a good joke. do cheer up, eleanor. why, i should be so proud if i were you!" eleanor was silent for a moment, then she smiled suddenly, her flashing, radiant smile. "well, i'll try to be pleasant, betty, if you want me to," she said. "there's no use crying over spilt milk. i am queer--you know that--but i hadn't meant to hurt people's feelings. you're going to the library, aren't you? well, dora carlson's up there. tell her, please, that i was tired when she came in just now--that i didn't intend to be disagreeable, and that i love her just the same. will you?" so when, just after betty had left, dorothy king came in and plunged at once into the familiar "i want to congratulate you on that story, miss watson," eleanor smiled pleasantly and murmured, "it's nothing,--just a stupid little tale," in conventional college fashion. "and of course," went on dorothy briskly, "we want it for the 'argus.' i'm not a literary editor myself,--just business manager,--but frances west is so busy that she asked me to stop in and see you on my way to a meeting of the editorial board. frances is the editor-in-chief, you know." a dull red flush spread itself over eleanor's pale face. "i'm sorry, miss king, very sorry, but--but--i can't let the 'argus' use my story." dorothy stared. "we can't have it? why--well, of course it's very good. were you going to try to sell it to a regular magazine?" eleanor shook her head. "no," she said with an odd little laugh. "no, i'm not going to try to sell it." dorothy looked puzzled. "most people are very glad to get into the 'argus.' we don't often have to ask twice for contributions. and we want this very, very much. miss raymond likes it so well and all. can't i persuade you to change your mind?" "no," said eleanor curtly. in spite of her poise and her apparently even temper, dorothy king was a rather spoiled young person, used to having her own way and irritable when other people insisted, without reason, upon having theirs. she disliked eleanor watson, and now eleanor's manner nettled her beyond endurance. she rose suddenly. "oh, very well, miss watson," she said. "but i really don't understand why you should raise such a tempest in a teapot over a theme. you make me quite curious to see it, i assure you. it must be a very strange piece of work." eleanor's face went white instantly. "i beg your pardon, miss king. i didn't mean to be either rude or disobliging or even--queer. here is the story, and if the 'argus' can really use it, i shall be delighted, of course." on the campus dorothy met betty wales. "i've got it," she cried, waving the theme aloft in triumph. "she didn't want to give it to me at first, and i lost my temper--she is so trying--but later she was lovely, and i apologized, and now we're fast friends." betty was on her way to gym, but she stole five minutes in which to run up and see eleanor. "hurrah for you!" she cried. "i saw dorothy and she told me the great news. eleanor, you'll be on the argus board yourself, if you're not careful." "would you mind not staying now, betty?" asked eleanor, who was lying buried among her pillows. "i have a dreadful headache, and talking makes it worse." chapter v points of view during the first part of their year at the chapin house betty and her friends had taken very little interest in the harding aid society. it had been to them only a name, about which mary brooks, who was a member of the aid committee of her class, talked glibly, and in behalf of which she exacted onerous contributions, whenever the spirit moved her. but at the time of the valentine episode, when emily davis and her two friends suddenly appeared upon betty's horizon, betty and katherine realized all at once what the aid society must mean to some of their classmates. during the rest of the year they seconded mary's efforts warmly, and the whole house got interested and plied mary with questions about the work of the society, until, in sheer desperation, she admitted that she knew very little about it, and set herself to get some definite information. the head of the committee, pleased with mary's sudden enthusiasm, sent her to one of the faculty trustees, and for a few days mary, who was entirely a creature of impulse, could talk of nothing but the splendid work of the harding aid society in helping the poorer members of the college to meet their expenses. it was perfectly marvelous how little some girls got along on. to many of them a loan of twenty-five dollars actually meant the difference between going home and staying in college a year longer. "now fancy that!" interpolated mary. "it would mean just about the price of a new hat to me." and each dollar helped an endless chain of girls; for the society made loans, not gifts; and the girls always paid up the moment they could get the money together. "one girl paid back two hundred dollars out of a five hundred dollar salary that she got for teaching, the year after she graduated. imagine that if you can!" said mary. the aid society managed the bulletin boards in the gymnasium basement. it ran an employment agency, a blue-print shop, and a second-hand book- store. it was astonishing, said mary, with a mysterious shake of her head, how many splendid girls--the very finest at harding--the society was helping. confidentially, she whispered to the valentine coterie that emily davis and her two friends had just been placed on the list of beneficiaries. her eloquence extorted a ten dollar contribution from roberta, and smaller amounts from the rest of the girls. but then came spring term, and the harding aid society was forgotten for golf, bicycling, the bird club, and the other absorbing joys of the season. but it was only natural that mary, casting about for a "cause," in behalf of which to exercise her dramatic talent, should remember the aid society, and the effort it was making to complete its ten-thousand-dollar loan fund before christmas. mary was no longer on the aid committee, but that was no reason why she should not help complete the fund, for which everybody,--alumnae, friends of the college, and undergraduates,--were expected to work. mary was a born entertainer, never so happy as when she was getting up what in college-girl parlance is called a "show." she had discovered how to utilize her talent at harding, at the time of the sherlock holmes dramatization. it had lain dormant again until the hallowe'en party brought it once more to light, and the election parade kindled it into fresh vigor. in all her enterprises mary found a kindred spirit in madeline ayres. madeline had taken part in amateur theatricals ever since she could talk. "and i've always been wild to do men's parts," she said. "i hope i can up here." "of course you can," returned mary, promptly. "do you know any actors or actresses?" "oh, two or three," answered madeline, carelessly. "or at least father does--he knows everybody that's interesting--and i've talked to them. and once i 'suped.' it was a week when i'd been to the theatre three times, and i didn't want to ask father for any more money. so i went to the manager and got a chance to be in the mob--that's the crowd that don't have speaking parts, you know. and the people who'd promised to take me home forgot and went off to supper without me, and the leading lady heard about it and took me home in her carriage. so mother asked her to tea, and she came, and was a dear, though she couldn't act at all. i forget her name. but the family wouldn't let me go on again. they said it wouldn't do, even in bohemia." "goodness!" exclaimed mary, excitedly. "wasn't that a lark! madeline, do let's get up a play." "but how can we?" objected madeline, lazily. "hallowe'en is over, there aren't any more elections or holidays coming, and we're not either of us on the committee for house plays. we can't just walk in and offer our services, can we?" mary stared at her absently. "that's so," she said. "that's the bother of being on the campus, where they have committees for everything. oh, dear! isn't there something we can have a play for?" then her face lighted suddenly. "the harding aid! the very thing!" she shrieked, and seizing the stately madeline around the waist, she twirled her violently across the room. "i haven't the ghost of an idea what you are talking about," said madeline, gravely, when she had at last succeeded in disentangling herself from mary's bearish embraces. "but i'm with you, anyway. what shall it be?" "why, a--a play." "don't you like vaudeville shows better?" inquired madeline, "and circuses, and nice little stunts? girls can do that sort of thing a lot better than they can act regular plays. and besides it brings in a bigger cast and takes fewer bothering old rehearsals." this time mary danced a jig all by herself. "come over to marion lawrence's," she commanded, breathlessly. "she's chairman of the big loan fund committee. she'll make us two a special entertainment committee, and tell the rest to let us go ahead and do what we please." but madeline shook her head. "i loathe committees," she explained. "you go along and see miss lawrence and be on your committee, if you like. and when you want some help with the stunts or the costumes--i have a lot of drapery and jewelry and such stuff--why, come and tell me, and i'll do what i can." and no amount of persuasion on the part of mary, marion lawrence, or the loan fund committee _en masse_, could induce madeline to change her mind. "why, i can't be on a committee," she said. "i get around to recitations and meals and class meetings, and that's all i can possibly manage. you don't realize that i'd never had to be on time for anything in all my life till i came here, except for trains sometimes,--and you can generally count on their being a little late. no, i can't and won't come to committee meetings and be bored. but all that i have is yours," and madeline tossed a long and beautifully curled mustache at mary, and a roll of persian silk at marion. "for the circus barker," she explained, "and the indian juggler's turban. i'll make the turban, if the juggler doesn't know how. they're apt to come apart, if you don't get the right twist. and i'll see about that little show of my own, if you really think it's worth having." so, though her name did not appear on the list of the committee or on the posters, it was largely due to madeline ayres that the harding aid "show" was such a tremendous success. "the way to get up a good thing," she declared, "is to let each person see to her own stunt. then it's no trouble to any one else. and you'd better have the show next week, before we all get bored to death with the idea." these theories were exactly in accordance with harding sentiment, so next week the "show" was,--in the gymnasium, for it rapidly outgrew the belden house parlors, where mary and madeline had at first thought of holding it. it was amazing how much talent madeline and the committee, between them, managed to unearth. the little dressing-rooms at the ends of the big hall had to be called into requisition, and the college doctor's office, and miss andrews' room, and even the swimming tank in the basement (it leaked and so the water had all been drained off), with an improvised roof made by pinning bagdad couch-covers together. all along the sides of the gymnasium hall there were little curtained booths, while the four corners of the gallery were turned respectively into a gypsy tent, a witch's den, the grotesque abode of an egyptian sorceress, and the businesslike offices of a dapper little french medium, just over from paris. you could have your fortune told in whichever corner you preferred,--or in all four if your money lasted. then you could descend to the floor below, and eat and drink as many concoctions as your digestion could stand, sandwiching between your "rabbits," japanese or russian tea, fudges, chocolate, and creamed oysters, visits to the circus, the menagerie, the vaudeville, and the multitude of side-shows. "side-show," so the posters announced, was the designation of "a bewildering variety of elegant one-act specialties." mary brooks was very proud of that phrasing. mary herself was in charge of the menagerie. "not to be compared for a single instant with the animals of the biggest show on earth," she shouted through her megaphone, accompanying her remarks with impressive waves of her riding-whip. then the white baby elephant walked forth from its lair. it was composed of one piece of white cheese-cloth and two of mary's most ardent freshman admirers. there was a certain wobbly buoyancy in its gait and a jauntiness about its waving white trunk,--which was locked at the end, as mary explained, to guard against the ferocious assaults of this terrible man-eater,--which never failed to convulse the audience and put them in the proper humor for the rest of the performance. the snake-charmer exhibited her paper pets. the lion, made up on the principle of the one in "midsummer night's dream" pawed and roared and assured timid ladies that she was not a lion at all, but only that far more awful creature, a harding senior. and finally mary opened the cage containing the happy family, and there filed out a quartette of strange beasts which no harding girl in the audience failed to recognize as the four "class animals,"--the seniors' red lion, the juniors' purple cow, the green dragon beloved by the sophomores, and the freshmen's yellow chicken. "they dance" announced mary in beatific tones, and the three four-legged creatures stood on their hind legs and, joining paws and wings with the chicken, went through a solemn alice-in-wonderland-like dance. this was always terminated abruptly by some animal or another's being overcome by mirth or suffocation, and rushing unceremoniously back into the cage to recuperate. when the happy family was again reunited, mary announced that they could also sing, and, each in a different key, the creatures burst forth with the "animal song," dear to the hearts of all harding girls: "i went to the animal fair; the great red lion was there. the purple cow was telling how she'd come to take the air. the dragon he looked sick, and the little yellow chick, looked awfully blue, and i think, don't you, he'd better clear out quick--quick!" at the end of this ditty, the chick hopped solemnly forward, gave vent to a most realistic cluck, scratched vigorously for worms, and the happy family vanished amid an uproar of applause, while mary piloted her audience into the circus proper, managed by emily davis. here mlle. zita, beautiful in pink tarleton,--only her skirt had been mislaid at the last moment and she had been compelled to substitute the westcott house lamp shade,--mlle. zita balanced herself on a chair, and gave so vivid an imitation of wire-walking, on solid ground all the time, that the audience was actually fooled into holding its breath. then bob's pet collie did an act, and the juggler juggled, in his turban, and some gym "stars" did turns on bars and swings. and there was an abundance of peanuts and pink lemonade, and a clown and a band; and emily's introductions were alone well worth the price of admission. at the end of her performance emily stated that this circus, being modern and up-to-date in all respects, had substituted for the conventional after-concert, "a side-splitting farce which would appeal to all intelligent and literary persons and make them laugh and cry with mirth." so everybody, wishing to appear intelligent and literary, went in to see the little play which madeline ayres had written. it was called "the animal fair," and three of the class animals appeared in it. but the mis- en-scene was an artist's studio, the great red lion was a red-faced english dramatist, the chick a modest young lady novelist attired in yellow chiffon, and the dragon a scotch dialect writer. the repartee was clever, the action absurd, and there were local hits in plenty for those unliterary persons who did not catch the essential parody. everybody was enthusiastic over it, and there were frequent calls for "author!" but nobody responded. "who wrote it? oh, some of the committee, i suppose," said the doorkeeper, carelessly. "perhaps marion lustig helped--they didn't tell me. no, the actors don't know either. did you give me fifty cents or a quarter? please don't crowd so. you'll all get in in a minute." meanwhile madeline, having seen through the first performance of her farce, in her capacity of stage manager, had left the actors to their own devices, and wandered off to explore the other attractions. betty met her at the vaudeville. "come and get some fudge and see the sleight-of-hand stunts in the swimming tank," whispered madeline. "these songs are all too much alike." it was half-past nine. the sleight-of-hand performance was being given for the tenth and last time to an audience that packed the house. when it was over betty, who had been a ticket-taker at the circus all the afternoon and evening, hurried madeline back to see how much money emily had made. "fifty dollars," said emily, with shining eyes. "think of it! i've helped to make fifty dollars for the aid society that's helping me through college." "splendid!" said betty, too tired to be very enthusiastic over anything that night. madeline led her to a deserted corner of the gallery, and they sank down on a heap of pillows that had composed the gypsy queen's throne. "i suppose i ought to care about the money," said madeline, when they were seated, "but i don't much. i care because it's all been so funny and jolly and so little trouble. we can help to make money for good causes all our lives, but most of us will forget how to make such good times out of so little fuss and feathers when we leave here." betty looked at her wonderingly. madeline's philosophy was a constant source of interest and amazement to all her friends. she had a way of saying the things that they had always thought, but never put into words. "that's so," she agreed at last, "but i don't see how you knew it. you haven't been here a term yet. how do you find out so much about college?" madeline laughed merrily. "oh, i came from bohemia," she said, "and the reason i like it up here is because this place isn't so very different from bohemia. money doesn't matter here, and talent does, and brains; and fun is easy to come by, and trouble easy to get away from. but not for everybody," she ended quickly. eleanor watson, still in her gypsy fortune-teller's costume, was hurrying up to the big pile of pillows, six devoted freshmen following close at her heels. "hop up, girls," she called gaily to betty and madeline. "my faithful slaves have come to empty the throne room." "aren't you tired, eleanor?" asked betty. "you've been at it since three o'clock, haven't you? i should think you'd be dead." eleanor shrugged her shoulders. "oh, i'm a bit tired," she answered, indifferently, "but i couldn't stop. the girls simply wouldn't let me, though blanche norton was willing to take my place. i was a goose to tell them that i could read palms. look out for that white satin pillow, maudie. yes, the yellow one is mine, but i can't carry it. i'm too done up to carry anything but myself." "now that," said madeline, decidedly, as soon as eleanor was out of hearing, "that is all wrong,--every bit of it. it's not the fun she wants. she doesn't even care about the money for the good cause. it's the honor and the chance to show off her own cleverness that she's after." madeline waited a moment. "is she so clever, betty?" "oh, yes," cried betty eagerly. "don't you remember her theme?" "to be sure." madeline's eyes twinkled. "i'd forgotten her wonderful theme. oh, well, then i suppose she is clever--but i'm sorry for her." "why?" asked betty quickly. surely madeline could not know anything about eleanor's stepmother, and nowadays her career at harding was a series of delightful triumphs. more reason why madeline should envy, than pity her, betty thought. "oh, for lots of reasons," answered madeline easily, "but chiefly because she's so anxious about getting things for herself that she can't enjoy them when she's got them; and secondly because something worries her. watch her face when she isn't smiling, and when she thinks nobody is noticing her. it's so wonderfully sad and so perfectly beautiful that it makes me pity her in spite of myself," ended madeline with a sudden rush of feeling. "but i can't love her, even for you, you funny child," she added playfully, pulling one of betty's curls. "i'm not a child," retorted betty, with great dignity. "i'm a sophomore and you're only a little freshman, please remember, and you have no business pulling my hair." "lights out in two minutes, young ladies," called the night-watchman from below, and freshman and sophomore raced for the stairs. chapter vi on ambition "it was awfully good of you to come and take me out for a walk, little sister. my head ached and i knew i ought to get some fresh air, but i hadn't the resolution to start off alone." betty and miss hale, the "faculty" who was an intimate friend of betty's older sister, had been for a long, brisk tramp through the woods. now they were swinging home in the frosty december dusk, tired and wind blown, and yet refreshed by the keen air and the vigorous exercise. betty turned off the path to scuffle through a tempting bed of dry leaves. "i think it's you who are awfully good to let me come for you," she said, stopping to wait for miss hale at the end of her run. "i do get so tired sometimes of seeing nobody but girls, and such crowds of them. it's a great relief to have a walk and a talk with you. it seems almost like going home." "but you still like college, don't you, betty?" "oh, yes!" assented betty eagerly. "i just love it." then she laughed merrily. "you and nan told me the summer before i came here that all nice girls liked college, so it's hardly polite of you to ask me now if i like it, ethel." then miss hale laughed in her turn. "and who are your friends this year?" she pursued. "has your last year's crowd broken up?" "oh, no! we're all too fond of one another for that. of course we're in different houses now, some of us, and we've all made lots of new friends down on the campus. do you know madeline ayres?" miss hale nodded. "i'm glad you know her, betty; she's a splendid girl. and how is your protege, miss watson, getting on nowadays?" "beautifully." betty launched into an enthusiastic account of eleanor's literary triumph, her softened manner, her sudden popularity, and her improved scholarship. miss hale listened attentively. "that's very interesting," she said. "i had no idea that miss watson would ever make anything out of her college course. and do you see as much of her as ever, or has she dropped her old friends now that she has so many new ones?" "oh, dear!" said betty sadly. "you don't like her one bit, do you, ethel? i'm so sorry. nan didn't like her either. of course i know she has her faults, but i do love her so--" "i'm glad of that," broke in miss hale heartily. "she would have left harding in disgrace last june, if she hadn't had such a loyal friend in you. we can't help people unless we care for them, betty,--and sometimes not then," added ethel soberly. "the only way is to take all your opportunities, and then if you fail with one, as i did with miss watson, you may succeed with some one else. and it's the finest thing in college, betty, or in life,--the feeling that you really mean something to somebody. i wish i'd learned to appreciate it sooner." they walked on for a while in silence, betty wondering if she did "really mean something" to eleanor or to helen adams, miss hale harking back to her own college days and questioning whether she and her set had ever spared a thought for anything beyond their own fun and ambitions and successes. she blushed guiltily in the dark, as she remembered how they had snubbed nan wales, until nan actually forced them to recognize her ability, and later to discover that they all wanted her for a friend. "i wonder if nan's forgotten," she thought. "i wonder if she's told betty anything about it, and if that's why betty is so different." thinking of nan finally brought miss hale out of her reverie. "little sister," she said, "i mustn't forget to ask you about nan. isn't that european trip of hers almost over? she wrote me that she should surely be back in time for christmas." "yes," assented betty, "she will. her steamer is due on the eighth." "the eighth--why that's to-day," said miss hale. "isn't she going to stop here on her way west?" "i'm afraid not," answered betty, sadly. "will is going to meet her in new york, and when i wrote home and wanted them to stop, he wrote back that he didn't propose to come up here to be the only man among a thousand girls. and i suppose nan will be so tired of traveling around sight-seeing that she won't care about stopping, either." they had reached miss hale's boarding-place by this time, and betty said good-night and hurried back to the campus, full of excitement over nan's return. "just think," she told helen, as she dressed for the hilton house dance to which alice waite had invited her that evening, "nan's ship came in to-day, and i pretty nearly forgot all about it. oh, dear! it seems as if i must see her right off, and it's two whole weeks to vacation." just as she spoke, there was a knock at the door, and a maid held out a telegram. "for miss wales," she said. "oh, it's from nan," cried betty, snatching at the bit of yellow paper. "and she's coming to-night," she shrieked so loudly that the whole third floor heard her and flocked out into the corridor to see what in the world was the matter. the message was provokingly short:-- "meet the : to-night. "will." "oh, i wonder if he's going to stop too," said betty, dropping the telegram into the wash-bowl and diving under the bed for her gold chain, which she had tossed there in her excitement. "how long do you suppose they'll stay?" "i don't see that you can tell about that till they come," said helen, practically. "are you going to wear that dress to the station to meet them?" betty stopped short in her frantic efforts to fasten her belt, and stared blankly at her filmy white gown and high-heeled satin slippers. then she dropped down on the bed and gave a long despairing sigh. "i haven't a bit of sense left," she said. "tell me what else i've forgotten." "well, where are they going to sleep?" "goodness!" ejaculated betty. "i ought to go out this minute and hunt for rooms." "and what about the hilton house dance? oughtn't you to send word if you're not going?" "gracious!" exclaimed betty. "of course i ought. alice has a card all made out for me." just then mary brooks and madeline ayres sauntered in. "don't worry, child. you've got oceans of time," said mary, when she had heard the great news. "we'll get you some rooms. i know a place just around the corner. and helen can go and tell the gentle alice waite that you'll be along later in the evening with your family. if you want your brother to fall in love with harding, you must be sure to have him see that dance. men always go crazy over girl dances. and if i was offered sufficient inducement," added mary, demurely, "i might possibly go over to the gallery myself, and help you amuse him--since none of my hilton house friends have invited me to adorn the floor with my presence." so mary and madeline departed in one direction and helen in another, while an obliging senior who roomed across the hall put betty's half of the room to rights--helen's was always in order,--a freshman next door helped betty into a white linen suit, which is the harding girl's regular compromise between street and evening dress, and somebody else telephoned to miss hale that nan was coming. and the pleasant thing about it was that everybody took exactly the same interest in the situation as if the guests and the hurry and excitement had belonged to her instead of to betty wales. it is thus that things are done at harding. as a matter of fact, will did not wait until he had seen the hilton house dance to become enamored of harding college. when he and nan arrived they announced that they had only stopped over for the evening, and should go west on the sleeper that same night. but as they were sitting in the belden house parlor, while nan and betty discussed plans for showing will as much as possible of the college in one evening, mary brooks sauntered through the hall, ostensibly on her way to do an errand at the westcott house. of course betty called her in, and five minutes later will announced that he couldn't think of not occupying the room which miss brooks had been good enough to engage for him; and he and mary went off to the gymnasium gallery, which is as near as man may come to the joys of a "girl dance" at harding. there betty promised to join them as soon as miss hale arrived to spend the evening with nan. and miss hale had no sooner appeared than nan telephoned for her trunks and made a dinner engagement that would keep her until the next night at least. in the morning will remembered that john parsons was still at winsted, and announced that he should spend the following day on an exploring tour over there. and mr. parsons insisted that you could not see winsted properly unless you had some harding girls along, and as the first snow of the season had just fallen, he organized a sleighing party, with nan and miss hale as chaperons. then will gave a return dinner at cuyler's, which took another day, so that a week sped by before betty's guests could possibly get away from harding. "and now," said betty to will on the afternoon before the one set for their departure, "i think you'd better stay another week and see me." "wish we could," said will absently. "i haven't had time to call on miss waite. i've only been snow-shoeing once with miss ayres, and i've got to have another skate with miss kittredge. she's a stunner on the ice. i say, betty, you don't suppose she'd get up and go before breakfast, do you? i'd ask her to cut chapel, only i promised to take miss brooks." "indeed!" said betty, with feigned indignation. "i guess that on the whole it's a good thing you're going to-morrow." "now why do you say that? haven't i behaved like a scholar and a gentleman?" demanded will gaily. "it's your conduct as a brother that i object to," returned betty severely. "nobody pays any attention to me. nan's gone off sleighing with roberta, and you're only enduring my society until dorothy king finishes her lab, and you can go off walking with her. then i shall be left to my own devices." "to your studies you mean, my child," corrected will. "do you think that nan and i would be so inconsiderate as to come down here and break up the regular routine of your college work?" "how about the regular routine of dorothy king's work?" inquired betty saucily. "and mary brooks's?" will took out a card from his pocket and consulted its entries industriously. "i have only one date with miss brooks to-morrow, and none at all with miss king, more's the pity." "it's queer," said betty reflectively. "you never can prophesy what girls men will take to. now i should have supposed that you'd like nita reese and eleanor watson best of all the ones you've met. they're both so pretty." "that's all right," said will severely. "we men don't go so much by looks as some of you think we do. and anyhow miss brooks and miss king are good-lookers too. miss reese is a nice girl, but she's a little too quiet for me, and miss watson--let's see, she was at that dance the first night, wasn't she? i didn't see much of her, but i remember she's a stunner." "she's one of my best friends," said betty, proudly. "oh, here comes dorothy," she added, glancing out the window. "i hope you'll have a nice walk." "see here, little sister," began will, blocking betty's progress to the door. "you weren't in earnest about my having run off and left you so much?" betty laughed merrily. "i should think not," she said. "if you must know it, i'm awfully proud of my popular family. i hope you understand that mary brooks and dorothy king don't take the trouble to entertain everybody's brother. now hurry up, or she'll get way into the house before you can catch her." "wait a minute," commanded will. "have we anything on for to-night?" "nan has, but you and i haven't." "then let's eat a nice little dinner at cuyler's," suggested will. "just you and i and one more for variety. you ask any one you like, and i'll call for you at six." "lovely! don't you really care whom i ask?" "pick out a good-looker," called will, striding off to meet dorothy. betty had no trouble in choosing the third person to make up the dinner party. it should be eleanor watson, of course. will would like her--men always did. she had been tired and not in a mood to exert herself the night of the hilton house dance; and one thing or another had interfered with her joining in any of the festivities since. "but she'll be all ready for a celebration to-day, with her story just out in the 'argus,'" reflected betty, and started at once for the hilton house. eleanor was curled up in her easy chair by the window, poring over a mass of type-written sheets. "studying my part for a little play we're giving next saturday night," she announced gaily, as betty came in. "so remember, you're not to stay long." "i don't believe there's anything you can't do, eleanor," declared betty, admiringly. "i'm awfully proud of knowing such a star. i read your story in the 'argus' the first thing after lunch, and i thought it was perfectly splendid." "did you?" said eleanor, carelessly. "well, i suppose it must be good for something, to have so much said about it; but i for one am thoroughly tired of it. i'm going to try to act so well on saturday that people will have something else to talk to me about." "you will," said betty, with decision. "you made a splendid leading lady last year in sherlock holmes, and you didn't try at all then. well," she added quickly, "you said i mustn't stay long, so i must hurry and tell you what i came for. i want you to have dinner with will and me to-night at cuyler's." "that's very good of you," said eleanor formally, "and i'm sorry that i can't come. but it's quite impossible." "oh dear!" there was nothing perfunctory about betty's regret. "couldn't you learn your part this evening? it won't take you any longer to eat at cuyler's than it would here, and you can come right back." "oh, it's not the play," said eleanor. "i could manage that; but beatrice egerton is going to be here for dinner." "oh, of course if you've asked any one to dinner--" began betty. "no," broke in eleanor, impatiently, "i haven't asked her, but lil day has. she's invited me to sit with them, and she'd be awfully vexed if i ran off. you know," went on eleanor, impressively, "beatrice egerton is the most prominent girl in the senior class." "oh!" said betty, blankly. "and i barely know her," continued eleanor, "so this is my opportunity, you see. lil thinks she'll like me. she's very influential, and she doesn't seem to have any particular friends in our class. do you know her at all?" betty shook her head. "but you're so solid with dorothy king," said eleanor. "she's just about as prominent as bess egerton. we have to look out for those things, don't we, betty?" "if you mean," began betty, slowly, "that i like dorothy king because she's an influential senior, why, please never think so again, eleanor. i like her just as i like any one else, because she's so dear and sweet and such a fine, all-around girl." eleanor laughed scornfully. "oh, of course," she said, "but you have your little plans, i suppose, like all the rest of the world. anyhow, if you haven't, i have; and i put future honors ahead of present bliss, so i can't go with you to cuyler's. please tell your brother that i'm very sorry." "yes," said betty. "he will be sorry, too. good-bye, eleanor." it seemed a long walk back to the belden house. the snow had turned to slush, and betty sank into it at every step. the raw wind blew her hair into her eyes. the world looked dull and uninteresting all of a sudden. when she reached home, helen was getting ready for gym. "helen chase adams," began betty, savagely. "do you see any use in ambition?" "why, yes," gasped helen. "what?" demanded betty. "why--it helps you to get things," ventured helen. "may be they're not worth getting," snapped betty. "well, isn't it better to try to get foolish things than just to sit around and do nothing?" "no," answered betty with emphasis. "people who just sit around and do nothing, as you call it, have friends and like them, and aren't all the time thinking what they can get out of them." "i'm sorry, but i have to go to gym," said helen. "i don't think ambitious people always depend on their friends." left to herself, betty came to a more judicial state of mind. "i suppose," she said to the green lizard, "i suppose i'm the kind that just sits around and does nothing. i suppose we're irritating too. it makes helen mad when i write my papers any old way, while she's toiling along, trying to do her best. and she makes me cross by fussing so. she has one kind of ambition and eleanor has another. i haven't any, and i suppose they both wish i'd have some kind. oh, dear! i don't believe madeline ayres is ambitious either, and ethel hale called her a splendid girl. i'll go and ask her to come to dinner with us." chapter vii on to midyears exactly a week after nan and will left harding, betty herself was speeding west, with roberta lewis as traveling companion. nan had discovered that roberta's father was in california, and that she was planning to spend her christmas vacation in solitary state at mrs. chapin's, without letting even her adored mary brooks know how matters stood. but nan's arguments, backed by betty's powers of persuasion, were irresistible; and roberta finally consented to come to cleveland instead. it was amusing, and a little pathetic too, to watch the shy roberta expand in the genial, happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the wales household. a lonely, motherless child brought up by a father who loved her dearly, treated her as an equal, and was too absorbed in his own affairs to realize that she needed any companionship but his own, she had been absolutely swept off her feet by the rush of young life at harding. the only close friend she had made there was mary brooks; and, though mary fully reciprocated roberta's fondness for her, she was a person of so many ideas and interests that roberta was necessarily left a good deal to herself. during her first year, the sociable atmosphere of the chapin house had helped to break down her reserve and bring her, in spite of herself, into touch with the college world. but now, in a house full of noisy, rollicking freshmen, who thought her queer and "stuck-up," she was bitterly unhappy. so she shut herself in with her books and her thoughts, wondered whether being on the campus would really make any difference in her feelings about college, and stayed on only because of her devotion to mary and her unwillingness to disappoint her father, who was very proud of "my daughter at harding." roberta loved children, and she and the smallest sister instantly became fast friends. will frightened her dreadfully at first, but before the week was out she found herself chatting with him just as familiarly as she did with her boston cousin, who was the only young man she knew well. and after she had helped mrs. wales to trim the smallest sister's christmas tree, and been down town with mr. wales to pick out some books for him to give nan,--"because you and nan seem to be cut out of the same piece of cloth, you see," explained mr. wales genially,--roberta felt exactly like one of the family, and hoarded the days, and then the hours, that remained of this blissful vacation. "it seems as if i couldn't go back," she told betty, when the good-byes had all been said, and the long train was rumbling through the darkness toward harding. "i'm sorry to leave too," said betty dreamily. "it's been a jolly old vacation. but think how we should feel if we couldn't go back at all--if the family fortune was swept away all of a sudden, or if we were sick or anything, and had to drop out of dear old --." "yes," said roberta briefly. betty looked at her curiously. "don't you like college, roberta?" she asked. "betty, i can't bear it," declared roberta in an unwonted burst of confidence. "i stay on because i hate people who give things up just because they don't like doing them. but it seems sometimes as if i couldn't stand it much longer." "too bad you didn't get on the campus. perhaps you will this term." suggested betty hopefully, "and then i know you'll fall absolutely in love with college." "i don't believe that will make a bit of difference, and anyway miss stuart said i hadn't the least chance of getting on this year." "then," returned betty cheerfully, "you'll just have to make the best of it where you are. some of the chapin house freshmen are dear. i love that cunning little sara westervelt." "isn't she pretty?" roberta's drawl was almost enthusiastic. "but she never speaks to me," she added sadly. "speak to her," said betty promptly. "you probably frighten her to death, and freeze her all up. treat her as you did the smallest sister." roberta laughed merrily. "it's funny, isn't it, that i can get on with children and most older people, but not at all with those of my own age." "oh, you only need practice," said betty easily. "go at it just as you go at your chemistry problems. figure out what those freshmen like and give it to them. have a party and do the jabberwock for them. they'd be your slaves for life." "oh, i couldn't," protested roberta. "it would seem so like showing off." "don't think about yourself; think about them. and now," added betty yawning, "as we were up till two last night, i think we'd better go to bed, don't you?" "yes," said roberta, "and--and thank you for telling me that i'm offish, betty. could you come to the jabberwock party monday night, if i should decide to have it?" though rachel was off the campus, her room was far and away the most popular meeting place for the chapin house crowd. perhaps it was because the quiet of the little white house round the corner was a relief after the noisy bustle of the big campus dormitories. but besides, there was something about rachel that made her quite indispensable to all gatherings of the clan. katherine was fun when you were in the mood for her; roberta, if she was in the mood for you. betty was always fascinating, always responsive, but in many ways she was only a pretty child. helen and eleanor, unlike in almost everything else, were at one in being self-centred. rachel was as jolly as katherine, as sympathetic as betty, and far more mature than either of her friends. as katherine put it, "you could always bank on rachel to know what was what." so it was no unusual thing to find two or three of the "old guard" as rachel dubbed them, and perhaps two or three outsiders as well, gathered in her tiny room, in the dark of the afternoon, talking over the happenings of the day and drinking tea out of the cups which were the pride of rachel's heart, because they were all pretty and none of them had cost more than ten cents. one snowy afternoon in january betty walked home with rachel from their four o'clock class in history. "come in, children" called a merry voice, as they opened rachel's door. "take off your things and make yourselves at home. the tea will be ready in about five minutes." "hello, katherine," said betty, cheerfully, tossing her note-book on the bed and shaking the snow off her fuzzy gray tam. "isn't it nice to come in and find the duties of hostess taken off your shoulders in this pleasant fashion!" laughed rachel. "i hope you've washed the cups," she added, settling herself cozily on the window seat. "they haven't been dusted for three weeks." "indeed i haven't washed them," answered katherine loftily. "i'm the hostess. you can be guest, and betty can be dish-washer." "not unless i can wiggle the tea-ball afterward," announced betty firmly. katherine examined a blue and white cup critically. "i think you must be mistaken, rachel," she said. "these cups don't need washing. they're perfectly clean, but i'll dust them off if you insist." then there was a grand scramble, in the course of which betty captured the tea-ball and the lemons, and katherine the teakettle, while rachel secured two cups and retired from the scene of action to wash them for betty and herself. finally katherine agreed that betty might "wiggle the tea-ball" provided that she--katherine--should be allowed two pieces of lemon in every cup; and the three lively damsels settled down into a sedate group of tea-drinkers. "do you know, girls," said katherine, after they had compared programs for midyears, and each decided sadly that her particular arrangement of examinations was a great deal more onerous than the schedules of her friends,--"do you know, i was just beginning to like eleanor watson, but i wash my hands of her now." "why? what's she done lately?" inquired rachel. "oh, she hasn't done anything in particular," said katherine. "it's her manner that i object to. it was bad enough last year, but now--" katherine's gesture suggested indescribable insolence. betty said nothing. she was thinking of her last interview with eleanor, whom she had not seen for more than a casual moment since the day of will's dinner, and wondering whether after all ethel hale was right about her, and she was wrong. it did seem amazingly as if eleanor was giving up her old friends for the new ones. "but katherine," began rachel soothingly, "you must remember that her rather dropping us now doesn't really mean much. we should never have known her at all if we hadn't happened to be in the house with her last year. it was only chance that threw us together, so there really isn't any reason why she should keep up the acquaintance unless she wants to." "oh, no, not the slightest reason," agreed katherine, wrathfully. "and on the same principle let us all proceed to cut helen chase adams. she isn't exactly our kind. we should never have known her if we hadn't happened to be in the house with her last year. so let's drop her." "oh, you silly child," laughed rachel. "of course i don't approve of eleanor watson's way of doing things. i only wanted to explain what is probably her point of view. i can understand it, but it doesn't follow that i'm going to adopt it." "i should hope not," snorted katherine. "i met my lady this afternoon at cuyler's. i was buying molasses candy for this function--by the way, i forgot to pass it around. do have some. and she was in there with that high and mighty senior, beatrice egerton, ordering a dinner for to-morrow night. i had on my green sweater and an old skirt, and i don't suppose i looked exactly like a fifth avenue swell. but that didn't matter; the lady eleanor didn't see me." rachel laughed merrily. "so that was it," she said. "i knew there was something personal behind your wrath, and i was waiting for it to come out. never mind, k.; betty and i won't cut you, even in your green sweater." "that's good of you," said katherine, spearing a thick slice of lemon for her third cup. "seriously though, my green sweater aside, i do hate such snobbishness." "but eleanor watson isn't exactly a snob," objected rachel. "there's dora carlson." "dora carlson!" repeated katherine, scornfully. "you don't mean that she's taken you in with that, rachel? why, it's nothing but the most transparent sort of grand-stand play. i suppose the lady eleanor had more sense than to think that the dora carlson episode would take in any one." betty had been sitting quietly in her corner of the window seat, not taking any part in the discussion, because there was nothing that she cared to say on either side of it. now she leaned forward suddenly. "oh, katherine, please don't say that," she begged. "indeed it isn't so! i know--eleanor told me herself that she is awfully fond of dora carlson,-- that she appreciates the way dora feels toward her, and means to be worthy of it if she possibly can." "then i'm sure i beg her pardon," said katherine heartily. "only--when did she tell you that, betty?" "oh, back in the fall, just a little while after the sophomore reception." "i thought so, and i don't doubt that she meant it when she said it. but she's completely changed since then. don't you remember how we used to count on her for all our little reunions? why, she was quite one of the old guard for a month or two. but ever since that wonderful story of hers came out in the 'argus,' she's gone in for the prominent sophomore act with such a vengeance--" katherine stopped suddenly, noticing betty's distressed expression. "oh, well," she said, "there's no use going over it again. i suppose you and rachel are right, and i'm wrong." "only you do resent the injustice done your green sweater," said rachel, hoping to close the discussion with a laugh. but katherine was in deadly earnest. "i don't care how the lady eleanor treats me and my green sweater," she said, "but there are some people who've done too much for her--well, what i mean is, i hope she'll never go back on her real friends," she finished lamely. "well, if one prominent sophomore snubs us, we can always comfort ourselves with the thought that another is going to love us to the end," said rachel, reaching over a mound of pillows to squeeze betty's hand. "did you know you're a prominent sophomore, betty?" "i'm not," said betty, indignantly. "i wouldn't be such a thing for the world. i hate the word prominent, the way we use it here." katherine exchanged rapid glances with rachel. "something personal behind that, too," she reflected. "if the lady eleanor dares to go back on betty, i shall start out after her scalp." so it was fortunate that betty and eleanor did not meet on their respective homeward ways until katherine was well inside the westcott house, out of hearing of their colloquy. between the darkness and the flying snow the two girls were close together before they recognized each other. then eleanor was hurrying on with some commonplace about "the beastly weather," when betty stopped her. "we were just talking about you," she said, "rachel and katherine and i, over in rachel's room, wondering why you never meet with the old guard any more." "why, i'm busy," said eleanor, shortly. "didn't you know that it's less than a week to midyears?" "but all this term--" protested betty, wishing she had said nothing, yet reluctant now to let the opportunity slip through her hands. "well, to tell the truth," broke in eleanor, impatiently, "our interests are different, betty,--they have been from the first. you like to be friends with everybody. i like to pick and choose. i don't really care anything about the rest of the chapin house girls, and i can't see you without seeing them too." "but this fall," began betty. "well--the truth is this fall--" said eleanor, fiercely, "this fall i forgot who i was and what i was. now i've come to my senses again." and without giving betty time to reply she swept off into the darkness. betty wasn't very hungry for dinner. as soon as possible she slipped out of the noisy dining-room, up to the silence of the deserted third floor. "what i can't understand," she told the green lizard, "is the way her voice sounded. it certainly broke just as if she was trying not to cry. now, why should that be? is she sorry to have come to her senses, i wonder?" the green lizard had no suggestions to offer, so betty put on her new kimono with butterflies in the border and a bewitching pink sash--it was real japanese and the envy of all her friends--and prepared to spend the evening cramming for her history exam, with nita reese. chapter viii the "first four" midyears were safely over, and schedules for the new term more or less satisfactorily arranged. it was saturday night--the gayest in all the week--and up on the fourth floor of the belden house nita reese was giving a birthday spread. until she came to harding, nita's birthday had always been in august. at the beginning of her sophomore year she announced that she had changed it to february ninth. "i told the family," explained nita, "that just because i happened to be born in august they needn't think they could get out of sending me a birthday box. father wanted to know if that let him off from giving me a sailing party next august, and i said that i'd leave it to him. i knew he wouldn't miss that sailing party for anything." nita disappeared behind a screen, where, on the wash-stand, in lieu of a buffet, the good things from the birthday box were arranged on tin-box covers and wooden plates. there were nine china plates for the twelve guests, and a cup and a sherbet glass apiece, which is an abundance for any three-course supper, however elaborate. "girls, do you realize what's happening to-night?" said nita, emerging from behind the screen with a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a tray of cake in the other. "here, betty wales, have some cake. or are you still on salad and sandwiches?" "i'm still on salad and sandwiches, but i do want that big piece of chocolate cake before madeline ay--oh, madeline, aren't you ashamed? you've made me spill coffee on nita's bagdad." "i can't help that," said madeline ayres, composedly. "you were implying that i'm a pig. i'm not; i'm only devoted to chocolate." "what's happening to-night, nita?" demanded bob, popping up like a jack- in-the-box from behind madeline's back. "there!" exclaimed betty, resignedly. "i've spilled it again! where have you been, bob?" "oh, i've just been resting back there between the courses," said bob, edging herself to the front of the couch and beginning on the nearest dish of strawberry ice. (the strawberry ice was not, strictly speaking, a part of the birthday box.) "i feel quite hungry again now. what's to- night, nita?" "why, society elections, of course, goosie," answered christy mason from the window where she was cooling a pan of fudge. "girls, this fudge is going to be elegant and creamy. reach me the marsh-mallows, babe, that's a dear. shall i make it all over marsh-mallows, nita?" "yes!" chorused the occupants of the couch, vociferously. "to hear the animals roar, you wouldn't think they'd been eating steadily for an hour, would you, nita?" laughed christy, sticking in the marsh- mallows in neat, even rows, like white tents pitched across the creamy brown field of chocolate. "it's not that we're hungry, nita, dear, but we all like it better that way, because it's newer," explained alice waite, who never took a joke and couldn't bear to have nita's feelings hurt. "hungry!" groaned rachel, from her corner. "i don't believe i shall ever be hungry again. who do you suppose will go in tonight?" "go in where, rachel?" asked bob, dropping back again on the pillows behind madeline and betty. "aren't you a sweet little innocent, bob parker?" mocked babe, derisively. "as if you hadn't betted me six strawberry ices and three dinners at cuyler's that you go into the dramatic club to-night, your ownself." "when i get you alone," began bob, wrathfully. then her tone changed instantly to one of honeyed sweetness. "no," she said, "you're such an artistic prevaricator that i'll give you one dinner at cuyler's as your well-earned reward." christy mason dropped her pan of fudge, seized a candle from the chiffonier and held it close to bob's prostrate form. "girls," she shrieked, "it's true. bob's blushing. she hasn't blushed since the president spoke to her about spilling salad all over the night watchman." then there was a scene of wild commotion. shouts and laughter drowned out bob's angry protests, until in despair she turned her attention to babe, who took refuge on the fire-escape and refused to come further in than the window-seat even when order was partially restored. "girls," shouted katherine kittredge, as soon as she could make herself heard, "let's drink to the success of bob's bet!" there were clamorous demands for hot coffee, and then the toast was drunk standing, amid riotous enthusiasm. "speech!" called somebody. "speech! speech!" chorused everybody. "i never bet any such thing," responded bob, sulkily. "you all know i didn't--and if i did, it was in fun." "never mind, bob," said nita, consolingly. "we won't tell any of the dramatic club girls about it. we're all sophomores here, but madeline ayres, and she's as good as a sophomore; so don't worry. you can trust us." "what i object to," put in katherine kittredge, solemnly, "is the principle of the thing. it's not true sport to bet on a certainty, bob. you know that you're sure to go in to-night, and it's a mean trick to deprive babe of her hard-won earnings." this sally was greeted with shrieks of laughter, for it was a standing joke with -- that babe was supposed by her adoring mother to be keeping a french maid at harding. in october of her freshman year she had packed the maid off to new york and engaged emily davis to do her mending. but the maid's board and wages were paid unquestioningly by her mother, who lamented every vacation that she could get no such excellent seamstresses as her daughter was always able to find at harding. meanwhile babe rented a riding horse by the term, reveled in dinners at cuyler's, and stilled her conscience with the thought that emily davis needed the money more than any maid. "i wish," said madeline ayres, when the tumult had subsided again, "that you'd explain something to a poor, benighted little freshman. there's just one thing about harding that i don't understand. why should bob mind having you know that she hopes she's going into the dramatic club?" "suppose she doesn't go?" suggested christy. "of course there's always a chance that she won't." "seems so nervy, anyhow," muttered bob, who was still in the sulks. "i don't see why," persisted madeline. "when you all say that she's perfectly certain to go in. but in general, i mean, why will you never admit that you want a certain thing, or hope to get a certain thing?" "it is funny, isn't it?" said rachel. "wild horses couldn't drag it out of any junior that she hopes for a place on the 'argus' board, or the senior play committee." "nor out of any sophomore that she hopes to make a society," added christy mason. "i suppose," said babbie, "that it's because nothing is competitive here. you just take what people think you ought to have. you stand or fall by public opinion, and of course you are never sure how it will gauge you." "college men aren't that way," said katherine. "they talk about such things, and discuss their chances and agree to help one another along where they can. and if they lose they never seem to care; they joke about it." "but we never admit we've lost, because we never admit we were trying for anything," put in nita. "i like the men's way best then," said madeline decidedly. "let's try it," suggested christy. "girls, who of us here do you think will make dramatic club in the first two elections?" there was an awkward silence, then a general laugh. "it won't work, you see," said christy. "well, of those who aren't here, marion lustig will go in to-night of course,--she's our bright particular literary star. and what do you think about eleanor watson?" "wouldn't she be more likely to go into the clio club next week?" asked nita reese. "oh, no," objected christy. "didn't you know that beatrice egerton is rushing her? and she's the president of the dramatic club." "i don't care," insisted nita. "i think eleanor watson is more the clio club kind." "that's another thing i want to know about," broke in madeline ayres. "what is the clio club kind? you say the dramatic club isn't particularly dramatic nowadays, but just amusing and literary, and the clio club is the same. why aren't the members the same sort too?" "they're not, exactly," answered christy. "i can't describe the difference, but you'll notice it by the time you're a sophomore. the clio girls--oh, they have more executive ability. they're the kind that know how to run things--all-around, capable, splendid girls. the dramatic club is more for the stunty, talented, artistic sort." "but dorothy king is vice-president of the dramatic club," objected betty. "she's the exception." "well, i still think," insisted christy, "that which society a girl goes into simply depends on where her friends are. both societies want executive ability, and they both want people who can write and act and sing and do parlor stunts. i don't know eleanor watson very well, but i have an idea that after her story in the 'argus' the dramatic club will be afraid of losing her to clio, and so they'll take her to-night." "oh, i hope so," said betty wales under her breath to madeline. later in the evening she told helen all about the spread. "it was so exciting," she began. "how can a spread be exciting?" demanded helen, sceptically. "oh, in lots of ways," responded betty. "there's excitement about whether the fudge will be done in time, and whether it will be good, and who's going to be there, and how much of a box it is. but the most excitement to-night was about society elections." "were they to-night?" "dramatic club's was. it has first choice of the sophomores this year, you know, and clio club has second; and we were guessing who would go in to-night among the first four." "well, you know now, don't you?" "know? i should think not," said betty impressively. "helen chase adams, haven't you noticed that society elections aren't announced till the next monday morning? don't you remember last year how all that crowd of girls came up to mrs. chapin's after mary brooks, and she'd gone down-town to breakfast with roberta, and was going to cut chapel; and how we all rushed down after her, and how i stayed at the main street corner, in case she'd left cuyler's before the girls got there and come up the back way? and she did just that, and what a time i had keeping her till the girls got back!" betty laughed heartily at the recollection. "i didn't go down, but i do remember about it," admitted helen. "do they always do it that way?" "always, only the four girls who go into each society first--they elect only four at a time, you know--have about sixty times as much fuss made over them as the ones who go in later." "then you'd better put your part of the room in order to-morrow," said helen significantly, glancing at the disorderly pile of books and papers on betty's desk, and at the pictures which she had brought back at christmas time and which still lay on the floor beside her couch, waiting for her to find time to hang them. betty's glance followed helen's to the desk and down to the floor. "i'll hang those pictures this minute," she said, jumping up and rummaging energetically through her desk drawer. "that is, if i can borrow some picture wire" she added. "i remember now that mine is all gone. that's why i've left them on the floor so long. but somebody must have some." at the door she turned back suddenly. "but, helen," she said, "i'm not fixing up for society elections. i shan't go in this time--not for a long while, if i ever do. and helen--you know the girls never talk about going in themselves." "all right," said helen submissively. "who do you think was taken in to-night?" "oh, the girls with one big talent. didn't i tell you last year that every harding girl has to find out her one talent before she can amount to anything? we think bob will go in; she can do such beautiful pantomimes, and she's such a prod. and such jolly fun too. then marion lustig because of her writing. writing counts more than anything else, and so i'm hoping for eleanor watson. i can't even guess who the fourth one will be." all day sunday mary brooks and the other dramatic club juniors and seniors in the belden house went about wearing a tantalizing, don't-you- wish-you-knew air, and after dinner when the whole house assembled in the parlors as usual for coffee and music, they gathered in mysterious little groups, which instantly dissolved at the approach of curious sophomores. it seemed to betty and nita, interested on account of eleanor and bob, that monday morning would never come. but it did dawn at last, and after an unconscionable delay--for the announcement committee went up to marion lustig's first, and she boarded away off on the edge of the meadows, and then to emily davis's, which was half a mile from the college in quite another direction--the committee and its escort finally reached the campus, and, gaining recruits at every step, made its picturesque and musical way to the westcott house after bob. at this point betty and nita joined it, and they had the exquisite pleasure of seeing bob blush so red that there was no need for a candle this time, then turn very white, and clinging to the chairman's arm insist that there must be some blunder--it couldn't be she that they wanted. finally, assured that the honor had indeed fallen to her, she broke into a war- whoop which shook the house to its foundation and brought the matron on the run to her door. "now mrs. alison, aren't you proud of your holy terror?" cried bob in tremulous, happy tones, holding out her tie with the dramatic club pin on it. and in spite of the lateness of the hour and the wild desire of the procession to know where it was going next, mrs. alison's delight over the honor done her "holy terror" was well worth waiting to see. and then--betty squeezed nita's hand till it ached. no--yes--they were going to the hilton! they weren't stopping on the second floor. then it must--oh, it must be eleanor! and it was. margaret payson was chairman of the announcement committee, but almost before she could give eleanor her note of invitation to the society beatrice egerton had pressed forward and fastened her pin on eleanor's shirtwaist. after seeing bob's frenzied excitement it was amusing to watch eleanor watson. she was perfectly composed. "just as if she'd been expecting it," said little alice waite, who had joined the procession as it passed through her corridor. "but she was pleased--i never saw her so pleased before--and didn't it make her look lovely!" as soon as the pin was safely fastened and the note read, there was another tumult of congratulations. then beatrice egerton took off the great bunch of violets she was wearing,--"just till i could bring them to you," she explained,--and carried eleanor off to sit among the seniors at chapel. just opposite them was emily davis, with dorothy king. emily was also wearing violets, and her plain face was almost pretty, it was so full of happiness. "just to think," she whispered to dorothy, "that you picked out me, when you could have any one in --. i can't realize it!" she glanced at her shabby coat, made over from babe's discarded golf cape, and then at eleanor watson's irreproachable blue walking suit and braided toque to match. "here all girls are really created free and equal, aren't they, miss king?" "of course. don't be silly," said dorothy, with a queer little catch in her voice. dorothy king was not at all sentimental, but the splendidly democratic spirit of her college sometimes brought a lump into her throat. only once that morning did the radiant smiles leave eleanor watson's lovely face. that was when katherine kittredge, on the way out of chapel, rallied her about her famous theme. "now aren't you glad miss raymond got up early that morning?" she said. it was the first time that any one had referred to the story in connection with her election to the dramatic club. eleanor frowned and turned to beatrice egerton, who was standing close beside her. "bess," she said, pouting, "did you run me in because of that footless little story? wasn't it for myself that you wanted me? do say that it was." miss egerton smiled her lazy, enigmatical smile, which her admirers considered the secret of her tremendous popularity. "of course we wanted you for yourself," she said, "but that footless little story, as you call it, is a rather important asset. we expect you to keep on writing footless little stories, remember." "how tiresome!" said eleanor, with a shrug of her shoulders. "that's the bother of doing anything up here. what you do once, you are expected to repeat indefinitely. now my method is to do one thing as well as i can, and then go on to something else." "just do them all as well as you did the story, and we shan't complain," said miss egerton. "and now, eleanor, i must be off to psychology one. do you suppose anybody will give a dinner for you to-night?" "yes, miss egerton," called jean eastman, appearing around the corner. "kate and i are giving one, and we want you to come, of course. and eleanor," she went on, after miss egerton had left them, "we want you to answer to a toast--'my story and how i wrote it.' now be just as clever and amusing as you can. i thought i wouldn't spring it on you--" "jean," eleanor broke in suddenly, "i won't answer to anything of the sort. and if you have that story mentioned--even mentioned, remember--to- night, i shall get up and leave. give me your word that i shan't hear of it in any way,--or give up the dinner." jean stared in astonishment. "why certainly, eleanor," she said, "but i thought you had given up being so absurd. is there any one in particular that you want asked tonight?" "dora carlson," flashed eleanor, and hurried off, murmuring something about a nine o'clock recitation at the other end of the main building. jean looked after her for a moment, her mouth twisted into a funny grimace, and then pursued her way to the college library. at the door she met betty wales. "your face is one big smile," she said. "of course," laughed betty. "isn't it perfectly splendid about eleanor and emily?" jean grinned cheerfully. "considering last year i thought it was more or less amusing to see the two of them sitting up there together on the front row at chapel. i wonder if eleanor remembers any of the remarks she used to let drop about the genius of --. see here, betty," she added quickly, "have you any idea why eleanor is so touchy about that story? she won't even have it toasted tonight at the supper." "no," said betty. "i asked her, but she didn't tell me anything except that she didn't care for it." "well, most people would begin to care for it a little, after it had pulled them into the dramatic club among the first four," said jean, opening the library door and tiptoeing over to the anthropological alcove. there she spent the hour, busily engaged in making out a new list of toasts, that should avoid all mention of the objectionable story. "but they must have some point," reflected jean, sadly, as she ran her pen through "my story and how i wrote it," and "the rewards of literature" and "our rising young novelist," which she had intended for herself and kate denise. "bother eleanor's tantrums!" muttered jean, as the ten o'clock gong rang, and she picked up her books and hurried off to recite a french lesson that, because of eleanor's "tantrums," she had not learned. and for betty wales eleanor's election to the dramatic club also brought disappointment. she had hoped that once eleanor's ambition was gratified and all her hard work and careful planning rewarded, the anxious lines would leave her face and the sweeter, softer expression that she had worn in september would come back. but though eleanor professed the greatest pleasure in the election, it did not seem to make her any less haughty or capricious, or any better content with life. she still snubbed or patronized her train of adoring freshmen by turns, according to her mood. she was still a devoted admirer of beatrice egerton, and a member of her very exclusive set. she received betty's congratulations just as cordially as she had every one's else,--it was one of beatrice's principles to treat everybody well "up to a certain point,"--but she did not come to the third floor of the belden house except on errands. chapter ix the complications of life by the middle of february basket-ball practice was in full swing again. the class teams had not yet been chosen, but every wednesday and saturday afternoon l --'s last year's "regulars" and "subs" met in the gymnasium to play exciting matches. of course there were some changes in the make- up of the teams. two of the "sub" centres and a "regular" home had left college; the guard who sprained her ankle in the great game of the year before and whose place katherine kittredge had taken in the second half, was not allowed to risk another such injury; and one or two other players had lost interest in basket-ball and were devoting their energies to something else. so there was a chance for outsiders, and betty wales, who had almost "made" the freshman sub-team, was one of the new girls invited to play in the practice matches. helen adams had cut basket-ball all her freshman year, because miss andrews never called the roll on basket-ball days. now she could not get enough of it, nor of regular gym. on wednesday and saturday afternoons there were no classes, so she used to put on her gym. suit and go over to watch the teams. and if some player failed to appear or was late in arriving, t. reed or betty would suggest calling helen down to take the absentee's place. helen was painfully awkward and not very strong, but she had acquired t. reed's habit of slipping under the outstretched arms of the enemy and t. reed's fashion of setting her teeth and getting the ball in spite of opposition; and some of her plays were remarkably effective. "i believe," betty said to her one day, as they lay side by side in a sunny spot on the gym. floor, resting between the halves, "i believe, if you'd begun last year when the rest of us did, you might have been on one of the teams yourself." helen laughed a pleased little laugh. "oh, no!" she said. "but i love to play with you sometimes, and i love to watch theresa." "isn't she a wonder?" said betty dreamily. "do you remember that game, helen? wasn't it the most exciting thing? and this year it will be our turn to win. bob parker has seen the picked freshman teams play, and she thinks they haven't a chance against us." "i hope you can be on the sub-team, betty," said helen. "and i hope you can write your song for -- to sing to its team," returned betty gaily. "you haven't forgotten about our talk the day of the game, have you, helen?" "oh, no!" said helen, quickly. not for worlds would she have let betty know how much she counted on that song. she had written another little verse for her theme class, and that very morning it had come back with "good work--charming lilt," scrawled across the margin. so helen had high hopes for the song. just then the door of the gym. opened, and lucy merrifield, the president of --, came in. "hello, lucy," chorused the group of sprawling figures nearest the door. "you're just in time to see us do up the regular team," called elizabeth west, who captained the "subs." "thank you," returned lucy, "but i can't stay to see you do any such unbecoming thing. i came on an errand to betty wales. isn't she here?" "here i am," called betty, scrambling upright and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "i came to tell you that you've been appointed to the students' commission, to serve until christy mason gets back," explained lucy. "till christy gets back?" repeated betty in bewilderment. "yes, she's been called home very suddenly. her mother is ill, and christy is going to keep house and see to the children. she'll be away a month anyhow and perhaps all this term. and as there are a lot of important matters coming up just now, we decided that we would better appoint a substitute on the commission." "i'm afraid i can't be much help," began betty, doubtfully. "oh, yes, you can," declared lucy. "come to the meeting to-morrow at two, and we'll give you plenty to help about." "time's up," called the captain of the regulars, and lucy ran for the door, leaving betty in a state of pleased excitement. dorothy king was president of her class this year, and therefore also president of the students' commission. marion lawrence was a representative from the junior class. to be even a temporary member of so august an assembly seemed to betty a very great privilege. she was so busy wondering who had chosen her,--whether lucy or the whole commission,--and what to-morrow's meeting would be like, that she deliberately threw the ball twice toward the wrong basket and never discovered her mistake until elizabeth west begged her please to "come to" and help her own side a little just for variety. on the way home betty met miss ferris. "come and have tea with me, little girl," she said. "could i, like this?" asked betty wistfully, pulling back her rain-coat to show her gym. suit and the tightly braided pig-tails tucked inside. miss ferris laughed. "i shouldn't mind, but some one else might drop in. it takes me ten minutes to make tea. now run!" exactly nine minutes and a half later. betty, looking very slender and stately in a clinging blue gown and a big plumed hat, her cheeks pink with excitement and her hair blown into fascinating ringlets from her brisk run across the campus, knocked timidly on miss ferris's door. "come in," called miss ferris. "you're early. the water hasn't boiled." "it used to take me half an hour to dress, at the very fastest," said betty, slipping into a low chair by the fire, where she could watch miss ferris making tea in a fat little silver pot, and pouring it into cups so thin and beautiful that betty hardly dared touch hers, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when it was safely emptied and out of her hands. just as she was leaving, she told miss ferris about her appointment to the students' commission. "well," said miss ferris, "that won't be new work for you. you were an ex-officio member last year." betty looked puzzled. "what you did for miss watson was students' commission work," explained miss ferris. "and judging by the position miss watson seems to be taking this year, i should call it very good work indeed." [illustration: "well," said miss ferris, "that won't be new work"] "but you did it, not i," protested betty. "i did my part, you did yours," corrected miss ferris. "to be successful nowadays, you know, you must not only work yourself, but you must get other people to work for you." "yes," said betty, vaguely. then she laughed. "i'm afraid that i do the second more than the first, miss ferris. my roommate thinks that i get a great deal too much out of other people. and when i was at home nan used to tell me to be more independent and see how i could get along if i were left on a desert island." miss ferris smiled across the fire at her dainty little guest. "the best things in the world,--which fortunately isn't a desert island,--come about by cooperation," she said. "be independent; think for yourself, of course, but get all the help you can from other people in carrying out your thoughts." the dinner-bell began to jangle noisily in the hall and betty rose hastily. "i've stayed too long," she said, "but i always do that when i come to see you. i shall tell my roommate what you said. do you suppose i shall ever learn to think up arguments for myself?" "of course," said miss ferris, encouragingly. "that's one thing you're here for--to learn to argue and to dress in a hurry and to work on students' commissions. you'll master them all in time. good-bye." when betty got back to the belden house the bell had rung there too, and as the girls stood about in the halls and parlors waiting for mrs. cass, the matron, to lead them in to dinner, they were all discussing what mary brooks could mean by a "hair-raising." "it sounds like a house-raising," said a girl from nebraska. "i mean the sort of thing they have away out west, where laborers are scarce and the whole town turns out to help a man get up the timbers of his house." "but there's no sense to that kind of a hair-raising," objected the nebraskan's roommate, who was from boston. "i think that mary has invented a hair tonic and is going to try it on us before she has it patented." "i'm sure i hope so," said madeline ayres, patting her diminutive twist of hair tenderly. "why, it's some kind of party she's giving for her mother," announced a stately senior, authoritatively. "i don't see how that tells what it is, though," said betty. "am i invited?" "yes," explained helen adams. "mary came in while you were out and asked us." "but she hasn't said anything about expecting her mother." at this everybody laughed and marion lawrence explained that mary, being a very busy person, had a habit of putting away her letters unopened, until she found time to read them. "and somehow she thought this was a book-bill from longstreet's--you know how near-sighted she is--so she stuck it into her desk until she got her next month's allowance. but to-day she found some money that she'd put in her collar-case for safe-keeping and forgotten about; so she got out the bill to pay it, and it turned out to be a letter from her mother, saying she was coming up tonight. mary wouldn't have her know for anything, so she decided to give a hair-raising to-night, as if she'd planned for it days ahead." "but what is it?" demanded betty. if miss lawrence was in mary's confidence she had no intention of betraying it; and there was nothing to do but wait for eight o'clock, the hour which mary had mentioned in her invitations. promptly on the moment all those bidden to the hair-raising made a rush for mary's room. "she hasn't come back from taking dinner with her mother," said helen. "her transom is dark." but "come in, children," called mary, sociably, and opening the door just wide enough to admit one girl at a time she disclosed a room absolutely dark save for a gleam of light from a turkish lantern in one corner. "goodness!" cried betty, who went in first. "what am i running into? oh, it's a skeleton." "i'm all mixed up with a snake," added katherine. "i feel my hair rising already." "girls, i want you to meet my mother," said mary, briskly. "here i am," called a sweet voice from the shadows. "wouldn't you better turn on the lights for a moment, daughter?" "no, indeed," retorted mary, firmly. "they're nothing to see, dear, i assure you, but if you insist on seeing them you can all go across to laurie's room and come back after you've had a general inspection." so everybody filed over to marion lawrence's room, where it was discovered that mary's mother was, as betty wales put it, "a perfect little darling." she was small, like mary, and she looked so young that katherine gravely asked mary if she was quite sure she wasn't palming off a sister on them instead of a mother. she entered into all the absurdities of the hair-raising, which proved to be only a particularly diverting sort of ghost party, with as much zest as any of the girls, and her ghost stories were the feature of the evening. "you see, dear," explained mary, when the lights were finally turned on and the hair-raising had resolved itself into a spread, "you see i had a hair-raising because you tell ghost stories so well. why, ever since i read your letter i've been planning how i should show you off--oh, mother, it's too good to keep." and mary regaled her mother with the story of the neglected book-bill. "speaking of lost letters," said marion lawrence, "there's a letter for frances west over on the zoology bulletin board in science hall. it's been there for two weeks." "what a funny place for it!" said mary. "frances never as much as sticks her head inside science hall. she thinks it's wrong to cut up frogs and angle-worms. how did it get there, laurie?" "postman dropped it, probably, and somebody who didn't know any better stuck it up there--the janitor, maybe." "perhaps frances dropped it herself," suggested madeline ayres. marion shook her head. "anyhow if she did, she hasn't read it. i noticed that it hadn't been opened." "perhaps it's a letter like mary's, saying that her mother is coming," suggested helen adams. "guess again. it can't be that, because her mother wouldn't direct a letter to the editor-in-chief of the 'argus.'" "hear that, dottie," called mary brooks to dorothy king, who was sitting on the divan below the turkish lantern, talking busily with mrs. brooks. "there's a letter for your chief over on the zoology bulletin board. you'd better stop in and get it for her." "isn't it funny," said rachel morrison, "that, as well as frances west is known in college and as many juniors and seniors as look at that bulletin board, nobody has thought to take her the letter." "why didn't you take it to her, laurie?" asked mary severely. "oh, because i wanted to see how long it would stop there if i didn't take it," returned marion easily. "i'm writing a theme on 'what's everybody's business is nobody's business,' and i want to get the psychology right. oh, mrs. brooks," she called, getting up and going over to the divan, "did you know that mary had set a fashion up here? ever since her 'rumor' story, we're all racking our brains to see if we can't get up some psychological experiments that will make professor hinsdale think we're clever too." "and most of you," said mary loftily, "just succeed in making your friends uncomfortable. i hope frances' letter won't upset her the way mine did." "oh, i guess it isn't a hair-raiser," said marion easily. "it's probably a bill for printer's ink or paper, or whatever they buy for the 'argus.' you get it to-morrow, dottie, and then you can tell us what is in it." "i will," said dorothy. just as she spoke the twenty-minute-to-ten bell clanged suggestively in the corridors, and the hair-raising came to an abrupt end. "i don't think i care much for hair-raisings," said betty, as she and helen made hasty preparations for bed. "i think you have enough to worry about and be frightened over, without getting up a lot of extra things on purpose. i can hear that blood-hound panting under the window this very minute. isn't mrs. brooks a wonderful story-teller?" "yes. i didn't suppose you were ever worried or frightened over things," said helen. "well, i am," returned betty. "i'm worrying this very minute about my to- morrow's recitations. i'd planned to study tonight but how could i hurt mary's feelings by not going to the hair-raising? i suppose," went on betty, when helen did not answer, "i suppose you want to ask why i don't sit up to study? but if i did i should be breaking a rule, and besides," concluded betty, yawning prodigiously, "i am altogether too sleepy to sit up, so i am just going to sleep and forget all my troubles." and betty suited the action to the word. a few moments later she roused herself. "life is just full of things to decide, isn't it, helen? and so often you can't tell which one is best-- like me going to the hair-raising to-night, or marion lawrence and that letter." "i think she ought to have delivered the letter," said helen. "but it was such fun not to," objected betty. "and probably it was only an advertisement. now i'm really going to sleep." chapter x in the "argus" sanctum dorothy king hurried down the steps of science hall and across the campus to the main building, carrying frances west's belated letter in her hand. she stopped for a moment in miss stuart's office to tell her that the students' commission wanted to hold a mass-meeting of the whole college at the end of the month, and waited while miss stuart, who was an enthusiastic supporter of the commission, obligingly hunted up an available date for the meeting, and promised to hold it open until the final arrangements could be perfected. outside the office door dorothy hesitated and looked at her watch. quarter past four; laboratory work was over for the afternoon, and there would be ten girls to one copy of ward's "poets" in the library. "i'll go up there this evening," she decided swiftly, "and now for a skate before dinner," and she swung off toward the hilton house to get her skates and her sweater. as she put out her hand to open the door, she suddenly noticed that she was still carrying frances' letter, and gave an impatient little exclamation. "all out of my way," she thought, "so i might as well take it back now and get rid of it." the editorial office of the "argus" was in the students' building, over behind the gym. as she went, dorothy congratulated herself that it was this errand, and not the one to miss stuart, which she had forgotten; for the main building was twice as far away. she wondered idly whether frances would be in the "sanctum"; she often spent her free afternoons there, for the big building, which was used chiefly in the evening for club meetings, plays, and other social and semi-social functions, was generally silent and deserted earlier in the day; and the quiet and the view over paradise river from the west windows of the sanctum appealed to the poetic soul of the chief editor. dorothy, who was a very practical person herself, had a vast admiration for frances' dreamy, imaginative temperament, and enjoyed her work as business manager of the "argus" chiefly because it brought her into close contact with frances; while frances in her turn admired dorothy's executive ability, and depended on her to soften the hearts of obdurate printers, stir the consciences of careless assistant editors, and in short to stand as a sort of buffer between her beloved "argus" and a careless world. dorothy hoped that frances would be in the sanctum; it would be fun to tell her about the letter. but if not, all responsibility could be fulfilled by dropping it and a note of explanation into the editorial mail-box. but frances was there, and also beatrice egerton, who, as exchange editor of the "argus," dorothy had come to know well and to like for her quick wit and her daring, piquant ways, while she thoroughly disapproved of her worldly, self-seeking attitude toward college life. "hello, dottie," called beatrice, when dorothy opened the door. "we thought you weren't coming, frances and i." "why should i be coming?" inquired dorothy curiously, tossing the letter into frances' lap. "proof!" exclaimed beatrice, with a funny little grimace. dorothy sank down on the long window seat, which ran across two sides of the sanctum, with a groan and a gesture of despair. "i entirely forgot," she said. "i was going skating. could it possibly wait till to-morrow?" frances west looked helplessly at beatrice. "i'm sure i don't know," she said. "you told me that to-day was the time. i always depend on you to keep track." beatrice laughed gaily. "i'm so glad i happened in," she said. "it's such a lovely spectacle to see the methodical dottie king trying to persuade the poetical and always-behind-time frances to put off till to-morrow what she ought to have done day before yesterday. come, dottie, take off your coat and go to work." "i'm sorry i'm always late," said frances, sweetly. "i've decided to try to be on time now that we've got our new rugs and these lovely green curtains. so i bought a calendar pad and put down my date for reading proof with you last week, when you first reminded me of it." dorothy had followed beatrice's instruction to take off her coat. now she sat down resignedly before the writing-table, pulled a long strip of printer's proof off the spindle, and dipped her pen in the ink, ready for work. "how do you happen to be here, bess?" she asked. "came to read my mail," said beatrice. "some of the best exchanges are out about this time in the month. when you didn't come, i tried to correct proof with frances, but we couldn't either of us remember the printers' marks; and our webster's dictionary, that has them in the back, got lost in the shuffle of house-cleaning last vacation." "then if the dictionary is lost, you must stay," said dorothy, "because i can correct proof, but i can't spell, and neither can frances. come, frances, here's the copy for you to read." frances west's voice had a peculiarly charming quality, and her manner of reading was so absorbed and sympathetic that she never failed to interest her auditors; so that even the mechanical drudgery of correcting proof was endurable with her help. the work went on rapidly, dorothy bending over the long printers' galleys, adding mysterious little marks here and there in the wide margins, frances reading as expressively as though she were doing her best to entertain beatrice egerton, who curled herself up on the window-seat, listened, made flippant comments, perused her exchanges when the "argus" articles did not interest her, and when appealed to by dorothy, acted as substitute for the missing webster's dictionary. "well, that's over," said dorothy, at last, straightening in her chair and stretching out her cramped arms over her head. "next month will be laura dale's turn again. i wonder if she'll do it." "poor dottie!" mimicked beatrice. "'could you do it just once more? i can't seem to learn the marks.' that's what she'll say. you shouldn't be so capable, dottie, and then you could go skating afternoons instead of doing your own work and the assistant business manager's too." "oh, i don't mind," said dorothy, who was really very tired indeed, and so preferred not to talk about it. "laura is a great deal of help with some parts of the work, and i don't blame any one for not wanting to correct proof--though i don't mind doing it so long as frances will read for me. aren't our new curtains lovely?" "such a cool, woodsy green," said frances. "just right for poets to write behind," supplemented beatrice, who loved to tease frances, though in her heart she admired her as much as dorothy did. "girls, it's long after six," said dorothy, rising abruptly, "and i must go. i have an evening's work still before me." as she picked up her gloves, she noticed frances' letter still lying neglected on the window-seat. "here, frances," she said, "do just open this letter, and tell me that it's dreadfully important. i want to bother laurie about it. she saw it on the zoology bulletin board last week and didn't trouble herself to bring it to you." "oh, i presume it's nothing," said frances, dreamily. she was watching the sunset glowing gold and scarlet between the green draperies. "here, frances," laughed beatrice, thrusting the letter into her hands. "read it by the light of the dying sun, if you prefer that to good green- shaded electricity. you owe it to dorothy to take an interest when she bothered herself to bring it to you, and so got caught and deprived of her afternoon's fun. poor dottie! can't you go skating tomorrow?" they were animatedly discussing the possibility of miss mills's neglecting to call for a recitation on ward's "poets" the next day, when frances gave a little exclamation. "why, girls," she began, excitedly. "i don't understand. isn't to-day the twentieth of february?" "yes, dear," said beatrice. "you knew from that wonderful calendar pad, didn't you?" frances disregarded the question. "then--why, this letter is dated february second. where has it been all the time?" "i just told you," repeated dorothy, "that laurie saw it on the zoology bulletin board last week. perhaps it was there a week or two before she saw it. is it really important, frances? laurie supposed from the direction that it was just a bill or an advertisement. she'll be very sorry." "oh, i don't know what it is," declared frances, in bewilderment. "read it," and she held out the letter to dorothy. "read it aloud," suggested beatrice. "yes, do," added frances. "i haven't any idea what it means." "'the quiver' offices, "--fulton st., new york, "feb. , --. "miss frances west, "editor-in-chief of harding "college 'argus': "dear madame:--it always gives me great pleasure to see the merits of 'the quiver' recognized, particularly in haunts of high culture, like your alma mater. nevertheless, you will readily understand that the little tribute to the genius of one of our contributors, contained in your december number, which, owing to my prolonged absence from the city, has just now come under my observation, is, to speak bluntly, deserving of some return from me. i have no doubt that you will be glad to offer the proper explanation. if, however, you insist upon leaving the matter in my hands, i assure you that i shall not mince matters. college honor is a point about which i am very sensitive. we go to press on the twentieth inst. until that time i am "yours confidentially, "richard blake." "well," said dorothy, folding the letter carefully and putting it back in its envelope, "what do you make of that, bess?" "nothing," said beatrice, "nothing at all. who in the world is richard blake?" "i don't know. don't you, frances?" frances shook her head. "but 'the quiver' is a magazine. i've seen a copy once or twice." "then," said dorothy, promptly, "richard blake must be the editor, or one of them." "well, did we say anything about him in the december number?" pursued beatrice. "or anything about his magazine?" "no," declared dorothy, "of course not. 'the quiver' isn't a college magazine, is it, frances? it couldn't be on the list of exchanges?" "oh, no," said frances, wearily. "'the quiver' is a real magazine, dorothy. it's new, i think, but i know miss raymond considers it very clever. i saw a copy once in her room." "clever or not clever," said beatrice, calmly, "i'm sure this editor must be insane. there is absolutely no sense to his letter." dorothy unfolded mr. richard blake's missive, read it through once more, and passed it without comment to beatrice. meanwhile frances was rummaging through the files of the "argus." "here it is," she said at last. "didn't he say the january number?" "no, december," corrected beatrice, joining-frances in her search for the missing magazine. "there," said frances, at last, reading down the table of contents. "'the self-government system at harding'--he wouldn't be mentioned in that. my poem is next--he certainly isn't in that. then that story of eleanor watson's, and an essay on 'sweetness and light.'" "perhaps he's in that," suggested dorothy, hopefully. "it sounds as if it might mean almost anything." beatrice egerton giggled. "you didn't take the course in nineteenth century essayists, i guess, dottie. he's not in 'sweetness and light,' unless richard blake is an alibi of matthew arnold's." "and he couldn't possibly be in any of these sketches," went on frances, anxiously, "nor in the editorials, nor in the alumnae notes." "of course not," agreed beatrice, scornfully. "see here, girls," she added, referring again to the note, "he doesn't tell us the name of his contributor--the simpleton! that's what we ought to look for. he says we printed a tribute to the genius of one of his contributors." "i have it!" declared dorothy, pulling the december "argus" out of frances' hands. "the contributor is a member of the faculty, and the article is spoken of in the faculty notes. that's it, of course." but diligent search of the faculty notes failed to unearth any item about an article in "the quiver." "besides," added beatrice, who had returned to the note once more, "that wouldn't explain what he says about college honor. and what is this about 'offering the proper explanation'? are people supposed to explain compliments?" "i don't know," said frances. "i suppose i've made some dreadful blunder, and he noticed it. and to-day is the twentieth; he evidently wanted an answer by that time. do you think i ought to telegraph?" "no," said dorothy, after a moment's thought "it wouldn't be any use. if he went to press--or 'the quiver' went to press--to-day, it's gone hours ago. you'd better write him to-night. he'll get your letter in the morning, and then he'll understand." "but what am i to write?" asked frances, helplessly. "tell him to study genung on clearness," suggested beatrice, flippantly. "don't, beatrice," broke in dorothy. "this is evidently a serious matter. i should tell him that you didn't know what he meant by his letter, frances, and of course explain why you haven't written before." "will you two stay while i write it?" asked frances. "i should never dare to take the responsibility alone." dorothy sat down on the window-seat in silence, and beatrice followed her example. there was no sound in the sanctum but the scratching of frances' pen, moving swiftly over the paper. when the brief note was finished, the editor-in-chief handed it to her colleagues. "that's all right," said dorothy, reading it through. "infinitely better than his," added beatrice. "his reminds me of that verse of marion lustig's that was more obscure than browning--the one we persuaded you not to print." "don't you think," began dorothy hesitatingly, "that, until we know exactly what mr. richard blake means, it would be better not to mention his letter?" "not even to the rest of the 'argus' board?" asked beatrice, who had been anticipating the sensation that the story of the mysterious letter would create. "dottie," she went on, looking keenly at dorothy, "i believe you have another idea about what that note means." "i know just as little about it as you do," said dorothy quietly, "but i think eight girls are too many to keep a secret and--it's frances' letter. she must decide." "i think dorothy is right," agreed frances. "i believe that we would better wait before telling the others. if it's some dreadful blunder that i have made, perhaps i could correct it if only we three knew of it. though i don't know whether that would be quite honest," she added sadly. beatrice put her arm around frances' waist and led her to the door. "you old dear," she said, "you're so proud of your beloved 'argus.' i believe you worry over every word that goes into it." "and over every s that is upside-down and isn't detected by my eagle eye," laughed dorothy, locking the door and carefully hiding the key in the place where half the college knew it was kept. it was seven o'clock--no use going home to dinner. dorothy decided to get an early start with ward's "poets," and to dine later in the evening on ship's biscuit and a glass of milk. the library was very quiet. she read busily, concentrating her attention upon the pages before her, oblivious of her surroundings, forgetful even of the mysterious letter and the theory, which, despite her declaration to beatrice egerton, she had formed concerning it. presently some one tiptoed up behind her and clasped two hands tightly across her eyes. "who is it?" whispered a laughing voice. "i don't know," answered dorothy a trifle irritably. "did you give it to her?" demanded the voice imperturbably. "give what to whom?" "the letter to frances west." "it's mary brooks," said dorothy, pulling away the hands and turning to find mary and marion lawrence standing behind her chair. "aren't you nearly through with that book?" asked marion. dorothy nodded. "leave me in peace for ten minutes and you may have it." "well, tell us first about the letter," demanded mary. "was it a hair- raiser?" "oh, no," answered dorothy calmly. "it was--oh, a note of thanks, or something of the sort from some magazine that the 'argus' had spoken of." "bother!" said marion. "that's no good for an ending to my theme." "no good at all," agreed dorothy. "i shouldn't use it if i were you." "i certainly shan't," said marion. "i can invent a nicer ending than that. come, mary, leave her alone, so that i can have ward. oh, dear! i'm dreadfully disappointed about my theme." the reply to mr. richard blake, presumably editor of "the quiver," had been dispatched on the evening of the twentieth. two days later frances, looking as if she had seen a ghost, stopped dorothy on her way from morning chapel to her first recitation. "can you come to the sanctum right after lunch?" she asked. "beatrice can come then." "yes," returned dorothy. "you've got his answer?" frances nodded. "and oh, dorothy, it's just dreadful!" when dorothy reached the sanctum that afternoon she found beatrice and frances there before her. without a word frances handed her the letter. "my dear miss west--" it ran: "your note is received and the delay in sending it fully explained. i am sorry you could make nothing of my first letter. i intended to be vague, for i wanted to test your knowledge of the episode in question; but it seems i overshot the mark. so let me say, please, since you and your colleagues evidently do not read 'the quiver' that a story in your december number by a miss eleanor watson is practically a copy of one that appeared in our november issue, which i am sending you under separate cover. all i ask is that some public acknowledgment of the fact shall be made, either by you or by me. i have delayed the notice i intended to insert in our next number, until i hear from you. "let me say that i blame neither you nor your associates in the matter. 'the quiver' is young, and plagiarists will happen. "yours very truly, "richard blake." "has the magazine come?" asked dorothy, without exhibiting the least surprise at mr. blake's startling announcement. "yes," said frances. "there must be some dreadful mistake." "can't you find the story he means?" "yes, but of course eleanor watson didn't copy it. no harding girl would do such a thing." "eleanor watson is different," said dorothy. "you mean you think she did it?" asked beatrice egerton. "you don't think it was a coincidence? frances knew of something like it happening once, entirely by chance." "this wasn't chance," said dorothy slowly. "oh, beatrice--you know eleanor watson better than i--i don't want to be uncharitable. that was why i didn't tell you girls the other day, when it occurred to me that this was what mr. blake meant. can't you see that it explains everything? don't you remember i told you how queer she was about giving me the story; and before that, just after she handed it in, she went over to get it back." "yes," said frances eagerly. "i remember. we thought it such a good joke. oh, let us go and ask her how it was. she will surely be able to explain." "but frances," began dorothy and stopped, glancing uncertainly at beatrice. "oh, you needn't mind me," said beatrice calmly. "if this is true, i wash my hands of eleanor watson." she turned to frances, and her face softened. "you dear old idealist," she said, pulling frances down on the seat beside her. "can't you see that appealing to eleanor watson wouldn't do at all? can't you see that if she is mean enough to plagiarize 'the quiver's' story, she is probably capable of lying out of it? and how should we know whether or not she told the truth?" "or suppose that she did convince us," said dorothy gently, "you see there is still mr. blake. i don't believe eleanor's denial would satisfy him." "well," said beatrice resignedly, "next to eleanor watson herself, i suppose i am the person who would profit most by having this whole affair hushed up. it's going to be mighty unpleasant for me, what with my having put her up for dramatic club and all that. but frankly, i don't see what there is to do but let mr. richard blake go ahead and say what he pleases. eleanor watson will probably leave college. some people will believe the story and some won't. some won't even hear it--'the quiver' seems to be a very obscure magazine. and in nine days every one will forget all about it." "but eleanor watson will never forget," added frances softly. to her art was sacred and the idea of stealing it horrible. there was a silence broken at last by dorothy. "frances," she said, "you're right, you always are. you divine things that the rest of us have to reason out. this affair is unpleasant for everybody concerned, but it isn't a vital matter to us or to mr. blake. the only person to be considered is eleanor watson. if the matter is made public--" "it would serve her right, and it might be the best thing in the world for her," broke in beatrice, who was growing more angry with eleanor the longer she thought of the intimacy between them. "that," said dorothy, "is the question we have to decide. i for one am not at all sure what to think. being publicly humiliated might be a good thing for her, or it might ruin her whole life." "oh, i can't bear to have people know about it," said frances, her face white with horror. "let us go home now and think it over, and let us be oh! so careful not even to hint at what has happened. we may have to confide in some others, but let us not give up the chance of keeping our secret by telling the wrong people now. and let us meet again tomorrow afternoon." "in your room," suggested beatrice. "this place is too conspicuous." the three editors crept down the stairs like so many conspirators, separated with soft good-byes in the lower hall, and went their several ways, each feeling that the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. to beatrice the affair was a personal one, involving her judgment and her status in the college world; frances mingled pity for eleanor with jealousy for the fair name of the "argus"; dorothy was going over the career of eleanor watson since she entered harding, wondering whether it would be possible, by any method of treatment, to make her over into a trustworthy member of the student body, and whether she would ever be worth to the world what her evil influence had cost her college. all at once a bitter thought flashed upon dorothy. she herself was partly responsible for eleanor's downfall; for had she not persuaded her, against her will, to give the story to the "argus"? chapter xi a problem in ethics betty wales sat in dorothy king's big wicker easy chair, an expression of mingled distress and perplexity on her usually merry face. dorothy had sent word that she was ill and wanted to see her little friend, and betty had hurried over in her first free period, never guessing at the strange story that dorothy had summoned her to hear. the story was told now. it remained only for betty to decide what she should do about it. "it's the most annoying thing," dorothy was saying from the bed where she lay, pale and listless, among the pillows. "i've heard of girls being ill from overwork, and i always thought they were good-for-nothings, glad of an excuse to stay in bed for awhile. but i can't get up, betty. i tried hard this morning before the doctor came, and it made me so sick and faint--you can't imagine. so there was nothing to do but submit when she insisted upon my going to the infirmary for two weeks." "i'm so sorry," murmured betty sympathetically. "she tried to make me promise not to see any one except the matron before i was moved," went on dorothy, "but i told her i must talk to you for half an hour. i promised on my honor not to keep you longer than that, and we haven't but ten minutes left. now won't you decide to go and see mr. blake?" "oh, i don't know what to decide!" cried betty in despairing tones. "it's so dreadful that eleanor should have done it. that's all i can think of." "but listen to me, betty," began dorothy patiently. "let me show you just how matters stand. frances can't go down to new york alone--you can see that. she doesn't know the city, and she'd get lost or run over, and ten to one come home without even remembering to see mr. blake. you can't believe how absent-minded she is, till you've worked with her as i have. besides, she is too dreamy and imaginative to convince a man of mr. blake's type. "and bess egerton mustn't go; frances and i are agreed about that. she's too flighty. she'd be angry if mr. blake didn't yield his point immediately, and say something outrageous to him. then she'd go off shopping and come back here in the best of spirits, declaring that there was nothing to be done because mr. blake was 'such a silly.' and i can't go." "if you only could!" broke in betty. "then it would be all right. isn't there any chance that you might be able to by the end of next week?" dorothy shook her head. "i couldn't get leave, on top of this two weeks' illness, without telling miss stuart exactly why i needed to go, and i don't want to do that. miss raymond knows all about it and approves, and we don't want to confide in any one else. besides, i doubt if mr. blake will wait so long." "well then, dorothy, why not write to him?" dorothy shook her head again. "we tried that. we wrote one letter, and when his answer came we tried again, but eight pages was the least we could get our arguments into. no, it's a case where talking it out is the only thing to do. you could take him unawares and i'm sure you'd bring him round." "that's just it," broke in betty eagerly. "i know you're mistaken, dorothy. i couldn't think of a thing to say to him--i never can. it would be just a waste of time for me to try." dorothy took a bulky envelope from under her pillows and held it out to betty. "here," she said. "these are the letters we wrote. we all three tried. here are arguments in plenty." "but i should forget them all when i got there." "you mustn't." "besides, it would look so queer for me to go, when i'm not on the 'argus' board, and have nothing to do with the trouble." "didn't i tell you why we chose you?" exclaimed dorothy. "no? i am so stupid to-day; i put everything the wrong way around. why, there were two reasons. one is because you are so fond of eleanor and understand her so well. nobody on the 'argus' staff, except beatrice and myself, has more than a bowing acquaintance with her, whereas you can tell mr. blake exactly what sort of girl she is, and why we want to save her from this disgrace. the other reason is that, while christy is away, you are one of the two sophomores on the students' commission; eleanor is a sophomore and either you or lucy merrifield is the proper person to act in her interests in a case of this kind. because you know eleanor best, we chose you--and for some other reasons," added dorothy, truthfully, remembering the confidence they had all felt in betty's peculiar combination of engaging manner and indomitable pluck and perseverance, where a promise or a friend was concerned. "oh, dorothy!" sighed betty, feeling herself hopelessly entangled in the web of dorothy's logic. "there is a third reason," went on dorothy, inexorably, "just between you and me. of course you understand that i feel personally to blame about this trouble. if i hadn't lost my horrid temper and said something disagreeable to force her hand, eleanor watson might never have allowed the story to be printed and the worst complications would have been avoided. now i personally ask you, as the person i can best trust, to go to mr. blake for me. you know eleanor. you agree with us that it is very likely to spoil her whole life if this is made public--" "but, dorothy, i'm not sure it's right to keep it a secret," broke in betty. "i believe you will feel sure when you have had a chance to think over all sides of the question," resumed dorothy, "and to see how much to blame i am. then you are a typical harding girl, the right sort to represent the college to mr. blake, who seems to be very much interested in knowing what sort of girl harding turns out." "oh, no!" demurred betty. "i'm not the right kind at all." "besides, you have a way of getting around people and persuading them to do what you want," concluded dorothy. "never," declared betty. dorothy smiled faintly. "you have the reputation," she said. "of course i don't know how you got it; but now that you have it you're bound to live up to it, you know. and if you don't go, we shall have to risk writing and i am perfectly certain that no letter will keep mr. blake from publishing his notice next month, whereas i think that if he were to talk over the matter with you, he might very easily be persuaded to give it up." dorothy lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. "it does certainly seem like shirking to be ill just now," she said. betty rose hastily and came over to the bed. "dorothy," she began, "i must go this minute. you are all tired out. i wish i could promise now, but i must think it over--whether i can do what you want of me and whether i ought. i'll tell you what," she went on eagerly, "i can't see you again, but i'll send you a bunch of violets the first thing in the morning, and i'll tuck in a note among the flowers, saying what i can do. and it will be the very best i can do, dorothy." "i know it will," said dorothy. "don't think that i don't realize how much we're asking of you." "i like to be trusted," said betty, ruefully, "but it seems to me there are hundreds of girls in college who could do this better than i. good- bye--and look out for the violets, dorothy." a moment later she opened the door again. "of course eleanor doesn't know that you've found out?" "no," said dorothy. "we've told no one but you and miss raymond. we thought it would only complicate matters and hurt her needlessly to tell her now. i suppose she will have to know eventually, to guard against a repetition of the trouble, if for no other reason; but we haven't looked so far ahead as that yet." it was fortunate that betty was not called upon to recite in her next class. refusing the seat that bob parker had saved for her between herself and alice waite, she found a place in the back row where a pillar protected her from bob's demonstrations, and leaning her head on her hand she set herself to work out the problem that dorothy had given her. but the shame of eleanor's act overcame her, as it had in dorothy's room; she could not think of anything else. she woke with a start at the end of the hour to find the girls pushing back their chairs and making their noisy exit from the room, and to realize that she might as well have learned something about napoleon's retreat from moscow, since she had decided nothing about her trip to new york. "i say," said bob, joining her outside the door, "why are you so unsociable?" "headache," returned betty, laconically, and with some truth. "too bad." owing to the fact that she had never had a headache in her life, bob's sympathy was somewhat perfunctory. "when you have the written lesson to study for, too," mourned alice. "written lesson?" questioned betty, in dismay. "yes. didn't you hear professor white giving it out for to-morrow? all of napoleon--that's five hundred pages." betty gasped. "i suppose he made a lot of new points to-day. i didn't hear a word." "next time," said bob, severely, "perhaps you'll be willing to sit down among people who can see that you keep awake." "don't tease her," begged alice. "she must have an awful headache, not to have heard about the written lesson. what did you think we were all groaning so about, betty?" "i didn't hear that, either," said betty, meekly. "will one of you lend me a notebook?" betty could have hugged helen adams when immediately after luncheon she announced that she was going down to study history with t. reed and should stay till dinner time. betty hung a "busy" sign on her door--the girls would think that she too was studying history madly--and set herself to read over the original of eleanor's story in "the quiver" that dorothy had lent her. it was the same and yet not the same. plot and characters had been taken directly from the original, but the phrasing-- betty knew eleanor's story almost by heart--was quite different, and a striking little episode at the end that miss raymond had particularly admired was eleanor's own. "i like hers best," thought betty, stoutly. "i wonder if the resemblance couldn't have happened by chance. perhaps she read this story a long while before and forgot that she had not thought it up herself." betty looked at the date of the magazine and then consulted her calendar. the november "quiver" had come out just two days before the afternoon of the barge ride, which had also been "theme afternoon." betty remembered because her monthly allowance always came on the third. she had borrowed her quarter for the ride of helen and paid her out of the instalment that arrived the very next morning. that settled it,--and as dorothy had pointed out, all eleanor's seemingly inexplicable queerness about the story was now explained. betty threw the magazine on the table and going to the window gazed drearily out at the snow-covered campus. the next thing to settle was whether it were right to help eleanor to cover up her deceit? dorothy felt, from the little she knew of eleanor, that open disgrace would take away her last chance of being honest and upright. "she is terribly sensitive," dorothy argued, "and if she feels that nice people don't trust her, she will go as far as she dares to show them that they are right. perhaps she can be led, but she certainly can't be driven. she isn't strong enough to meet disgrace and down it." that might be true, but there was the mathematics examination of the year before. miss hale had argued as dorothy did. in the hope of ultimately winning eleanor by kindness, she had not let miss meredith know that eleanor had told her an untruth. for a while afterward eleanor had been scrupulously honorable, but now she had done something infinitely more dishonest than the deception of miss meredith. no doubt dorothy regarded the affair of the story as a first offense, and betty could not tell her that it wasn't. she had been glad enough to help save eleanor from the consequences of her foolish bragging, the year before; but saving her from the consequences of deliberate dishonesty was a different matter. betty had been taught to despise cheating in any form, and to avoid the least suspicion of it with scrupulous care. and now dorothy wanted her to aid and abet a--a thief. betty flushed hotly as she applied the hard name. all at once the memory of her last interview with eleanor flashed upon her. "i was an idiot last fall. now i have come to my senses--" that was what she had said. when her voice broke, it must have been because she was sorry for the change--sorry that the old, shifty, unreliable self had come back to take the place of the strange new one whose ideals had proved too hard and too high to live by. the sad, hunted look that madeline had spoken of was explained too. eleanor was sorry. but was she sorry, as she had been in the case of the mathematics examination, only because she was afraid of being found out, or did she honestly regret having taken what was not her own, and used it to gain honors that she had not earned? there was another point that dorothy had not spoken of--perhaps had not thought of. what about the dramatic club election and the other college honors that had come or would come to eleanor, one after another, all because, at the beginning of her sophomore year, she had made a reputation for brilliant literary work? eleanor had been right, when she was a freshman, in insisting that it was the start which counted. then, despite her first abject failure, she had compassed the difficult achievement of a second start. how proud betty had been of her! and now all her fair hopes and high ambitions had crumbled to dust and ashes. was it right to help her cover up the ruin? was it fair to girls like helen adams, who worked hard and got no recognition, that eleanor should get recognition for work which was not her own? anyway, she was not going to new york. those three editors could choose some one else. and yet if she refused--oh, it was all dreadful! betty flung herself on the couch and buried her face in the pillows. a moment later the door opened stealthily, and madeline ayres stuck her head in. in spite of her caution, betty heard her and sat up with a nervous start. "i hope you weren't asleep," said madeline, settling herself comfortably at the other end of the couch. "i didn't mean to wake you; that was why i came in without knocking." "i wasn't asleep," returned betty faintly. "i was just resting." "you look as if you needed to," said madeline cheerfully. "does your head ache now?" "not--not very much," stammered betty. "have you read over all this?" madeline reached out a long arm for the life of napoleon that lay on the table. "no, hardly any of it," confessed betty, reddening as she remembered the "busy" sign. but madeline remarked briskly, "that's good. neither have i. i don't feel a bit like cramming, so i shall bluff. when father was studying art in paris, he knew a man who had been one of napoleon's guards at st. helena. he was old and lame and half blind and stunningly homely then, and an artist's model. he used to tell merry tales about what a tiger of a man--" madeline stopped short in the act of replacing the life of napoleon on the table and stared at betty in unfeigned admiration. "betty wales," she said at last, "you are certainly a splendid actress. i never dreamed that you knew." betty's eyes followed madeline's to the table, and then to "the quiver," lying in full view where she had dropped it an hour before. there was one chance in a thousand that madeline meant something besides eleanor's story, and betty resolved to make sure. "knew what, madeline?" she asked steadily, trying not to blush but feeling the tell-tale red spread over her cheeks in spite of all she could do. it was no use. madeline picked up the magazine and flipped over the pages carelessly till she came to eleanor's story. "that," she said, holding it out for betty to see. their eyes met, and at sight of betty's frightened, pleading face, madeline's hand dropped to her side. "i beg your pardon," she said quickly. "i didn't mean to hurt you, betty. i see now how it is. you didn't know before; you've just found out, and when i came in you were mourning for your fallen idol. shall i go?" betty stretched out a detaining hand. "no," she said, "tell me,--quick before helen comes,--how did you know?" "read it in 'the quiver,' away back last fall, before miss watson's story came out in the 'argus.' it's been--oh, amusing, you know, to hear people rave over her wonderful theme." "does any one else know?" "i doubt it. 'the quiver' isn't on sale up here. father thinks it's clever and he sends it to me. i suppose he knows the editor. he's always knowing the editors of little, no-account magazines and having to sit up nights to do them cover-designs or something; and then they send him their magazines." "but--i mean--you haven't told any one?" stammered betty. madeline shook her head. "it wouldn't make a pretty story, do you think?" "madeline"--betty's voice thrilled with earnestness--"did you ever think you ought to tell?" madeline stared at betty for a moment in silence. then her gray eyes twinkled. "you absurd little puritan," she said, "is that what you're bothering your head about? i know you don't want to tell. why aren't you satisfied to let matters take their course?" "because," betty hesitated, "because if they take their course,--suppose, madeline, that somebody else knows and wants to tell? ought i to interfere with that?" madeline spread out her hands with a gesture that suggested helpless resignation. "my dear, how should i know? you see in bohemia we're all honest--poor, but honest. we never have anything like this to settle because we're all too busy enjoying life to have time to envy our neighbors. but i think"--madeline paused a minute--"i think if a man stole a design and got, say a medal at the water-color exhibit, or a prize at the salon, i'd let him have it and i'd try to see that he kept it in a conspicuous place, where he'd be sure to see it every day. i think the sight of his medal would be his best medicine. if he was anything of a man, he'd never want another of the same sort, and if he was all cheat, he'd be found out soon enough without my help. so i'd give him the benefit of the doubt." "and you think that would be fair to the one who ought to have had the medal?" "if he was much of a man he didn't paint just for the medal," returned madeline quickly. "he painted because he couldn't help it,--because he meant to make the most of himself,--and a medal more or less--what's that to him?" she turned upon betty suddenly. "don't you see that the great fault with the life here is that we think too little about living and too much about getting? these societies and clubs and teams and committees-- they're not the best things in life; they're nothing, except what they stand for in character and industry and talent. no, i shouldn't worry because eleanor watson got into dramatic club, if that's what you mean, and may get into other things because she cribbed a story. that very fact will take all the fun out of it, unless she's beneath caring,--but she isn't beneath caring," madeline corrected herself swiftly. "no one with a face like hers is beyond caring. it's the most beautiful face i ever saw--and one of the saddest." "thank you very much, madeline," said betty, soberly. "i'm so glad i could talk it over with you." madeline was never serious for long at a time. "i've been preaching regular sermons," she said with a laugh. "the thing i don't understand is why this editor of 'the quiver' hasn't jumped on miss watson long ago. editors are always reading college magazines--hoping to discover a genius, i suppose." "are they?" said betty. a tap sounded on the door. "don't worry, whatever else you do,--and hide your magazine," said madeline, and was off with a cheerful greeting for helen adams, who had come back from her afternoon at t. reed's crammed full of napoleonic lore and basket-ball news. "theresa had made a table of dates and events," said helen eagerly. "i copied it for you--it's lots of help. and betty, she says the teams are going to be chosen soon, and she is almost sure you will be on." madeline ayres wondered idly, as she dressed for dinner, how betty wales had come into possession of a four months' old magazine which was not to be had at any library or book-store in harding. then, being a person born, so she herself asserted, entirely without curiosity, she ceased wondering. by the time dinner was over and she had related a budget of her napoleonic stories to a delighted group of anxious students, she had actually forgotten all about eleanor's affairs. chapter xii a brief for the defense "dear dorothy-- "i have thought and thought all the afternoon and i can't do it. i should only--" "dear dorothy-- "if you are perfectly sure that there is nobody else to go--" "dear dorothy-- "don't you think that mary brooks or marion lawrence would be a lot better? mary can always talk--" "oh, dorothy, i don't know what to say--" betty had slipped up-stairs to her room the minute dinner was over. the rest of the belden house girls still lingered in the parlors, talking or dancing,--enjoying the brief after-dinner respite that is a welcome feature of each busy day at harding. ida ludwig was playing for them. she had a way of dashing off waltzes and two-steps that gave them a perfectly irresistible swing. as betty wrote, her foot beat time to the music that floated up, faint and sweet and alluring, through her half-open door. the floor around her was strewn with sheets of paper which she had torn, one after another, from her pad, and tossed impatiently out of her way. "such a goose as i am, trying to write before i've made up my mind what to say!" she told the green lizard, as she sent the seventh attempt flying after the others. "and i can't make it up," she added despondently, and shut her fountain pen with a vicious little snap. she would go down and have a two-step with roberta, who had been mary's guest at dinner. roberta could lead beautifully--as well as a man--and the music was too good to lose. besides, roberta might feel hurt at her having run off the minute dinner was over. a shadow suddenly darkened the door and betty turned to find eleanor watson standing there, smiling radiantly down at her. "eleanor!" she gasped helplessly. somehow the sight of the real eleanor, smiling and lovely, made the deceit she had practiced seem so much more concrete and palpable, the penalty she must pay at best so much more real and dreadful. betty had puzzled over the rights and wrongs of the matter until it had come to be almost an abstraction--a subject for formal, impersonal debate, like those they used to discuss in the junior english classes, in high school days--"resolved: that it is right to help plagiarists to try again." now the reality of it all was forced upon her. in spite of her surprise at seeing eleanor, who almost never came to her room now, and her dismay that she should have come on this evening in particular, she found time to be glad that she had not yet refused dorothy's request--and time to be a little ashamed of herself for being so glad. her perturbation showed so plainly in her face and manner that eleanor could not fail to notice it. her smile vanished and a troubled look stole into her gray eyes. "may i come in, betty?" she asked. "or are you too busy?" "no-o," stammered betty. "come in, eleanor, of course. i--i was just writing a note." eleanor glanced at the floor, littered with all betty's futile beginnings, and her smile came flashing back again. "i should think," she said, "that you must be writing a love letter--if it isn't a sonnet-- judging by the trouble it's making you. they told me downstairs that you were cramming history, but i was sure it would take more than a mere history cram to keep you away from that music. isn't it lovely?" "yes," said betty. "would you like--shan't we go down and dance?" it would surely be easier to talk down there, with plenty of people about who did not know. again her embarrassment and constraint were too evident to be ignored, and this time eleanor went straight to the heart of the matter. "betty," she said, "don't tell me that you're not glad to see me back again after all this time. i know i'm queer and horrid and not worth bothering about, but when you find it out,--when you give me up--you and jim--i shall stop trying to be different." for an instant betty hesitated. then the full import of eleanor's words flashed upon her. there was no mistaking their sincerity. she knew at last that she did "really mean something" to somebody. ethel hale had been wrong. eleanor had not forgotten her old friends--and betty would go to new york. with a happy little cry she stretched out her arms and caught eleanor's hands in hers. "i'm so glad you feel that way," she said, "and i shall never stop caring what you do, eleanor, and neither will jim. i know he won't." "he gave me up once before, and if you knew something--" she broke off suddenly. "betty, jim is coming friday night. that's one reason why i'm here. i didn't want him to miss seeing you just because i'd been disagreeable and was too proud to come and say i'm sorry. i am sorry, betty,--i'm always sorry when it's just too late." "oh, that's all right. i knew you didn't mean anything," said betty, hastily. apologies always made her nervous, and this particular one was fraught with unpleasant suggestions little guessed at by its maker. "you'll be awfully glad to see your brother, won't you?" eleanor's assent was half-hearted. "to tell the truth, i'm too tired to care much what happens." "oh, you won't feel tired when he gets here," suggested betty, cheerfully. eleanor shook her head. "i'm tired all through," she said. "i don't believe i shall ever be rested again." "what are you going to do to entertain him?" asked betty, wishing to change the current of eleanor's thoughts, since she did not dare to sympathize with them. eleanor detailed her plans, explained that judge watson had suddenly been called home from cornell and so was not coming with jim, according to the summer plan that betty remembered, and rose to go. "i know you'll like jim, betty," she said, "and he'll like you. he's your kind." the moment she was left alone, betty sat down again at her desk and dashed off her note to dorothy. "dear dorothy: "i have thought it over and seen eleanor. i am the one to go, and i'll do my best. "yours ever, "betty. "p.s.--i can't start till wednesday." she twisted the note into a neat little roll, and slipping out the back way went down to leave it at the florist's, to be sent to dorothy-- securely hidden in a big bunch of english violets, lest any martinet of a nurse should see fit to suppress it--the very first thing in the morning. on the way back to her room she danced up the stairs in her most joyous fashion, and when mary brooks, coming up from escorting roberta to the door, intercepted her and demanded where she had been all the evening, she chanted, "curiosity killed a cat," and fled from mary's wrath with a little shriek of delight, exactly as if there were no such things in the world as plagiarism and hard-hearted editors. for had not eleanor come back to her, and was not the difficult decision made at last? and yet, when betty was a senior and took the course in elizabethan tragedies, she always thought of the visit of jim watson as a perfect example in real life of the comic interlude, by which the king of elizabethan dramatists is wont to lighten, and at the same time to accentuate, his analyses of the bitter consequences of wrong-doing. for close upon her first great relief at finding her decision made, followed a sudden realization that the incident was not yet closed. madeline had read the november "quiver"; some less charitable person might have done likewise. if she had been careless in leaving her magazine in sight, so might one of the three editors have been careless, with disastrous results. mr. blake might write to the college authorities. everything, in short, might come out before jim watson had finished his week-end visit to harding. helping to entertain him seemed therefore a good deal like amusing oneself on the verge of a crackling volcano. jim's personality made it all the harder; he was so boyishly light- hearted, so tremendously proud of eleanor, so splendid and downright himself, with a flash in his fine eyes--the only feature in which he resembled eleanor--and a quiver about his sensitive mouth, that suggested how deep would be his grief and how unappeasable his anger, if he ever found out with what coin his sister had bought her college honors. he "blew in," to use his own phrase for it, on an earlier train than eleanor had expected, and marched up to the hilton house with a jaunty air of perfect ease and assurance. but really, he confided to eleanor, he was in a "blooming blue funk" all the way. "and what do you think?" he added ruefully, "somehow i got mixed up with the matron or whatever you call her. i thought, you see, that this was like a boarding-school, and that i'd got to have some gorgon or other vouch for me before i could see you. so i asked for her first, and she's invited me to dinner. did you say there were thirty girls in this house? sixty! i see my finish!" concluded jim, dolefully. nevertheless he rose to the occasion and, ensconced between eleanor and the matron he entertained the latter, and incidentally the whole table, with tales of mountain-climbing, broncho-busting and bear-hunting, that made him at once a hero in the eyes of the girls. but jim disclaimed all intention of following up his conquest, just as he had, though ineffectually, disclaimed any part in the thrilling escapades of his stories. "i can talk to a bunch of girls if i have to, but if you leave me alone with one, i shall do the scared rabbit act straight back to cornell," he warned eleanor. "i came to see you. dad and i compared notes and we decided that something was up." "nonsense!" laughed eleanor, but her eyes fell under jim's steady gaze, and her cheeks flushed. "well then, i'm tired," she admitted. "i suppose i've done too much." "i should think so," retorted jim, savagely. "quit it, eleanor. if you break down, what good will it do you to have written a fine story? i say"--his tone was reproachful--"one of those girls at the dinner you gave last night said your story was printed somewhere, and you never sent it to dad and me. you never even told us about it." "it wasn't worth while." "you might let us decide about that. the girl at the dinner said it was a corker, and got you into some swell club or other. that's another thing you didn't write us about." "no," said eleanor, wearily. "you can't expect me to write every little thing that happens, jim." jim, who remembered exactly what his fair informant had said regarding the importance of a dramatic club "first election," knit his brows and wondered which of them was right. finally he gave up the perplexing question and went off to order a farewell box of roses for his sister. it was at about this time that betty wales, going sorrowfully to pay a book bill that was twice as large as she had anticipated, heard swift, determined steps behind her, and turned to find jim watson swinging after her down main street. "i say, miss wales," he began, blushing hotly at his own temerity, "eleanor is off at a class this hour. i'm such a duffer with girls--is it all right for me to ask you to go for a walk?" "of course," said betty, laughing. "and if you ask me, i'll go." "then," said jim, "i do ask you. you'll have to pick out a trail, for i don't know the country." "let's walk out to the river," suggested betty. "it's not so very pretty at this season of the year, but it's our prize walk, so you ought to see it anyhow." silently jim fell into step beside her. "have you had a good time?" inquired betty, who had decided by this time that jim really enjoyed talking, only he couldn't manage it without a good deal of help. she had seen more of him in the three days of his visit than any one else but eleanor, but this was their first tete-a- tete. hitherto, when eleanor was busy jim had gone on solitary tramps or sought the friendly shelter of his hotel. "great," replied jim, enthusiastically. "harding college is all right. i'm mighty glad eleanor wanted to stay on here." "you're very fond of eleanor, aren't you?" asked betty, sure that this topic would draw him out. "you bet." jim's eyes shone with pleasure. "eleanor's a trump when she gets started. she was splendid at home this summer. of course you know"-- jim flushed again under his tan--"my mother--i'm awfully fond of her too, but of course her being so young makes it queer for eleanor. but eleanor fixed everything all right. she made dad and me, and mother too, just fall dead in love with her. you know the way she can." betty nodded. "i know." "and i guess she's made good here, too," said jim, proudly, "though you'd never find it out from her. do you know, miss wales, she never wrote us a word about her story that came out in the college magazine." "didn't she?" said betty, faintly. "nor about getting into some club," continued jim, earnestly. "i forget the name, but you'll know. isn't it considered quite an honor?" "why, yes," said betty, in despair, "that is, some people consider it-- oh, mr. watson, here's the bridge!" poor jim, unhesitatingly attributing betty's embarrassment to some blunder on his part, was covered with mortification. "it's evidently a secret society," he decided, "and that other fool girl didn't know it, and got me into this mess." so he listened with deferential attention while betty tried to tell him how lovely the snowy meadows and the bleak, ice-bound river looked on a bright june day, and carefully followed her lead as she turned the conversation from river scenery to skating and canoeing; so that they reached home without a second approach to the dangerous topics. jim was going back to his work that evening. as he said good-bye, he crushed betty's hand in a bear-like grip that fairly brought tears to her eyes. "i'm awfully glad to have met you," he said, "though i don't suppose you'd ever guess it--i'm such a duffer with girls. eleanor told me how you stuck by her last year and helped her get her start. i tell you we appreciate anything that's done for eleanor, dad and i do." as betty watched him stride off to the hilton house, she remembered madeline's advice. "i guess she isn't enjoying her honors very much," she thought. "imagine getting into dramatic club and not writing home about it! why, i should telegraph! and if i had a thing in the 'argus'"--betty smiled at the absurdity of the idea--"half the fun would be to see nan's face. and if i was ashamed to see her face!" betty gave a sigh of relief that the comic interlude was over. under ordinary circumstances the entertaining of jim would have been the height of bliss. just now all she wanted was to go to new york and get back again, with her errand done and one source of danger to eleanor, if possible, eliminated. jim left harding on tuesday evening. wednesday morning bright and early, betty started for new york. she went by the early train for two reasons. it was easier to slip away unquestioned during chapel-time, and furthermore she meant to reach new york in time to see mr. blake that same afternoon and take the sleeper back to harding. she thought that spending the night with any of her new york cousins would involve too much explanation, and besides she could sleep beautifully on the train, and she wanted to be back in time for the thursday basket-ball practice. the girls played every day now, and very often miss andrews dropped in to watch them and take the measure of the various aspirants for a place on the official teams, which it would soon be her duty to appoint. chapter xiii victory or defeat during the first part of her journey betty busied herself with reading over mr. blake's two letters and the lengthy replies that the editors had composed. these last were as totally unlike as their writers, and betty thought that none of them hit the point so well as madeline's suggestions, and none was so cogent as the plea that eleanor and jim between them had unconsciously made; but they might all help. from mr. blake's two letters she decided that he must be a very queer sort of person, and she devoutly hoped that his conversational style would be less obscure than that of his first letter to frances west; for it would be dreadful, she thought, if she had to keep asking him what he meant. "well, i guess i shall just have to trust to luck and do the best i can when the time comes," she decided, putting the letters back into her suit-case with a little sigh. she admired helen adams's way of deliberately preparing for a crisis, but in her own case it somehow never seemed to work. for example, how could she plan what to say to mr. blake until she knew what mr. blake would say to her? it would be bad enough to try to answer him when the time came, without worrying about it now. after a brief survey of the flying landscape, which looked uniformly cold and uninviting under a leaden sky, and of her fellow-travelers, none of whom promised any possibilities of amusement, betty remembered that she had intended to study all the way to new york, and accordingly extracted chaucer's "canterbury tales" from her bag. for half an hour she read the knight's tale busily. but the adventures of palamon and arcite, deciphered by means of assiduous reference to the glossary, were not exciting; at the end of the half hour betty's head drooped back against the plush cushions, her eyes closed, and her book slid unheeded to the floor. regardless of all the elegant leisure that she had meant to secure by a diligent five-hour attack upon "the canterbury tales," betty had fallen fast asleep. some time later the jolt of the halting train woke her. she glanced at her watch--it was twelve o'clock--and looked out for the station sign. but there was no station sign and no station; only snowy fields stretching off to meet wooded hills on one side and the gorge of a frozen river on the other. it had been a gray, sunless morning; now the air was thick with snow, falling in big, lazily-moving flakes which seemed undecided whether or not the journey they were making was worth their while. all this betty saw through small bare spots on the heavily frosted car windows. she picked up "the canterbury tales" from the floor where they had fallen, found her place and sat with her finger in the book, anxiously waiting for the train to go on. but it did not start. the other passengers also grew restless, and asked one another what could be the trouble. there were plenty of guesses, but nobody knew until betty managed to stop a passing brakeman and asked him if they were going to be late into new york. "oh, my, yes, ma'am," he assured her affably. "we're about an hour late now, and there's no tellin' how long we'll stand here. there's been a big blizzard and an awful freeze-up in the west--" he waved his hand at the frosty window. "we do be gettin' a bit of it now ourselves, you see--and the connections is all out of whack." this was a cheerful prospect. the train was due in new york at half past one. allow half an hour for the present delay and it would be fully half past three before betty could reach mr. blake's office. besides, she had brought nothing to eat except some sweet chocolate, for she had planned to get lunch in new york. it was most provoking. she settled herself once more, a cake of chocolate to nibble in one hand and her book in the other, resolved to endure the rest of the journey with what stoicism she might. finally, after having exhausted the entire half hour that she had allowed it, the train started with a puff and a wheeze, and ambled on toward its destination, with frequent brief pauses to get its breath or to accommodate the connections that were "all out of whack," and a final long and agonizing wait in the yards. that was the last straw--to be so near the goal and yet helplessly stranded just out of reach. wishing to verify her own calculations, betty leaned forward and asked a friendly-looking, gray-haired woman in the seat ahead if she knew just how long it would take to go from the forty-second street station to fulton street. the woman considered. "not less than three-quarters of an hour, i should say, unless you took a subway express to the bridge, and changed there. then perhaps you might do it in half an hour." betty thanked her and sat back, watch in hand, counting the minutes and wondering what she would better do if she had to stay in new york all night. in spite of some disadvantages, it would be much the best plan, she decided, to go to her cousins. but never thinking of any such contingency as the one that had arisen, she had left her address book at harding, and she had a very poor memory for numbers. she remembered vaguely one hundred twenty-one, and was sure that cousin will banning lived on east seventy-second street. but was his number one twenty-one, or was it three hundred forty-something, and cousin alice's one twenty- one on one hundred and second street? was that east or west, and was it cousin alice's address before or after she moved last? the more betty thought, and the more certain it seemed that she could not reach mr. blake's office by any route before five o'clock, the more confused she became. she had never been about in new york alone, and she had a horror of going in the rapidly falling dusk from one number to another in a strange city, and then perhaps not finding her cousins in the end. then there was nothing to do but stay at a hotel. luckily betty did remember very distinctly the name of the one that nan often stopped at alone. she leaned forward again and asked the lady in front to direct her to it. "yes, i can do that," said the lady brightly, "or if you like i can take you to it. i'm going there myself. aren't you a harding girl?" betty assented. "and i'm the matron at the davidson," said the gray-haired lady. "you are!" betty's tone expressed infinite relief. "and i may really come with you? i'm so glad. i never went to a hotel alone." and she explained briefly why she was obliged to do so now. the snow was still falling softly when they finally reached new york and boarded a crowded car to ride the few blocks to their hotel. it seemed that betty's new friend had come down to visit her son, who was ill at a hospital. she helped betty through the trying ordeal of registering and getting a room, and they went to the cafe together for a little supper. then she hurried off to her son, and betty was left to her own devices. she despatched a special-delivery letter to helen, explaining why she could not take the sleeper--helen had the impression that betty had gone to new york to have her hair waved and was ashamed to confess to such frivolity. then she yawned for a while over "the canterbury tales," and went to bed early, so as to be in perfect trim for the next day's interview. she intended to see mr. blake as early as possible in the morning and take a noon train for harding. "and i do hope there isn't going to be a blizzard here," she thought, as she fell asleep to the angry howling of the wind, which dashed the snow, now frozen, into tiny, icy globules, against her window panes. but her hope was not destined to be realized. when she woke later than usual the next morning, with a queer feeling of not knowing where she was nor what had happened, the storm was still raging furiously. the street beneath her windows was piled high with impassable drifts, which were getting higher every minute, while on the opposite side a narrow strip of roadway was as clean as if it had been swept with the proverbial new broom. it was snowing so hard that betty could not see to the corner of the street, and the wind was blowing a gale. "i don't care," said betty philosophically. "here goes for seeing new york in a blizzard. i've always wanted to know what it was like." and she began making energetic preparations for breakfast. when she got down-stairs she found a hasty note from her friend of the day before, explaining that her son was worse and she had gone as early as possible to the hospital. so betty breakfasted in solitary state on rolls and coffee,--for her exchequer was beginning to suffer from the unexpected demands that she had made upon it,--paid her bill, and bag in hand sallied forth to meet the storm. before she had plowed her way to the nearest corner, she decided that a blizzard in new york was no joke. while she waited there in the teeth of the wind, bracing herself against it as it blew her hair in her eyes, whipped her skirt about her ankles, and swept the snow, sharp and cutting as needle-points, pitilessly against her cheeks, she was more than half minded to give up seeing mr. blake altogether and go straight to the station. but it was not betty's way to give up. she brushed back her flying hair, held up her muff as protection against the wind, and when her car finally arrived, tumbled on with a sigh of relief and then a laugh all to herself at the absurdity of the whole situation. "mr. blake will want to laugh too when he sees me," she thought, "and perhaps that will be a good beginning." in this cheerful mood betty presently arrived at the door of "the quiver" office. she made a wry face as she shook the snow out of her furs, straightened her hat and smoothed her hair. it was too bad to have to go in looking like a fright, after all the pains she had taken to wear her most becoming clothes, so as to look, and to feel, as impressive as possible. as a matter of fact, she had never looked prettier than when, having done her best to repair the ravages of the wind, she stood waiting a moment longer to get her breath and decide how she should ask for mr. blake and what she should say when she was summoned into his awful presence. her cheeks were glowing with the cold, her eyes bright with excitement, and her hair blown into damp little curls that were far more becoming than any more studied arrangement would have been. mr. richard blake would indeed be difficult to please if he failed to find her charming. she gave a final pat to her hair, loosened her furs, and knocked boldly on the office door. there was no answer. betty had reached out her hand to knock again when it occurred to her that people who came to her father's office walked right in. so she carefully opened the door and stepping just inside, closed it again after her. she found herself in a big, bare room, with three or four desks near the long windows and a table by the door. only one desk was occupied--the one in the farthest corner of the room. the young man sitting behind it--he was very young indeed, smooth-shaven, with expressionless, heavy-lidded eyes, and a mouth that drooped cynically at the corners,--barely glanced at his visitor, and then dropped his eyes once more to the papers on his desk. betty waited a moment, while he wrote rapidly on the margin of one sheet with a blue pencil, and then, seeing that he apparently intended to go on reading and writing indefinitely, she gave a deprecating little cough. "is mr. richard blake in?" she asked. "yes," answered the young man behind the desk, without so much as glancing in her direction. "can--may i see him, please?" "you can," returned the young man, emphasizing the word can in what betty thought an extremely disagreeable way. he made no move to go and get mr. blake, and betty, knowing nothing else to do, awaited his pleasure in silence. "is it so very important as all this?" asked the young man at last, tossing aside his papers and coming toward betty with disconcerting suddenness. "you know," he went on, "i can't possibly read it to-day. i'm desperately busy. i shall put it in a pigeon-hole and i shan't look at it for weeks perhaps. so i can't see that it was worth your while to come out in a storm like this to bring it to me." "are you mr. richard blake?" demanded betty, wishing to get at least one thing definitely settled. the young man nodded. "i am," he said, "but pray how did you arrive at your conclusion--so late?" "because," said betty promptly, "you talk exactly as your letters sound." "that's interesting," said the young man. "how do they sound?" "i mean," said betty, blushing at her own temerity, "that they are hard to understand." the young man appeared to be considering this remark with great seriousness. "that implies," he began at last very slowly, "that you must have had either a letter of acceptance or a personal note of refusal from 'the quiver.' so perhaps your story is worth coming out in a blizzard to bring after all. anyway, since you have brought it out in a blizzard, i'll just glance over it, if you care to wait." betty stared at mr. richard blake in growing bewilderment. "i think you must have mistaken me for some one else," she said at last. "you don't know me at all, mr. blake, and you never wrote to me. the letter that i saw was written to some one else." "indeed! and am i also mistaken in supposing that you have brought me a story for 'the quiver'?" "i brought you a story for 'the quiver'!" gasped betty. then all at once she took in the situation and laughed so merrily that even the blase, young editor of "the quiver" was forced to smile a little in sympathy. "i see now," she said, when she could speak. "you thought i was a writer--an authoress. i suppose that most of the people who come to see an editor are authors, aren't they?" "yes," said the young man gravely. "the only possible reason that has ever brought a pretty young woman to 'the quiver' office is the vain hope that because i have seen that she is pretty, i shall like her story better than i otherwise would." "well," said betty, too intent upon coming to the point to be either annoyed or amused by mr. blake's frank implication, "i haven't come about a story. or--that is, i have too. i came to see you about eleanor watson's story--the one that is so like 'the lost hope' in the november 'quiver.'" "indeed!" the young man's face grew suddenly sombre again. "won't you have a seat?" he led the way back to his desk, placing a chair for betty beside his own. "let us make a fair start," he said, as he took his seat. "you mean the story that was copied from 'the quiver,' i suppose." "yes." betty hesitated, wondering if she was being led into some damaging confession. but she had not come to palter with the truth. "i'm afraid there is no doubt that it was copied from 'the quiver,' mr. blake." "did you know that it was a better story than the one in 'the quiver'?" [illustration: "let us make a fair start," he said] betty's eyes sparkled with pleasure. "do you really think so?" she asked eagerly. "i'm so glad, because i did, too, only i was afraid i might be prejudiced. but you wouldn't be." betty stopped in confusion, for mr. blake had abruptly turned his back upon her, and was staring out the nearest window at the mist of flying snow. there was a long pause, or at least it seemed oppressively long to betty, who had no idea what it meant. then "to whom have i the honor of speaking?" asked mr. blake in the queer, sarcastic tone that had annoyed betty earlier in the interview. as briefly as possible betty explained who she was, and why she had come as special envoy from the editors. she was relieved when mr. blake turned back from his survey of the landscape with another faint suggestion of a smile flickering about his grim mouth. "you relieve me immensely, miss wales," he said. "i was quite sure you were not an editor of the 'argus,' because you seemed so totally unfamiliar with the machinery of literary ventures; and so i supposed, or at least i feared, that miss watson had come to speak for herself." betty flushed angrily. "why, mr. blake, do i look--" "no, you don't in the least," mr. blake interrupted her hastily. "but unfortunately, you must admit, appearances are sometimes deceitful. now suppose that your friend miss watson had come herself. does she look or act like the sort of person that she has shown herself to be?" betty smiled brightly. "of course not," she said. "she doesn't at all. but then she isn't that sort of person. i mean she never will be again. if she was, i can tell you that i shouldn't be here. it's just because she's so splendid when she thinks in time and tries to be nice, and because she hasn't any mother and never had half a chance that i'm sorry for her now. and besides, it's certainly punishment enough to see that story in the 'argus,' and know she didn't write it, and to get into dramatic club partly because of it, and so have that spoiled for her too, and not to be able to let her family be one bit proud of her. don't you see that an open disgrace wouldn't mean any more punishment? it would only make it harder for her to be fair and square again. it isn't as if she didn't care. she hates herself for it, mr. blake, i know she does." betty paused for breath and mr. richard blake took the opportunity to speak. "what, may i ask, is the dramatic club?" "oh, a splendid literary club that some of the nicest girls in college belong to," explained betty impatiently, feeling that the question was not much to the point. "do you belong to it?" demanded mr. blake. "oh, no," said betty, with a laugh. "i'm not bright enough. i hate to stick to things long enough to learn them." "that's unfortunate, because i was hoping you were a member," said mr. blake, inconsequently. "but to return to the story, do you think that miss watson was so very much to blame for copying it?" "of course i do," said betty, indignantly, wondering what mr. richard blake could possibly be driving at now. "but consider," he pursued. "miss watson is a very clever girl, isn't she?" "yes, indeed," assented betty, eagerly. "she finds this story--an unusual story, rather badly written, with a very weak ending. it strikes her as having possibilities. she puts on the needed touches,--the finish, the phrasing and an ending that is almost a stroke of genius. isn't the story hers?" betty waited a moment. "no, mr. blake," she said decidedly, "it isn't. those little changes don't make any difference. she took it from 'the quiver.'" "but how about shakespeare's plays? every one of them has a borrowed plot. shakespeare improved it, added incidents and characters, fused the whole situation in the divine fire of his genius. but some characters and the general outline of the plot he borrowed. we don't say he stole them. we don't call him a plagiarist, miss wales." "i don't know about that," said betty, doubtfully. "i never understood about shakespeare's plots; but i suppose it was different in those days. lots of things were. and besides he was a regular genius, and i know that what he did hasn't anything to do with eleanor. she oughtn't to have copied a story. i don't see how she could do it; but i wish you could feel that it was right to overlook it." "miss wales," said mr. blake, abruptly, "i'm going to tell you something. i don't care a snap of my finger for miss watson. i don't really believe she's worth much consideration, though her having a friend who will go around new york for her on a day like this seems to indicate the contrary. but what i'm particularly interested in is the moral tone of harding college. that's a big thing, a thing worth thought and effort and personal sacrifice to maintain. now tell me frankly, miss wales, how would the harding girls as a whole look at this matter?" "if you knew any," returned betty, swiftly, "you wouldn't ask. of course they'd feel just the way i do." "perhaps even the way i do?" "y-yes," admitted betty, grudgingly. "but i believe i could bring them round," she added with a mischievous smile. "then how did miss watson happen to do such a thing?" "because," explained betty, earnestly, "she doesn't feel the way the rest of the girls do about such things. i'm awfully fond of her, but i noticed the difference almost the first time i met her. last year she--oh, there was nothing like this," added betty, quickly, "and after she saw how the other girls felt, she changed. but i suppose she couldn't change all at once, and so she did this. but she isn't a typical harding girl, indeed she isn't, mr. blake." "and yet she is a member of the dramatic club," said mr. blake, taking up a telegram from his desk. "don't you suppose she wishes she wasn't?" inquired betty. mr. blake made no answer. "well, miss wales," he said, at last, "i fancy we've talked as much about this as is profitable. i'm very glad to have seen you, but i'm sorry that you found us in such disorder. the office boy is stuck in the drifts over in brooklyn, and my assistant and the stenographer are snowed up in harlem. i only hope you won't get snowed in anywhere between here and harding. you're going back to-day, you said?" betty nodded. "and i should like--" "to be sure," mr. blake took her up. "you would like to know my answer. well, miss wales, i really think you deserve it, too; but as it happens, i find i'm going up to harding next week, and i want to look over the ground for myself,--see what i think about the moral tone of things, you know." "you're coming up to harding!" said betty, ruefully. "then i needn't have come down here at all." "oh, but i didn't know it till to-day," explained mr. blake, soothingly. "i got the telegram while i was breakfasting this morning. i can't telegraph my answer, because the wires are all down, so you might tell them i've written, or you might post my answer for me in harding. i have the greatest confidence in your ability to get through the drifts, miss wales." "are you"--betty hesitated--"are you coming up about this, mr. blake?" for answer he passed her the telegram. it was an invitation from the newly-elected president of the dramatic club--beatrice egerton had gone out of office at midyears--to lecture before an open meeting of the society a week from the following saturday. "goodness!" said betty, returning the telegram. "i didn't know you were a lecturer too, mr. blake." "oh, i'm not much of one," returned mr. blake, easily. "i suspect that the man they had engaged couldn't come, and miss stuart--you know her, i presume--who's an old friend of mine, suggested me as a forlorn hope. you see," he added, "'the quiver' is a new thing and doesn't go everywhere yet, as your friend miss watson was clever enough to know; but before i began to edit it, i used to write dramatic criticisms for the newspapers. some people didn't like my theories about the stage and the right kind of plays and the right way of acting them; so it amuses them now to hear me lecture and to think to themselves 'how foolish!' 'how absurd!' as i talk." "i see," laughed betty. "i'm afraid i don't know much about dramatic criticism." "well, it doesn't amount to very much," returned mr. blake, genially. "that's why i stopped doing it. shall you come to hear me lecture, miss wales?" betty laughed again. "i shall if i can get an invitation," she said. "i suppose it's an invitation affair." "and miss watson will be there?" betty nodded. "unless, of course, she knows that you are the editor of 'the quiver.'" "she won't," said mr. blake, "unless you or the editors of the 'argus' tell her. miss stuart doesn't know, and she is probably the only other person up there who's ever heard of me. good-bye, miss wales, until next week, saturday." betty got her bag from the elevator boy, into whose keeping she had trustfully confided it, and went out into the snow. she was very much afraid that she had not done her full duty. dorothy had told her to be sure to pin mr. blake down to something definite. well, she had tried to, but she had not succeeded. as she thought over the interview, she could not remember that she had said anything very much to the point. it seemed, indeed, as if they had talked mostly about other things; and yet toward the last mr. blake's manner had been much more cordial, if that meant anything. anyway it was all over and done with now, and quite useless. dorothy and beatrice and frances could do their own talking next week. and--she had stood on the corner for ten minutes and still there was no car in sight. a few had crawled past on their way to the battery, but none had come back. it was frightfully cold. betty stamped her feet, slapped her arms, warmed first one aching ear and then the other. still no car. a diminutive newsboy had stopped by her side, and in despair she appealed to him. "isn't there some other way to get up town?" she asked. "these cars must have stopped running, and i've got to get to the central station." "take de l to de bridge and den de subway. dat ain't snowed in," suggested the little newsboy. "c'n i carry your bag, lady?" it was only a few blocks, but it seemed at least a mile to betty, too cold and tired to enjoy the tussle with the wind any longer. when she had stumbled up the long flight of stairs and dropped herself and her bag in the nearest corner of the waiting train, she could scarcely have taken another step. the central station, like the whole city, wore a dejected, deserted appearance. yes, there would be a train for harding some time, a guard assured betty. he could not say when it would start. oh, it had been due to start at ten-thirty, and it was now exactly twelve-five. there was nothing to do but wait. so betty waited, dividing her time between "the canterbury tales"--she had not money enough to dare to waste any on a magazine--and a woman, who was also waiting for the belated ten-thirty. her baby was ill, she told betty; she feared it would die before she could get to it. betty's own weariness and discouragement sank into insignificance beside her companion's trouble, and in trying to reassure her she became quite cheerful herself. at half past eleven that night madeline ayres heard something bang against her window and looked out to find betty wales standing in the drifts, snowballing the front windows of the belden house with an impartiality born of despair. "i thought i should never wake any one up," she said, when madeline had unlocked the door and let her into the grateful warmth of the hall. "the bell wouldn't ring and i was so afraid out there, and i've been ten hours coming from new york, and i'm starved, madeline." when, after having enjoyed a delicious, if not particularly digestible supper of coffee and welsh rarebit in madeline's room, betty crept softly to her own, and turned up the gas just far enough to undress by, helen woke and sat straight up in bed. "why, betty!" she said, "i'm awfully glad you've come. we all worried so about you. but--why, betty, your hair isn't waved a bit. didn't you have it waved?" "helen, were you ever in new york in a blizzard?" enquired betty, busily unlacing her shoe-strings. "no," said helen. "did it take out the curl?" "would it take out the curl!" repeated betty scornfully. "it would take out the curliest curl that ever was in thirty seconds. it was perfectly awful. but, helen, don't say anything about it, but i didn't go to new york for that." "oh!" said helen. the next day betty woke up with a splitting headache and a sore throat. the day after the doctor came and called it a mild case of grippe. it was a week before she felt like playing basket-ball, and that very day the teams were chosen and babbie had the position as sub-centre that betty had coveted. one thing she gained by being ill. by the time she was able to be up and out even mary brooks, with her "satiable curiosity," had forgotten to ask why she went to new york. chapter xiv a distinguished guest "it's going to be lots of fun. they can't any of them act at all, of course, and their plays are the wildest things, babe says. she and bob went once last winter. this one is called 'the hand of fate'--doesn't that sound thrilling? i say, betty, i think you might be a true sport and come along. you know you don't care a straw about 'the tendencies of the modern drama.'" katherine kittredge sat cross-legged on betty's couch, with betty's entire collection of pillows piled comfortably behind her back, while she held forth with eloquent enthusiasm upon the charms of the "ten-twenty- thirty" cent show which was giving its final performance that evening at the harding opera house. "i don't know anything about them, so how can i tell whether i care or not?" retorted betty, who was sitting before her desk engaged in a desperate effort to bring some semblance of order out of the chaos that littered its shelf and pigeon-holes. "well, even if you do care, you can probably read it all up in some book," continued katherine. "and, besides," she added briskly. "you would get a lot of points to-night. isn't 'the hand of fate' a modern drama, i should like to know?" betty gave a sudden joyous exclamation. "why, i'm finding all the things i've lost, katherine. here's my pearl pin that i thought the sneak thieves must have stolen. i remember now that i put it into an envelope to take down to be cleaned. and,"--joy changing abruptly to despair,-- "here's my last week's french exercise, that i hunted and hunted for, and finally thought i must have given to some one to hand in for me. do you suppose mademoiselle will ever believe me?" katherine chuckled. "she would if she knew your habits better. now listen, betty. nita's coming to-night, and babe and babbie--bob would, only she doesn't dare cut the lecture when she's just gone into dramatic club--and rachel and roberta, and i've about half persuaded mary brooks. we're going to sit in the bald-headed row and clap all the hero's tenor solos and sob when the heroine breaks his heart, and hiss the villain. how's that for a nice little stunt?" "i just love ten-cent plays," admitted betty, obviously weakening. "then come on," urged katherine. betty shook her head. "no, i don't believe i will this time. you see emily asked me to the lecture, and i accepted." "well, so did most of us accept," argued katherine. "you needn't think we weren't asked. emily won't care. just give your ticket away, so there won't be too many vacant seats, and come along." "but you see," explained betty, "i really do want to hear the lecture, and i can go off on a lark with you girls almost any time." "i never knew you to be so keen about a lecture before," said katherine indignantly. "i believe helen adams is turning you into a regular dig." "don't worry," laughed betty. "you see one reason why i--" there was a tap on the door, and without waiting for an answer to her knock eleanor watson entered. she was apparently in the best of spirits; there was no hint in face or manner of the weariness and nervous depression that had been so evident at the time of jim's visit. "have you both tickets for mr. blake's lecture?" she asked with a careless little nod for katherine. "i have one left and beatrice has one, and she sent me out hunting for victims. i've asked you once already, haven't i, betty?" "yes, you did," said betty, "but emily asked me before that." "and i'm going to 'the hand of fate,'" said katherine stiffly, picking up a book from the table and turning over its pages with an air of studied indifference. she had no intention of being patronized by eleanor watson. "but she's given away her ticket, eleanor," said betty pacifically, "so you needn't worry about empty seats." "oh, we're not worrying," returned eleanor loftily. "the subject is so attractive"--katherine winked at betty from behind the shelter of her book. "and then miss stuart knows mr. blake, and she says that he's a splendid speaker. miss stuart is ill to-day, so miss ferris is going to have mr. blake up to dinner. of course we hilton house girls are dreadfully excited about that." "of course," said betty, with a little gasp of dismay which neither of her friends seemed to notice. "miss ferris has asked the dramatic club girls to sit at her table," went on eleanor impressively, "and she wants me to be on her other side, right opposite mr. blake. just think of that!" "splendid!" said betty, feeling like a traitor. and yet what else could she say, and what difference would it make, since eleanor did not know that mr. blake was the editor of "the quiver," and mr. blake, in the general confusion of introductions, would probably not catch eleanor's name. "i hope you know a good deal more about the tendencies of the modern drama than i do," said katherine drily, "if you're in as deep as all that." she slid off the couch with a jerk. "good-bye, betty. are you sure you won't change your mind?" "i guess not this time, katherine," said betty, following her guest to the door. eleanor went off too, after a moment, and betty was left free to bestow her undivided attention upon the rearrangement of her desk. but even several "finds" quite as important and surprising as the pearl pin and the french theme did not serve to concentrate her thoughts upon her own affairs. the absorbing question was, what did mr. blake mean to do, and how would a dinner with eleanor in the seat opposite affect his intentions? he had said that he wasn't interested in eleanor, but he couldn't help being influenced by what she said and did, if he knew who she was. for the hundredth time betty questioned, did eleanor deserve the consideration that was being asked for her? was it fair to set aside the gay, self-absorbed eleanor of to-day in favor of the clinging, repentant eleanor of the week before? why, yes, she thought, it must be fair to judge a person at her best, if you wanted her to be her best. she sighed over the perplexities of life, and then she sighed again, because of her tiresome desk and the saturday afternoon that was slipping away so fast. it was half-past four already, and at five she had promised to meet madeline ayres in the college library for a walk before dinner. she put the papers that she had sorted into their proper pigeon-holes, swept the rest of the litter into a pile for future consideration, and made a hasty toilette, reflecting that she should have to dress again anyway for the lecture. as she put on her hat, she noticed the ruffled plume and smoothed it as best she could. "that blizzard!" she thought ruefully. reminded again of mr. blake, she wondered if he had taken an early train from new york. if so he must have reached harding long ago. perhaps he was closeted with the editors--frances hadn't heard from him about an interview when betty saw her last. or perhaps he was investigating the moral tone of the college. betty wondered smilingly how he would go about it, and looked up to find mr. richard blake himself strolling slowly toward her from the direction of the front gateway. at the same instant he saw her and came quickly forward, his hat in one hand, the other stretched out for betty to take. "so you didn't get stuck in the snow," he said, gravely. "not so deep that i had to stay stuck for a week," laughed betty. "haven't the office-boy and the stenographer got out yet?" "yes, but they didn't have so far to go," returned mr. blake, calmly. "may i walk on with you?" "of course," agreed betty, "but you weren't going my way, were you?" mr. blake smiled his slight, cynical smile. "to tell the truth, miss wales, i haven't the least idea which way i am going--or which way i ought to be. i'm supposed to turn up for five o'clock tea with one miss raymond, who lives at a place called the davidson house. my friend miss stuart is ill, and i escaped the escort of a committee by wickedly hinting that i knew my way about." "well," said betty, "you were going the right way when i met you. the davidson is straight down at the other end of that row of brick houses." "thank you," said mr. blake, making no move to follow betty's directions. "i detest teas, and i'm going to be as late as i dare. but perhaps i shall be in your way." betty explained that she was bound for the college library to meet a friend. "ah," said mr. blake, "i think i should like to see that library. you know i have theories about libraries as well as about plays. is this a nice one?" "of course," said betty. "everything at harding is nice. don't you think so?" mr. blake shook his head uncertainly. "i hardly feel competent to speak of everything yet, miss wales." "well, how about the moral tone?" inquired betty demurely. she had a feeling that more direct questions would not help eleanor's cause. mr. blake shook his head again. "i haven't gone very far with that yet, miss wales. i mean to make them talk about it at the tea." they had climbed the stairs to the library and betty pushed back the swinging doors and stepped inside, wondering vaguely whether she should call the librarian or take mr. blake from alcove to alcove herself, when madeline ayres looked up from her book, and catching sight of them started forward with a haste and enthusiasm which the occasion, betty thought, hardly warranted. "i'm afraid i don't know enough about the books to take you around," she was saying to mr. blake, when madeline descended precipitately upon them and, paying not the slightest attention to betty, said in a loud whisper to mr. blake, "dick, come outside this minute, where we can shake hands." "come on, miss wales," whispered mr. blake. "it will be worth seeing," and betty, not knowing what else to do, followed him into the hall. "why, dick blake," madeline went on enthusiastically, "you don't know how good it seems to see one of the old paris crowd again. have you forgotten how we used to hunt chocolate shops together, and do the latin quarter at night, and teach my cousins american manners?" "hardly," laughed mr. blake. "we were a pair of young wretches in those days, madeline. but i thought you were all for art and bohemia. what on earth are you doing up here?" "completing my education," returned madeline calmly. "the family suddenly discovered that i was dreadfully ignorant. what are you doing up here yourself, dick?" "helping to complete your education," returned mr. blake serenely. "is it possible that the fame of my to-night's lecture hasn't reached you, madeline?" madeline laughed merrily. "to think that we've come to this, dick. why, i never dreamed that was you. i've been refusing tickets to that lecture all day--i abhor lectures--but of course i shall go now." she turned to betty. "why didn't you tell us that you knew mr. blake, betty?" betty blushed guiltily. "why, i--because i don't know him much," she stammered. "to be exact, madeline," interposed mr. blake, "this is only our second meeting, and of course miss wales didn't want to stand for me in the critical eyes of the harding public." "well, but--" madeline looked from one to the other sharply. "dick, whom are you writing for now?" she demanded. "for myself. i'm running a magazine." "'the quiver'?" mr. blake nodded. "yes, have you seen it? i've sent one or two numbers to your father on the chance of their finding him in some far corner of the earth." "so that's it," said madeline enigmatically, ignoring the question. "now i understand. i--well, the point is, dick, do whatever betty wales wants you to. you may depend upon it that she knows what she's about. everything she tells you will be on the straight." mr. richard blake threw back his head and laughed a hearty, boyish laugh. "you haven't changed a bit, madeline," he said. "you expect me to be your humble chessman and no questions asked, exactly as you did in the old days. i can't promise what you want now," he added soberly, "but i heartily subscribe to what you say about miss wales. see here"--he reached hastily for his watch--"i was going to a tea, wasn't i? do i dare to cut it out?" betty hesitated and looked at madeline, who shook her head decidedly. "never. this isn't bohemia, you know. run along, dick. i'll see you to-night if i can get a chance, and if not you'll surely be round at easter?" "rather," said mr. richard blake, striding hurriedly down the hall. madeline watched him go with a smile. "nice boy," she said laconically. "we used to have jolly times together, when he was paris correspondent for the something or other in new york. have we time to take our walk, betty?" "madeline," said betty solemnly, "you are a jewel--a perfect jewel. do you think he'll do it?" "of course," said madeline coolly. "he'll keep you on tenter-hooks as long as he can, but his bark is always worse than his bite, and he'll come round in the end." "oh, i hope so," said betty anxiously. madeline smiled lazily down at her. "it's no good worrying, anyhow," she said, "you can't pursue him to his tea. besides, ten minutes before you met him you'd almost decided that it would be better to let the whole thing out, and be done with it." "madeline," demanded betty in amazement, "how do you guess things?" "never mind how," laughed madeline. "come and dress for the lecture." betty answered helen's eager questions about the discovery of the pearl pin in absent-minded monosyllables. after all, things were turning out better than she had hoped. indirectly at least the trip to new york had counted in eleanor's favor. she need not reproach herself any longer with carelessness in letting madeline into the secret, and she could feel that it was not for nothing that she had lost her chances of being on the "sub" team. as she entered the lecture hall that evening with helen and alice waite, dorothy king, who was standing by the ticket taker, accosted her. "i wanted to tell you that christy is coming back before long," she said. having drawn her aside on that flimsy excuse, dorothy grew suddenly earnest. "what's he going to do, betty?" she demanded. "why, i don't know," said betty, blushing at thought of madeline, "any more than you do. haven't you seen him?" "no," explained dorothy. "he wrote to say that it would be wasting time to argue any more--that he was sure he understood our point of view from you, and now he meant to see for himself and decide." "then i suppose he'll tell miss west tonight." "we hoped he'd told you this afternoon." "how did you know i'd seen him?" inquired betty evasively. "eleanor watson told me that she saw you together in the library." betty gave a little cry of dismay, then checked it. "but she doesn't know who he is," she said. "yes, she does know now," said dorothy quickly. "how?" "he told her himself. he was at dinner this evening with miss ferris, you know. eleanor sat up at his end of the table looking like a perfect queen, and she talked awfully well too--she is certainly a very brilliant girl. he talked to her a good deal during dinner and as we were leaving the table he asked miss ferris again who she was." "what did he say when she told him?" "he just said 'indeed!' in that queer, drawling voice of his. afterward miss ferris made coffee for us, and what do you suppose he did? he began to ask everybody in the room about the code of honor at the college." "well?" "after one or two of the girls had said what they thought, he turned straight to eleanor watson. 'and you, miss watson,' he said, 'what do you think? is this fine moral feeling strong enough to stand a strain? would you be willing to risk one thoroughly dishonest student not to overthrow it?' she got awfully white, and i could see her cup shake in her hand, but she said very quietly, 'i quite agree with what has already been said, mr. blake.'" "and then?" "then he said 'indeed!' again. but when the girls got up to go and he bid them each good-bye, he managed to keep eleanor on some pretext about wanting to finish an argument that they'd begun at dinner. miss ferris kept me to know about a hilton house girl who was down at the infirmary when i was and finally had to be sent home; and as we stood talking at the other side of the room, i distinctly heard mr. blake say, 'the editor of "the quiver," miss watson.'" "did miss ferris hear it too?" "probably not. anyway it wouldn't mean anything to her. the next minute eleanor watson was gone, and then i went too. betty, we must run back this minute. he's going to begin." as far as her information about "the tendencies of the modern drama" was concerned, betty wales might quite as well have been enjoying herself at "the hand of fate." she sat very still, between two girls she had never seen before, and apparently listened intently to the speaker. as a matter of fact, she heard scarcely a word that he said. her thoughts and her eyes were fixed on eleanor, who was sitting with beatrice egerton, well up on the middle aisle. like betty, she seemed to be absorbed in following the thread of mr. blake's argument. she laughed at his jokes, applauded his clever stories. but there was a hot flush on her cheeks and a queer light in her eyes that bore unmistakable evidence to the struggle going on beneath her forced attention. after the lecture betty was waiting near the door for helen and alice, when eleanor brushed past her. "are you going home, eleanor?" she asked timidly, merely for the sake of saying something friendly. eleanor turned back impatiently. "you're the tenth person who's asked me that," she said. "why shouldn't i be?" "why, no reason at all--" began betty. but eleanor had vanished. once in her own room she locked the door and gave free rein to the fury of passion and remorse that held her in its thrall. jim's visit had brought out all her nobler impulses. she had caught a glimpse of herself as she would have looked in his eyes, and the scorn of her act that she had felt at intervals all through the fall and winter--that had prevented any real enjoyment of her stolen honors and kept her from writing home about them,--had deepened into bitter self-abnegation. but jim had come and gone. he still believed in her, for he did not know what she had done. nobody knew. nobody would ever know now. it was absurd to fear discovery after all these months. so eleanor had argued, throwing care and remorse to the winds, and resolving to forget the past and enjoy life to the full. then, just at the moment of greatest triumph, had come mr. blake's startling announcement. he had not told her what he had done or meant to do, nor how he had found out about the story, nor who shared his secret; and eleanor had been too amazed and frightened to ask. now, in the solitude of her room, she drew her own swift conclusions. it was a plot against her peace of mind, his coming up to lecture. who had arranged it? who indeed but betty wales? she knew mr. blake intimately, it seemed, and she had such horribly strict ideas of honesty. she would never forgive her own sister for cheating. "she must have seen 'the quiver' on my table," thought eleanor, "and then to use it against me like this!" no doubt she or mr. blake had told that hateful madeline ayres, who knew him too. no doubt all the editors had been told. it was to be hoped that dorothy king, with her superior airs, realized that it was mostly her fault. a dull flush spread over eleanor's pale face, as it suddenly flashed upon her that beatrice egerton was an editor. well, if beatrice was in the secret, there was no telling how many she had confided in. eleanor's devotion to miss egerton had been utterly without sentiment from the first. she realized perfectly that beatrice was flippant and unprincipled, swayed only by selfish considerations and by a passion for making a sensation. if she did not mind being associated with the story, she would tell it; only regard for her own reputation as eleanor's "backer" might deter her. swiftly eleanor laid her plan. after all, what did it matter who knew? mr. blake, betty and dorothy, beatrice--the whole college--what could they prove? nothing--absolutely nothing, unless she betrayed herself. no doubt they thought they had brought her to bay, and expected her to make some sort of confession. they would find there was no getting around her that way. there was no danger of discovery, so long as she kept her head, and she would never show the white feather. she would write another story--she could do it and she would, too, that very night. but first she would go back to the students' building. the dramatic club was giving a reception to mr. blake and the members of the faculty. she had been unpardonably stupid to think of missing it. as she crossed the shadowed space in front of the big building, she caught sight of three dimly outlined figures clustered about one of the pillars of the portico, and heard frances west's voice, so sweet and penetrating as to be quite unmistakable. "yes, he leaves it entirely to us," she was saying. "he said he thought we could be trusted to know what was best." "i wish he hadn't made the condition that no one should say anything to her," objected a second speaker. "it doesn't seem to me quite wise to let things just drift along the same as ever." "nonsense," broke in a third voice, sharp with irritation. "you know perfectly well--" eleanor had walked as slowly as she dared. now there was nothing for it but to open the door without waiting to find out the identity of the last two speakers, or risk being caught eaves-dropping. she hurried on up the stairs to the society rooms on the second floor, and devoted herself for the rest of the evening to the dullest and most unpopular members of the faculty with an ardor that won her the heart- felt gratitude of the president of the club. "i can be agreeable," she thought, as she sat down at her desk an hour later. "i can do whatever i make up my mind to. i'll show them that i'm not going to 'drift along!'" it was six o'clock in the morning when, stiff and heavy-eyed, she turned off her light and crept into bed. "i've driven a coach and four through their precious ten o'clock rule," she thought, "but i don't care. i've finished the story." the story was a little sketch of western life, with characters and incidents drawn from an experience of jim's. eleanor was an excellent critic of her own work, and she knew that this was good; not so unusual, perhaps, as the other one had been, but vivid, swinging, full of life and color, far above the average of student work. it should go to miss raymond the first thing in the morning. she would like it, and the "argus" perhaps would want it--eleanor closed her tired eyes, and in a moment was fast asleep. chapter xv disappointments it was the day of the great basket-ball game. in half an hour more the gymnasium would be opened to the crowd that waited in two long, sinuous lines, gay with scarfs, banners and class emblems, outside the doors. now and then a pretty girl, dressed all in white, with a paper hat, green or yellow as the case might be, and an usher's wand to match, darted out of one of the campus houses and fluttered over to the back door of the gymnasium. the crowd watched these triumphal progresses languidly. its interest was reserved for the other girls, pig tailed and in limp-hanging rain-coats, who also sought the back door, but with that absence of ostentation and self-consciousness which invariably marks the truly great. the crowd singled out its "heroes in homespun," and one line or the other applauded, according to the color that was known to be sewed on the blue sleeve beneath the rain-coat. the green line was just shouting itself hoarse over t. reed, who had been observed slinking across the apple orchard, hoping to effect her entrance unnoticed, when eleanor watson hurried down the steps of the hilton house, carrying a sheet of paper in one hand. hearing the shouting, she shrugged her shoulders disdainfully and chose the route to the westcott house that did not lead past the gymnasium doors. as she went up the steps of the westcott, she met jean eastman coming down, her white skirts rustling in the wind. jean looked at her in surprise. "why, eleanor, you're an usher too. aren't you going to dress? it's half past two this minute." "yes," said eleanor curtly, "i know. i'm not going to usher. i have a headache. jean, where is my basket-ball song?" "how should i know?" said jean, smoothing the petals of the green chrysanthemums that were festooned about her wand. "on the paper with the rest, isn't it?" [illustration: the green line was shouting itself hoarse] "no," said eleanor, "it's not. i didn't go to the class 'sing' last night, but this noon somebody left a song sheet in my room. you said they chose mine, jean." "i said," corrected jean, "that i thought they chose it. i was on the song committee, but i didn't go to the meeting. from your description i thought it must be one of those that kate said was taken." eleanor held out the paper to jean. "whose are these?" jean glanced hastily down the page. "why, i don't know," she said, "any more than you do--except that first one to the tune of 'st. louis.'" she hummed a lilting measure or two. "that's our prize song all right, and who do you think wrote it?" "who?" demanded eleanor fiercely. "that little adams girl--the one who rooms with betty wales. t. reed told me she'd been working on it for weeks." eleanor's eyes flashed scornfully. "i should think it ought to be fairly decent then," she said. "well, it's considerably more than fairly decent," said jean cheerfully. "i'm freezing here, eleanor, and it's late too. don't bother about your song. come over to the gym. with me and you can go in the back way." "no, thank you," said eleanor in frigid tones, and went back as she had come. to be beaten, and by helen chase adams, of all people! it was too humiliating. six basket-ball songs had been printed and hers rejected. no doubt the other five had been written by special friends of the committee. she had depended on jean to look after hers--although she had not doubted for a moment that it would be among the very best submitted-- and jean had failed her. worse yet, the story on which she had staked her hopes had come back from miss raymond, with a few words of perfunctory, non-committal criticism. miss raymond had not read it to her class, much less sent the "argus" editors after it. "does she know, too?" questioned eleanor. "does she think that because i've cheated once i can't ever be trusted again, or is it just my luck to have them all notice the one thing i didn't write and let alone the things i do?" it was two weeks since mr. blake's lecture, and in that time she had accomplished nothing of all that she had intended. her idea had been to begin over--to blot out the fact that once she had not played fair, and starting on a clean sheet, repeat her triumph and prove to herself and other people that her position in college affairs was no higher than she deserved. but so far she had proved nothing, and every day the difficulties of her position increased. it was almost more than she could manage, to treat the girls whom she suspected of knowing her secret with exactly her accustomed manner. she had not been able to verify her suspicions except in the case of beatrice egerton. there was no doubt about her. when the two were alone together she scarcely took pains to conceal her knowledge, and her covert hints had driven eleanor into more than one outburst of resentment which she bitterly regretted when it was too late. it was absolutely impossible to tell about betty. "she treats me exactly as she did when jim was here," reflected eleanor, "and just as she did last year, for that matter. if she doesn't know it's no particular credit to her, and if she does--" eleanor could not bear the idea of receiving kindness from people who must despise her. jean ran on to the gym., shivering in her thin dress, and muttering savagely over eleanor's "beastly temper." as she passed the sophomore-senior line, one and another of her friends shouted out gay greetings. "hurry up, jean, or we shall get in before you do." "you sophomore ushers look like a st. patrick's day parade." "tell the people in there that their clocks are slow." "all right," said jean, hanging on to her unmanageable paper hat. as she passed the end of the line, beatrice egerton detached herself from it, and followed her around the corner of the gym. "oh, miss eastman," she coaxed. "won't you let me go in with you? i shall never get a place to see anything from way back there in the line." jean eyed her doubtfully. she wanted to oblige the great miss egerton. "i'm afraid all the reserved seats are full by this time," she objected. "oh, i don't want a seat," said beatrice easily. "i'll stand on the steps of the faculty platform. there's no harm in that, is there?" "i guess not," said jean. "come on." the doorkeeper had gone up-stairs for a moment, and the meek little freshman who had her place only stared when jean and miss egerton ran past her without exhibiting their credentials. "thanks awfully," said miss egerton, sitting down on a pile of rugs and mattresses that had been stacked around the fireplace. jean went off to get her orders from the head usher. there was really nothing to do but walk around and look pretty, the head usher told her. the rush to the gallery had begun, but the janitors and the night-watchman were managing that. of course when the faculty began to come-- "oh, yes," said jean, and hurried back to beatrice. "good-looking lot of ushers," she said. beatrice nodded. "you have a lot of pretty girls in --." "to say nothing of having the college beauty," added jean. "of course," said beatrice. "nobody in college can touch eleanor watson for looks. there she is now, talking to betty wales and kate denise." "no," chuckled jean, "that's laura perkins. their back views are amazingly alike, but wait till you see laura's face. no, the lady eleanor wouldn't come to the game. she's in the sulks." "seems to be her chronic state nowadays," said beatrice. "talking to her is like walking on a hornet's nest. what's the particular cause of grievance to-day?" "oh, the committee didn't accept her basket-ball song," said jean, "and i was on the committee." beatrice lifted her eyebrows. "she actually had the nerve to write--to hand one in?" "oh, that wasn't nervy," said jean. "the girls wanted her to--l -- is awfully shy on poets. what i don't admire is her taste in fussing because it wasn't used." beatrice smiled significantly. "did she tell you about her story?" "what story?" "oh, a new one that she handed in for a theme a week or so ago." "what about it?" "why, miss raymond didn't notice it particularly, and eleanor was fussed to death--positively furious, you know. i was with her when she got it back." "how funny!" said jean. "but don't they say that miss raymond is pretty apt to like everything a girl does, after she's once become interested? i suppose eleanor was taking it easy and depending on that." beatrice's face wore its most inscrutable expression. "but, my dear," she said, "if you knew all about that other wonderful story--the famous one--" there was an unusual commotion at the door opposite them. by flower- bedecked ones and twos the faculty had been arriving, and had been received with shouts and songs from the galleries and escorted by excited ushers across the floor to their seats on the stage. miss egerton had stopped in the midst of her sentence to find out whose coming had turned the galleries into pandemonium and brought every usher but the phlegmatic jean to the door. "oh, it's prexy and miss ferris and dr. hinsdale, all in a bunch," she said at last. "how inconsiderate of them not to scatter the fireworks!" she turned back to jean. "as i was saying, if you knew all about that wonderful story--" betty wales, hurrying to help escort her dear miss ferris to the platform, caught sight of the two on the mattresses, noticed jean's look of breathless interest and beatrice's knowing air, and jumped to exactly the right conclusion. with a last despairing glance at miss ferris she turned aside from the group of crowding ushers, and dropped down beside jean on the mattings. "have you heard the latest news?" she asked, trying to make her tone perfectly easy and natural. "the freshman captain was so rattled that she forgot to wear her gym. suit. she came in her ordinary clothes. they've sent an usher back with her to see that she gets dressed right this time. isn't that killing?" "absurd," said beatrice, rising. "jean, you haven't done anything yet; you're too idle for words. i'm going up to jolly dr. hinsdale." in her heart she was glad of the interruption. she had said just enough to pique curiosity. to tell more would have been bad policy all around. betty wales had arrived just in the nick of time. but jean was naturally disappointed. "betty wales," she said, "do you know what you interrupted just now? beatrice egerton was just going to tell me the inside facts about eleanor's story in the 'argus.'" "was she?" said betty steadily. "if there are any inside facts, as you call them, don't you think eleanor is the one to tell you?" "oh, i don't know," said jean carelessly. "eleanor's so tiresome. she wants to be the centre of the stage all the time. shouldn't you think she'd be willing to give other people a little show now?" "why, she is," returned betty vaguely. "not much," asserted jean with great positiveness. "she's sulking in her tent this very minute because the girls aren't singing her basket-ball song. anybody who wasn't downright selfish would be glad to have girls like helen adams get a little chance." "eleanor's tired and doesn't think," suggested betty. "you'd better go down to the door," said the head usher. "the 'green' faculty are coming in swarms." the game went on much as last year's had done. first one gallery shook with forbidden applause, then the other. sophomores sang paeans to their victories, freshmen pluckily ignored their mistakes. t. reed appeared as if by magic here, there, and everywhere. rachel morrison played her quiet, steady game at the sophomore basket. katherine kittredge, talking incessantly to the bewildered freshman "home" whom she guarded, batted balls with ferocious lunges of her big fist back to the centre field, where a dainty little freshman with soft, appealing brown eyes, half hidden under a mist of yellow hair, occasionally managed to foil t. reed's pursuit and sent them pounding back into the outstretched arms of a tall, ungainly home who tossed or dropped them--it was hard to tell which--into the freshman basket. it was a shame to let her play, the sophomores grumbled. she was a giantess, not a girl. but as the score piled up in their favor, they grew more amiable and laughed good- humoredly at the ineffectual attempts of their guards to block the giantess's goals. betty watched it all with keen interest and yet with a certain feeling of detachment. it was splendid fun, but what did it matter after all who won or lost? the freshman centres muffed another ball. up in the "yellow" gallery she saw a tall girl standing behind a pillar unmistakably wink back the tears. how foolish, just for a game! it was over at last. miss andrews announced the score, congratulating victor and vanquished alike on clean, fair play. betty joined in the mad rush around the gym., helped sing to the team and to the freshman team and finally retired to a quiet corner with christy mason, who had come back to see the game and get a start with her neglected work before vacation. betty gave her the students' commission key with a little sigh of satisfaction. "it's a good deal of responsibility, isn't it?" she said. christy nodded. "if you take it seriously. but then isn't life a responsibility?" helen was sitting alone in their room when betty got back, her eyes shining like stars, her plain, angular little face alight with happiness. "i say, helen," began betty, hunting for the hat-pins that still fastened a remnant of her once gorgeous paper hat to her hair, "your song was great. did the girls tell you?" "some of them," said helen, shyly. "some of them didn't know i wrote it. one asked me if i knew." betty laughed. "did you tell her?" "no, i didn't," said helen, blushing. "i--i wanted to, awfully; but i thought it would seem queer." "well, plenty of them knew," said betty, mounting a chair to fasten her wand over a picture. "of course,"--helen's tone was apologetic,--"it's a very little thing to care so much about. i suppose you think i'm silly, but you see i worked over it pretty hard, and i don't have so very many things to care about. now if i were like you--" "nonsense!" said betty, descending suddenly from her lofty perch. "i couldn't write a line of poetry if i tried from now till commencement." "oh, yes, you could," said helen, eagerly. "well, if i were like eleanor watson then--" "helen," said betty, quickly, "you're not one bit like her." helen waited a minute. "betty," she began again shyly. "yes," said betty, kindly. "i'm awfully sorry you couldn't have your wish, too." "my wish!" betty repeated. "oh, you mean about being on the team. i don't mind about that, helen. i guess i was needed more just where i was." helen puzzled over her answer until the supper-bell rang. betty's problem stayed with her all through the bustle of last days and on into the easter vacation. even then she found only a doubtful solution. she had thought that mr. blake's decision, of which dorothy had told her as soon as possible, would close the incident of the story. now she saw that the affair was not so easily disposed of. beatrice egerton was an incalculable source of danger, but the chief trouble was eleanor herself. somehow her attitude was wrong, though betty could not exactly tell how. she was in a false position, one that it would be difficult for any one to maintain; and it was making her say and do things that people like jean, who did not understand, naturally misinterpreted. why, even she herself hated to meet eleanor now. there was so much to hide and to avoid talking about. and yet it would certainly be worse if everybody knew. betty puckered her smooth forehead into rows and rows of wrinkles and still she saw no way out. she thought of consulting nan, but she couldn't bear to, when nan had always been so pessimistic about eleanor. it was not until the vacation was over and betty's train was pulling into harding that she had an idea. she gave a little exclamation. "i've got it!" "got what?" demanded her seat-mate, who was a mathematical prodigy and had been working out problems in calculus all the way from buffalo. "not one of those examples of yours," laughed betty, "only an idea,--or at least about half an idea." "i don't find fractions of ideas very useful," said the seat-mate. "i never said they were," returned betty irritably. it had occurred to her that if there was any way to get eleanor to confide in miss ferris, perhaps matters might be straightened out. the missing half of the idea, to which betty had not the faintest clew, was--how could it be done? chapter xvi dora carlson's "sugaring-off" dora carlson pulled back the heavy oak door of the hilton house and stepped softly into the hall. with bright, darting glances, such as some frightened wild creature might bestow on an unfamiliar environment, she crept past the parlor doors and up the stairs. dora was not naturally timid, and her life on a lonely farm had made her self-reliant to a degree; but there was something about these big campus houses that awed her--mysterious suggestions of a luxurious and alien existence, of delightful festivities and dainty belongings, that stimulated her imagination and made her feel like a lawless intruder if she met any one in the passages. of course it was foolish. nettie dwight, who lived next door to her on market street, had not a single friend on the campus, and yet she had been into every one of the dwelling houses and explored them all from top to bottom. where was the harm, she asked. all you had to do was to step up and open the door, and then walk along as if you knew where you were going. when you had seen as much as you wanted to, you could stop in front of some room of which the door stood open so that you could tell from the hall that it was empty, and turn around and go away again. everybody would think that the person you had come to see was out. it sounded perfectly simple, but dora had never been anywhere except to eleanor's room at the hilton house and once, at betty wales's invitation, to the belden. she hated to hurry through the halls. she would have liked to turn aside and smell the hyacinths that stood in the sunny bay-window of the long parlor; she wanted desperately to read through all the notices on the house bulletin-board at the foot of the stairs; but instead she fled up the two flights and through the corridor, like a criminal seeking sanctuary, and arrived at eleanor's room in a flurry of breathless eagerness. the door was open and eleanor sat by the window, staring listlessly out at the quiet, greening lawns. the light was full on her face and dora, who had had only a passing glimpse of her divinity since before the spring vacation, noticed sadly how pale and tired she looked. "may i come in, miss watson?" she asked. "of course, but you mustn't call me that," said eleanor, turning to her with a charming smile. beatrice egerton had said that she should be over in the course of the afternoon, and eleanor had been dreading her coming. the necessity of keeping up appearances with beatrice and the rest was wearing eleanor out. it was a distinct relief to talk to dora, with whom no artifices were necessary. whoever else knew her secret, dora certainly did not; she was as remote from the stream of college gossip as if she had lived in another world. "i am so glad to see that you're resting," said dora brightly. "i take it as an omen that perhaps you'll be able to do what i want." "i hope i can," said eleanor. "what is it?" "why, i'm going to have a sugaring-off tonight," announced dora impressively, "and i should be very pleased to have you come." for a moment eleanor hesitated, then her better nature triumphed. this was the first thing the child had ever asked of her, and she should have it, even at the cost of some trifling annoyance. "how nice," she said cordially. "i shall be delighted to come. just what is a sugaring-off, dora?" dora laughed gleefully. "it's amazing to me how few people know what it is. i'm not going to tell you the particulars, but i will excite your interest by saying that it has to do with maple sugar." "how did you happen to think of having one?" inquired eleanor curiously. "why, you see," explained dora, "we have a sugar orchard on our farm. ohio is a great maple-sugar state, you know." "oh!" said eleanor. "no, i didn't know." "sugaring time used to be the delight of my childish heart," went on dora quaintly. "so many people came out to our farm then. it was quite like living in the village and having neighbors. and then i do love maple sugar. my father makes an excellent quality." "and he's sent you some now?" "yes," assented dora eagerly, "a whole big pailful. i suppose my dear father thought it would console me for not having been home for my spring vacation. it came this morning, and yesterday mrs. bryant went to pass a week with her son in jersey city, and she told me i could use the kitchen for a sugar-party if i wanted to while she was gone--i told her that i was expecting to have a party--and this is the only night for a week that nettie dwight can come, because she teaches in a night-school." dora paused for breath. "who is nettie dwight?" asked eleanor idly. "oh, she is a market street girl. there will be three market street girls and you and miss wales, if she can come. miss wales asked me to a play at her house last fall and i am so glad to have a chance to return it. i was afraid i never could." "hello, eleanor. good-afternoon, miss carlson." beatrice egerton threw her books and then herself unceremoniously on to eleanor's couch. beatrice could hardly have told why she persisted in inflicting her society upon eleanor watson. in her shallow way she was fond of her, and she felt vaguely that considering her own careless code of morals it would be inconsistent to drop eleanor now, just because she had followed similar standards. at the same time she was angry at what she looked upon as a betrayal of her friendship, and considered that any annoyance she might inflict on eleanor was no more than she deserved. as for dora carlson, she amused beatrice, who, being thoroughly self-seeking herself, could not imagine why the exclusive eleanor should choose to exhibit a freakish tendency toward philanthropy in this one direction. beatrice would have liked, for the satisfaction there is in solving a puzzle, to get at the root of the matter. accordingly she always took pains to draw dora out. "i've met you before this afternoon, miss carlson," she said, thumping a refractory pillow into place. "what are you doing up on the campus?" it was the most casual remark, but dora answered it with the naive frankness that was her peculiar charm. "i am giving out my invitations for a sugaring-off," she said. "a sugaring-off!" repeated miss egerton gaily. "now i haven't the faintest idea what that is but it sounds very festive." dora looked at her questioningly and then at eleanor. "miss egerton," she said at last, "i should be very pleased to have you come too, because you are eleanor's dear friend." beatrice gave a little shriek of amusement. "are you really going, eleanor?" eleanor nodded. "then i shall certainly come too," declared beatrice, merrily, "to see that you don't eat too much sugar." as dora danced down the belden house steps a few moments later, her face was wreathed in smiles. miss wales was coming too. they were all coming. "i guess my father would be pleased if he could look in on us to-night," thought the little freshman happily. then, as the college clock chimed out the hour, her brow wrinkled with anxiety. the kitchen must be swept, --dora had decided views about mrs. bryant's housekeeping,--and the "surprise," which was to eke out the entertainment afforded by the sugaring-off proper, had yet to be prepared. the unaccustomed responsibilities of hostess weighed heavily upon dora carlson as she traversed the long mile that stretched between the campus and market street. it was an odd little party which gathered that night in mrs. bryant's dingy kitchen. the aggressive nettie dwight, two hopelessly commonplace sophomores, cousins, from a little town down the river, and dora composed the market street contingent. they were all very much in awe of eleanor's beauty, and of beatrice's elaborate gown and more elaborate manner. betty wales, enveloped in one of mrs. bryant's "all-over" kitchen aprons, vigorously stirring the big kettleful of bubbling, odorous syrup, tried her best to put the others at their ease and to make things go, as affairs at the college always did. but it was no use. everything progressed too smoothly. nothing burned or boiled over or refused to cook,--incidents which always add the spice of adventure to a chafing dish spread. nobody had come in a kimono. there was no bed to loll back on, no sociable sparcity of plates, no embarrassing interruptions in the way of heads of uninvited guests poked in the door and apologetically withdrawn; and the anxious pucker of hospitality on the face of the little hostess imposed an added restraint and formality upon the oddly assorted company of guests. beatrice egerton played with her rings, yawned without dissimulation, and wished she had stayed at home; eleanor bravely parried nettie dwight's incisive questions about "her set"; and betty, stirring and talking to the cousins and dora, had time to admire eleanor's self-control and to wonder pityingly if there were many girls in harding college so completely "out of it" as these four seemed to be. and yet they were not unhappy; they were enjoying dora carlson's sugaring-off as though it had been a delightful college spread instead of a dull and dreadful party. when the biscuits, that dora had made herself, were done and the sugar boiled to the right consistency, everybody began to brighten up, and the refreshment feature bade fair to be a real success. it was too late in the spring for snow, so dora had provided some little cakes of ice on which to wax the sugar. they were not quite so good a substitute as might have been desired, for they had a fashion of slipping dangerously over the plates, and then the hot sugar slipped and spread on the ice and had to be dexterously coaxed to settle down in one place and melt out a cool bed for itself, as it does easily enough in snow. but all this only added to the interest of the occasion. one sophomore cousin lost her cake of ice on the floor, and she showed more animation than she had in all the rest of the evening together, in spite of betty's valiant efforts. then nettie dwight suggested that they grain part of the sugar, so, when everybody had eaten as much as possible of the waxed variety, spread on as many crisp little biscuits as dora could force upon them, dora brought saucers full of the hot syrup and there was a stirring contest, with results in the shape of creamy maple candy, which dora put out to cool, ready to be eaten later. "and now," she said, with a little quiver of eagerness in her voice, "there is one course more. look under your plates." search revealed a carefully folded square of white paper at each place. beatrice got hers open first and muttered, "what perfect nonsense!" before eleanor could stop her with an imploring glance. "such a bright idea!" cried betty wales, hurrying to the rescue. "they're fortunes, aren't they? oh, dear, i'm afraid mine doesn't fit. it's much too grand." dora laughed gleefully. "that's the fun, you see,--to notice how they fit." "how'd you ever think of it?" giggled one of the cousins. "there's a man in mine all right." "oh, i didn't think of it myself," explained dora, modestly. "i found it in a magazine. i don't suppose any of you see the 'farmer's friendly counsellor.'" "no," said betty, quickly, "i don't believe we do." "it's a fine magazine," continued dora, "with quantities of good reading matter of all kinds. there's always one page for farmers' wives, with recipes and hints for home dressmakers. last winter i read about giving a luncheon, and it sounded so pretty that i cut it out, though i never expected to use it. right in the middle of it was one course like these fortunes, only they were to be put into stuffed peppers, instead of stuffing, and when the guests took the covers off their peppers, there they would find their fortunes." "but miss carlson," began beatrice, impatiently, "don't you see that the whole point--" "i like this way just as well," broke in betty wales. "what you really care about is the fortune, and it doesn't matter whether it's in a pepper or under your plate." "not a bit," agreed eleanor, crumpling up her fortune nervously. "and now," said dora, "we'll all read them out loud and see how they fit. i put them around without looking at them, and i didn't know where any of you were going to sit." "i guess mine fits pretty well," said the giggling cousin, whose fortune had a man in it. "then why don't you begin?" suggested betty, and the cousin began with avidity. dora had absolutely no literary ability; the spontaneous gaiety that bubbled up in all that she said and did was entirely lacking in the stiff, sentimental little character-sketch, but it pleased its reader, and betty and eleanor joined in declaring it very interesting. "now, eleanor," said betty, "you come next." eleanor shook her head. "i'm sorry, but i tore mine up before i knew we were to read them." she held up the crumpled ball of paper. "oh, you can smooth that out," said betty, noticing dora's disappointment. "here, give it to me." eleanor surrendered the paper in silence, and without glancing at the contents betty smoothed it out and passed it back. "now, eleanor." eleanor looked around the table. everybody was waiting. there was no escape. resolutely she pulled herself together and plunged in. "you are the soul of truth and honor and generosity. you never think of yourself, but are always trying to make other people happy. your noble nature is shown in your beautiful--" eleanor's voice faltered and she flushed painfully. "i can't go on," she said. "it's so--so--" she stopped in utter confusion. dora had been listening with shining eyes. "oh, please go on," she begged. "that's the very one i wrote for you. i didn't plan it a bit, but i hoped you'd get that one." the matter might have been adjusted easily enough, if beatrice, who was sitting between betty and dora, had not turned to betty with her oracular smile, and murmured, "a keen sense of irony for one so young, isn't it?" behind her hand. betty flushed in spite of herself and looked up to find dora staring at them with wide, startled eyes. she had caught the word irony, and distinctly remembered the succinct definition that she had learned years before at school--"saying the opposite of what you mean." she looked at eleanor who was struggling to regain her composure and attacked the situation with simple directness. "miss egerton," she said, "i couldn't avoid overhearing you just now. i don't see why any one should think i didn't mean what i wrote about eleanor. of course i meant it. you know i did, don't you, eleanor?" "of course you meant it," repeated eleanor, with an unsteady little laugh. "if you hadn't, i shouldn't have minded reading it. please forgive me." it was all over in a moment. before the three strangers had had time to wonder what the trouble was, betty had plunged gaily into her fortune. nettie followed eagerly, and beatrice had the grace to bring up the rear. there was the candy to eat after that and the party broke up with a fair semblance of mirth. but as she washed up the big pile of sticky dishes, dora's face was troubled. what could miss egerton have meant? why should eleanor's dearest and most intimate friend have said such a thing? how could she have thought it? eleanor walked home wrapped in a silence which betty's most vigorous sallies could not penetrate. long after dora had finished her dishes and gone to bed, she sat in her morris chair in the dark, wide-awake, every nerve throbbing painfully. she had failed dora carlson, spoiled the party that the poor child had so counted on, made her beatrice egerton's butt and laughing stock. dora would never wholly trust her again. she would wonder what beatrice had meant. by and by she would guess, and the friendship that eleanor had meant should brighten her college course, would be turned to a bitter memory. whether or not she ever knew the whole miserable story would make small difference. she, eleanor watson, had made dora waste her love on a cheat--a thief; she had made betty wales and miss ferris help a cheat. eleanor's face softened. betty had been awfully good to dora. perhaps, after all, she had not been the one to tell mr. blake. but betty's disappointment was not the worst thing. betty would make other friends-- find other interests. dora carlson was different; she had not the talent for making many friends, and in losing eleanor she would lose all she had. for the first time eleanor realized how mean and contemptible her action had been, because it did not concern herself alone, but involved every one of the people who cared about her--jim and her father, dora, betty, miss ferris. it was a short list; perhaps jean and kate denise cared a little too. she felt no resentment against beatrice. there was no room for it in the press of deeper emotions. her one idea was that she must do something to save them all. but what? creep away like a thief in the night--let them forget that she had ever been a disgrace to them and to --? eleanor's pride revolted against such a course, and yet what else was there to do? she had not even arrived at betty's half answer to the problem when she undressed in the silence of the great, sleeping house and, thoroughly tired with her long vigil, forgot the difficult tangle until morning. chapter xvii a may-day resolution the spring had been a late one at harding, but it had come at last with a sudden rush and a glare of breathless midsummer heat. the woods of paradise were alive with fresh young green, gay with bird songs, sweet with the smell of growing things. the campus too was bright in its new livery. the tulips in front of the hilton house flaunted their scarlet and gold cups in the sunshine. the great bed of narcissus around the side entrance of college hall sweetened the air with its delicate perfume, and out on the back campus the apple-trees, bare and brown only a day or so before, were wrapped in a soft pink mist that presaged the coming glory of bud and blossom. it was there, in the square of dappled sunshine and shadow under the apple-trees, at once the loveliest and most sequestered spot on the campus, that the harding girls were holding a may-day fete. it was a strictly impromptu affair. somebody had discovered at breakfast the day before that to-morrow would be may-day, and somebody else had suggested that as it was also saturday, there ought to be some sort of celebration. a may queen was decreed "too old"; a may masque too much trouble. then somebody said, "let's all just dress up as little girls and roll hoops," and the idea met with instant favor. it was passed along at chapel and morning classes, and at three o'clock the next afternoon the whole college, its hair in waving curls or tightly braided pig-tails, its skirts shortened, its waists lengthened and encircled by sashes, had gathered in the space under the apple-trees, carrying hoops, dolls and skipping ropes, intent on getting all the fun possible out of being little once more. there were all sorts of children there; little country girls with checked gingham aprons and sunbonnets, demure little puritan maids with cork- screw curls and pantalets, sturdy little girls in sailor suits, sweet little girls in ruffled muslins, tall little girls, all arms and ankles. there was even a topsy, gay in yellow calico, and an almond-eyed japanese whose long kimono and high-piled hair prevented her taking part in the active american games of her mates. the taller girls were necessarily absurd. some of the smaller ones were surprisingly realistic. and all, big and little, danced and laughed and squabbled, tripped over their skipping ropes, pursued their hoops or played with their dolls under the apple-trees in true "little girl" fashion and with the utmost zest and abandon. miss ferris's room at the hilton house overlooked the apple orchard, and presently she and miss raymond strolled out together to see the fun. they were greeted with a shout of joyous welcome from a noisy group in the farthest corner of the lawn, who immediately joined hands and came in a long, wavering line, "hippity-hopping" to meet them. "oh, miss ferris," called dorothy king from one end of the line, "we want you and miss raymond to be judge. which of us looks the youngest?" "we've been disputing about it all the afternoon," added mary brooks breathlessly from the middle of the line. "you see we're all dressed alike in white muslin and blue sashes. now miss raymond, don't i look lots younger than dottie?" "stand in a row," commanded miss ferris laughingly, and the chattering group straightened out demurely, with much nudging of elbows and planting of feet on an imaginary line. miss raymond and miss ferris considered a moment, and then held a brief consultation. "we both decide in favor of betty wales," announced miss ferris. "she looks about nine and none of the rest of you are under twelve." "there! what did i tell you!" shrieked betty gaily, her curls bobbing, her sash ends flying. "i protest," called katherine kittredge. "betty doesn't look over twelve any of the time, and the rest of us look twenty. we've taken off eight years and she's only dropped five. 'tain't fair!" and katherine burst into a beautiful "little girl" boohoo. "don't you wanter hold my dollie?" said mary brooks, tendering a handkerchief puppet to miss raymond with a perfect imitation of childish innocence. "oh, no, come an' tell us a story," begged babbie, twisting her white apron into a roll. "you'd ruther roll hoops, hadn't you?" said katherine to miss ferris. "please tie on my hair-ribbon," demanded bob, who in spite of a much beruffled dress and a resplendent array of doll and sash-ribbon, looked exactly as tomboyish as usual. miss ferris and miss raymond appeared to be properly amused by all this nonsense, and miss raymond, escorted by a little crowd of her special admirers, went on to the crest of the hill to see alice waiters doll party, which was being held on the grass at the top of the dust-pan slope. but miss ferris refused all the invitations. she had only come out for a moment, she said, and must go straight back to her work. betty and mary brooks walked over to the hilton house with her. when she had gone in betty seized mary's hand and pulled her around the corner of the house. "let's trill up to eleanor," she said. "i don't think she's been out at all." mary looked longingly back at the may party. "i believe--yes, they've found a hurdy-gurdy, betty. what's the use of bothering if she doesn't know enough to come down?" "just a minute," pleaded betty. "here she is. oh, eleanor, come out and watch, even if you haven't dressed up. it's piles of fun." "is it?" said eleanor uncertainly, touched by betty's constant thoughtfulness. "well, perhaps i will come later. i must finish a letter first." "finish a letter," echoed mary, "with that hurdy-gurdy going! i admire your concentration. betty, truly i can't stand it another minute. i'm going back." "all right. good-bye, eleanor. hurry up and come," called betty, flying after mary down the path. eleanor watson looked after them for a moment and then with a little despairing sigh sat down again at her desk. she was writing to jim. it was almost a month since she had sent off her last letter to him and yet there seemed to be nothing to say. she added a line or two, dropped her pen and went back to the window. the girls were dancing to the music of the hurdy-gurdy. alice waite was standing on the edge of the crowd, hugging a huge rag-doll in her arms as if it was her dearest treasure. eleanor shrugged her shoulders impatiently. the whole affair was perfectly absurd. she had told alice waite so at luncheon, in her haughtiest manner. she picked up a book from the table and began to read, but in spite of her determination to ignore it, her thoughts would wander to the pretty picture outside her window. the shouts and laughter, the gay babel of talk with the undertone of droning music rang in her ears. she slammed down her window, but still she could hear them. what a good time they were having! yes, they were absurd, with the absurdity that belongs to youth--happy, light-hearted, inconsequent youth. eleanor watson felt that she had left that sort of thing far behind her. before the summer when judge watson had brought home a gay young wife to take his daughter's place at the head of his household, before the night on the river when she had seen herself as harding college saw her, before the indian summer afternoon when she had fought and lost her battle on the stairway of the main building,--before those crises she could have been a happy little girl with the rest of them, but not now. her heart was full of bitter, passionate envy. how easy life was for them, while for her it seemed to grow harder and more impossible every day. in the week that had passed since the sugaring-off she had seen dora once, and she had been more hurt by the restraint and embarrassment that the child could not hide than by all that had gone before. how was she to win back dora's confidence and change betty's pity to respect? she could not stand that music another minute. she would go for a long walk--far enough at least to escape from hurdy-gurdies and chattering girls. she got her hat, pulled on a light silk coat, for in spite of the unseasonable heat the late afternoon would be cool, and hurried down- stairs. hastening through the lower hall she almost ran into miss ferris, the last person she wanted to meet. "my dear," miss ferris cut short her apology, "we evidently have too much to think about, both of us." she looked at eleanor keenly. "why aren't you out being a little girl with the rest of them?" she asked. "i didn't feel like it, miss ferris," said eleanor, turning away from the searching gray eyes, "i was going for a walk instead." "alone?" "yes." "then"--miss ferris hesitated--"may i come too, or don't you want me?" for an astute person miss ferris developed all at once an amazing density. she did not seem to notice the ungracious stiffness of eleanor's assent. "good!" she cried enthusiastically, running off like a girl to get ready. eleanor waited, her face set in hard lines of resentful endurance. she could not openly insult miss ferris, who had been kindness itself to her all the year, but she would be as cold and offish as she pleased. "now which way shall we go?" asked miss ferris eagerly as they started off. "it makes no difference to me, miss ferris." eleanor's tone was frigidly courteous. "then suppose we go to paradise. it's always lovely there." almost in silence they climbed down the steep slope that leads to the water path, crossed the sunny stretch of meadow land and came out into the dim, silent wood beyond. here the path widened and miss ferris, who had led the way, waited for eleanor to come up with her. "isn't it beautiful?" she said with a little catch in her voice. "there's nothing quite like the woods in spring, is there? oh, i'm so glad i ran away!" "ran away?" questioned eleanor. "yes, from my work and my worries and myself out into this big, beautiful, new world. doesn't it make you wish you could send out fresh shoots and blossoms yourself, and help make the world glad?" "i'm afraid not," said eleanor coldly, and again she felt the gray eyes, keen and yet very kindly, fastened on her face. a turn in the path brought the end of the grove into view. "oh, dear!" exclaimed miss ferris sadly. "i'd forgotten that paradise was so very small. let's go back to that big pine-tree with the great gnarled roots and sit down by the water and forget that we aren't lost in a lovely primeval wilderness." eleanor followed her in silence and they found seats on the roots of the big tree, eleanor choosing one as far as she dared from her companion. "and now," said miss ferris, as soon as they were settled, "tell me all about it." "about what?" inquired eleanor steadily. "what you were running away from." eleanor flushed angrily. "miss ferris, did any one ask you to--" "no," said miss ferris quickly. "no one told me that you were in trouble. i wish some one had. i'm afraid i've been very blind. i've let you worry yourself almost ill over something and never asked you if i could help. i've been so busy being proud of you this year that i've never even noticed how tired and worn out you were getting." "proud!" repeated eleanor, scornfully. "yes," said miss ferris, firmly, "proud. you've made a splendid record, miss watson,--a remarkable record, considering last year." "please don't. you wouldn't say that if you understood." miss ferris looked puzzled. "don't tell me anything that you'd rather not," she said, "but there is one thing that a friend always wants to know. do you see your way out, miss watson?" "there isn't any way out." "oh, but i think there is always one somewhere," said miss ferris, brightly. "you're quite sure we couldn't find it between us?" "quite sure." "if you ever change your mind--" "thank you," said eleanor, curtly. there was a little silence. "we runaways mustn't be gone too long. have you any idea what time it is?" asked miss ferris. eleanor did not answer, and miss ferris looked up to find her crying softly, her face hidden in one hand, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. for a moment miss ferris watched her without speaking. then she moved nearer and stretched out her hand to take eleanor's free one. "i'm very, very sorry," she said kindly. "i wish i could have helped." [illustration: eleanor did not answer] to her surprise eleanor's sobs ceased suddenly. "i'd rather tell any one else," she said wearily. "i hate to have you despise me, miss ferris." for answer miss ferris only gave the hand she held a soft, friendly little squeeze. then it came out--the sad, shameful story in a fierce, scornful torrent of words. when it was told, eleanor lifted her head and faced miss ferris proudly. "now you know." she said. "now you can see that i was right-- that there isn't any way out." miss ferris waited a moment. "miss watson," she said at last, "i can't feel quite as you do about it. i think that if you honestly regret what you did, if you are bound to live it down, if you know that in all your life long you are never going to do anything of the sort again,--never going to want anything badly enough to play false for it,--why then the way out is perfectly plain. that is the way out--to let this time teach you never to do anything of the sort again." eleanor shook her head hopelessly. "but don't you see that i can't put it behind me--that i can't live it down, as you say. the girls won't let me forget that i was taken into dramatic club the first time. they won't let me forget that i am the only sophomore who is practically sure of a place on the 'argus' board. i tried--" eleanor gave a pitiful little history of her efforts to establish her literary reputation on a fair basis with the song and the story. "i see," said miss ferris, thoughtfully. "miss watson, if i understand you correctly, you find yourself in the position of a man who, having stolen a precious stone, repents and strains every nerve to pay for his treasure. but as he is commonly supposed to be the lawful owner of the stone, his neighbors naturally resent his eagerness to gain more riches and consider him grasping. it's going to be very hard for you to earn that stone, isn't it?" "the thing to do," said eleanor with quick decision, "is to give it back." miss ferris waited. "i don't know that you will believe me," eleanor went on after a minute, "because it seems so unlikely; but this is the first time i ever thought of resigning from dramatic club." "you must remember," said miss ferris, quietly, "that if you should resign now, you would never be voted into the society again, no matter how much your work might deserve recognition." "yes," said eleanor. "and that so unusual a proceeding will create comment. people who don't understand will be likely to say unpleasant things." "i don't believe i should mind--much," said eleanor, unsteadily. "it's the people who do understand that i care about--and myself. i want to feel that i've done a little something to repair damages. of course this won't make things just right. some other girl in -- ought to have been in the first four, but it will be something, won't it?" "yes," said miss ferris, soberly. "i should say it would be a great deal." the walk back through the green aisle of wood and thicket was almost as silent as the walk out had been, but there was a new spring in eleanor's step and an expression of resolute relief on her face that had not been there an hour before. as they turned into the campus eleanor broke silence. "miss ferris, if the man should return the stone, do you think he ought to confess to having stolen it?" miss ferris looked up at the orchard on the hill where the girls were dispersing with much talk and laughter, with gay good-byes and careless snatches of song, and then back to the girl beside her. "no," she said at last. "if we were all old in the ways of this world and wise and kind enough, it might do, but not now, i think. i agree with the girls who have been keeping your secret. i believe you can accomplish more for others and for yourself, in the large sense, by stating no reason for your action. i know we can trust you." "thank you," said eleanor. then all at once a strong revulsion of feeling overcame her. "but i haven't promised to resign. i don't believe i can do it. think what it will mean to drop out of things--to be thought queerer than ever--to--" "caught red-handed!" cried a mocking voice behind them, and three stealthy figures bounded out from a tangle of shrubbery. betty, madeline and mary brooks had come down the hill by the back path and, making a detour to leave rachel at the gate nearest her "little white house round the corner," had discovered the truants and stolen upon them unaware. "we're sorry you both had so much to do," said betty, demurely. "and that you don't appreciate may parties," added mary. "and haven't a proper feeling for hurdy-gurdies," finished madeline. "ah, but you can't tell what deep philosophical problems we may have been working out answers for down in paradise," said miss ferris, playfully. betty slipped a soft arm around eleanor's waist. "i'd rather go for a walk with her than to any may party that was ever invented," she whispered. "isn't she just splendid?" "yes," agreed eleanor, solemnly, "so splendid that i guess i can't live up to her, betty." "nonsense! that's the very reason why she is splendid--that she makes people live up to her, whether they can or not." and then, feeling that she was treading on delicate ground, betty hastily changed the subject. "i wonder," she asked the green lizard that night, "i wonder if she could have been telling miss ferris about it, and if they were talking it over when we three big blunderers rushed up to them. oh, dear!" then she added aloud to helen, who was vigorously doing breathing exercises before her mirror, "i guess i'll go and see mary brooks. i feel like being amused." helen let her breath out with a convulsive gasp. "i saw her go out," she said. "she went right after supper." "then," said betty, decidedly, "you've got to stop breathing and amuse me yourself." chapter xviii triumphs and troubles "aren't you going to have any breakfast, betty?" helen chase adams coming up from her own hasty monday morning repast, paused in the door to stare at her roommate, who stood in a cleared space in the middle of the floor with diaphanous clouds of beflowered dimity floating about her feet. "breakfast!" repeated betty, mournfully. "it just struck eight, didn't it? i don't know how i'm going to have any now unless i cut chapel and go down town for it. on mondays i have classes all the morning long, and i haven't half studied anything either, because of that hateful may party." "then why did you begin on your dress?" inquired helen with annoying acuteness. "helen," said betty, tragically, "i haven't a single muslin to my name, since i tore my new one and the laundry tore my old one, and i thought if i could only get this hung then i could be putting in the tucks at odd minutes, when people come in, you know. i didn't think it would take a minute and i've been half an hour just looking at it." "isn't it rather long?" asked helen, with a critical glance at the filmy pile on the floor. "why, that's the tucks," explained betty, impatiently. "and the only reason i had tucks instead of ruffles was because i thought they'd be easier. shouldn't you have thought tucks would be easier, helen?" "i shouldn't have known." "well, i guess they're both bad enough," agreed betty, gloomily. "i was foolish to try to make a dress, but i thought if nita and the b's could, i could. the waist wasn't any trouble, because emily davis helped me, but it isn't much use without a skirt." "let me know if i can do anything," said helen, politely, opening the volume of elizabethan lyrics which had succeeded "the canterbury tales" as pabulum for the class in english literature ii. betty kicked at the enveloping cloud savagely. "if only it would stay down somewhere, so i could tell where the bottom ought to be." she gave a little cry of triumph,--"i have it!" and reaching over to her bookshelves she began dropping books in an even circle around her feet. an instant later there was a crash and the thud of falling books. "there!" said betty, resignedly. "that bookcase has come to pieces again. it's as toppley on its legs as a ten-cent doll. never mind, helen. i can reach them beautifully now and i will truly pick them all up afterward." she dropped a solid geometry beside a "greene's history of the english people," and stooped gingerly down to move "alice in wonderland" a trifle to one side, so that it should close the circle. then she looked doubtfully at helen, who was again deep in her lyrics. "helen," she said at last, "would you mind awfully if i asked you to put in some pins for me? if i stoop down to put them in myself, the books move and i can't tell where the pins ought to go." helen had just put in the last pin with painful deliberation, and was crawling around her necessarily immovable model to see that she had made no mistakes, when the door opened with a flourish and mary brooks appeared. "what in the world!" she began, blinking near-sightedly at betty in her circle of books, at the ruins of the "toppley" bookcase lying in a confused heap beside her, and at helen, red and disheveled, readjusting pins. then she gave a shriek of delight and rushing upon betty fastened something to her shirt-waist. "get up!" she commanded helen. "hurry now, or you'll certainly be killed." in a twinkling the room was full of girls, shrieking, laughing, dancing, tumbling over the books, sinking back on betty's couch in convulsions of mirth at the absurd spectacle she presented and getting up to charge into the vortex of the mob and hug her frantically or shake her hand until it ached. it was fully five minutes before betty could extricate herself from their midst, and with her trailing draperies limp and bedraggled over one arm, make her way to helen, who was standing by herself in a corner, quietly enjoying the fun. "helen," she cried, catching the demure little figure in her arms, "helen, just think of it! i'm in dramatic club. oh, helen chase adams, how did it ever happen?" the room cleared out gradually after that, and the nicest part, betty thought, was having the people you liked best tell you in intelligible english and comparative quiet how very glad they were. "i never in all my life saw anybody look so funny as you did when we came in," said mary brooks at last. "what were you doing, anyway?" "hanging a skirt," explained betty, with great dignity. "was it going to have a court train all the way around?" inquired mary. "tell her, helen," commanded betty. "that was tucks, mary," repeated helen, obediently, and then everybody laughed. under cover of the mirth betty sought out dorothy. "where's eleanor?" she whispered. "she went off for sunday with polly eastman," dorothy explained. "and betty, she's a trump after all. she--but i think perhaps she'd rather tell you herself." "betty," broke in nita reese, "you must hurry and get dressed. you'll have to appear at chapel, if you never get that skirt hung." "yes," said betty, meekly. "and i'll go and bribe the new maid, who hasn't learned the rules yet, to send you up some breakfast," put in madeline, the watchful. nita went off to make her bed and dorothy to see mary's prom. dress which had just been sent on from home. presently the new maid appeared with toast and coffee and regrets that "the eggs was out, miss," and betty sat down at her desk to eat, while helen, the elizabethan lyrics quite forgotten, rocked happily beside her. "helen," said betty, a spoonful of hot coffee held aloft in one hand, consternation hiding her dimples, "what in the world shall i do? i told you i hadn't studied anything, and i can't flunk now." "oh, they won't call on you to-day," said helen hopefully, counting the dramatic club pins that made betty's shirt-waist look like a small section of a jeweler's window. "aren't they pretty?" said betty, touching them lovingly. "i hope the girls know which is which, because i don't. the one with the pearl gone is bob's, of course, and dorothy's is marked on the back, and that's mary's, because she always pins it on wrong side up. one of the others is christy's, and one is that sweet miss west's--she writes poetry, you know, and is on the 'argus.' wasn't it lovely of her to pin it on me?" "i should think anybody would be glad to have you wear their pin," said helen loyally, if ungrammatically. "but to think the society wanted me!" said betty in awe-struck tones. "helen, you know they never do take a person unless she amounts to something, now do they? but what in the world do i amount to?" "does being an all-around girl count?" asked helen. "because the senior that is such a friend of eleanor watson's said you were that, and that's what you wanted to be, isn't it? but i think myself," she added shyly, "that your one talent, that we used to talk about last year, you know, is being nice to everybody." the journey to chapel was a triumphal procession. the girls said such pleasant things. could they possibly be true, betty wondered. nan would be pleased to know that she was somebody at last, even if she had missed the team both years, and was always being mistaken for a freshman. sitting beside dorothy, with the eight pins on her shirtwaist, and a guilty consciousness that miss mills, who taught "lit. ii" was staring at them from the faculty row, betty resolved that she was going to be different--to keep her room in order, not to do ridiculous things at ridiculous times, and always to study monday's lessons. "i have tried harder lately," she thought, but it was reassuring outside chapel to have miss mills stop to shake hands and miss hale say something about being glad that betty had turned out a thoroughly good student. mary brooks said the same thing. "it's funny, betty, how your innocent, baby airs belie you. if we'd guessed what a splendid record you'd made this year, we'd have taken you in even sooner." wherefore betty was glad that she had looked up all the history references and stayed at home from the westcott house dance to write a zoology report that professor lawrence himself had called excellent, and done her best with the "canterbury tales." "i have done better than i used to last year," she thought happily, "but it wasn't for this, not one bit. it was because a person is ashamed not to do her best up here." "will you take a few notes, please?" said miss mills in crisp, businesslike tones, and betty woke up to the fact that she had not answered to her name in the roll. "she saw you, though," whispered christy, "and she was properly amused." miss mills had finished her lecture and the class in "lit. ii" was making its leisurely exit, when jean eastman caught up with betty. "glad you've gone into the great and only," she said with a hearty hand- shake. "and what do you think about the lady eleanor's latest escapade?" "i don't know what you mean, jean," said betty quickly, remembering dorothy's hint, and wondering why eleanor hadn't come to chapel, since polly was there, and she and eleanor would surely have come back together. "why, resigning from dramatic club, of course. didn't she consult you about it?" "jean, do you mean that eleanor--has resigned--from dramatic club?" pleasure and bewilderment struggled for the mastery of betty's face. "yes," said jean carelessly. "funny you hadn't heard of it, because it's the talk of the whole college. she sent a note in saturday night, it seems, but nobody outside heard of it till this morning, and now we're all speculating over the whys and wherefores. the clio girls say that if she did it because she thought she'd rather go into that, she will be doomed to everlasting disappointment. for my part i don't think that was her reason." jean's tone hinted of deep mysteries. "of course not," said betty indignantly. "can't they see, jean, that a girl has got to have a big, splendid reason for doing a thing like that?" "a big reason all right, but i don't know about the splendor," returned jean cheerfully, shouldering her way across the stream of girls in the hall to join beatrice egerton. to jean's disappointment beatrice had nothing to say about the resignation, except that it was eleanor's own affair and that all the talk about it was utter nonsense. then jean, warming to her work, ventured a direct attack. "but miss egerton, wasn't there something queer about that story of eleanor's--the one that got her in? you were going to tell me once, but you never did." "i was going to tell you once, but i never did?" repeated beatrice with an extreme affability which those who knew her better than jean would have recognized as dangerous. "go and ask eleanor watson that question if you care to, miss eastman. i admire her far too much to wish to discuss her private affairs with you. thank you, i should like to go to your house-play, but i have another engagement. the night isn't set? but really, i'm so busy just now i can't promise, you know." beatrice egerton had not spent four years at harding college for nothing. she was incapable of heroism herself, but she could appreciate certain types of it in others, and she was bitterly ashamed of the part she had played in eleanor's affairs. "miss wales," she said an hour later, when her path from class to class crossed with betty's, "where is eleanor? i can't wait another minute to see her." betty explained that eleanor had not appeared at chapel or morning classes. "then i suppose," said beatrice impulsively, "that i am one of the people she's trying to avoid. go and see her the first chance you have, miss wales, and tell her that i admire her grit--and that i'm too much ashamed of myself to come and say so. now don't forget. did you ever see such duds as the pickle heiress wears? perfect rags!" the mocking, insolent beatrice was back again, the more debonnaire for the effort that her confession had cost. betty meditated cutting her eleven o'clock class, decided that with those eight pins on it would never do, and tried not to be glad that a severe headache prevented mademoiselle from meeting her french division at twelve. she walked down to the hilton house with a chattering little freshman, one of polly eastman's chums and a devoted admirer of eleanor's. "it's too bad that eleanor watson felt she ought to give up dramatic club, isn't it?" said the girl. "some of the girls think it was an awfully queer thing to do, but i think it's fine to put your work first when you don't feel strong enough to do everything." "yes, indeed," agreed betty cordially, glad to be able to meet her on her own ground. "polly is afraid," volunteered the little freshman, "that eleanor is going to break down. she's had to drop themes, too, you know. polly said they almost missed their train saturday night because eleanor would wait to write to miss raymond about it, when anybody could see that monday would have done just as well. and she was so tired that she cried while she was writing the note." betty shook off her loquacious companion by stopping on the second floor to see a girl who was sure to be out, and went on up the back stairway to eleanor's corner. there was no answer to her knock, and after a second trial she deliberately opened the door and went in. eleanor lay in a forlorn disheveled little heap on her couch. her cheeks were flushed with crying, her eyes rimmed with dark circles that made them look bigger and brighter than ever. "oh, i thought the door was locked," she cried, when betty appeared. "but luckily for me it wasn't." betty took her up brightly, dropping sociably down to the couch beside her. "you dear old eleanor," she went on quickly, "i've come to tell you that dorothy thinks you're a trump and beatrice egerton thinks you're a brick and i'm so proud of you i don't know what to do. there now!" "oh, betty, you can't be, after everything." eleanor shook off the clinging arms and sat up among the pillows. "listen," she commanded. "it isn't fair for me to take anything from you after what i've thought. i had a letter from mr. blake this morning. he has been very nice to me about the story, betty. and he said he felt that he ought to tell me what good friends i had here. so now i know all about it, but oh, betty! i'd thought such horrid things--" "never mind that now," said betty. "please don't tell me. it would only hurt both of us, and it wouldn't be any use that i can see." [illustration: "never mind that now," said betty] "i'm a coward, too," eleanor went on steadily. "i was afraid to see beatrice, and now i'm afraid to see jean and all the rest of them. oh, betty, i can't bear to have people think i'm a freak. if i could take those two notes back i would this minute. i hate giving things up. there, now you know just how mean i am." "no," said betty, gently, "i only know how tired you are and how much you needed some one to come in and tell you that we are all ready to stand by you." eleanor waited a minute before she answered. "betty," she said at last, an uncertain little smile fluttering about her mouth, "shall you be glad when you've got me through college?" then she straightened with sudden energy. "this is your day, betty,"--she pointed to the pins,--"and i won't spoil another minute of it. of course there isn't any use in hiding up here. i promise to go down to lunch and to take what's coming to me, and do the best i can. now run and let the rest of the college congratulate you." "and if the chapin house girls should have a spread to-night over at rachel's--" began betty, doubtfully. "i'll come. i'll even be the life of the party. only you're not to worry about me one instant longer." eleanor kept her word to the letter for the rest of the day, but the weeks that followed were necessarily full of ups and downs, of petty humiliations and bitter discouragements, and betty uncomplainingly shared them all. the editors did what little they could, and madeline and miss ferris and katherine and rachel helped without understanding anything except that betty wanted them to; but the brunt of it all fell on her. "i can't bother miss ferris with my blues," said eleanor one afternoon, "and i know i oughtn't to bother you with them." "nonsense!" laughed betty. "i like being bothered," and did not mention that she had given up the golf tournament because the practice would have interfered with her position as eleanor's confidante. there were nice things to share too. miss raymond wrote a prompt and cordial answer to eleanor's note about the theme course. "after your action of last week, i see no reason why you should not continue in my classes on the old, pleasant footing. please don't deprive me of the privilege of seeing your work." there was a note from the dramatic club too. dorothy had managed to get herself and beatrice and frances made a special committee to consider the resignation--the first in the annals of the society,--and they decided to accept it for one year from its date. after that, they said, they saw no reason "to deprive the society of a valued member." betty was delighted, but eleanor shook her head. "i may not have earned it even then," she said gloomily. "leave it to miss ferris," suggested betty. "she'll be a perfectly fair judge. if she says you can take it then, you will know it's all right." and to this arrangement, after some hesitation, eleanor consented. a week or two later bob came to eleanor, in a sad state of embarrassment. "it's about the basket-ball song, eleanor. the committee never saw it. babe was chairman, you know, and she put her shoulder out of joint playing hockey the day the songs were called in, so i emptied the box for her. i remember i stopped in my room on the way back and i must have dropped yours there. anyhow it turned up to-day in my top drawer. i'm awfully sorry." eleanor took the song and read through a stanza or two, while bob wriggled, blushed and waited for the storm to burst. she had heard a good deal about eleanor watson's uncertain temper. but at first eleanor only laughed. "goodness! what jiggly meter! it's lucky you lost it, bob." "no," said bob, sturdily. "it was a dandy song, one of the best that came in. babe said so too. i am really awfully sorry. i'm too careless to live." "well, you were lucky not to have found it a month ago," said eleanor, with a sudden flash of anger, and bob departed, wondering. "little things do make a big difference," said betty, when she heard the story. "if they'd chosen it and everybody had said how clever it was--" "i should have felt that i'd squared my account--proved that i could do what i hadn't done, and i should never have owned up to anybody." "then you really ought to have been nicer to bob," laughed betty, "because she helped you to come to the point." "yes, that helped," eleanor admitted, soberly, "just as dora helped and beatrice in her way and jim in his; but you were the one who meant to help, betty. you got me the chance to begin over, and you made up my mind for me about taking it, and you've kept me to it ever since." "but el--" "now let's not argue about it," laughed eleanor. "i only wanted to say that i'm going to try to be nice to you to the extent of 'staying put' this time. i don't mean that you shall have to waste your junior year over me." chapter xix good-byes "oh, betty wales, what's your hurry?" betty, who had strolled up main street with emily davis and now was walking back alone, turned to see eleanor and dora carlson coming down the steps of the house behind her. "we're hunting rooms," explained eleanor, gaily, "the most systematic hunt you ever heard of. we went to every possible house on the other side on the way up, and then we came back on this side, doing the same thing. so if you want any pointers--" "but you're not going off the campus, eleanor," asked betty anxiously. "oh, no, it's a room for me," interposed dora, with an adoring glance at eleanor. "i've always longed to live up among the elm-trees of main street, but i knew its glories were not for me until--" "dora," warned eleanor, laughingly, "i told you not to mention elm-trees again this afternoon." she turned to betty. "they all come down to two possibilities. which should you prefer, a big room with a microscopic closet or a microscopic room with an enormous closet?" "oh, the one with the big closet," said betty, decidedly. "i've tried the other, you know." "and unknown horrors are always preferable to familiar ones," laughed eleanor. dora left them at the next corner and as soon as she was out of hearing betty turned upon eleanor. "well," she said, "i've caught you in the act, and i think it's perfectly lovely of you. college will be a different place to her if she can live up here somewhere near things." "it will be nicer for her, i think," said eleanor, simply. "but betty, i'm not doing much,--just making her a little present of the difference between mrs. bryant's prices and the very cheapest ones up here. i can do as much as that, i hope, after spoiling her sugaring-off party; and i really don't need that extra-priced room again." "you mean," said betty, in amazement, "that you're going to give up your corner-room with the three windows and the lovely burlap hangings?" eleanor nodded. "it wouldn't be much of a present from me if i just asked father for the money." "eleanor," said betty, solemnly, "i don't believe i could do it." "but it's really all your doing, betty. if it hadn't been for you, i shouldn't have known dora carlson, and i shouldn't be here now. besides, you set the example with helen. so if you don't like it, there's only yourself to thank, you see," ended eleanor, playfully. "no, i don't see,--not one bit," declared betty. "you'll be telling me that i'm responsible for the way you recite next." "well, you are, partly," laughed eleanor, turning off to the hilton. betty went up-stairs behind two strange girls who were evidently expecting to be in the belden house next year. "of course the fourth floor is a long way up," one was saying, "and i suppose it's hot sometimes. but if i can get a single room there, i'd rather have it, wouldn't you?" "well, perhaps," answered the other doubtfully. "no perhapses about it, my friend," thought betty, turning off to her own quarters. rooms and roommates--the air was full of them! and to-morrow was the day that the belden house matron had appointed for settling all such matters. betty could have a single room, if she wanted it, on the other side of madeline ayres, and she had almost made up her mind to take it. to be sure, it did seem a little hard on helen. nobody in the house had approached her on the subject of roommates, betty felt sure of that; she would have to be "assigned" with some outsider. well, why not? if she didn't take the trouble to make friends, of course she would have to suffer the consequences. and yet--if eleanor had really been influenced by what she had tried to do for helen, wouldn't it be mean to back out now? "but eleanor has decided already," thought betty, "and there's no reason why i should keep on bothering with helen forever. i don't believe she's one bit happier for it." helen looked up expectantly when betty came in. after all she was a sweet little thing; her face lighted up wonderfully at times. "what's the news, helen?" betty asked. "you look as if something extra nice had happened." "why no," answered helen, "unless you count that i've learned my latin for tomorrow." the answer was just like her, betty reflected with a sigh. she might improve a great deal, but she would be a "dig" to the end of the chapter. as she dressed, betty tried to lead up gradually to the subject of rooms by telling about the two strange girls she had met in the hall. but it was no use; helen preserved the same gentle, obtuse silence that had kept betty from opening the subject before. little by little her courage oozed out, and with the ringing of the supper-bell she surrendered. "i can't do it," she told the green lizard savagely. "she thinks we're settled here forever and i can't bear to disappoint her. it's not generosity though; it's just hating to make a fuss." at supper all the girls were talking about rooms. "i'm first on the waiting list for singles," nita reese announced, "but i might as well be first on the waiting list for a trip to the moon, i suppose. nobody ever gives up a chance at a single." betty opened her mouth to tell nita the sad truth, saw helen looking at her queerly, and shut it again. it would be time enough for nita to hear of her good fortune to-morrow. after supper helen hurried back to her work and betty joined a merry party on the piazza, went for a moonlight stroll on the campus, helped serenade dorothy king, and finally, just as the ten o'clock bell was pealing warningly through the halls, rushed in upon helen in a state of breathless excitement. "helen," she cried, "t. reed's coming into the belden and you never told me." "i didn't know till this afternoon." "then that was the piece of news i saw in your face. why didn't you tell it?" "why, i don't know--" "helen," cried betty, with a sudden inspiration, "you and t. reed want to room together." "oh, betty, theresa couldn't have gone and said so!" helen looked the picture of distress. "nobody went and said so till you did just now," laughed betty. "oh, helen, why didn't you tell me?" "why didn't you tell me that you'd rather room alone?" then they both laughed and, sitting close together on helen's bed in the dark, talked it all over. "you've been just lovely," helen said. "you've given me all the good times i've had--except theresa. but you couldn't make it any different from what it is. i never shall know how to get along the way other girls do, and theresa is a good deal the same way, except that she can play basket-ball. so i guess we belong together." "you needn't think you'll be rid of me," said betty. "i shall be just two doors away, and i shall come in and bother you when you want to work and take you walking and ask you to hook up my dresses, just as i do now. helen, how fast things are getting settled." "they'd better be," said helen. "there's only two weeks left of our sophomore year." for a long time betty lay awake, staring at the patch of moonlight on the floor beside her bed. "how mean i should have felt, if i'd told her when she wouldn't tell me," she thought. "i wonder if it's all right now. i wonder if next year is going to be as perfect as it seems. i wonder--" betty wales was asleep. five minutes later she woke from a cat-nap that had turned her last thoughts into a very realistic dreamland. "no," she decided, "it won't be quite perfect. dorothy will be gone." those are the good-byes that count--the ones you must say to the seniors. dorothy would come back to visit the college, of course, and to attend class reunions, but that would not be the same thing as living next door to her all through the year. betty was not going to stay to commencement. sophomores were only in everybody's way then, she thought, and she preferred to say good-bye to dorothy before the onslaught of families, alumnae and friends should have upset the regular routine of life and made the seniors seem already lost to the college world. packing was worse than ever this year, and examinations could not have been more inconveniently arranged, but in spite of everything betty slipped off on her last evening for a few minutes with dorothy. the belden house was a pandemonium, the piazzas deserted, the hot rooms ablaze with lights, the halls noisy with the banging of trunk-lids and the cries of distracted damsels; but the hilton, either because it had more upper-class girls who were staying to commencement, or because its freshmen and sophomores were of a serener temperament, showed few signs of "last days." the piazza was full, as it always was on warm nights, and a soft little crooning song was wafted across the lawn to betty's ears. dorothy was singing. her voice was not highly cultivated, but it was the kind of voice that has a soul in it--which is better than much training. as betty stole softly up to the piazza, so as not to interrupt the song, and found a place on the railing, she remembered her first evening in harding. how forlorn and frightened she had been, and how lovely dorothy was to her. well, she had been just as lovely ever since. dorothy's song stopped suddenly. "girls, i can't sing to-night," she said. "it's--so--warm. and besides, betty wales has come to see me on a very particular errand, haven't you, betty, dear?" up in dorothy's room, in the dusk, nobody said much of anything. there is never much left to say at the last. but dorothy had a way of putting things and of looking at things that was like nobody's else, betty thought; and when she said, "i know i can trust you to work for the democratic, helpful spirit and to keep down cliques and snobbishness and see that everybody has a fair chance and a good time," betty felt more pleased than she had about her election to dramatic club. she had been dorothy's lieutenant. now she must be dorothy's successor, and it was a great honor and a greater responsibility--but first she must pack her trunks. on the way home she overtook roberta. "i'm in the belden, betty," she announced, breathlessly, "and there are a lot of things i want to ask you and mary about, but i can't stay long, because those dear little freshmen are going to give me a good-bye spread." "those snippy freshmen?" laughed betty. "oh, but they came around after the jabberwock party, just as you said they would. it was an impromptu party, betty. i did it the night sara westervelt was there, and somebody stole the ice cream. that's why you weren't invited." up-stairs the rest of the "old guard" were sitting on boxes, trunks and the floor, waiting to say good-bye to betty and meanwhile being entertained by madeline ayres, who was giving a lively account of her experience with a washwoman. "she said, 'it's twinty white skirruts oi have to do up now, me dear,' and i said, 'but i can't go without a skirt, mrs. mulvaney, and everybody who doesn't wear white to chapel will be expelled, and then where will your goose that lays the golden eggs be?' 'shure, i kape no geese, me dear,' said she, and--oh, here's betty." "finish up," demanded katherine. "oh, there isn't any more," said madeline, "except that she's just sent the skirt home, and it isn't mine, but it fits rather well, doesn't it, and i can't possibly return it before chapel, now can i?" "is that the way they do in bohemia?" said mary, severely. "betty, i've got to have half your bed to-night. an alum, who came on from san francisco got mixed in her dates and appeared a day too early. and as she is a particular pal of the matron and i am notoriously good-natured, she's got my room." "to think of it," said katherine, impressively, "and you a senior next week." "and we juniors next week!" said rachel. "it doesn't seem possible, does it? here's to hoping we shall all be back next year." "what a forlorn toast!" said katherine, who knew better than the rest how hard it was for rachel to make both ends meet. "here's to hoping that we all go on as splendidly as we've begun!" "you have done tolerably well so far, children," said mary, beaming around the group. "see the society pins bristle in our midst!" said katherine, with melodramatic gestures in the direction of mary, betty, and of rachel, who wore the clio club insignia proudly. "and we've got the college beauty," added betty quickly. "and the jabberwock," put in eleanor. "please don't forget the basket-ball stars," suggested katherine, with becoming modesty. "nor the basket-ball song," added rachel, smiling at helen. "so many honors," laughed betty. "do you suppose we've left anything for next year?" "the song of the classes talks about 'jolly juniors,'" said rachel. "that sounds as if there would be plenty of fun in it." "there is; junior year is the nicest one in college," declared mary. "it can't be," objected katherine, "because each year has been as nice as it possibly could." "unless you were foolish enough to spoil it," whispered eleanor in betty's ear. roberta suddenly remembered her waiting freshmen, mary offered to escort her to mrs. chapin's, and the other three declared they must go home to their packing. betty and the girl from bohemia went to the head of the stairs to see them off. it was not exactly good-bye, because there were chances of meeting at chapel and the station, but it was near enough to it to be a little sad. "oh, dear, i hate endings," said betty, waving her hand to eleanor. "do you?" said the girl from bohemia. "you'd get used to them if you lived my scrappy, now-here-and-now-there kind of life. you'd find out that one thing has to end before another can begin, and that each new one is too good to miss." "um--perhaps," said betty, doubtfully. "any how we've got to take the chance. so here's to junior year!" the end [illustration: "good-bye, joe!"] baseball joe at yale or pitching _for the_ college championship _by_ lester chadwick author of "baseball joe of the silver stars," "baseball joe on the school nine," "the rival pitchers," "batting to win," "the winning touchdown," etc. _illustrated_ [illustration] new york cupples & leon company =books by lester chadwick= =the baseball joe series= = mo. cloth. illustrated= baseball joe of the silver stars or the rivals of riverside baseball joe on the school nine or pitching for the blue banner baseball joe at yale or pitching for the college championship (_other volumes in preparation_) =the college sports series= = mo. cloth. illustrated= the rival pitchers a story of college baseball a quarter-back's pluck a story of college football batting to win a story of college baseball the winning touchdown a story of college football the eight-oared victors a story of college water sports (_other volumes in preparation_) =cupples & leon company, new york= copyright, , by cupples & leon company =baseball joe at yale= printed in u. s. a. contents chapter page i just in time ii a home conference iii one last game iv a sneering laugh v off for yale vi on the campus vii a new chum viii ambitions ix the shampoo x a wild night xi the red paint xii joe's silence xiii early practice xiv the surprise xv his first chance xvi joe makes good xvii another step xviii plotting xix the anonymous letter xx the cornell host xxi eager hearts xxii the crimson spot xxiii joe's triumph xxiv hard luck xxv at west point xxvi a sore arm xxvii the accusation xxviii vindication xxix bucking the tiger xxx the championship baseball joe at yale chapter i just in time "joe matson, i can't understand why you don't fairly jump at the chance!" "because i don't want to go--that's why." "but, man alive! half the fellows in riverside would stand on their heads to be in your shoes." "perhaps, tom. but, i tell you i don't think i'm cut out for a college man, and i don't want to go," and joe matson looked frankly into the face of his chum, tom davis, as they strolled down the village street together that early september day. "don't want to go to yale!" murmured tom, shaking his head as if unable to fathom the mystery. "why i'd work my way through, if they'd let me, and here you've got everything comparatively easy, and yet you're balking like a horse that hasn't had his oats in a month. whew! what's up, joe, old man?" "simply that i don't believe i'm cut out for that sort of life. i don't care for this college business, and there's no use pretending that i do. i'm not built that way. my mind is on something else. of course i know a college education is a great thing, and something that lots of fellows need. but for yours truly--not!" "i only wish i had your chance," said tom, enviously. "you're welcome to it," laughed joe. "no," and the other spoke half sadly. "dad doesn't believe in a college career any more than you do. when i'm through at excelsior hall he's going to take me into business with him. he talks of sending me abroad, to get a line on the foreign end of it." "cracky!" exclaimed joe. "that would suit me down to the ground--that is if i could go with a ball team." "so you haven't gotten over your craze for baseball?" queried tom. "no, and i never shall. you know what i've always said--that i'd become a professional some day; and i will, too, and i'll pitch in the world series if i can last long enough," and joe laughed. "but look here!" exclaimed his chum, as they swung down a quiet street that led out into the country; "you can play baseball at yale, you know." "maybe--if they'll let me. but you know how it is at those big universities. they are very exclusive--societies--elections--eating clubs--and all that sort of rot. a man has to be in with the bunch before he can get a show." "that's all nonsense, and you know it!" snapped tom. "at yale, i warrant you, just as at every big college, a man has to stand on his own feet. why, they're always on the lookout for good fellows on the nine, crew or eleven, and, if you can make good, you'll be pitching on the 'varsity before the spring term opens." "maybe," assented joe with rather a moody face. "anyhow, as long as i've got to go to college i'm going to make a try for the nine. i think i can pitch a little----" "a little!" cried tom. "say, i'd like to know what sort of a showing we'd have made at excelsior hall if it hadn't been for your pitching! didn't you win the blue banner for us when it looked as if we hadn't a show? pitch! say if those fellows at yale----" "spare my blushes," begged joe, with a laugh. "don't worry, i'm going to college for one reason, more than another, because mother wants me to. dad is rather set on it, too, and so i've said i'll go. between you and me," whispered joe, as if he feared someone would overhear him, "i have a faint suspicion that my respected mother wants to make a sky pilot of me." "a minister!" cried tom. "that's it." "why--why----" "oh, don't worry!" laughed joe, and then his face grew a bit sober as he continued: "i'm not half good enough--or smart enough. i'm not cut out for that sort of life. all i want is baseball and all i can get of it. that's my one ambition." "yes, it's easy to see that," agreed tom. "i wonder you don't carry a horsehide about with you, and i do believe--what's this?" he demanded, pulling a bundle of papers from his chum's pocket. "some dope on the world series, or i'm a june bug!" "well, i was only sort of comparing batting averages, and making a list of the peculiarities of each player--i mean about the kind of balls it is best to serve up to him." "you're the limit!" exclaimed tom, as he tried unsuccessfully to stop joe from grabbing the papers away from him. "do you think you might pitch to some of these fellows?" "i might," replied joe calmly. "a professional ball player lasts for some time, and when i come up for my degree on the mound at some future world series i may face some of these same men." "go to it, old man!" exclaimed tom enthusiastically. "i wish i had your hopes. well, i suppose i'll soon be grinding away with the old crowd at excelsior, and you--you'll be at--yale!" "probably," admitted joe, with something of a sigh. "i almost wish i was going back to the old school. we had good times there!" "we sure did. but i've got to leave you now. i promised sis i'd go to the store for her. see you later," and tom clasped his chum's hand. "that reminds me," spoke joe. "i've got to go back home, hitch up the horse, and take some patterns over to birchville for dad." "wish i could go along, but i can't," said tom. "it's a fine day for a drive. come on over to-night." "maybe i will--so long," and the two friends parted to go their ways, one to dream over the good fortune of the other--to envy him--while joe himself--baseball joe as his friends called him--thought rather regretfully of the time he must lose at college when, if he had been allowed his own way, he would have sought admission to some minor baseball league, to work himself up to a major position. "but as long as the folks want me to have a college course i'll take it--and do my best," he mused. a little later, behind the old family horse, he was jogging over the country road in the direction of a distant town, where his father, an inventor, and one of the owners of the royal harvester works, had been in the habit of sending his patterns from which to have models made. "well, in a few weeks i'll be hiking it for new haven," said joe, half talking to himself. "it's going to be awful lonesome at first. i won't know a soul there. it isn't like going up from some prep school, with a lot of your own chums. well, i've got to grin and bear it, and if i do get a chance for the 'varsity nine--oh, won't i jump at it!" he was lost in pleasant reflections for a moment, and then went on, still talking to himself, and calling to the horse now and then, for the steed, realizing that he had an easy master behind him, was inclined to slow down to a walk every now and then. "there are bound to be lessons, of course," said joe. "and lectures on things i don't care any more about than the man in the moon does. i suppose, though, i've got to swallow 'em. but if i can get on the diamond once in a while it won't be so bad. the worst of it is, though, that ball playing won't begin until april at the earliest, and there's all winter to live through. i'm not going in for football. well, i guess i can stand it." once more joe was off in a day-dream, in fancy seeing himself standing in the box before yelling thousands, winding up to deliver a swiftly-curving ball to the batter on whom "three and two" had been called, with the bases full, two men out and his team but one run ahead in the final inning. "oh! that's what life is!" exclaimed joe, half aloud, and at his words the horse started to trot. "that's what makes me willing to stand four years at yale--if i have to. and yet----" joe did not complete his sentence. as he swung around a bend in the road his attention was fully taken by a surprising scene just ahead of him. a horse, attached to a carriage, was being driven down the road, and, just as joe came in sight, the animal, for some unaccountable reason, suddenly swerved to the left. one of the wheels caught in a rut, there was a snapping, cracking sound, the wheel was "dished," and the carriage settled down on one side. "whoa! whoa!" yelled joe, fearing the horse would bolt and that perhaps a woman might be in the carriage, the top of which was up. the lad was about to spring from his own vehicle and rush to the aid of the occupant of the other, when he saw a man leap out. with one bound the man was at the head of his steed, holding him from running away, but there was no need, for the horse, after a calm look around, seemed to resign himself to his fate. "jove!" ejaculated joe. "that was quick work. that fellow is in training, whoever he is." following his original plan, even though he saw no need of going to the rescue, joe leaped from his seat. his steed, he knew, would stand without hitching. he approached the stranger. "a bad break," murmured joe sympathetically. "indeed it is, young man," replied the other in quick, tense accents. "and it comes at a particularly bad time, too." joe looked at him. the man seemed about thirty-five, and his face, though stern, was pleasant, as though in the company of his friends he could be very jolly. he was of dark complexion, and there was that in the set of his figure, and his poise, as he stood at the head of the horse, that at once proclaimed him an athlete, at least if not one in active training, one who could get into condition quickly. "a bad break, and at a bad time, too," the man went on. "i never knew it to fail, when i was in a hurry." "i guess that wheel is past fixing," spoke joe. "you might get one at the barn here," and he nodded toward a farmhouse not far distant. "i haven't time to make the try," said the man. "i'm in a great hurry. how far is it from here to preston?" "about five miles," replied joe. "hum! i never could make that in time to catch the train for new york, though i might have run it at one time. a little too heavy now," and he seemed referring to himself. "i might ride the horse, i suppose," he went on dubiously. "he doesn't look much like a saddle animal," ventured joe. "no, and there isn't a saddle, either. i must get to new york though--it's important. i don't suppose you are going to preston; are you?" he asked of joe quickly, referring to the nearest railroad station. "well, i wasn't," replied the youth, "but if you're in a hurry----" "i am--in a very great hurry. i just had about time to get the new york train, when, most unfortunately, i got into that rut. at the same time the reins got caught, and i must have pulled on the wrong one. i'm not much of a horseman, i'm afraid. the animal turned too quickly, and the wheel collapsed." "it wasn't very strong, anyhow," remarked joe, as he looked critically at it. "but if you want to get to preston i can take you." "can you--will you? it would be a very great accommodation. i really can't afford to miss that train. i came out here on some business, and hired this rig in preston. i thought i would have ample time to get back, and i believe i would. but now, with this accident--i wonder if i could leave this outfit at the farmhouse, and hire another there?" he asked musingly. "i don't believe mr. murchison has a horse now," said joe, nodding toward the farmhouse. "he has about given up working his place. but you could leave this rig here to be called for, and----" "yes--yes!" interrupted the man, quite impatiently. "i beg your pardon," he added quickly. "i'm all upset over this accident, and i really must reach new york to-night." "i'll drive you in!" offered joe. "but it will be out of your way, will it not?" "that doesn't matter. i'm in no hurry, and going to preston will not take me many miles off my road. i'll be glad to help you." "thank you. then i'll take advantage of your offer. shall i----?" he made a move as though to lead the horse up to the farmhouse. "i'll attend to that," spoke joe. "just get in my carriage, and i'll be with you in a few minutes." the stranger obeyed, and joe, unhitching the horse from the broken carriage, quickly led the steed to the stable, stopping on his way to explain to mrs. murchison, whom he knew slightly, the circumstances. she readily agreed to let the animal stay in their stall. then joe pulled the tilted carriage to one side of the road, and a few minutes later was sending his steed ahead at a pace not hitherto attained that day. "think we can make that train?" asked the man, who seemed immersed in his own thoughts. "i'm going to make a big try," answered joe. "do you live around here?" came the next question. "at riverside--about eight miles away." the man lapsed into silence, and as joe was rather diffident with strangers he did not press the conversation. they drove on for several miles, and suddenly the silence of the country was broken by a distant whistle. "is that the train?" exclaimed the man nervously, looking at his watch. "yes, but it's about three miles away. you can always hear it plainly here. we'll be in preston in a few minutes now, and i'll have you at the station in time." "i hope so," murmured the man. "i must get to new york--it means a great deal to me." joe urged the horse to even faster speed, and when he reached the quiet streets of preston more than one person turned to look at the carriage, which went along faster than vehicles usually did in that quiet community. once more the whistle sounded, and the man exclaimed: "we'll never make it!" "yes, we will," said joe quietly. "the station is only another block." "i'm sure i can't thank you enough," went on the man, and his hand sought his pocket. "you say you'll notify the livery keeper?" "yes, i'll tell him where his horse is, and he can send for it." "that's very kind of you. i wish you'd let me give you something--reward you for this service." "no--no!" exclaimed joe. "i couldn't think of it!" he saw a roll of bills in the man's hand. "but you don't know, young man, what it means for me to catch this train. i wish you'd let me pay for your time and trouble----" "no, indeed!" exclaimed the young pitcher. "i would do as much for anyone, and i hope he'd do the same for me." "that's a nice way of looking at it. but are you sure you won't let me make you----" the man again held out some bills, but the look on joe's face must have told him he was getting on dangerous ground, for he suddenly withdrew them and said: "well, i can't thank you enough. some day--is that the train?" he cried, as a puffing was heard. "i mustn't miss it now." "here we are!" cried joe, swinging around a corner. down a short street was the depot, and as they came in sight of it the train pulled in. "i--er--i wish--i must run for it!" exclaimed the man. "wait. i'll drive you right up!" called joe. "i'll take your valise. you get right out and run. have you a ticket?" "yes. this is exceedingly good of you. i----" but he did not finish. joe drove the horse up to the platform edge as the train came to a stop with a grinding of the brake shoes. the man leaped out almost before the horse had ceased running, and joe was not a second behind him with the valise. "go on!" exclaimed the youth, as the man hesitated. he fairly flung himself up the car steps, and the train began to move, for preston was little more than a flag station for the new york express. "thank you a thousand times!" cried the man as joe handed up the valise. "i wish--i didn't ask your name--mine is--i ought to have a card--i--er----" he began fumbling in his pocket, and joe half feared he was going to offer money again. but the man seemed to be hunting for a card. however his search was unsuccessful. he waved his hand to joe, and called: "thank you once more. perhaps i may meet you again. i meant to ask your name--too much occupied--mine is----" but just then the train gathered speed and the engineer, opening the exhaust, effectually drowned out all other sounds in the puffing of the locomotive. joe saw the man's lips moving, and realized that he was calling out his name, but he could not hear it. then, with a wave of his hand the stranger went inside the car. he had caught the train just in time. chapter ii a home conference "well, i wonder if i'll ever see him again," mused joe, as the train swung out of sight around a curve in the track. "it sure was a hustling time. i wonder who he was? seemed like some sort of an athlete, and yet he didn't talk sports--nor much of anything, for that matter. "i'm glad i could help him get his train. funny he should want to pay me, and yet i suppose he isn't used to having favors done him. he seemed like a nice sort of fellow. well, i've got to get over with these patterns. i'll be late getting home, i expect." joe's first visit was to the livery stable, where he told the proprietor of the accident. "hum! well, i s'pose he was driving reckless like," said mr. munn, who hired out old horses and older vehicles to such few of the townspeople as did not have their own rigs. "no, he was going slowly," said joe. "i guess that wheel was pretty well rotted." "mebby so. i'm glad i charged him a good price, and made him pay in advance. yes, i'll send out and get the rig. much obliged to you, joe. did he pay ye for bringin' him back?" "no, i didn't want anything," and with this parting shot the young pitcher went on his way. and, while he is jogging along to birchville, musing over the recent happenings, i will, in a paragraph or two, tell you something more about our hero, since he is to occupy that place in these pages. those of you who have read the previous books in this series, need no introduction to the youth. but to those who pick up this volume to begin their acquaintance, i might state that in the initial book, called "baseball joe of the silver stars," i related how he first began his upward climb as a pitcher. joe matson lived with his father and mother, mr. and mrs. john matson, in the town of riverside, in one of our new england states. mr. matson was an inventor of farming machinery, and after a hard struggle was now doing well financially. joe's ambition, ever since he began to play baseball, had been to become a pitcher, and how he made the acquaintance of tom davis, the boy living back of him; how they became chums, and how joe became a member of the silver stars nine is told in my first book. the nine was a typical one, such as is found in many country towns, though they played good ball. after an upward struggle joe was made pitcher, and helped to win some big games. he made many friends, and some enemies, as all boys will. in the second volume, called "baseball joe on the school nine," i told how our hero and his chum, tom davis, went to excelsior hall, a boarding institution just outside of cedarhurst, about a hundred miles from riverside. at school joe found that it was more difficult to get a chance at his favorite position than he had imagined it would be. there, too, he had his enemies; but joe was a plucky fighter, and would not give up. how finally he was called on to pitch in a great game, and how he, more than anyone else, helped to win the blue banner, you will find set down in my second book. three years passed, all too quickly, at excelsior hall, with joe doing the twirling for the school nine at all the big games. and now, with the coming of fall, and the beginning of the new term, he was not to go back, for, as i have intimated, he was to be sent to yale university. the course at excelsior hall was four years, but it was found that at the end of the third joe was able to take the yale entrance examinations, which he had done successfully. he did not enter with flying colors, for joe was no great scholar, but he was by no means at the foot of the ladder. so he was to plunge at once into the turmoil of university life--his one regret being, as i have said, that he could not join the ranks of the professional baseball players. but he was willing to bide his time. another regret, too, was that he would be very much of a stranger at yale. he did not know a soul there, and he wished with all his heart that tom davis could have gone with him, as he had to excelsior hall. but tom's parents had other views of life for him. "it doesn't seem like three years ago that i first started for excelsior," mused joe, as he drove along. "i sure was nervous then, and i'm in a worse funk now. well, there's no help for it. i've got to stick it out. no use disappointing dad and momsey. i only hope i make out half way decently." his errand accomplished, he drove back home, arriving rather late, and, to his mother's anxious inquiries as to what kept him, he related the happening of the broken carriage. "and you don't know who he was?" asked clara, joe's sister, curiously. "no, sis. say, but you're looking pretty to-night! got your hair fixed differently, somehow. somebody coming?" and playfully he pinched her red cheeks. "yes, mabel davis is coming to call," replied clara, pretending to be very busy arranging some articles on the mantle. "oh, ho! so that's how the wind blows!" exclaimed joe, with a laugh. "but i'll wager someone besides mabel is coming over. tom davis told me to come and see him, mabel is going out, you're all togged up--say, sis, who's the lucky chap?" "oh, don't bother me!" exclaimed the blushing girl. "that's all right. tom and i will come around later and put a tic-tac on the window, when you and mabel, and the two chaps, are in the parlor." "i thought you had gotten all over such childish tricks--and you a yale freshman!" exclaimed clara, half sarcastically. "well, i suppose i will have to pass 'em up--worse luck!" exclaimed her brother, with something like a groan. "have your fun, sis. it'll soon be over." "oh, my! what a mournful face!" laughed the girl. "there, run along now, little boy, and don't bother me." joe looked at her for a moment, and the conviction grew on him that his sister was prettier than ever, with that blush on her face. "little sister is growing up," thought joe, as he turned away. "she'll be a young lady soon--she's growing up. well, i guess we all are," and our hero sighed as though he could scarcely bear the weight of responsibility on his own shoulders. this was after supper, and as joe left the room, and clara hastened to her apartment, there to indulge in further "prinking," as joe called it, mr. and mrs. matson looked at each other. "what's getting into joe, i wonder?" spoke his father. "he's acting rather strange of late." "oh, i expect the responsibility of college life is making itself felt," said mrs. matson. "but i'm proud that i have a son who is going to yale. it is good you can afford it, john." "yes, ellen, i am too. education is a great thing, and a college course does a lot for a young fellow. i never had the chance myself, but perhaps it's just as well." "i am determined that joe shall have all the advantages we can give him--and clara, too," went on the wife. "i think joe should be very proud and happy. in a short time he will be attending one of the best colleges in the world." "yet he doesn't seem very happy," said mr. matson, musingly. "and i wonder why," went on his wife. "of course i know he wasn't very keen about going, when i proposed it, but he gave in. i'm sure it's baseball that made him want to stay on at excelsior hall." "probably. joe eats, sleeps and dreams baseball." "i do wish he would get that idea of being a professional baseball player out of his mind," went on mrs. matson, and her tone was a trifle worried. "it is no career to choose for a young man." "no, i suppose not," said her husband slowly. "and yet there are many good men in professional baseball--some rich ones too, i guess," he added with a shrewd laugh. "as if money counted, john!" "well, it does in a way. we are all working for it, one way or another, and if a man can earn it throwing a ball to another man, i don't see why that isn't as decent and honorable as digging sewers, making machinery, preaching, doctoring, being a lawyer or a banker. it all helps to make the world go round." "oh, john! i believe you're as bad as joe!" "no, ellen. though i do like a good game of baseball. i don't think it's the only thing there is, however, as joe seems to, of late. i don't altogether uphold him in his wish to be a professional, but, at the same time, there's nothing like getting into the niche in life that you're just fitted for. "there are too many square pegs in round holes now. many a poor preacher would be a first-class farmer, and lots of struggling lawyers or doctors would do a sight better in a shop, or, maybe even on the ball field. those sentiments aren't at all original with me," he added modestly; "but they are true just the same. i'd like to see joe do what he likes best, for then i know he'd do that better than anything else in the world." "oh, john! surely you wouldn't want to see him a professional ball player?" "well, i don't know. there are lots worse positions in life." "but i'm glad he's going to yale!" exclaimed mrs. matson, as the little family conference came to an end. chapter iii one last game "say, tom, do you know what i've got a good notion to do?" "indeed i haven't, joe, unless you're going to go out west and shoot indians, or some such crazy stunt as that." "forget it! but you know i've got to start for yale in about another week." "that's right. the time is getting short. excelsior opens four days from now, but i'm not going to drill in with the first bunch. i don't have to report quite so soon. i'm a senior now, you know." "so you are. i almost wish i was with you." "oh, nonsense! and you going to yale! but what was it you started to say?" "oh, yes, i almost forgot. say, why can't we have one last game before we have to leave town? one rattling good game of baseball to wind up the season! i'd just love to get into a uniform again, and i guess you would too. can't we pick up enough of the old silver stars to make a nine, with what we can induce to play from among the lads in town?" "i guess so." "then let's do it. the resolute team is still in existence, isn't it?" "yes, but i haven't kept much track of them. i've been away most all summer, you know." "and so have i, but i think we could get up a game for saturday. i believe we could get quite a crowd, but we wouldn't charge admission. what do you say?" "i'm with you. it would be sport to have a game. i wonder how we can arrange for it?" "i've got to go over to rocky ford for dad to-day," went on joe, "and i'll see if i can't get in touch with some of the resolutes. it may be that they have a game on, and, again, they may have disbanded. but it's worth trying. then you see as many of the fellows here as you can, and get up a nine. there ought to be five or six of the old silver stars around." "i'll do it! wow! it will be sport to get on the diamond again before we have to buckle down to the grind." "i hope i haven't forgotten how to pitch," went on joe. "let's get a ball and do a little practising out in the lots." the two chums, somewhat older, more experienced and certainly better players than when we first met them, three years before, were soon tossing the ball back and forth, joe warming up to his accustomed work as a twirler. "that was a beaut!" exclaimed tom, who was catching. "did the curve break well?" "couldn't have been better. you'll fool 'em all right with that twist." "i'm a little stiff yet. well, let's see what we can do toward getting up a game." joe went to rocky ford that afternoon, and was fortunate in finding the new manager of the resolutes, the one-time rivals of the silver stars. the team had greatly changed, and had been strengthened by some new players. they had not yet broken up for the season, and, as they had no game on for saturday, the manager readily agreed to come to riverside with his lads, and take on the silver stars in a sort of exhibition contest. "i suppose you'll pitch?" spoke the manager, as joe was about to leave for home. "yes, i want to. why?" "nothing, only maybe we better handicap your team, or else you'd better allow us half a dozen runs to start with," was the laughing answer. "i'm not as formidable as all that," retorted joe. "are any of the old boys playing yet?" "oh, yes, quite a few. there's art church, lew entry, ted neefus and hank armstrong." "i'll be glad to see 'em again," spoke joe. when he reached riverside late that afternoon tom met him and gleefully informed his chum that he had been able to get up a nine. "then we'll have a game!" cried joe. "will you catch for me?" "if you think i can." "sure you can. wow! we'll have some fun." the news of the coming game between the silver stars--or a team somewhat representing them--and the resolutes aroused considerable enthusiasm in riverside and the neighboring towns. there was a prospect of a large throng, and when saturday came--with as fine a specimen of weather as heart could wish--there was a great outpouring of "fans." the silver stars were first on the field, and though the team as then constituted had never played together, still after a little practice they got acquainted with each other, and were soon working in unison. joe and tom formed the battery, and they seemed an effective combination as they warmed up outside the diamond. then the resolutes arrived and they, too, began their practice. "we're going to have a big crowd," remarked joe, as he saw the stands filling, for riverside boasted of a fairly good field, where the semi-professional team held forth in the summer. but the season was about over now. "it's like old times," remarked tom. "come on, now some hot ones to finish up with, and then it'll be most time to call the game." the details were arranged, the umpire chosen, the batting orders submitted, and the teams came in off the field. the silver stars were to bat last, and as joe walked out to the mound to do the twirling, he was greeted by many friends and acquaintances who had not seen him since the summer vacation had started. some news of his prospective leaving for yale must have gotten around, for he was observed with curious, and sometimes envious eyes. "joe's getting to be quite a boy," remarked mr. jacob anderson, one of riverside's enthusiastic baseball supporters, to his friend, mr. james blake. "yes, he's a wonderful pitcher, i hear. seems sort of queer how the boys grow up. why, only a few years ago he was a small chap, playing around the vacant lots." "yes, time does manage to scoot along," spoke the other. "well, i guess we'll see a good game." as joe and tom paused for a brief consultation before opening the performance, the catcher, glancing toward the grandstand, uttered a surprised exclamation. "what's the matter?" asked joe. "that fellow with my sister--i meant to tell you about him. he was over to your house the other night, when he and sis, and charlie masterford called on your sister." "oh, ho! so it was charlie that clara was fixing up for!" exclaimed joe. "i'll have some fun with her. i guess she's at the game to-day. but what about the fellow with your sister?" "he's a yale man." "a yale man--you mean a graduate?" "no, he goes there now--sophomore i heard sis say. she was boasting about him, but i didn't pay much attention. i meant to tell you, but i forgot it." "a yale man," mused joe. "yes, that's him, with the flower in his coat. sort of a sport i guess. sis said he was on the nine, but i don't know where he plays. like to meet him? i don't know him myself, but i can get sis to present us. she met him at some dance this summer, and found he had relatives here he intended to visit. she asked him to call--say, isn't it great how the girls do that?--and he did--the other night. then he must have made a date with her. like to meet him? name's--let's see now--i did have it. oh, i remember, it's weston--ford weston. want to meet him after the game?" "no--i--i don't believe i do," said joe slowly. "he may think i am sort of currying favor. i'll wait until i get to yale, and then, if i get the chance, i'll meet him. he looks like a decent chap." "yes, mabel is crazy about him," said tom; "but all girls are that way i guess. none for mine! well, shall we start?" the batter was impatiently tapping his stick on the home plate. "play ball!" called the umpire, and, as joe walked to his place he gave a glance toward where mabel davis sat with a tall, good-looking chap. "a yale man," mused joe, "and on the nine. i wonder what he'll think of my pitching?" and, somehow, our hero felt a bit nervous, and he wished he had not known of the presence of the collegian. as he began winding up to deliver the ball he fancied he detected an amused smile on the face of ford weston. chapter iv a sneering laugh "come on now, art! line one out!" "a home run, old man! you can do it!" "slam one over the fence!" "poke it to the icehouse and come walking!" "we've got the pitcher's goat already! don't mind him, even if he is going to college!" these were only a few of the good-natured cries that greeted art church as he stood at the home plate, waiting for joe matson to deliver the ball. and, in like manner, joe was gently gibed by his opponents, some of whom had not faced him in some time. to others he was an unknown quantity. but even those newest members of the resolutes had heard of joe's reputation, and there was not a little of the feeling in the visiting nine that they were doomed to defeat through the opposing pitcher. "come on now, art, it's up to you." "give him a fair chance, joe, and he'll knock the cover off!" "play ball!" snapped the umpire, and joe, who had been exchanging the regulation practice balls with the catcher signalled that he was ready to deliver the first one of the game. the catcher called for a slow out, but joe shook his head. he knew art church of old, and remembered that this player fairly "ate 'em up." joe gave the signal to tom that he would send a swift in-shoot, and his chum nodded comprehendingly. "ball one!" yelled the umpire, and joe could not restrain a start of surprise. true, art had not swung at the horsehide, but it had easily clipped the plate, and, joe thought, should have been called a strike. but he said nothing, and, delivering the same sort of a ball the next time, he had the satisfaction of deceiving the batter, who swung viciously at it. "he's only trying you out!" was shouted at joe. "he'll wallop the next one!" but art church did not, and waiting in vain for what he considered a good ball, he struck at the next and missed, while the third strike was called on him without his getting a chance to move his bat. "oh, i guess the umpire isn't against us after all," thought joe, as he threw the ball over to first while the next batter was coming up. "how's that?" yelled tom in delight. "guess there aren't going to be any home runs for you resolutes." "oh, it's early yet," answered the visiting captain. but the resolutes were destined to get no runs in that half-inning. one man popped up a little fly, which was easily taken care of, and the next man joe struck out cleanly. he was beginning to feel that he was getting in form again. all that spring he had pitched fine games at excelsior hall, but, during the summer vacation, at the close of the boarding school, he had gone a bit stale. he could feel it himself. his muscles were stiff from lack of use, and he had not the control of the ball, which was one of his strong points. neither could he get up the speed which had always been part of his assets, and which, in after years, made him such a power in the big league. still joe felt that he was doing fairly well, and he knew that, as the game went on, and he warmed up, he would do better. "we ought to win," he told tom davis, as they walked to the bench. "that is if we get any kind of support, and if our fellows can hit their pitcher. what sort of a chap is he?" "don't know much about him. he's been at it all summer though, and ought to be in pretty good practice. we'll soon tell. len oswald is first up." but that was all len did--get up. he soon sat down again, not having hit the ball. "oh, i guess we've got some pitcher!" yelled the resolutes. "even if he isn't going to college!" added someone, and joe felt his face burn. he was not at all puffed up over the fact that he was going to yale, and he disliked exceedingly to get that reputation--so unjustly. but he did not protest. when the second man went out without getting to first base, it looked as if the contest was going to be a close one, and there began to be whispers of a "pitchers' battle." "'pitchers' battle' nothing!" exclaimed joe in a whisper to tom. "that fellow can't curve a ball. i've been watching him. he's got a very fast straight delivery, and that's how he's fooling 'em. i'm going to hit him, and so can the rest of us if we don't let him bluff. just stand close up to the plate and plug it. who comes next?" "percy parnell." "oh, wow! well, unless he's improved a whole lot he won't do much." but percy had, for the next moment he got the ball just where he wanted it, and slammed it out for a three bagger amid enthusiastic howls. then the other silver star players became aware of the opposing pitcher's weakness and began hitting him, until three runs had come in. then, in response to the frantic appeals of the "rooters" and their own captain, the resolutes took a brace and halted the winning streak. but it had begun, and nothing could stop it. joe, much elated that his diagnosis of his opponent had been borne out, again took his place in the box. he determined to show what he could do in the way of pitching, having done some warming-up work with tom during the previous inning. he struck out the first man cleanly, and the second likewise. the third hit him for two fouls, and then, seeming to have become familiar with joe's style, whacked out one that was good for two bases. "we're finding him! we're finding him!" yelled the excited resolutes. "only two down, and we've got a good hitter coming." joe saw that his fellow players were getting a little "rattled," fearing perhaps that he was going to pieces, so, to delay the game a moment, and pull himself together, he walked toward home, and pretended to have a little conference with the catcher. in reality they only mumbled meaningless words, for tom knew joe's trick of old. but the little break seemed to have a good effect, for the young pitcher struck out the next man and no runs came in. "oh, i guess yes!" cried the silver star crowd. the home team got two runs the next inning, and with goose eggs in their opponents' frame it began to look more like a one-sided contest. "boys, we've got to wallop 'em!" exclaimed the visiting captain earnestly, as they once more came to bat. joe's arm was beginning to feel the unaccustomed strain a trifle, and to limber up the muscles he "wound-up" with more motions and elaborateness than usual as he again took the mound. as he did so he heard from the grandstand a loud laugh--a laugh that fairly bubbled over with sneering, caustic mirth, and a voice remarked, loud enough for our hero to hear: "i wonder where he learned that wild and weird style of pitching? he'll fall all apart if he doesn't look out!" he cast a quick glance in the direction of the voice and saw ford weston, who sat beside mabel davis, fairly doubled up with mirth. mabel seemed to be remonstrating with him. "don't break your arm!" called ford, laughing harder than before. "hush!" exclaimed mabel. joe felt the dull red of shame and anger mounting to his cheeks. "so that's a yale man," he thought. "and i'm going to yale. i wonder if they're all like that there? i--i hope not." and, for the life of him, joe could not help feeling a sense of anger at the youth who had so sneeringly laughed at him. "and he's a yale man--and on the nine," mused joe. chapter v off for yale "we've got the game in the refrigerator--on ice." "take it easy now, silver stars." "let 'em get a few runs if they want to." thus spoke some of the spectators, and a number of the members of the home team, as the last half of the seventh inning started with the score ten to three in favor of the silver stars. it had not been a very tight contest on either side, and errors were numerous. yet, in spite of the sneering laugh of the yale man, joe knew that he had pitched a good game. they had hit him but seldom, and one run was due to a muffed ball by the centre fielder. "well, i guess you haven't forgotten how to pitch," exulted tom, as he sat beside his chum on the bench. behind them, and over their heads, sat the spectators in the grandstand, and when the applause at a sensational catch just made by the left fielder, retiring the third man, had died away the voices of many in comment on the game could be heard. "oh, i'm not so very proud of myself," remarked joe. "i can see lots of room for improvement. but i'm all out of practice. i think i could have held 'em down better if we'd had a few more games to back us up." "sure thing. well, this is a good way to wind up the season. i heard a little while ago that the resolutes came over here to make mince-meat of us. they depended a whole lot on their pitcher, but you made him look like thirty cents." "oh, i don't know. he's got lots of speed, and if he had the benefit of the coaching we got at excelsior hall he'd make a dandy." "maybe. i'm going over here to have a chin with rodney burke. i won't be up for a good while." "and i guess i won't get a chance this inning," remarked joe, as he settled back on the bench. as he did so he was aware of a conversation going on in the stand over his head. "and you say he's going to yale this term?" asked someone--a youth's deep-chested tones. "i believe so--yes," answered a girl. joe recognized that mabel davis was speaking. "he's a chum of my brother's," she went on. "they're talking of me," thought joe, and he looked apprehensively at his companions on the bench, but they seemed to be paying no attention to him, for which he was grateful. they were absorbed in the game. "going to yale; eh?" went on the youth's voice, and joe felt sure he was ford weston. "well, we eat his kind up down there!" "hush! you mustn't talk so of my friends," warned mabel, and yet she laughed. "oh, if he's a friend of yours, that's different," came the retort. "you're awful strong with me, mabel, and i'd do anything you asked." the girl laughed in a pleased sort of way, and joe, with a wild feeling in his heart, felt a certain scorn for both of them. "yes, he and my brother are chums," resumed mabel. "they went to boarding school together, but joe is going to yale. he is just crazy about baseball--in fact tom is, too, but joe wants to be a great pitcher." "does he think he's going to pitch at yale?" "i believe he does!" "then he's got a whole lot more thinks coming!" laughed the yale man. "he's about the craziest specimen of a tosser i ever stacked up against. he'll never make the yale scrub!" "hush! haven't i told you not to talk so about my friend?" insisted the girl, but there was still laughter in her tones. "all right miss mabel. i'll do anything you say. wow! that was a pretty hit all right. go it, old man! a three-bagger!" and in the enthusiasm over the game the yale man dropped joe as a topic of conversation. our hero, with burning cheeks, got up and strolled away. he had heard too much, but he was glad they did not know he had unintentionally been listening. the game ended with the silver stars winners, but the score was not as close as seemed likely in the seventh inning. for the resolutes, most unexpectedly, began hitting joe, though he managed to pull himself together in the ninth, and retired his opponents hitless. the last half of the ninth was not played, as the home team had a margin of two runs. "well, we did 'em," remarked tom, as he and joe walked off the field. "but they sort of pulled up on us. did they get on to your curves?" "no," spoke joe listlessly. "i--er--i got a little tired i guess." "no wonder. you're not in trim. but you stiffened up at the last." "oh, yes," but joe knew it was not weariness that accounted for his being hit so often. it was because of an inward rage, a sense of shame, and, be it confessed, a bit of fear. for well he knew how little it would take, in such a college as yale, to make or mar a man. should he come, heralded perhaps by the unfriendly tongue of the lad who had watched him pitch that day--heralded as one with a "swelled head"--as one who thought himself a master-pitcher--joe knew he could never live it down. "i'll never get my chance--the chance for the 'varsity--if he begins to talk," mused joe, and for a time he was miserable. "come on over to grub," invited tom. "sis and her latest find will be there--that yale chap. maybe you'd like to meet him. if you don't we can sneak in late and there'll be some eats left." "no, thanks, i don't believe i will," replied joe listlessly. "don't you want to meet that yale fellow? maybe he could give you some points." "no, i'd rather not." "all right," assented tom quickly. something in his chum's tones made him wonder what was the matter, but he did not ask. "i've got some packing to do," went on joe, conscious that he was not acting very cordially toward his old schoolmate. "i may see you later." "sure, any time. i'll be on hand to see you off for yale, old man." "yale!" whispered joe, as he swung off toward his own home, half-conscious of the pointing fingers and whispered comments of a number of street urchins who were designating him as "dat's de pitchin' guy what walloped de resolutes!" "yale!" thought joe. "i'm beginning to hate it!" and then a revulsion of feeling suddenly came over him. "hang it all!" he exclaimed as he stumbled along. "this is no way for a fellow to feel if he's going to college. i've got to perk up. if i am to go to yale, i'm going to do my best to be worth it!" but something rankled in his heart, and, try as he might he could not help clenching his teeth and gripping his hands as he thought of ford weston. "i--i'd like to fight him!" murmured joe. "i wonder if they allow fights at yale?" several days later you might have heard this in the matson home. "well, joe, have you got everything packed?" "don't forget to send me a flag." "you've got your ticket all right, haven't you?" "write as soon as you get there." "and whatever you do, don't go around with wet feet. it's coming on winter now----" "mother! mother!" broke in mr. matson, with a laugh at his wife and daughter on either side of joe, questioning and giving advice by turns. "you're like hens with one chicken. don't coddle him so. he's been away before, and he's getting big enough to know his way around by this time." well might he say so, for joe had grown fast in the past three years, and, though but nineteen, was taller than his father, who was not a small man. "of course he's been away," agreed mrs. matson, "but not as far as new haven, and going to yale is some different from excelsior hall, i guess." "i _know_ so," murmured joe, with a wink at his father. "i'm going to the station with you," declared clara. "here comes tom. i guess he's going, too." "well, i'll say good-bye here," said mrs. matson, and her voice trembled a little. "good-bye, my boy. i know you'll do what's right, and make us all proud of you!" joe's answer was a kiss, and then, with her handkerchief much in evidence, mrs. matson left the room. "come! come!" laughed mr. matson. "you'll make joe sorry he's going if you keep on." "the only thing i'm sorry about," replied the lad, "is that it'll be a good while until spring." "baseball; eh?" queried his father. "well, i suppose you'll play if you get the chance. but, joe, just remember that life isn't all baseball, though that has its place in the scheme of things. you're not going to yale just to play baseball." "but, if i get a chance, i'm going to play my head off!" exclaimed the lad, and, for the first time in some days there came a fierce light of joy into his eyes. "that's the spirit, son," exclaimed mr. matson. "and just remember that, while you want to win, it isn't the only point in the game. always be a gentleman--play hard; but play clean! that's all the advice i'm going to give you," and with a shake of his hand the inventor followed his wife from the room. "well, i guess i'm going to be left alone to do the honors," laughed clara. "come on now, it's almost train time. oh, hello, tom!" she added, as joe's chum entered. "did you bring any extra handkerchiefs with you?" "say i'll pull your hairpins out, clara, if you don't quit fooling!" threatened her brother. joe's baggage, save for a small valise, had been sent on ahead, and now, calling a good-bye to his parents, but not going to them, for he realized that it would only make his mother cry more, the young collegian, escorted by his sister and chum, started for the station. our hero found a few of his friends gathered there, among them mabel davis. "and so you're off for yale," she remarked, and joe noticed that she too, like his sister, seemed to have "grown up" suddenly in the last year. mabel was quite a young lady now. "yes, i'm off," replied joe, rather coldly. "oh, i think it's just grand to go to a big college," went on mabel. "i wish papa would let tom go." "i wish so myself," chimed in her brother. "i know one yale man," went on mabel. "i met him this summer. he was at the game the other day. i could write to him, and tell him you are coming." "please don't!" exclaimed joe so suddenly that mabel drew back, a little offended. "wa'al, i want to shake hands with you, an' wish you all success," exclaimed a voice at joe's elbow. he turned to see mr. ebenezer peterkin, a neighbor. "so you're off for college. i hear they're great places for football and baseball! ha! ha! 'member th' time you throwed a ball through our winder, and splashed alvirah's apple sass all over her clean stove? 'member that, joe?" "indeed i do, mr. peterkin. and how you told tom and me to hurry off, as your wife was coming after us." "that's right! ha! ha! alvirah was considerable put out that day. she'd just got her stove blacked, an' that sass was some of her best. th' ball landed plump into it! 'member?" and again the old man chuckled with mirth. "i remember," laughed joe. "and how tom and i blackened the stove, and helped clean up the kitchen for your wife. i was practising pitching that day." "oh, yes, you _pitched_ all right," chuckled the aged man. "wa'al, joe, i wish you all sorts of luck, an' if you do pitch down there at yale, don't go to splattering no apple sass!" "i won't," promised the lad. there were more congratulations, more wishes for success, more hand shakings and more good-byes, and then the whistle of the approaching train was heard. somehow joe could not but remember the day he had driven the man to the station just in time to get his train. he wondered if he would ever see that individual again. "good-bye, joe!" "so long, old man!" "don't forget to write!" "play ball!" "good-bye, joe!" laughter, cheers, some tears too, but not many, waving hands, and amid all this joe entered the train. he waved back as long as he could see any of them, and then he settled back in his seat. he was off for yale--for yale, with all its traditions, its mysteries, its learning and wiseness, its sports and games, its joys and sorrows--its heart-burnings and its delights, its victories--and defeats! off for yale. joe felt his breath choking him, and into his eyes there came a mist as he gazed out of the window. off for yale--and baseball! chapter vi on the campus joe matson gazed about him curiously as the train drew into the new haven station. he wondered what his first taste of yale life was going to be like, and he could not repress a feeling of nervousness. he had ridden in the end car, and he was not prepared for what happened as the train drew to a slow stop. for from the other coaches there poured a crowd of students--many freshmen like himself but others evidently sophomores, and a sprinkling of juniors and the more lordly seniors. instantly the place resounded to a din, as friends met friends, and as old acquaintances were renewed. "hello, slab!" "where have you been keeping yourself, pork chops!" "by jinks! there's old ham fat!" "come on, now! get in line!" this from one tall lad to others, evidently from the same preparatory school. "show 'em what we can do!" "hi there, freshies! off with those hats!" this from a crowd of sophomores who saw the newly-arrived first-year lads. "don't you do it! keep your lids on!" "oh, you will!" and there was a scrimmage in which the offending headgear of many was sent spinning. joe began to breathe deeply and fast. if this was a taste of yale life he liked it. somewhat excelsior hall it was, but bigger--broader. gripping his valise, he climbed down the steps, stumbling in his eagerness. on all sides men crowded around him and the others who were alighting. "keb! carriage! hack! take your baggage!" seeing others doing the same, joe surrendered his valise to an insistent man. as he moved out of the press, wondering how he was to get to the house where he had secured a room, he heard someone behind him fairly yell in his ear: "oh ho! fresh.! off with that hat!" he turned to see two tall, well-dressed lads, in somewhat "swagger" clothes, arms linked, walking close behind him. remembering the fate of the others, joe doffed his new derby, and smiled. "that's right," complimented the taller of the two sophomores. "glad you think so," answered joe. "well?" snapped the other sophomore sharply. "glad you think so," repeated our hero. "well?" rasped out the first. joe looked from one to the other in some bewilderment. he knew there was some catch, and that he had not answered categorically, but for the moment he forgot. "put the handle on," he was reminded, and then it came to him. "sir," he added with a smile. "right, freshie. don't forget your manners next time," and the two went swinging along, rolling out the chorus of some class song. the confusion increased. more students poured from the train, overwhelming the expressmen with their demands and commands. the hacks and carriages were being rapidly filled. orders were being shouted back and forth. exuberance was on every side. "oh ho! this way, merton!" yelled someone, evidently a signal for the lads from that school to assemble. "over here, lisle!" "there's perk!" "yes, and who's he got with him?" "oh, some fresh. come on, you goat. i'm hungry!" joe felt himself exulting, after all, that he was to be a part of this throbbing, pulsating life--part of the great college. he hung back, friendless and alone, and it was borne on him with a rush just how friendless and alone he was when he saw so many others greeted by friends and mates. with all his heart joe wished he had come up from some preparatory school, where he would have had classmates with him. but it was too late now. he made up his mind that he would walk to his rooming house, not because he wanted to save the carriage hire, but he would have to get in a hack all alone, and he was afraid of the gibes and taunts that might be hurled at the lone freshman. he had engaged the room in advance, and knew it would be in readiness. later he intended to join one of the many eating clubs for his meals, but for the present he expected to patronize a restaurant, for the rooming house did not provide commons. "i'll walk," decided joe, and, inquiring the way from a friendly hackman, he started off. as he did so he was aware of a tall lad standing near him, and, at the mention of the street joe designated, this lad started, and seemed about to speak. for a moment joe, noticing that he, too, was alone, was tempted to address him. and then, being naturally diffident, and in this case particularly so, he held back. "he may be some stand-offish chap," reasoned joe, "and won't like it. i'll go a bit slow." he swung away from the station, glad to be out of the turmoil, but for a time it followed him, the streets being filled with students afoot and in vehicles. the calling back and forth went on, until, following the directions he had received, joe turned down a quieter thoroughfare. "that must be the college over there," he said after he had swung across the city common, and saw looming up in the half mist of the early september night, the piles of brick and stone. "yale college--and i'm going there!" he paused for a moment to contemplate the structures, and a wave of sentimental feeling surged up into his heart. he saw the outlines of the elms--the great elms of yale. joe passed on, and, as he walked, wondering what lay before him, he could not help but think of the chances--the very small chances he had--in all that throng of young men--to make the 'varsity nine. "there are thousands of fellows here," mused joe, "and all of them may be as good as i. of course not all of them want to get on the nine--and fewer want to pitch. but--oh, i wonder if i can make it? i wonder----" it was getting late. he realized that he had better go to his room, and see about supper. then in the morning would come reporting at college and arranging about his lectures--and the hundred and one things that would follow. "i guess i've got time enough to go over and take a look at the place," he mused. "i can hike it a little faster to my shack after i take a peep," he reasoned. "i just want to see what i'm going to stack up against." he turned and started toward the stately buildings in the midst of the protecting elms. other students passed him, talking and laughing, gibing one another. all of them in groups--not one alone as was joe. occasionally they called to him as they passed: "off with that hat, fresh.!" he obeyed without speaking, and all the while the loneliness in his heart was growing, until it seemed to rise up like some hard lump and choke him. "but i won't! i won't!" he told himself desperately. "i won't give in. i'll make friends soon! oh, if only tom were here!" he found himself on the college campus. pausing for a moment to look about him, his heart welling, he heard someone coming from the rear. instinctively he turned, and in the growing dusk he thought he saw a familiar figure. "off with that hat, fresh.!" came the sharp command. joe was getting a little tired of it, but he realized that the only thing to do was to obey. "all right," he said, listlessly. "all right, what?" was snapped back at him. for a moment joe did not answer. "come on, fresh.!" cried the other, taking a step toward him. "quick--all right--what?" "sir!" ripped out joe, as he turned away. a moment later from a distant window there shone a single gleam of light that fell on the face of the other lad. joe started as he beheld the countenance of ford weston--the youth who had laughed at his pitching. "that's right," came in more mollified tones from the sophomore. "don't forget your manners at yale, fresh.! or you may be taught 'em in a way you won't like," and with an easy air of assurance, and an insulting, domineering swagger, weston took himself off across the campus. chapter vii a new chum for a moment joe stood there, his heart pounding away under his ribs, uncertain what to do--wondering if the sophomore had recognized him. then, as the other gave no sign, but continued on his way, whistling gaily, joe breathed easier. "the cad!" he whispered. "i'd like to--to----" he paused. he remembered that he was at yale--that he was a freshman and that he was supposed to take the insults of those above him--of the youth who had a year's advantage over him in point of time. "yes, i'm a freshman," mused joe, half bitterly. "i'm supposed to take it all--to grin and bear it--for the good of my soul and conscience, and so that i won't get a swelled head. well," he concluded with a whimsical smile, "i guess there's no danger." he looked after the retreating figure of the sophomore, now almost lost in the dusk that enshrouded the campus, and then he laughed softly. "after all!" he exclaimed, "it's no more than i've done to the lads at excelsior hall. i thought it was right and proper then, and i suppose these fellows do here. only, somehow, it hurts. i--i guess i'm getting older. i can't appreciate these things as i used to. after all, what is there to it? there's too much class feeling and exaggerated notion about one's importance. it isn't a man's game--though it may lead to it. i'd rather be out--standing on my own feet. "yes, out playing the game with men--the real game--i want to get more action than this," and he looked across at the college buildings, now almost deserted save for a professor or two, or small groups of students who were wandering about almost as disconsolately as was joe himself. "oh, well!" he concluded. "i'm here, and i've got to stay at least for mother's sake, and i'll do the best i can. i'll grin and bear it. it won't be long until spring, and then i'll see if i can't make good. i'm glad weston didn't recognize me. it might have made it worse. but he's bound to know, sooner or later, that i'm the fellow he saw pitch that day, and, if he's like the rest of 'em i suppose he'll have the story all over college. well, i can't help it." and with this philosophical reflection joe turned and made his way toward his rooming house. it was a little farther than he had thought, and he was a bit sorry he had not selected one nearer the college. there were too many students to permit all of them to dwell in the dormitories proper, and many sought residences in boarding places and in rooming houses, and dined at students' clubs. "i suppose i'll have to hunt up some sort of an eating joint," mused joe, as he plodded along. "i'd be glad to get in with some freshmen who like the baseball game. it'll be more sociable. i'll have to be on the lookout." as he rang the bell of the house corresponding in number to the one he had selected as his rooming place, the door was cautiously opened a trifle, the rattling of a chain showing that it was secure against further swinging. a rather husky voice asked: "well?" joe looked, and saw himself being regarded by a pair of not very friendly eyes, while a tousled head of hair was visible in the light from a hall lamp that streamed from behind it. "i--er--i believe i'm to room here," went on joe. "matson is my name. i'm a freshman----" "oh, that's all right. come in!" and the tone was friendly at once. "i thought it was some of those sneaking sophs., so i had the chain on. come in!" and the portal was thrown wide, while joe's hand was caught in a firm grip. "are you--er--do you run this place?" asked joe. "not yet, but i'm going to do my best at it as soon as i get wise to the ropes. you can help--you look the right stuff." "aren't you the--er--the proprietor?" asked our hero, rather puzzled for the right word. "not exactly," was the reply, "but i'm going to be one of 'em soon. hanover is my name--ricky hanover they used to call me at tampa. i'll allow you the privilege. i'm a fresh. like yourself. i'm going to room here. arrived yesterday. i've got a room on the first floor, near the door, and it's going to be so fruity for those sophs. to rout me out that i got a chain and put it on. the old man said he didn't care." "the old man?" queried joe. "yes, hopkins, hoppy for short--the fellow that owns this place--he and his wife." "oh, yes, the people from whom i engaged my room," spoke joe understandingly. "i think i'm on the second floor," he went on. "wrong guess--come again," said ricky hanover with a grin, as he carefully replaced the chain. "there's been a wing shift, so mrs. hoppy told me. she's expecting you, but she's put you downstairs, in a big double room next to mine. hope you won't mind. your trunk is there, and your valise just came--at least i think it's yours--j. m. on it." "yes, that's mine." "i had it put in for you." "thanks." "come on, and i'll show you the ropes. if those sophs. come----" "are they likely to?" asked joe, scenting the joy of a battle thus early in his career. "they might. someone tried to rush the door just before you came, but the chain held and i gave 'em the merry ha-ha! but they'll be back--we'll get ours and we'll have to take it." "i suppose so. well, i don't mind. i've been through it before." "that so? where are you from?" "excelsior hall." "never heard of it. that's nothing. i don't s'pose you could throw a stone and hit tampa school?" "probably not," laughed joe, forming an instinctive liking for this new chap. "right. tampa hardly knows it's on the map, but it isn't a half bad place. ah, here's mamma hoppy now. you don't mind if i call you that; do you?" asked ricky, as a motherly-looking woman advanced down the hall toward the two lads. "oh, i guess i've been at this long enough not to mind a little thing like that," she laughed. "you college men can't bother me as long as you don't do anything worse than that. let me see, this is----" "matson, ma'am," spoke our hero. "joe matson. i wrote to you----" "oh, yes, i remember. i have quite a number of new boys coming in. i'm sorry, but the room i thought i could let you have isn't available. the ceiling fell to-day, so i have transferred you downstairs. it's a double room, and i may have to put someone in with you. if you think----" "oh, that's all right," interrupted joe good-naturedly, "i don't mind. i'll be glad to have a room-mate." "thank you," said mrs. hopkins, in relieved tones. "i can't say just now who it will be." "never mind!" broke in ricky. "have you grubbed?" "no," replied the newcomer. "i was thinking of going to a restaurant." "come along then. i'm with you. i haven't fed my face yet. we'll go down to glory's place and see the bunch." joe recognized the name as that of a famous new haven resort, much frequented by the college lads, and, while i have not used the real designation, and while i shall use fictitious names for other places connected with the college, those who know their yale will have no difficulty in recognizing them. "come on to glory's," went on ricky. "it's a great joint." "wait until i slip on a clean collar," suggested joe, and a little later he and ricky were tramping along the streets, now agleam with electric lights, on their way to the famous resort. it was filled with students, from lordly seniors, who scarcely noticed those outside of their class, to the timid freshmen. joe looked on in undisguised delight. after all, yale might be more to him than he had anticipated. "like to go a rabbit?" suggested ricky. "a rabbit?" asked joe. "i didn't know they were in season?" "the welsh variety," laughed ricky. "they're great with a mug of ale, they say, only i cut out the ale." "same here," admitted joe. "yes, i'll go one. it's made of cheese, isn't it?" "and other stuff. great for making you dream. come on, this is the freshmen table over here. i was in this morning." "do they have tables for each class." "they don't--i mean the management doesn't, but i guess it would be as much as your hair was worth to try to buck in where you didn't belong. know anybody here?" "not a soul--wish i did." "i didn't when i came this morning, but there are some nice fellows at the red shack." "red shack?" joe looked puzzled. "yes, that's our hang-out. it's painted red." "oh, i see." "there are a couple of 'em now," went on ricky, who seemed perfectly at ease in his comparatively new surroundings. he was a lad who made friends easily, joe decided. "hi, heller, plow over here!" ricky called to a tall lad who was working his way through the throng. "bring jones along with you. they're both at our shack," he went on in a low voice to joe. "shake hands with matson--he's one of us chickens," he continued, and he presented the newcomers as though he had known them all their lives. "you seem at home," remarked jones, who was somewhat remarkable for his thinness. "i am--slim!" exclaimed ricky. "i say, you don't mind if i call you that; do you?" he asked. "that's what the other fellows do; isn't it?" "yes. how'd you guess it?" asked jones, with a laugh. "easy. i'm ricky--richard by rights, but i don't like it. call me ricky." "all right, i will," agreed slim jones. "i'm hank heller, if you're going in for names," came from the other youth, while joe had to admit that his appellation was thus shortened from joseph. "well, now we know each other let's work our jaws on something besides words," suggested ricky. "here, do we get waited on, alphonse?" he called to a passing waiter. joe thought he had never been in such a delightful place, nor in such fine company. it was altogether different from life at excelsior hall, and though there were scenes that were not always decorous from a strict standpoint, yet joe realized that he was getting farther out on the sea of life, and must take things as they came. but he resolved to hold a proper rein on himself, and, though deep in his heart he had no real love for college life, he determined to do his best at it. the meal was a delightful one. new students were constantly coming in, and the place was blue with smoke from many cigars, pipes and cigarettes. ricky smoked, as did hank heller, but slim jones confessed that it was a habit he had not yet acquired, in which he was like joe. "say, we're going to have some fun at our joint," declared ricky on their way back, at a somewhat late hour. "we'll organize an eating club, or join one, and we'll have some sport. we'll be able to stand off the sophs. better, too, by hanging together. when the red shack gets full we'll do some organizing ourselves. no use letting the sophs. have everything." "that's right," agreed joe. as they passed along the now somewhat quiet streets they were occasionally hailed by parties of hilarious sophomores with the command: "take off your hats, freshies!" they obeyed, perforce, for they did not want to get the name of insurgents thus early in the term. "come in and have a talk," invited ricky, as they entered the rooming house. "it's early yet." "guess i'll turn in," confessed hank. "i'm tired." "i'll go you for awhile," agreed slim. "how about you, joe?" "no, i want to unpack a bit. see you in the morning." "all right. we'll go to chapel together." as joe entered his new room, and turned on the light, he saw a figure in one of the beds. for a moment he was startled, having forgotten that he was to share the room with someone. the youth turned over and gazed at joe. "oh!" he exclaimed with a rather pleasant laugh. "i meant to sit up until you came back, to explain, but i guess i fell asleep. mrs. hopkins said you had no objections to a partner, and this was the only place available." "not at all!" exclaimed joe cordially. "glad you came in. it's lonesome rooming alone." "you're matson; aren't you?" asked the youth in bed. "yes." "my name is poole--burton poole." then, for the first time joe recognized the lad he had seen standing all alone on the depot platform--the one to whom he had been inclined to speak--but from which impulse he had held himself back. chapter viii ambitions "shake hands!" exclaimed joe, as he stepped over to the bed, on which the other raised himself, the clothes draping around him. then joe saw how well built his new room-mate was--the muscles of his arms and shoulders standing out, as his pajamas tightened across his chest. "glad to know you," greeted poole. "you are sure you don't mind my butting in?" "not at all. glad of your company. i hate to be alone. i wish you'd come in a bit earlier, and you could have gone down to glory's with us." "wish i had. i've heard of the place, but as a general rule i like a quieter shack to eat." "same here," confessed joe. "we're talking of starting a feeding joint of our own--the freshmen here--or of joining one. are you with us?" "sure thing. do you know any of the fellows here?" "three--in our shack. i just met them to-night. they seem all to the good." "glad to hear it. i'll fill in anywhere i can." "well, i'm going to fill in bed--right now!" asserted joe with a yawn. "i'm dead tired. it's quite a trip from my place, and we've got to go to chapel in the morning." "that's so. are you a sound sleeper?" "not so very. why?" "i am, and i forgot to bring an alarm clock. i always need one to get me up." "i can fix you," replied joe. "i've got one that would do in place of a gong in a fire-house. i'll set it going." and from his trunk, after rummaging about a bit, he pulled a large-sized clock, noiseless as to ticking, but with a resonant bell that created such a clamor, when joe set it to tinkling, that ricky hanover came bursting in. "what's the joke?" he demanded, half undressed. "let me in on it." "the alarm clock," explained joe. "my new chum was afraid he'd be late to chapel. ricky, let me make you acquainted with mr. poole." "glad to know you," spoke ricky. "got a handle?" "a what?" "nickname. i always think it's easier to get acquainted with a fellow if he's got one. it isn't so stiff." "maybe you're right. well, the fellows back home used to call me 'spike'." "what for?" demanded joe. "because my father was in the hardware business." "i see!" laughed ricky. "good enough. spike suits me. i say, you've got a pretty fair joint here," he went on admiringly. "and some stuff, believe me!" there was envy in his tones as he looked around the room, and noted the various articles joe was digging out of his trunk--some fencing foils, boxing gloves, a baseball bat and mask, and a number of foreign weapons which joe had begun to collect in one of his periodical fits and then had given up. "they'll look swell stuck around the walls," went on ricky. "yes, it sort of tones up the place, i guess," admitted joe. "i've got a lot of flags," spoke spike. "my trunk didn't come, though. hope it'll be here to-morrow." "then you will have a den!" declared ricky. "got any photos?" "photos?" queried joe wonderingly. "yes--girls? you ought to see my collection! some class, believe me; and more than half were free-will offerings," and ricky drew himself up proudly in his role of a lady-killer. "where'd you get the others?" asked spike. "swiped 'em--some i took from my sister. they'll look swell when i get 'em up. well, i'm getting chilly!" he added, and it was no wonder, for his legs were partly bare. "see you later!" and he slid out of the door. "nice chap," commented joe. "rather original," agreed spike poole. "i guess he's in the habit of doing things. but say, i'm keeping you up with my talk, i'm afraid." "i guess it's the other way around," remarked joe, with a smile. "no, go ahead, and stick up all the trophies you like. i'll help out to-morrow." "oh, well, i guess this'll do for a while," said joe a little later, when he had partly emptied his trunk. "i think i'll turn in. i don't know how i'll sleep--that welsh rabbit was a bit more than i'm used to. so if i see my grandmother in the night----" "i'll wake you up before the dear old lady gets a chance to box your ears," promised his room-mate with a laugh. and then our hero crawled into bed to spend his first night as a real yale student. joe thought he had never seen so perfect a day as the one to which the alarm clock awakened him some hours later. it was clear and crisp, and on the way to chapel with the others of the red shack, he breathed deep of the invigorating air. the exercises were no novelty to him, but it was very different from those at excelsior hall, and later the campus seemed to be fairly alive with the students. but joe no longer felt alone. he had a chum--several of them, in fact, for the acquaintances of the night before seemed even closer in the morning. the duties of the day were soon over, lectures not yet being under way. joe got his name down, learned when he was expected to report, the hours of recitation, and other details. his new chums did the same. "and now let's see about that eating club," proposed ricky hanover, when they were free for the rest of the day. "it's all right to go to glory's once in a while--especially at night when the jolly crowd is there, and a restaurant isn't bad for a change--but we're not here for a week or a month, and we want some place that's a bit like home." the others agreed with him, and a little investigation disclosed an eating resort run by a junior who was working his way through yale. it was a quiet sort of a place, on a quiet street, not so far away from the red shack as to make it inconvenient to go around for breakfast. the patrons of it, besides joe and his new friends, were mostly freshmen, though a few juniors, acquaintances of roslyn joyce, who was trying to pay his way to an education by means of it, ate there, as did a couple of very studious seniors, who did not go in for the society or sporting life. "this'll be just the thing for us," declared joe; and the others agreed with him. there was some talk of football in the air. all about them students were discussing the chances of the eleven, especially in the big games with harvard and princeton, and all agreed that, with the new material available, yale was a sure winner. "what are you going in for?" asked joe of ricky, as the five of them--joe, ricky, spike, slim jones and hank heller strolled across the campus. "the eleven for mine--if i can make it!" declared ricky. "what's yours, joe?" "baseball. but it's a long while off." "that's right--the gridiron has the call just now. jove, how i want to play!" and ricky danced about in the excess of his good spirits. "what are you going in for?" asked joe of hank heller. "i'd like to make the crew, but i don't suppose i have much chance. i'll have to wait, as you will." "if i can get on the glee club, i'm satisfied," remarked slim jones. "that's about all i'm fit for," he added, with a whimsical smile. "how about you, spike? can you play anything?" "the jewsharp and mouthorgan. have they any such clubs here?" "no!" exclaimed ricky. "but what's the matter with you trying for the eleven? you've got the build." "it isn't in my line. i'm like joe here. i like the diamond best." "do you?" cried our hero, delighted to find that his room-mate had the same ambition as himself. "where do you play?" "well, i have been catching for some time." "then you and joe ought to hit it off!" exclaimed ricky. "joe's crazy to pitch, and you two can make up a private battery, and use the room for a cage." chapter ix the shampoo football was in the air. on every side was the talk of it, and around the college, on the streets leading to the gridiron, and in the cars that took the students out there to watch the practice, could be heard little else but snatches of conversation about "punts" and "forward passes," the chances for this end or that fullback--how the bulldog sized up against princeton and harvard. of course joe was interested in this, and he was among the most loyal supporters of the team, going out to the practice, and cheering when the 'varsity made a touchdown against the luckless scrub. "we're going to have a great team!" declared ricky, as he walked back from practice with joe one day. "i'm sure i hope so," spoke our hero. "have you had a chance?" "well, i'm one of the subs, and i've reported every day. they kept us tackling the dummy for quite a while, and i think i got the eye of one of the coaches. but there are so many fellows trying, and such competition, that i don't know--it's a fierce fight," and ricky sighed. "never mind," consoled joe. "you'll make good, i'm sure. i'll have my troubles when the baseball season opens. i guess it won't be easy to get on the nine." "well, maybe not, if you insist on being pitcher," said ricky. "i hear that weston, who twirled last season, is in line for it again." "weston--does he pitch?" gasped joe. it was the first time he had heard--or thought to ask--what position the lad held who had sneered at him. "that's his specialty," declared ricky. "they're depending on him for the yale-princeton game. princeton took the odd game last year, and we want it this." "i hope we get it," murmured joe. "and so ford weston pitches; eh? if it comes to a contest between us i'm afraid it will be a bitter one. he hates me already. i guess he thinks i've got a swelled head." "say, look here, joe!" exclaimed ricky, with a curious look on his face, "you don't seem to know the ropes here. you're a freshman, you know." "sure i know that. what of it?" "lots. you know that you haven't got the ghost of a show to be pitcher on the 'varsity; don't you?" "know it? do you mean that weston can so work things as to keep me off?" "not weston; no. but the rules themselves are against you. it's utterly impossible that you should pitch this year." "why? what rules? i didn't know i was ineligible." "well, you are. listen, joe. under the intercollegiate rules no freshman can play on the 'varsity baseball nine, let alone being the pitcher." "he can't?" and joe stood aghast. "no. it's out of the question. i supposed you knew that or i'd have mentioned it before." joe was silent a moment. his heart seemed almost to stop beating. he felt as though the floor of the room was sinking from under his feet. "i--i never thought to ask about rules," said joe, slowly. "i took it for granted that yale was like other smaller universities--that any fellow could play on the 'varsity if he could make it." "not at yale, or any of the big universities," went on ricky in softened tones, for he saw that joe was much affected. "you see the rule was adopted to prevent the ringing in of a semi-professional, who might come here for a few months, qualify as a freshman, and play on the 'varsity. you've got to be a sophomore, at least, before you can hope to make the big team, and then of course, it's up to you to make a fight for the pitcher's box." once more joe was silent. his hopes had been suddenly crushed, and, in a measure, it was his own fault, for he had taken too much for granted. he felt a sense of bitterness--bitterness that he had allowed himself to be persuaded to come to yale against his own wishes. and yet he knew that it would never have done to have gone against his parents. they had their hearts set on a college course for him. "hang it all!" exclaimed joe, as he paced up and down, "why didn't i think to make some inquiries?" "it would have been better," agreed ricky. "but there's no great harm done. you can play on the freshman team this coming season, and then, when you're a soph., you can go on that team, and you'll be in line for the 'varsity. you can play on the junior team, if you like, and they have some smashing good games once in a while." "but it isn't the 'varsity," lamented joe. "no. but look here, old man; you've got to take things as they come. i don't want to preach, but----" "that's all right--slam it into me!" exclaimed joe. "i need it--i deserve it. it'll do me good. i won't be so cock-sure next time. but i hoped to make the 'varsity this season." "it'll be better for you in the end not to have done so," went on his friend. "you need more practice, than you have had, to take your place on the big team. a season with the freshmen will give it to you. you'll learn the ropes better--get imbued with some of the yale spirit, and you'll be more of a man. it's no joke, i tell you, to pitch on the 'varsity." "no, i imagine not," agreed joe, slowly. "then, i suppose there's no use of me trying to even get my name down on a sort of waiting list." "not until you see how you make out on the freshman team," agreed ricky. "you'll be watched there, so look out for yourself. the old players, who act as coaches, are always on the lookout for promising material. you'll be sized up when you aren't expecting it. and, not only will they watch to see how you play ball, but how you act under all sorts of cross-fire, and in emergencies. it isn't going to be any cinch." "no, i can realize that," replied joe. "and so weston has been through the mill, and made good?" "he's been through the mill, that's sure enough," agreed ricky, "but just how good he's made will have to be judged later. he wasn't such a wonder last season." "there's something queer about him," said joe. "how's that?" "why, if he's only a soph. this year he must have been a freshman last. and yet he pitched on the 'varsity i understand." "weston's is a peculiar case," said ricky. "i heard some of the fellows discussing it. he's classed as a soph., but he ought really to be a junior. this is his third year here. he's a smart chap in some things, but he got conditioned in others, and in some studies he is still taking the soph. lectures, while in others he is with the juniors. he was partly educated abroad, it seems, and that put him ahead of lots of us in some things. so, while he was rated with the freshmen in some studies last year, he was enough of a sophomore to comply with the intercollegiate rules, and pitch on the 'varsity. he did well, so they said." "i wish fate handed me out something like that," mused joe. "if i had known that i'd have boned away on certain things so as to get a sophomore rating--at least enough to get on the big nine." "why, don't you intend to stay at yale?" asked ricky. "a year soon passes. you'll be a sophomore before you know it." "i wish i was in weston's shoes," said joe softly. since that meeting on the campus, when the sophomore had not recognized joe, the two had not encountered each other, and joe was glad enough of it. "i'm glad i didn't meet him in riverside," thought joe. "it won't make it so hard here--when it comes to a showdown. for i'm going to make the nine! the 'varsity nine; if not this year, then next!" and he shut his teeth in determination. meanwhile matters were gradually adjusting themselves to the new conditions of affairs at yale--at least as regards joe and the other freshmen. the congenial spirits in the red shack, increased by some newcomers, had, in a measure, "found" themselves. recitations and lectures began their regular routine, and though some of the latter were "cut," and though often in the interests of football the report of "not prepared" was made, still on the whole joe and his chums did fairly well. joe, perhaps because of his lack of active interest in football, as was the case with his room-mate, spike, did better than the others as regards lessons. yet it did not come easy to joe to buckle down to the hard and exacting work of a college course, as compared to the rather easy methods in vogue at excelsior hall. joe was not a natural student, and to get a certain amount of comparatively dry knowledge into his head required hours of faithful work. "i'm willing to make a try of it--for the sake of the folks," he confided to spike; "but i know i'm never going to set the river on fire with classics or math. i'm next door to hating them. i want to play baseball." "well, i can't blame you--in a way," admitted his chum. "of course baseball isn't all there is to life, though i do like it myself." "it's going to be my business in life," said joe simply, and spike realized then, if never before, the all-absorbing hold the great game had on his friend. to joe baseball was as much of a business--or a profession if you like--as the pulpit was to a divinity student, or the courts to a member of the law school. the yale football team began its triumphant career, and the expectations of the friends of the eleven were fully realized. to his delight ricky played part of a game, and there was no holding him afterward. "i've got a chance to buck the princeton tiger!" he declared. "the head coach said i did well!" "good!" cried joe, wondering if he would have such fine luck when the baseball season started. affairs at the red shack went on smoothly, and at the mush and milk club, which the freshmen had dubbed their eating joint, there were many assemblings of congenial spirits. occasionally there was a session at glory's--a session that lasted far into the night--though joe and his room-mate did not hold forth at many such. "it's bad for the head the next day," declared spike, and he was strictly abstemious in his habits, as was joe. but not all the crowd at the red shack were in this class, and often there were disturbances at early hours of the morning--college songs howled under the windows with more or less "harmony," and appeals to joe and the others to "stick out their heads." "i think we'll get ours soon," spoke spike one night, as he and joe sat at the centre table of the room, studying. "our what?" "drill. i heard that a lot of the freshmen were caught down the street this evening and made to walk spanish. they're beginning the shampoo, too." "the shampoo--what's that?" "an ancient and honorable yale institution, in which the candidate is head-massaged with a bucket of paste or something else." "paste or what?" "you're allowed your choice, i believe. paste for mine, it's easier to get out of your hair if you take it in time." "that's right. i'm with you--but--er--how about a fight?" "it's up to you. lots of the freshmen stand 'em off. it's allowed if you like." "then i say--fight!" exclaimed joe. "i'm not going to be shampooed in that silly fashion if i can help it." "then we'll stand 'em off?" questioned spike. "sure--as long as we can," declared joe. "though if they bring too big a bunch against us we'll probably get the worst of it." "very likely, but we can have the satisfaction of punching some of the sophs. i'm with you." "where'll they do it?" "no telling. they may catch us on the street, or they may come here. for choice----" spike paused and held up his hand for silence. there was a noise in the hall, in the direction of the front door. then came the voice of ricky hanover saying: "no, you don't! i've got the bulge on you! no monkey business here!" "get away from that door, fresh.!" shouted someone, half-angrily; "or we'll bust it in!" "give him the shampoo--both of 'em!" yelled another. "you don't get in here!" cried ricky. "i say----" his voice was drowned out in a crash, and a moment later there was the sound of a struggle. "here they come," said spike in a low voice. "let's take off our coats," proposed joe, in the same tone. "if we're going to fight i want to be ready." chapter x a wild night "say, ricky is sure putting up a great fight!" "yes, and he's as wiry as they make 'em!" "he'll make 'em wish they'd let him alone--maybe." "and maybe not," returned spike. he and joe had passed these remarks after a grim silence, followed by a resumption of the crashing struggle in the hall near the front door. "there are too many of 'em for him," went on joe's room-mate. "wait until i take a peep," proposed the young pitcher. he advanced to the door, rolling up his sleeves as he went. "don't!" snapped spike. "they'll be here soon enough as it is, without us showing ourselves. i'd just as soon they'd pass us up this trip--it's an unpleasant mess." "that's right. maybe we can stand 'em off." "no such luck. i think they're coming." the noise in the hall seemed redoubled. ricky could be heard expostulating, and from that he changed to threats. "i'll make you wish you hadn't tried this on me!" he shouted. "i'll punch----" "oh, dry up!" commanded someone. "stuff some of that paste in his mouth!" ordered another voice. "a double shampoo for being too fresh!" "no, you don't! i won't stand----" "then take it lying down. here we go, boys!" "i--oh----" and ricky's voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur. "he's getting his," said spike in a low tone. "and i guess here is where we get ours," said joe, as the rush of feet sounded along the corridor, while someone called: "come on, fellows. more work for us down here. there are some of the freshies in their burrows. rout 'em out! smash 'em up!" the tramping of feet came to a pause outside the door of our two friends. "open up!" came the command. "come in!" invited joe. they had not turned the key as they did not want the lock broken. into the room burst a nondescript horde of students. they were wild and disheveled, some with torn coats and trousers, others with neckties and collars missing, or else hanging in shreds about their necks. "ricky put up a game fight!" murmured joe. "he sure did," agreed spike. "hello, freshmen!" greeted the leader of the sophomores. "ready for yours?" "sure," answered spike with as cheerful a grin as he could muster. "any time you say," added joe. "the beggars were expecting us!" yelled a newcomer, crowding into the room. "going to fight?" demanded someone. "going to try," said joe coolly. "give 'em theirs!" was the yell. "what'll it be--paste or mush?" joe saw that several of the sophomores carried pails, one seemingly filled with froth, and the other with a white substance. neither would be very pleasant when rubbed into the hair. "maybe you'd better cut 'em both out," suggested joe. "not on your life! got to take your medicine, kid!" declared a tall sophomore. he made a grab for joe, who stepped back. someone swung at our hero, who, nothing daunted, dashed a fist into his antagonist's face, and the youth went down with a crash, taking a chair with him. "oh, ho! fighters!" cried a new voice. "slug 'em, sophs.!" joe swung around, and could not restrain a gasp of astonishment, for, confronting him was ford weston, the 'varsity pitcher. on his part weston seemed taken aback. "jove!" he cried. "it's the little country rooster i saw pitch ball. so you came to yale after all?" "i did," answered joe calmly. it was the first he had met his rival face to face since that time on the campus when weston had not known him. "well, we're going to make you sorry right now," sneered weston. "up boys, and at 'em!" "let me get another whack at him!" snarled the lad joe had knocked down. there was a rush. joe, blindly striking out, felt himself pulled, hauled and mauled. once he went down under the weight of numbers, but he fought himself to a kneeling position and hit out with all his force. he was hit in turn. he had a glimpse of spike hurling a tall sophomore half way across the room, upon the sofa with a crash. then with a howl the second-year men closed in on the two freshmen again. joe saw weston coming for him, aiming a vicious blow at his head. instinctively joe ducked, and with an uppercut that was more forceful than he intended he caught the pitcher on the jaw. weston went backward, and only for the fact that he collided with one of his mates would have fallen. he clapped his hand to his jaw, and as he glared at joe he cried: "i'll settle with you for this!" "any time," gasped joe, and then his voice was stopped as someone's elbow caught him in the jaw. "say, what's the matter with you fellows?" demanded a voice in the doorway. "can't you do up two freshmen? come on, give 'em what's coming and let's get out of this. there's been too much of a row, and we've got lots to do yet to-night. eat 'em up!" thus urged by someone who seemed to be a leader, the sophomores went at the attack with such fury that there was no withstanding them. the odds were too much for joe and spike, and they were borne down by the weight of numbers. then, while some of their enemies held them, others smeared the paste over their heads, rubbing it well in. it was useless to struggle, and all the two freshmen could do was to protect their eyes. "that's enough," came the command. "no, it isn't!" yelled a voice joe recognized as that of weston. "where's that mush?" "no! no!" expostulated several. "they've had enough--the paste was enough." "i say no!" fairly screamed weston. "hand it here!" he snatched something from one of his mates, and the next instant joe felt a stream of liquid mush drenching him. it ran into his eyes, smarting them grievously, and half blinding him. with a mad struggle he tore himself loose and struck out, but his fists only cleaved the empty air. "come on!" was the order. there was a rush of feet, and presently the room cleared. "next time don't be so--fresh!" came tauntingly from weston, as he followed his mates. "water--water!" begged joe, for his eyes seemed on fire. "hold on, old man--steady," came from spike. "what is it?" "something in my eyes. i can't see!" "the paste and mush i expect. rotten trick. wait a minute and i'll sponge you off. oh, but we're sights!" presently joe felt the cooling liquid, and the pain went from him. he could open his eyes and look about. their room was in disorder, but, considering the fierceness of the scrimmage, little damage had been done. but the lads themselves, when they glanced at each other, could not repress woeful expressions, followed by laughs of dismay, for truly they were in a direful plight. smeared with paste that made their hair stand up like the quills of a fretful porcupine, their shirts streaked with it, they were indeed weird looking objects. paste was on their faces, half covering their noses. it stuffed up their ears and their eyes stared out from a mask of it like burned holes in a blanket. "oh, but you are a sight!" exclaimed spike. "the same to you and more of it," retorted joe. "let's get this off." "sure, before it hardens, or we'll never get it off," agreed spike. fortunately there was plenty of water in their room, and, stripping to their waists they scrubbed to such good advantage that they were soon presentable. the removal of their coats and vests had saved those garments. "they went for you fierce," commented spike. "who was that fellow who came in last?" "weston--'varsity pitcher." "he had it in for you." "seemed so, but i don't know why," and joe related the little scene the day of the silver star-resolute game. "oh, well, don't mind him. i say, let's go out." "what for?" "it's going to be a wild night from the way it's begun. let's see some of the fun. no use trying to study, i'm too excited." "i'm excited too. but if we go out they may pitch onto us again." "no, we can claim immunity. i want to see some of the other fellows get theirs. we'll get ricky and the other bunch and have some fun." "all right; i'm with you." they dressed, and, having made their room somewhat presentable, they called for ricky. he was busy trying to get rid of his shampoo, which had been unusually severe. he readily fell in with the notion of going out, and with hank heller and slim jones in the party the five set out. they swung out into wall street, up college, and cut over elm street to the new haven green, where they knew all sorts of tricks would be going on. for the sophomores had started their hazing in earnest. it was indeed a wild night. the streets about the college buildings were thronged with students, and yells and class-rallying cries were heard on every side. "let's go over to high street," proposed joe, and they ran up temple, to chapel, and thence over to high, making their way through throngs. several times they were halted by groups of sophomores, with commands to do some absurdity, but an assertion that they had been shampooed, with the particulars, and the evidence yet remaining in spots, was enough to cause them to be passed. high street was filled with even a greater crowd as they reached it, a party of freshman pouring out from the college campus endeavoring to escape from pursuing enemies. through library street to york they went, with shouts, yells and noises of rattles and other sound-producing instruments. "let's follow and see what happens," proposed ricky. "i want to see some other fellow get his as long as i had mine." just then joe saw several figures come quietly out from behind a building and start up york street, in an opposite direction from that taken by the throng. under the glare of an electric light he recognized weston and some of the crowd who had shampooed them. some sudden whim caused joe to say: "there's the fellows who shampooed us. let's follow and maybe we can get back at 'em. there are only five--that's one apiece." "right you are!" sang out ricky. "i want to punch someone." "come on then," signalled spike. "i'm out for the night. it's going to be a wild one all right." and truly it seemed so. chapter xi the red paint pursuing those who had given them the shampoo, joe and his chums found themselves trailing down a side street in the darkness. "i wonder what they're up to," ventured spike. "oh, some more monkey business," declared ricky. "if they try it on any more freshmen though, we'll take a hand ourselves; eh?" "sure," assented the others. "there they go--around the corner--and on the run!" suddenly exclaimed slim jones. "get a move on!" our friends broke into a trot--that is, all but joe. he tried to, but stepping on a stone it rolled over with him, and he felt a severe pain shoot through his ankle. "sprained, by jove!" he exclaimed. "i'm glad it isn't the baseball season, for i'm going to be laid up." he halted, and in those few seconds his companions, eager in the chase, drew ahead of him in the darkness, and disappeared around another corner. "i can't catch up to 'em," decided joe. "wonder if i can step on the foot?" he tried his weight on it, and to his delight found that it was not a bad sprain, rather a severe wrench that, while it lamed him, still allowed him to walk. "guess i'll go back," he murmured. "if there's a row i can't hold up my end, and there's no use being a handicap. i'll go back and turn in. i can explain later." he turned about, walking slowly, the pain seeming to increase rather than diminish, and he realized that he was in for a bad time. "if i could see a hack i'd hail it," he thought, but the streets seemed deserted, no public vehicles being in sight. "i've got to tramp it out," joe went on. "well, i can take it slow." his progress brought him to wall street, and he decided to continue along that to temple, and thence to the modest side-thoroughfare on which the red shack was located. but he was not destined to reach it without further adventures. as he came around a corner he heard the murmur of low voices, and, being cautious by nature, he halted to take an observation. "if it's my own crowd--all right," he said. "but if it's a lot of sophs., i don't want to run into 'em." he listened, and from among those whom he could not see he heard the murmur of voices. "that's the house over there," said someone. "right! now we'll see if he'll double on me just because i wasn't prepared. i'll make him walk spanish!" "got plenty of the magoozilum?" "sure. we'll daub it on thick." "they can't be after freshmen," mused joe. "i wonder what's up?" he looked across the street in the direction where, evidently, the unseen ones were directing their attention. "a lot of the profs. live there," mused joe. "i have it! some one's going to play a trick on 'em to get even. i'll just pipe it off!" he had not long to wait. out of the shadows stole two figures, and, even in the dimness he recognized one of them as ford weston. the other he did not know. "come on!" hoarsely whispered the 'varsity pitcher to his chum. "i'll spread it on thick and then we'll cut for it. separate streets. i'll see you in the morning, but keep mum, whatever happens." the two figures ran silently across the street, and paused in front of a detached house. one seemed to be actively engaged at the steps for a few minutes, and then both quickly ran off again, the two separating and diving down side streets. "huh! whatever it was didn't take them long," thought joe. "i wonder what it was? guess i'll----" but his half-formed resolution to make an investigation was not carried out. he heard shouting down the street, and thinking it might be a crowd of sophomores, he decided to continue on to his room. "they might start a rough-house with me," mused joe, "and then my ankle would be more on the blink than ever. i'll go home." he started off, rather excited over the events of the night, and found that even his brief spell of standing still had stiffened him so that he could hardly proceed. "wow!" he exclaimed, as a particularly sharp twinge shot through him. he had gone about two blocks when he heard someone coming behind him. he turned in apprehension, but saw only a single figure. "hello! what's the matter?" asked a young man as he caught up to joe. "twisted my ankle." "so? what's your name?" "matson--i'm a freshman." "oh, yes. i think i saw you at chapel. kendall's my name." joe recognized it as that of one of the juniors and a member of the 'varsity nine. "how'd it happen?" "oh, skylarking. the sophs. were after us to-night." "so i heard. you'd better do something for that foot," he went on, as he noticed joe's limp. "i'm going to as soon as i get to my room." "say, i tell you what," went on kendall. "my joint's just around the corner, and i've got a prime liniment to rub on. suppose you come in and i'll give you some." "glad to," agreed joe. "i don't believe i've got a bit at my shack, and the drug stores are all closed." "come along then--here, lean on me," and kendall proffered his arm, for which joe was grateful. "here we are," announced kendall a little later, as they turned into a building where some of the wealthier students had their rooms. "sorry it's up a flight." "oh, i can make it," said joe, keeping back an exclamation of pain that was on his lips. "we'll just have a look at it," continued his new friend. "i've known a strain like that to last a long while if not treated properly. a little rubbing at the right time does a lot of good." joe looked in delight at the room of his newly found friend. it was tastefully, and even richly, furnished, but with a quiet atmosphere differing from the usual college apartment. "you've got a nice place here," he remarked, thinking that, after all, there might be more to yale life than he had supposed. "oh, it'll do. here's the stuff. now off with your shoe and we'll have a look at that ankle. i'm a sort of doctor--look after the football lads sometimes. are you trying for the eleven?" "no, baseball is my stunt." "yes? so's mine." "you catch, don't you?" asked joe. "i've heard of 'shorty' kendall." "that's me," came with a laugh. "oh, that's not so bad," he went on as he looked at joe's foot. "a little swelled. here, i'll give it a rub," and in spite of joe's half-hearted protests he proceeded to massage the ankle until it felt much better. "try to step on it," directed shorty kendall. joe did so, and found that he could bear his weight on it with less pain. "i guess you'll do," announced the junior. "cut along to your room now--or say--hold on, i can fix you up here for the night. i've got a couch----" "no, thank you," expostulated joe. "the boys would worry if i didn't come back." "you could send word----" "no, i'll trot along. much obliged." "take that liniment with you," directed kendall. "won't you need it?" "not until the diamond season opens, and that's some time off yet. good night--can you make the stairs?" "yes--don't bother to come down," and joe limped out. as he reached the first hall he was made aware that someone was coming in the front door. before he could reach it the portal opened and a student hurried in, making for a room near the main entrance. in the glare of the hall light joe saw that the youth was ford weston. he also saw something else. on weston's hand was a red smear--brilliant--scarlet. at first joe thought it was blood, but a slight odor in the air told him it was paint. an instant later his eyes met those of the rival pitcher--at least joe hoped to make him a rival--and weston started. then he thrust his smeared hand into his pocket, and, without a word, hurried into his room and slammed the door. chapter xii joe's silence "rather queer," mused joe, after a moment's silence. "i wonder he didn't say something to me after what happened. so he rooms here? it's a great shack. i suppose if i stay here the full course i'll be in one of these joints. but i don't believe i'm going to stay. if i get a chance on the 'varsity nine next year and make good--then a professional league for mine." he limped out of the dormitory, and the pain in his ankle made him keenly aware of the fact that if he did not attend to it he might be lame for some time. "red paint," he murmured as he let himself out. "i wonder what weston was doing with it? could he---- oh, i guess it's best not to think too much in cases like this." he reached his rooming place and trod along the hall, his injured foot making an uneven staccato tattoo on the floor. "well, what happened to you?" "where did you hike to?" "were you down to glory's all by your lonesome?" "what'd you give us the slip for?" "come on; give an account of yourself." these were only a few of the greetings that welcomed him as he entered his apartment to find there, snugly ensconced on the beds, chair, sofa and table, his own room-mate and the other friends who had gone out that wild night. "what's the matter?" demanded spike, in some alarm, as he saw his friend limping. "oh, nothing much. twisted ankle. i'll be all right in the morning. how did you fellows make out?" "nothing doing," said ricky. "the boobs that shampooed us split after we got on their trail, and we lost 'em. did you see anything of 'em?" "not much," said joe, truthfully enough. "then where did you go?" he explained how he had twisted on his ankle, and turned back, and how, in coming home, he had met kendall. he said nothing of watching weston and another chap do something to the stoop of the unknown professor's house. "mighty white of kendall," was spike's opinion, and it was voiced by all. "oh, what a night!" exclaimed slim jones. "home was never like this!" "well, you fellows can sit up the rest of the night if you want to," said joe, after a pause; "but i'm going to put my foot to bed." "i guess that's the best place for all of us," agreed ricky. "come on, fellows; i have got some hard practice to-morrow. i may be called to the 'varsity." "like pie!" jeered slim jones. "oh, ho! don't you worry," taunted ricky. "i'll make it." there was a sensation the next morning. it seemed that a well-known and very literary professor, returning from a lecture from out of town, before a very learned society, had slipped and fallen on his own front porch, going down in some greasy red paint that had been smeared over the steps. the professor had sprained a wrist, and his clothing had been soiled, but this was not the worst of it. he had taken with him, on his lecture, some exceedingly rare and valuable babylonian manuscripts to enhance his talk, and, in his fall these parchments had scattered from his portfolio, and several of them had been projected into the red paint, being ruined thereby. and, as the manuscripts had been taken from the yale library, the loss was all the more keen. "i say, joe, did you hear the news?" gasped ricky, as he rushed into his friend's room, just before the chapel call. "no. is there a row over the shampooing?" "shampooing nothing! it's red paint, and some of those musty manuscripts that a prof. had," and he poured out the tale. "red paint?" murmured joe. "yes. there's a fierce row over it, and the dean has taken it up. if the fellows are found out they'll be expelled sure. oh, but it was a night! but the red paint was the limit." joe did not answer, but in a flash there came to him the scene where weston had entered his room, thrusting his hand into his pocket--a hand smeared with red. "fierce row," went on ricky, who was a natural reporter, always hearing sensations almost as soon as they happened. "the prof. went sprawling on his steps, not knowing the goo was there and the papers---- oh me! oh my! i wonder who did it?" "hard to tell i guess," answered joe, "with the bunch that was out last night." "that's so. i'm glad it wasn't any of our fellows. we all stuck together--that is all but you----" and, as if struck by a sudden thought, he gazed anxiously at joe. "oh, i can prove an _alibi_ all right," laughed the pitcher. "don't worry." "glad of it. well, let's hike. there goes the bell." there was indeed a "fierce row," over the spoiling of the rare manuscripts, and the dean himself appealed to the honor of the students to tell, if they knew, who the guilty one was. but joe matson kept silent. there was an investigation, of course, but it was futile, for nothing of moment was disclosed. it was several days later when joe, strolling across the college campus after a lecture, came face to face with weston. for a moment they stood staring at one another. the hot blood welled up into the cheeks of the 'varsity pitcher, and he seemed to be trying to hide his hand--the hand that had held the red smear. then, without a word, he passed on. and joe matson still maintained his silence. the fall passed. the yale eleven swept on to a glorious championship. the christmas vacation came and went and joe spent happy days at home. he was beginning to be more and more a yale man and yet--there was something constrained in him. his parents noticed it. "i--i don't think joe is very happy," ventured clara, after he had gone back to college. "happy--why not?" challenged her mother. "oh, i don't know. he hasn't said much about baseball." "baseball!" chuckled mr. matson, as he looked out of the window at the wintry new england landscape. "this is sleigh-riding weather--not baseball." "oh, i do wish joe would give up his foolish idea," sighed mrs. matson. "he can never make anything of himself at baseball. a minister now, preaching to a large congregation----" "i guess, mother, if you'd ever been to a big ball game, and seen thousands of fans leaning over their seats while the pitcher got ready to deliver a ball at a critical point in the contest, you'd think he had some congregation himself," said mr. matson, with another chuckle. "oh, well, what's the use talking to you?" demanded his wife; and there the subject was dropped. joe went back to yale. he was doing fairly well in his lessons, but not at all brilliantly. study came hard to him. he was longing for the spring days and the green grass of the diamond. gradually the talk turned from debating clubs, from glees and concerts, to baseball. the weather raged and stormed, but there began to be the hint of mildness in the wintry winds. in various rooms lads began rummaging through trunks and valises, getting out old gloves that needed mending. the cage in the gymnasium was wheeled out and some repairs made to it. "by jove!" cried joe one day, "i--i begin to feel as if i had the spring fever." "baseball fever you mean," corrected spike. "it's the same thing, old man." jimmie lee, a little freshman who roomed not far from joe's shack, came bursting in a little later. "hurray!" he yelled, slapping our hero on the back. "heard the news?" "what news?" asked spike. "have you been tapped for skull and bones, or wolf's head?" "neither, you old iconoclast. but the notice is up." "what notice?" "baseball candidates are to report in the gym. to-morrow afternoon. hurray!" and he dealt spike a resounding blow. joe matson's eyes sparkled. chapter xiii early practice "what are you going to try for?" "have you played much before you came here?" "oh, rats! i don't believe i'll have any show with all this bunch!" "hey, quit shoving; will you?" "oh, rinky-dink! over here!" "hi, weston, we're looking for you." "there goes shorty kendall. he'll sure catch this year." "hello, mac! think you'll beat weston to it this year?" "i might," was the cool reply. the above were only a few of the many challenges, shouts, calls and greetings that were bandied from side to side as the students, who had been waiting long for this opportunity, crowded into the gymnasium. it was the preliminary sifting and weeding out of the mass of material offered on the altar of baseball. at best but a small proportion of the candidates could hope to make the 'varsity, or even a class team, but this did not lessen the throng that crowded about the captain, manager and coaches, eagerly waiting for favorable comment. "well, we're here!" exulted jimmie lee, who had, the night before, brought to joe the good news that the ball season had at least started to open. "yes, we're here," agreed joe. "and what will happen to us?" asked spike poole. "it doesn't look to me as if much would." "oh, don't fool yourself," declared jimmie, who, being very lively, had learned many of the ropes, and who, by reason of ferreting about, had secured much information. "the coaches aren't going to let anything good get by 'em. did you see benson looking at me! ahem! and i think i have whitfield's eye! nothing like having nerve, is there? joe, hold up your hand and wriggle it--they're trying to see where you're located," and, with a laugh at his conceit, jimmie shoved into the crowd trying to get nearer the centre of interest--to wit, where the old players who served as coaches were conferring with the captain. the latter was tom hatfield, a junior whose remarkable playing at short had won him much fame. mr. william benson and mr. james whitfield were two of the coaches. george farley was the manager, and a short stocky man, with a genial irish face, who answered to the name of dick mcleary, was the well-liked trainer. "well, if i can make the outfield i suppose i ought to be satisfied," spoke jimmie lee. "but i did want to get on a bag, or somewhere inside the diamond." "i'll take to the daisies and be thankful," remarked spike; "though i would like to be behind the bat." "carrying bats would do me for a starter," spoke a tall lad near joe. "but i suppose i'll be lucky if they let me play on the freshman team. anyhow as long as i don't get left out of it altogether i don't mind. what are you going to try for?" he asked of our hero. "i would like to pitch. i twirled at excelsior hall, and i think i can play on the mound better than anywhere else, though that's not saying i'm such a muchness as a pitcher," added joe, modestly. "i did hope to get on the 'varsity, but----" "pitch!" exclaimed the other frankly. "say, you've got as much chance to pitch on the 'varsity as i have of taking the dean's place to-morrow. pitch on the 'varsity! say, i'm not saying anything against you, matson, for maybe you can pitch, but weston has the place cinched, and if he falls down there's harry mcanish, a southpaw. he stands about second choice." "oh, i've been disillusioned," said joe frankly. "i know i can't get on the 'varsity this year. but don't they have more than one pitcher in reserve?" "oh, yes, sure. but bert avondale comes next, and i have heard that he's even better than weston, but weston is steadier--in most games. i don't want to discourage you, but you'd better try for some other place than pitcher." "no, i'm going to try for there," said joe in a low voice. "i may not make it, but if i get a chance to show what i can do, and then fall down, i won't kick. i mean next year, of course," he added. "oh, you may get a chance all right. every fellow does at yale. but you're up against some of the best college baseball material that ever came over the pike. sometimes i think i've got nerve even to dream of a class team. but listen--they're going to start the fun now." the manager was speaking, announcing more or less formally, that which everyone knew already--that they had reported to allow a sort of preliminary looking over of the candidates. there were several of the former ball team who would play, it was said, but there was always need and a chance, for new material. all save freshmen would be given an opportunity, the manager said, and then he emphasized the need of hard work and training for those who were given the responsibility of carrying the blue of yale to victory on the diamond. "and, no less does this responsibility rest on the scrub, or second team," went on farley. "for on the efficiency of the scrub depends the efficiency of the 'varsity, since good opposition is needed in bringing out the best points of the first team." farley, who was one of the old players, acting as a coach, went on to add: "i have used the word 'scrub' and 'second team,' though, as you well know, there is nothing like that here at yale, that is as compared to football. when i say 'scrub' i mean one of the class teams, the freshman, sophomore or junior, for, in a measure, while separate and distinct teams themselves, they will serve us the same purpose as a scrub or substitute team would in football. they will give us something to practice with--some opposition--for you've got to have two nines to make a ball game," and he smiled at the anxious ones looking at him. "so," he went on, "when i use the word 'scrub' after this, or when any of the other coaches do, i want you to understand that it will mean one of the class teams which, for the purpose of strengthening the 'varsity, and enabling it to practice, acts as opposition. "sometimes the 'varsity will play one team, and sometimes another, for the class teams will have their own contests to look after, to win, we hope; to lose, we hope not. i wish i could give you freshmen encouragement that you could make the 'varsity, but, under the rules, none of you can. now we'll get down to business." he gave encouragement to many, and consoled those who might fail, or, at best, make only a class team. then he introduced the captain--tom hatfield--who was received with a rousing cheer. "well, fellows," said hatfield, "i haven't much to say. this is my first experience at the head of a big college nine, though you know i've played with you in many games." "that's right--and played well, too!" yelled someone. "three cheers for hatfield!" they were given with a will, and the captain resumed. "of course we're going to win this year, even if we didn't last." this was received in silence, for the losing of the championship to princeton the previous season had been a sore blow to yale. "we're going to win," went on hatfield in a quiet voice; "but, just because we are, don't let that fool you into getting careless. we've all got to work hard--to train hard--and we've got to practice. i expect every man to report regularly whether he thinks he has a chance to make the 'varsity or not. it's part of the game, and we've all got to play it--scrub and 'varsity alike. "i guess that's all i've got to say, though i may have more later, after we get started. the coaches will take charge now and you'll have to do as they say. we won't do much to-day, just some catching and a bit of running to see how each fellow's wind is." he nodded to the coaches and trainer, and as he stepped back once more came the cry: "three cheers for hatfield. good old yale cheers!" the gymnasium rang with them, and then came the boola song, after which the crowd formed in close line and did the serpentine dance. "now then, get busy!" commanded mr. benson. "old players over that side, and the new ones here. give in your names, and say where you've played. lively now!" he and mr. whitfield began circulating among the candidates, and, as they approached him, joe felt his heart beginning to beat faster. would he have a chance? and, if he got it, could he make good? these were the questions he asked him. "name?" "matson--joe." "hum. yes. ever played before?" "yes, on a school nine." "where?" "excelsior hall." "hum! yes. never heard of it. where did you play?" "i pitched." "pitched. hum! yes. i never saw so many pitchers as we have this season. well, i'll put you down for your freshman class team, though i can't give you much encouragement," and mr. benson turned to the next lad. "go over there and do some throwing, i'll watch you later," he concluded, and joe's heart began to sink as he saw spike motioning to him to come to one side and indulge in some practice balls. "how'd you make out?" asked his room-mate. "oh, i'm engaged right off the bat," laughed joe, but he could not conceal the anxiety in the voice that he strove to make indifferent. "so? then you had better luck than i. whitfield told me he didn't think i had the right build for a catcher." "well, maybe we can both make our scrub class team," spoke joe. "say, it hasn't half begun yet," declared jimmie lee, who had a hankering to play first base. "wait until the main coach gets here, and we'll have a shake-up that'll set some people on their ears." "what do you mean?" asked joe wonderingly. "i mean that the main gazaboo isn't here yet: mr. forsythe hasbrook--old horsehide they call him. he's the main coach. these are only his assistants." "is that so?" inquired spike. "it sure is. he's the real thing in baseball--horsehide is. an old yale man, but up-to-date. played ever since he was a baby, and knows the game from a to z. he never gets here until the preliminary practice has begun on the field, and then it doesn't take him long to size a fellow up. of course i only know what i've been told," he added, "but that goes all right." "well, if we didn't get picked for the team now, i don't believe we'll have any chance after the main coach gets here," said joe. "guess not," assented spike. "here we go." and they started to practice. chapter xiv the surprise "oh, get a little more speed on! don't run so much like an ice wagon. remember that the object is to get to the base before the ball does!" "lively now! throw that in as if you meant it! we're not playing bean bag, remember!" "oh, swing to it! swing to it! make your body do some of the work as well as your arms!" "don't be afraid of the ball! it's hard, of course, that's the way it's made. but if you're going to flinch every time it comes your way you might as well play ping-pong!" "stand up to the plate! what if you do get hit?" thus the coaches were trying to instill into the new candidates for the 'varsity nine some rudiments of how they thought the game should be played. sharp and bitter the words were sometimes, bitten off with a snap and exploded with cutting sarcasm, but it was their notion of how to get the best out of a man, and perhaps it was. "remember we want to win games," declared mr. benson. "we're not on the diamond to give a ladies' exhibition. you've got to play, and play hard if you want to represent yale." "that's right," chimed in mr. whitfield. "we've got to have the college championship this year. we've _got_ to have it. now try that over," he commanded of ford weston, who had struck one man out in practice. "do it again. that's the kind of playing we want." joe, who had been catching with spike, looked enviously at his rival, who was on the coveted mound, taking in succession many batters as they came up. shorty kendall was catching for the 'varsity pitcher, and the balls came into his big mitt with a resounding whack that told of speed. "i wonder if i'll ever get there," mused joe, and, somehow he regretted, for the first time since coming to yale, that he had consented to the college arrangement. it seemed so impossible for him to make way against the handicap of other players ahead of him. "if i'd finished at excelsior," he told himself, "i think i'd have gotten into some minor league where good playing tells, and not class. hang it all!" the practice went on. it was the first of the outdoor playing, and while the gymnasium work had seemed to develop some new and unexpectedly good material, the real test of the diamond sent some of the more hopeful candidates back on the waiting list. as yet joe had been given scant notice. he had been told to bat, pitch, catch and run, but that was all. he had done it, but it had all seemed useless. the day was a perfect spring one, and the diamond was in excellent condition. it had been rather wet, but the wind had dried it, and, though there were still evidences of frost in the ground, they would soon disappear under the influence of the warm sun. in various sorts of uniforms, scattered over the big field, the candidates went at their practice with devotion and zeal. winning a baseball game may not be much in the eyes of the world, getting the college championship may seem a small matter to the man of affairs--to the student or the politician, intent on bigger matters. but to the college lads themselves it meant much--it was a large part of their life. and, after all, isn't life just one big game; and if we play it fairly and squarely and win--isn't that all there is to it? and, in a measure, doesn't playing at an athletic game fit one to play in life? it isn't always the winning that counts, but the spirit of fair play, the love for the square deal, the respect for a worthy foe, and the determination not to give up until you are fairly beaten--all these things count for much. so, after all, one can not blame the college lads for the intense interest they take in their games. it is the best kind of training for life, for it is clean and healthful. for a week or more this preliminary practice was kept up. the weather remained fine, and every afternoon the diamond was the scene of much excitement. the candidates reported faithfully, and worked hard. there were many shifts from some of the sophomore or junior nines to the 'varsity, and back again. some who had been called to the "scrub," as i shall call the class nines when they practiced against the 'varsity, were sent back to the waiting list--at best to bunt balls to their fellows, to pitch or catch as suited the positions they hoped to fill. nor was it all easy work, it was really hard toil. it is one thing to play ball without much care as to the outcome, to toss the horsehide back and forth, and, if it is missed, only to laugh. it is one thing to try to bat, to watch the ball coming toward you, wondering what sort of a curve will break, and whether you will hit it or miss it--or whether it will hit you--it is one thing to do that in a friendly little game, and laugh if you strike out. but when making a nine depends on whether your stick connects with the sphere--when getting the college letter for your sweater can be made, or unmade, by this same catching of the ball, then there is a different story back of it. there is a nervous tension that tires one almost as much as severe physical labor. and there is hard physical work, too. of course it is a welcome change from the class-room work, or the lectures, to get out on the diamond, but it is work, none the less. then there are the coaches to put up with. i never was a coach, though i have played under them, and i suppose there is some virtue in the method they use--that of driving the men. and when a lad has done his best, has stood up to the ball, and clouted at it for all he is worth, only to fan the yielding air, it is rather discouraging to hear the coach remark sarcastically: "you're not playing ping-pong, you know, jones." or to hear him say with vinegary sweetness: "did you hurt yourself that time, smith? it was a beautiful wind blow, but--er--pardon me if i mention, just for your benefit you know, that the object in this game is to _hit the ball_. you hit it, and then you run--run, understand, not walk. and another thing, don't be so afraid of it. "of course this isn't a rubber ball, of the sort you probably used to play baby in the hole with--it's hard, and when it hits you it's going to hurt. but--don't let it hit you, and for cats' sake stand up to the plate!" it's a way coaches have, i suppose, and always will. joe felt so, at any rate, and he had rather one would fairly howl at him, in all sorts of strenuous language, than use that sarcastic tone. and i think i agree with him. there is something you get at when a coach yells at you: "come on there you snail! are you going to hold that base all day? someone else wants to get past you know. "come on in! we need that run! move as if you meant it! don't fall asleep! oh, for cats' sake, fanning the air again? run now! that's it. slide! don't be afraid of soiling your clothes, we'll buy you another suit!" i hold this is preferable to the soft and sarcastic method, but they used both varieties at yale, and joe sometimes got so discouraged at times that he felt like resigning. it was harder than he had dreamed of, and he had not pictured a rosy time for himself. "i don't believe i'm ever going to make even the class scrub, spike," said joe to his room-mate one day, following some long practice, when he had not even been called on to bat. "oh, yes you will," declared his friend. "you can pitch--you know it, and i know it. i haven't caught off you these two weeks for nothing. you can pitch, and they'll find it out sooner or later. don't give up!" "i'm not going to. and say, come to think of it, you're no better off than i am. they haven't noticed you either, and yet i've never seen anyone who held the balls any better than you do. and, as for throwing to second--say, you've got kendall beaten." "i'm glad you think so," murmured spike. "i know it!" insisted joe. "i've played in a few games. but what's the use of kicking? maybe our chance will come." "i hope so," replied spike. the practice went on, the elimination and weeding out process being carried on with firm hands, regardless of the heart-breaks caused. "first game to-morrow," announced jimmie lee, bursting into joe's room one evening. "it's just been decided." "who do we play?" asked spike. joe felt his heart sink down lower than ever, for he realized that if he had a chance he would have heard of it by this time. "oh, it isn't a regular game," went on jimmie, who was jubilant from having heard that he would at least start at first base for the class team. "the scrub, as they call it, and 'varsity will play the first regular contest. horsehide is to be there for the first time. then there'll be something doing. i only hope he sees me." "the first regular practice game to-morrow," mused joe. "well, it will be a good one--to watch." "yes--to watch," joined in spike, grimly. "but the season is early yet, joe." as they were talking the door opened and ricky hanover came in. he was grinning broadly. "let's go out and have some sport," he proposed. "it's as dull as ditch water around here. come on out and raise a riot. i'll take you fellows down to glory's, and you can have a rabbit." "get out!" cried spike. "we're in training, you heathen, and you're not." "a precious lot of good it will do you," commented the newcomer. "why don't you chuck it all? you'll never make the team--i mean you and joe, spike. jimmie here has had luck. chuck it and come on out." "no," spoke joe slowly. "i'm going to stick." "so am i," added his room-mate. "you never can tell when your chance will come. besides, we owe it to yale to stick." "all right--i suppose you're right," agreed ricky, with a sigh. "i did the same thing at football. but i sure do want to start something." "begin on that," laughed joe passing him over the alarm clock. "it's run down. wind it and start it going!" ricky joined in the laugh against him, and soon took his departure. joe heard him come in at an early morning hour, and wondered what "sport" ricky had been up to. a large gathering turned out to see the first real baseball contest of the season. by it a line could be had on the sort of game the 'varsity would put up, and all the students were eager to see what sort of championship material they had. there was a conference between coaches and captains, and the 'varsity list was announced weston was to pitch, and kendall to catch. neither joe's name, nor those of any of his intimate chums were called off for a class team. joe did have some hope of the scrub, but when the name of the last man there had been called off, joe's was not mentioned. he moved off to the side, with bitterness in his heart. the game started off rather tamely, though the class pitcher--bert avondale--managed to strike out two of the 'varsity men, to the disgust of the coaches, who raced about, imploring their charges to hit the ball. at the same time they called on the scrub to do their best to prevent the 'varsity men from getting to the bases. it was playing one against the other, just as diamond dust is used to cut the precious stones of which it once formed a part. "well, i haven't seen anything wonderful," remarked joe to spike, after the first inning. "no, they're a little slow warming up. but wait. oh, i say, here he comes!" "who?" "the head coach--horsehide himself. i heard he was to be here to-day. it's his first appearance. now they'll walk spanish." across the back-field a man was approaching--a man who was eagerly surrounded by many of the candidates, and he was cheered to the echo, while murmurs of his name reached joe. "let's go up and have a look at him," proposed spike. "go ahead," agreed joe, for the game had momentarily stopped at the advent of the head coach. he was shaking hands all around, and, as joe approached, mr. forsythe hasbrook turned to greet someone behind him. joe had a good look at his face, and to his great surprise he recognized it as that of the man whom he had driven to the depot in such a rush to catch a train. "and he's yale's head coach!" murmured joe. "i--i wonder if he'll remember me?" chapter xv his first chance joe matson's hope of a quick recognition from the man he had helped that day, and who had turned out to be yale's head coach, was doomed to disappointment, for mr. hasbrook--or, to give him the title lovingly bestowed on him by the players, "horsehide"--had something else to do just then besides recognizing casual acquaintances. he wanted to watch the playing. after a brief conference between himself and the other two coaches, in which the 'varsity captain had a part, horsehide motioned for the playing to be resumed. he said little at first, and then when weston, who was pitching, made a partial motion to throw the ball to first base, to catch a man there, but did not complete his evident intention, mr. hasbrook called out: "hold on there! wait a minute, weston. that was as near a balk as i've ever seen, and if this was a professional game you might lose it for us, just as one of the world series was, by a pitcher who did the same thing." "what do you mean?" asked weston, slightly surprised. "i mean that pretending to throw a ball to first, and not completing the action, is a balk, and your opponents could claim it if they had been sharp enough. where were your eyes?" he asked, of the scrub captain. "i--er--i didn't think----" "that's what your brains are for," snapped the head coach. "you can't play ball without brains, any more than you can without bases or a bat. watch every move. it's the best general who wins battles--baseball or war. now go on, and don't do that again, weston, and, if he does, you call a balk on him and advance each man a base," ordered horsehide. the 'varsity pitcher and the scrub captain looked crestfallen, but it was a lesson they needed to learn. "he's sharp, isn't he?" said joe. "that's what makes him the coach he is," spoke spike. "what's the use of soft-soap? that never made a ball nine." "no, i suppose not." joe was wondering whether he ought to mention to his chum the chance meeting with mr. hasbrook, but he concluded that a wrong impression might get out and so he kept quiet, as he had done in the matter of the red paint on the porch. nothing more had been heard about that act of vandalism, though the professor who had fallen and spoiled the valuable manuscripts was reported to be doing some quiet investigating. "i believe weston had a hand in it," thought joe, "but i'm not going to say anything. he had red paint on him, anyhow. i wonder what he has against me, and if he can do anything to keep me from getting a chance? if i thought so i'd--no, i can't do anything. i've just got to take it as it comes. if i do get a chance, though, i think i can make good." the practice game went on, developing weak spots in both nines, and several shifts were made. but the 'varsity pitcher remained the same, and joe watched weston narrowly, trying to find out his good points. for weston had them. he was not a brilliant twirler, but he was a steady one, in the main, and he had considerable speed, but not much of a curve. still he did manage to strike out a number of his opponents. the game was almost over, and the 'varsity had it safely in hand. they had not obtained it without hard work, however, and they had made many glaring errors, but in this they were not alone. "though, for that matter," declared joe, "i think the scrub pitcher did better, and had better support, than the 'varsity. i don't see why the scrubs didn't win." "it's just because they know they're playing against the 'varsity," declared spike. "there's a sort of nervousness that makes 'em forget to do the things they could do if it was some other nine. sort of over-awed i guess." "maybe," assented joe. "well, here's the end," and the game came to a close. "now for the post-mortem," remarked his room-mate. "the coaches and captain will get together and talk it over." "then we might as well vamoose," said joe. "they won't need us." "i guess not. come on." the boys strolled from the diamond. as they passed a group of the 'varsity players surrounding the coaches, joe saw mr. hasbrook step forward. he had a bat and seemed to be illustrating some of the weak points of the plays just made, or to be about to demonstrate how properly to swing at a ball. as joe came opposite him the head coach stepped out a little and saw our hero. for a moment he stared unrecognizingly at him, and then a smile came over his rugged face. his eyes lighted up, and, stepping forward, he held out his hand. "why, how do you do!" he exclaimed. "i know you--i'm sure i've seen you somewhere before, and under queer circumstances, too, but i can't just recall--hold on, wait a moment!" he exclaimed, as he saw joe about to speak. "i like to make my brain work. "ah! i have it! you're the young fellow who drove me to the station, in time to catch the new york train, the day my carriage wheel broke. well, but i'm glad to see you again! that was a great service you did me, and i haven't forgotten it. are you attending here?" "yes," said joe, glad that he had not been forgotten. "good! are you playing ball?" "well--er--i--that is i haven't----" "oh, i see. you're trying for your team. good! i'm glad to hear it. it's a great game--the greatest there is. and so you are at yale--matson--you see i haven't forgotten your name. i never expected to meet you here. do you know the other coaches?" "i've met them," murmured joe, and he half smiled in a grim fashion, for that was about as far as his acquaintanceship had progressed. he had met them but they did not know him apart from many others. "good!" exclaimed mr. hasbrook. "well, i'll see you again. and so you're at yale? look me up when you get time," and he turned back to his instruction, murmuring to the other coaches: "he did me quite a service some time ago. i'm glad to see him again. seems like a nice lad." the others murmured an assent, and then gave their whole attention to the man who had, more than anyone else, perhaps, mastered the science of baseball as it ought to be played. "well, say, you've got a friend at court all right!" exclaimed spike, as he and joe strolled along. "if i had your chance i'd----" "chance!" exclaimed joe. "what better chance have i than i had before?" "why, you know horsehide! why didn't you say so?" "i didn't know i did until a little while ago. i had no idea that the man i picked up and took to the station would turn out to be the yale coach. but if you think he's going to put me in ahead of the others just on that account you're mistaken." "oh, i don't say that." "it wouldn't be square," went on joe. "of course not. but as long as he does know you he might at least prevail on the other coaches to give you a better chance than you've had so far." "well, maybe," laughed joe. "but i'm not expecting anything like that." "well, just remember me when your chance does come," begged spike. "and remember that i told you." "i will," declared joe, with a laugh, and then he added more earnestly: "if ever i do get on the mound, spike, i'll try to have you catch for me." "i wish you would!" as they went off the field they saw the knot of players still gathered about the head, and other coaches, receiving instructions, and how joe matson wished he was there none but himself knew. in their rooms that afternoon and evening the ball players talked of little save the result of the first real clash between 'varsity and scrub, and the effect of the return of the head coach. it was agreed that the 'varsity, after all, had made a very creditable showing, while the upholders of the class team players gave them much praise. "but things will begin to hum now!" exclaimed jimmie lee, as he sat in joe's room, while the beds, sofa and table, to say nothing of the floor, were encumbered with many lads of the red shack, and some visitors from other places. "yes, sir! horsehide won't stand for any nonsense. they'll all have to toe the line now." "jove, weren't the other coaches stiff enough?" asked clerkinwell de vere, who aspired to right field. "they certainly laced into me for further orders when i muffed a ball." "and so they should," declared spike. "that's what they're for." "oh, but wait until you do that when horsehide sees you," went on jimmie. "that won't be a marker, will it, shorty?" "i should say not. he'll make your hair curl all right. he's a terror." "friend of joe's here," put in spike. "no! is he?" demanded ricky hanover, who had drifted in. "how's that?" "oh, i just met him by accident," declared our hero. "it isn't worth mentioning." he told the incident after some urging. "i wish i stood in your shoes," said de vere. "i'd be sure of my place then." "nothing of the sort!" exclaimed jimmie lee. "if horsehide played favorites that way, he wouldn't be the coach he is. that's one thing about him--he makes his friends work harder than anyone else. i know he did it other seasons--everyone says so." "oh, he's square," chimed in another. "there's not a better coach living, and none you can depend on more. all he wants is to see good, clean playing, and yale to win." joe could not help thinking of the coincidence of meeting the head coach but, though he did have slight hopes that it might lead to something, he resolutely put them out of his mind. "i don't want to get on even the 'varsity that way!" he said to himself that night, when the visitors were gone, and he and spike had turned in. "i want to win my way." nevertheless, he could not help a feeling of slight nervousness the next day, when he reported for practice. "well, same old gag over again i suppose," remarked spike, as they went out to toss and catch. "i suppose so," agreed joe. he passed mr. hasbrook, who was giving some instructions to the fielders just before the 'varsity-class game, but the head coach did not even notice joe. after some batting and catching, and some warming-up work on the part of the pitchers, mr. benson called for a cessation of practice. "here is the batting order and positions of the nines for to-day," he announced, producing a paper. he began to read off the names. for the 'varsity they were the same as the day before. joe, who had permitted himself a faint hope, felt his heart sinking. "for the opposition, or scrub," announced the assistant coach, and he ran down the line, until there was but one place unfilled--that of pitcher. "joe matson!" he called, sharply. chapter xvi joe makes good for a moment our hero could scarcely believe his good fortune. he had been called to pitch for the scrub! once more as he stood there, scarcely comprehending, mr. benson called out sharply: "didn't you hear, matson? you're to pitch against the 'varsity, and i want you to beat 'em!" "yes--yes, sir," answered joe, in a sort of daze. "and, 'varsity, if you don't pound him all over the field you're no good! eat 'em up!" snapped the assistant coach. "don't let 'em win, scrub," insisted mr. whitfield, and thus it went on--playing one against the other to get the 'varsity to do its best. "play ball!" called the umpire. "get to work. come in, you fellows," and he motioned to those who were out on the field warming up. "congratulations, old man!" murmured spike, as he shook joe's hand. "you deserve it." "and so do you. i wish you were going to catch." "i wish so, too, but maybe my chance will come later. fool 'em now." "i'll try." joe had a vision of bert avondale, the regular scrub pitcher, moving to the bench, and for an instant his heart smote him, as he noted bert's despondent attitude. "it's tough to be displaced," murmured joe. "it's a queer world where your success has to be made on someone else's failure, and yet--well, it's all in the game. i may not make good, but i'm going to try awfully hard!" he wondered how his advancement had come about, and naturally he reasoned that his preferment had resulted from the words spoken in private by mr. hasbrook. "i wonder if i'd better thank him?" mused joe. "it would be the right thing to do, and yet it would look as if he gave me the place by favor instead of because i've got a right to have it, for the reason that i can pitch. and yet he doesn't know that i can pitch worth a cent, unless some of the other coaches have told him. but they haven't watched me enough to know. however, i think i'll say nothing until i have made good." had joe only known it, he had been more closely watched since his advent on the diamond than he had suspected. it is not the coach who appears to be taking notes of a man's style of play who seems to find out most. mr. hasbrook, once he found that the lad who had rendered him such a service was at yale, and had aspirations to the nine, made inquiries of the coaches who had done the preliminary work. "oh, matson. hum, yes. he does fairly well," admitted mr. benson. "he has a nice, clean delivery. he isn't much on batting, though." "few pitchers are," remarked the head coach. "i wonder if it would do to give him a trial?" "i should say so--yes," put in mr. whitfield. he was quick to see that his co-worker had a little prejudice in joe's favor, and, to do the assistant coaches justice, they both agreed that joe had done very well. but there were so many ahead of him--men who had been at yale longer--that in justice they must be tried out first. "then we'll try him on the scrub," decided mr. hasbrook; and so it had come about that joe's name was called. in order to give the scrubs every opportunity to beat the 'varsity, and so that those players would work all the harder to clinch the victory, the scrubs were allowed to go to bat last, thus enhancing their chances. "play ball!" yelled the umpire again. "it's getting late. play ball!" joe, a little nervous, walked to the box, and caught the new white ball which was tossed to him. as he was rubbing some dirt on it, to take off the smoothness of the horsehide, mr. hasbrook advanced toward him and motioned him to wait. "matson," said the head coach, smiling genially. "you wouldn't let me reward you for the great favor you did me a while ago, though i wanted to. i hoped sometime to be able to reciprocate, but i never thought it would come in this way. i have decided to give you a chance to make good." "and i can't thank you enough!" burst out the young pitcher. "i feel that----" "tut! tut!" exclaimed mr. hasbrook, holding up his hand, "i wouldn't have done this if i didn't think you had pitching stuff in you. in a way this isn't a favor at all, but you're right though, it might not have come so quickly. i appreciate your feelings, but there are a few things i want to say. "at yale every man stands on his own feet. there is no favoritism. wealth doesn't count, as i guess you've found out. membership in the senior societies--skull and bones, scroll and keys--wolf's head--doesn't count--though, as you will find, those exclusive organizations take their members because of what they have done--not of what they are. "and so i'm giving you a chance to see what is in you. i'd like to see you make good, and i believe you will. but--if you don't--that ends it. every tub must stand on its own bottom--you've got to stand on your feet. i've given you a chance. maybe it would have come anyhow, but, out of friendship to you, and because of the service you did me, i was instrumental in having it come earlier. that is not favoritism. you can't know how much you did for me that day when you enabled me to get the train that, otherwise, i would have missed. "it was not exactly a matter of life and death, but it was of vital importance to me. i would be ungrateful, indeed, if i did not repay you in the only way i could--by giving you the chance to which you are entitled. "but--this is important--you've got to show that you can pitch or you'll lose your place. i've done what i can for you, and, if you prove worthy i'll do more. i'll give you the best coaching i can--but you've got to have backbone, a strong arm, a level head, and grit, and pluck, and a lot of other things to make the yale nine. if you do i'll feel justified in what i have done. now, play ball!" and without giving him a chance to utter the thanks that were on his lips, mr. hasbrook left joe and took a position where he could watch the playing. it is no wonder that our hero felt nervous under the circumstances. anyone would, i think, and when he pitched a wild ball, that the catcher had to leap for, there were some jeers. "oh, you've got a great find!" sneered weston. "he's a pitcher from pitchville!" joe flushed at the words, but he knew he would have to stand more than that in a match game, and he did not reply. other derogatory remarks were hurled at him, and the coaches permitted it, for a pitcher who wilts under a cross-fire is of little service in a big game, where everything is done to "get his goat," as the saying goes. "ball two!" yelled the umpire, at joe's second delivery, and the lad was aware of a cold feeling down his spine. "i've got to make good! i've got to make good!" fiercely he told himself over again. there seemed to be a mist before his eyes, but by an effort he cleared it away. he stooped over pretending to tie his shoe lace--an old trick to gain time--and when he rose he was master of himself again. swiftly, cleanly, and with the curve breaking at just the right moment, his next delivery went over the plate. the batsman struck at it and missed by a foot. "good work, old man!" called the catcher to him. "let's have another." but the next was a foul, and joe began to worry. "you're finding him," called the 'varsity captain to his man. "line one out." but joe was determined that this should not be, and it was not, for though the batter did not make a move to strike at the second ball after the foul, the umpire called sharply: "strike--batter's out." there was a moment of silence, and then a yell of delight from the scrubs and their friends. "what's the matter with you?" angrily demanded mr. hasbrook of the batter. "can't you hit anything?" the batsman shook his head sadly. "that's the boy!" "that's the way to do it!" "you're all right, matson!" these were only a few cries that resounded. joe felt a warm glow in his heart, but he knew the battle had only begun. if he had hoped to pitch a no-hit, no-run game he was vastly disappointed, for the batters began to find him after that for scattering pokes down the field. not badly, but enough to show to joe and the others that he had much yet to learn. i am not going to describe that practice game in detail, for there are more important contests to come. sufficient to say that, to the utter surprise of the 'varsity, the scrub not only continued to hold them well down, but even forged ahead of them. in vain the coaches argued, stormed and pleaded. at the beginning of the ninth inning the scrubs were one run ahead. "now if we can shut them out we'll win!" yelled billy wakefield, the scrub captain, clapping joe on the back. "can you do it?" "i'll try, old man," and the pitcher breathed a trifle faster. it was a time to try his soul. he was so nervous that he walked the first man, and the 'varsity began to jeer him. "we've got his goat! play tag around the bases now! everyone gets a poke at it!" they cried. joe shut his lips firmly. he was holding himself well in, and mr. hasbrook, watching, murmured: "he's got nerve. he may do, if he's got the ability, the speed and the stick-to-it-iveness. i think i made no mistake." joe struck out the next man cleanly, though the man on first stole to second. then, on a puzzling little fly, which the shortstop, with no excuse in the world, missed, another man got to first. there was a double steal when joe sent in his next delivery, and the catcher, in a magnificent throw to second, nearly caught his man. it was a close decision, but the umpire called him safe. there were now two on bases, the first sack being unoccupied, and only one out. "careful," warned the catcher, and joe nodded. perhaps it was lucky that a not very formidable hitter was up next, for, after two balls had been called, joe struck him out, making two down. "now for the final!" he murmured, as the next batter faced him. there were still two on bases, and a good hit would mean two runs in, possibly three if it was a homer. "i'm going to strike him out!" thought joe fiercely. but when two foul strikes resulted from balls that he had hoped would be missed he was not so sure. he had given no balls, however, and there was still a reserve in his favor. "ball one!" yelled the umpire, at the next delivery. joe could hear his mates breathing hard. he rubbed a little soil on the horsehide, though it did not need it, but it gave him a moment's respite. then, swift and sure, he threw the bail. right for the plate it went, and the batter lunged fiercely at it. but he did not hit it. "striker out--side's out!" came from the umpire. joe had made good. chapter xvii another step "'varsity beaten! what do you know about that?" gasped ricky hanover, as the crowd that had watched the game swarmed out on the diamond. "and joe matson did it!" added spike. "jove! but i'm glad for his sake! and him only a freshman, playing on a scrub class team. i'm glad!" "so am i," added jimmie lee, who joined them. "will this get him a permanent place?" asked ricky. "he's entitled to it." "well, he's got his foot on the first rung of the ladder anyhow," was jimmie's opinion. "but it'll be a good while before he pitches for the 'varsity. he's got to show the coaches that it was no freak work. besides he's got a year to wait." "and he can do it!" declared spike. "i haven't been catching him these last two weeks for nothing. joe isn't a freak pitcher. he's got control, and that's better than speed or curves, though he has them, too." on all sides there was talk about the result of the practice game. of course the second nine had, in times past, often beaten the 'varsity, for the element of luck played into the hands of the scrub as well as into those of its opponents. but the times were few and far between when the first nine had to go down to defeat, especially in the matter of a scrub freshman pitcher administering it to them, and joe's glory was all the greater. "congratulations, old man!" exclaimed avondale, the scrub twirler whom joe had temporarily displaced. "you saw your duty and you done it nobly, as the poet says. you didn't let 'em fuss you when you were in a tight corner, and that's what tells in a ball game. shake!" "thanks!" exclaimed joe. he knew just what it meant for his rival to do this, and he appreciated it. "you can have a whack at them next." "i'm afraid not," returned avondale. "you did so well that they'll want to keep you at scrub, and you'll be on the 'varsity before you know it." "i wish i could think so," laughed joe. as he spoke he saw ford weston passing behind him, and the 'varsity pitcher had heard what was said. a scowl passed over his face. he did not speak to joe, but to captain hatfield, who was with him, the pitcher murmured, loudly enough to be heard: "it was just a fluke, that was all. we could have won only for the errors the fielders made." "maybe--maybe not," agreed the captain. "i think we were outpitched, and i'm not afraid to acknowledge it. we've got to do better!" "do you mean me?" there was challenge in weston's tone. "i mean all of us," was the quiet answer. "matson, you did us up brown, but you won't do it again," and the captain laughed frankly. "i'll try--if i get the chance," was the grim retort. meanwhile the coaches had singled out some of the 'varsity members whose playing had shown faults, and were giving instructions how to correct them. merky bardine, who played on third, had sprained his leg slightly, and the trainer, mcleary, had taken him in hand to treat him. mr. hasbrook walked up to joe. "you did very well," the chief coach was good enough to say, "and i'm glad you had your chance. you have a number of faults to correct, but i think you can master them. one is that you don't get enough into the game yourself. a pitcher must do more than merely deliver the ball. twice in this game you didn't get after the bunts as you might have done." joe felt a little discouraged. he had hoped for unqualified praise from the head coach, but he was sensible enough to realize that it was all said for his benefit, and he resolved to profit by it. in fact it was this quality and ability of joe's--enabling him to receive advice graciously--that made him the wonderful pitcher he afterward became. "you must play into the game more," went on mr. hasbrook. "outside of the catcher, you're the only man on the team who can handle certain bunts--i mean the pitcher. for that reason you want to study a style of delivery that won't leave you in a bad position to look after the ball if it is hit your way. you have the right idea now in throwing, but you can improve, i'm sure." "i'll try," spoke joe. "i know you will, and that's why i'm taking the trouble to talk to you. then you've got to be on the watch for base stealing. there are some catchers who can pretend to throw to second, and yet so suddenly change as to deliver the ball to the pitcher. this deceives the man on third, who starts for home, and if you have the ball you can nip him. so far we haven't had a catcher who can work this trick, but we may develop one before we get through." "then kendall isn't sure of his place?" asked joe eagerly, thinking of the desire of his chum spike to fill the position behind the plate later on. "well, he's reasonably sure of it," went on the head coach cautiously. "but we never can tell what will develop after the season opens. another point i'd like to impress on you is, that sometimes you've got to help out on first base. particularly is this the case when a bunt comes that the first baseman can take care of. then it's your duty to hustle over to first." "yes, sir," answered joe. it was all he could think of to say at the time. in fact he was rather dazed. there was a deal more to this baseball game than he had imagined. he was beginning to get an inkling of the difference between the amateur sport and the professional way of playing. "i don't want to burden you with too much advice at the start," went on mr. hasbrook, "for i want you to remember what i tell you. from time to time, as i see your weak points, i'm going to mention them to you." "i'll be glad if you will," spoke joe earnestly. "on the whole you did very well to-day," concluded the head coach, "and i'm glad we gave you the chance. report for light practice to-morrow, and the next day we'll try another game. look after your arm. you used it a good bit this afternoon." joe felt in rather better spirits after mr. hasbrook had finished than when he began. "i'm going to get a fair chance to show what i can do, anyhow," declared our hero, as he went to his room. on the way he was joined by spike, who had dropped back when the head coach started his instructions. "well?" asked joe's room-mate. "fairly well," was the answer. "say, i believe you've got a chance, spike." "me? how?" "why, it isn't settled that kendall will catch all of next season." "oh, i guess it is as much as anything is settled in this world. but i can wait. i've got four years here." joe was elated at his triumph, and little was talked of in baseball circles that night but how the scrubs had "put one over" on the 'varsity. there was some disposition to criticize the first team for loose and too confident playing, but those who knew gave joe credit for what he had done. and so the baseball season went on until the 'varsity was fully perfected and established, the class teams improved and the schedule made up. then came hard and grilling work. joe was doing his best on his freshman class team, and often played against the college nine, either in conjunction with his mates, or, when it was desired to give one of the other freshmen pitchers a chance, taking part with a mixed "scrub" team, composed of lads from various classes in order to give the 'varsity good opposition. and yale swept on her way. of course joe bewailed the fact that he would have to lose a whole year before he could hope for a chance to be on the first team, but he bided his time. weston was doing fairly well, and the feeling between him and our hero had not changed. the spring term was drawing to a close. yale and princeton had met twice, and there was a game apiece. yale had also played other colleges, losing occasionally, but winning often enough to entitle her to claim the championship if she took the odd game from the tiger. but she did not, and though her players insisted, none the less, that yale was at the top of the heap, and though the sporting writers conceded this, still princeton won the third game. and yale was bitter, though she stood it grimly,--as she always does. "well, we'll see what next year will bring forth," said spike to joe, at the wind-up of the baseball season. "you're coming back; aren't you?" "i wouldn't miss it for anything now. though, as a matter of fact, i didn't expect to. i thought i'd take one year here, and if i could get on the 'varsity nine long enough to say i had been on it, i'd quit, and go in for the professional end of it. but, since i can't, i'll come back and make another stab at it." "that's the way to talk. well, i hope to be here, too." the summer vacation came, and joe had passed his examinations. not brilliantly, but sufficiently well to enable him to enter the sophomore class. "and if i don't make the 'varsity next spring, it will be my own fault!" he cried, as he said good-bye to his chums and packed up for home. the summer passed pleasantly enough. joe's family took a cottage at a lake resort, and of course joe organized a ball team among the temporary residents of the resort. a number of games were played, joe pitching in fine style. one day a manager of one of the minor leagues attended a contest where joe pitched, and when word of this was carried to our hero he had a nervous fit. but he pulled himself together, twirled magnificently, and was pleased to see the "magnate" nod approvingly. though later, when someone offered to introduce joe to him, the lad declined. "i'll wait until i've made a better reputation," he declared. "i want the yale y before i go looking for other honors;" and he stuck to that. "joe seems to care more for college than you thought he would, father," said mrs. matson, when it came time for her son to go back as a sophomore for the next fall term. "i think he'll finish yet, and make us all proud of him." "joe will never do anything that would not make us proud of him," said his father. "but i rather fancy the reason he is so willing to go back to yale is that he didn't make the 'varsity baseball nine last season. there's a rule against freshmen, you know." "oh dear!" lamented mrs. matson. "i did hope he would like college for its own sake, and not for baseball." "it's hard to separate baseball and football from college likings, i guess," conceded her husband. and so joe went back. it was quite different from entering new haven as a freshman, and even in the old elms he seemed to have a proprietary interest. he took his old room, because he liked it, and a number of his other sophomore friends did likewise, though some freshmen held forth there as usual. then came the football season, and, though joe took an interest in this, and even consented to try for the scrub, he was not cut out for that sort of work, and soon gave it up. yale made her usual success on the gridiron, though the far-famed game with princeton resulted in a tie, which made the baseball nine all the more anxious to win the championship. the winter seemed endless, but soon there was the beginning of baseball talk, as before, and this was regarded as a sign of spring. there was no question now but what joe was eligible for the 'varsity, though that was far from saying that he would be picked for it. all his old friends had returned to the university, and there was little change in the baseball situation as regards new names. most of the old ones kept their same places. nothing definite had been learned about the red paint episode, and though it was mentioned occasionally, and often in a censorious manner as against the perpetrator of it, the latter was not discovered. then there began to gather at yale the oldtime players, who acted as coaches. mr. hasbrook, who from long familiarity with the game, and from his intense love of it, and for his _alma mater_, was again named as head coach. "well, we've got a pretty good nine, i think," said weston one day, after hard practice against the freshmen. how joe did thank his stars that he was not in the latter team, though he was first pitcher on the sophomore team. "yes, we have," admitted several. "it looks as if we could trim princeton this time." joe had pitched for the 'varsity in some informal practice games, though weston was regarded still as first choice. and joe was fearful that his cherished ambition was yet far from being realized. "we're playing good ball," said weston. "i don't say that because i'm pitching," he added quickly, as he saw some looking at him curiously, "but because we have got a good team--mostly old players, too," and he glanced meaningly at joe, as though he resented his entrance as an aspirant for the mound. "one thing--we've got to tighten up considerably," declared captain hatfield. "we'll play our first match game with amherst in two weeks, and we want to swamp 'em." "oh, we will," said weston easily. "not unless you pitch better--and we all play better," was the grim answer. "what do you mean?" "just what i said. you've got to strike more men out, and play a livelier game." "well, i guess i can," answered the pitcher, sullenly. there was only light practice the next day, and joe was told to perfect himself in signals with the class captain. then came another hard practice contest, and, somewhat to joe's surprise, he was not called on to pitch, as he fully expected. but he resigned himself cheerfully when avondale went to the mound. had our hero but known it, mr. hasbrook had deliberately omitted to start joe, wishing to discipline him, not, however, because of anything joe had done. "i think there's championship material for one of the big leagues in that lad," mused the head coach, to justify himself, "and he's got a hard row ahead of him unless he learns to take disappointment. i'll start him on the right track, though i would like to pitch him steadily." and so joe sat on the bench, while his rival pitched. whether it was on this account, or because the 'varsity had tightened, was not at once apparent, but the fact was that the first team began to pound out runs, and the scrub did not. "that's the way!" exclaimed the enthusiastic assistant coaches. "eat 'em up, 'varsity!" mr. hasbrook smiled, but said nothing. at the end of the seventh inning joe was sent in to pitch, but it was too late for the scrubs to save the game for themselves, since the 'varsity had it by six runs. nor did joe escape hitless, though from the time he went in no runs were made by his opponents. "joe, you're a better pitcher than i am," declared avondale, frankly. "i can see where i've made mistakes." "well, it isn't too late to fix 'em." "yes, i'm afraid it is," and, as it developed, it was, for from then on joe did most of the pitching for the scrub. occasionally, when his arm was a bit lame, avondale was sent in, or one of the other pitching candidates, but the result was nearly always disastrous for the scrub. not that joe always made good. he had his off days, when his curves did not seem to break right, and when his control was poor. but he was trying to carry out mr. hasbrook's instructions to get into more plays, and this handicapped him a bit at the start. the head coach saw this, and made allowances, keeping joe on the mound when the assistants would have substituted someone else. "wait," advised the head coach. "i know what i'm doing." the season was beginning to open. schedules were being arranged, and soon yale would begin to meet her opponents. the practice grew harder and more exacting. the voices of the coaches were more stern and sharp. no errors were excused, and the scrub was worked doubly hard to make the 'varsity that much better. ford weston had improved considerably and then one day he went to pieces in the box, when playing a particularly close and hard game with the scrub. there was surprise and consternation, and a hasty conference of the coaches. an attempt was made to stem the tide by putting in mcanish, the southpaw, and he did some excellent work, but the scrub seemed to have struck a winning streak and took everything that came their way. joe was pitching, and held the first team well down. there was gloom in yale that night, for the game with amherst was not far off, and the amherst lads were reported to be a fast and snappy lot. there was a day of rest, and then came the final practice against the scrub. there was a consultation among the coaches in which the first and second captains participated before the contest. then mr. hasbrook separated himself from the others. "matson!" he called sharply. "you and kendall warm up a bit, and get a line on each other's signals. matson, you're going to pitch for the 'varsity to-day!" chapter xviii plotting joe matson was trembling when he went to his place, even after some lively warming-up practice with the catcher. the very thing he most wanted had come to him very unexpectedly. and yet he was sensible enough to realize that this was only a trial, and that it did not mean he would pitch against amherst. but he had great hopes. "come!" he exclaimed to himself, as he got ready for the opening of the game. "i've got to pull myself together or i'll go all to pieces. brace up!" the sight of weston glaring at him helped, in a measure, to restore joe to himself. "he's hoping i won't make good," thought joe. "but i will! i must!" it may have been because of joe's natural nervousness, or because the scrub team was determined to show that they could bat even their own pitcher, that was the cause of so many runs coming in during the first inning. no one could rightly say, but the fact remained that the runs did come in, and it began to look bad for the 'varsity. "i told you how it would be--putting in a green pitcher," complained mr. benson. "perhaps," admitted the head coach. "but wait a bit. joe isn't as green as he looks. wait until next inning." and he was justified, for joe got himself well in hand, and the 'varsity, as if driven to desperation by another defeat staring them in the face so near to the amherst game, batted as they never had before. avondale was all but knocked out of the box, and the scrub captain substituted another pitcher, who did much better. joe's former rival almost wept at his own inability. meanwhile our hero was himself again, and though he did give three men their bases on balls, he allowed very few hits, so that the 'varsity took the game by a good margin, considering their bad start. "that's the way to do it!" cried captain hatfield, when the contest was over. "do it to amherst," was the comment of the head coach. "we will!" cried the members of the first team. "good work, matson," complimented hatfield. "can you do it again?" "maybe--if i get the chance," laughed joe, who was on an elevation of delight. "oh, i guess you'll have to get the chance," spoke the captain. he did not notice that weston was close behind him, but joe did, and he saw the look of anger and almost hate that passed over the face of the pitcher. "he looks as though he'd like to bite me," murmured joe. "and yet it's all a fair game. i may get knocked out myself. but even then i'm not going to give up. i'm in this to stay! if not at yale, then somewhere else." if joe imagined that his work that day had been without flaws he was soon to be disillusioned, for mr. hasbrook, coming up to him a little later, pointed out where he had made several bad errors in judgment, though they had not resulted in any gain for the scrub. "still," said the head coach, "you don't want to make them, for with a sharp team, and some of the big college nines playing against you, those same errors would lose the game." and he proceeded to give joe some good advice. when avondale, the twice-humiliated pitcher, walked off the diamond that afternoon, he was joined by weston, who linked his arm in that of the scrub twirler. "well, we're both in the same boat," remarked avondale. "a better man has ousted us." "not at all--nothing of the sort!" cried weston, and his voice showed how much he was nervously wrought up. "i don't admit for a minute that matson can pitch better than i can." "well, i do, in my own case, and the coaches seem to in yours." "i'm a little out of form to-day," admitted weston, quickly. "i'll be all right to-morrow, and i'll pitch against amherst." "it'll be a great game," spoke avondale. "maybe. but say, what do you think of a fellow like him--a regular country clod-hopper--coming here, anyhow?" "who do you mean?" "matson. what right has he got to butt in at a college like yale, and displace the fellows who have worked hard for the nine?" "the right of ability, i suppose." "ability nothing! he doesn't belong here, and he ought to be made to quit." "well, i confess i don't like to lose the place i worked so hard for, and i don't see much chance of making the 'varsity now," admitted avondale; "but at the same time i must give matson credit for his work." "bah! it's only a flash in the pan. he can't last. i think i could make him quit if i wanted to." "how?" "would you join me in a little trick if we could?" "i don't know. what do you mean?" and avondale looked curiously at his companion. "i mean that red paint business and the spoiling of the ancient manuscripts. if it was known who did it he'd get fired." "you don't mean to say matson had a hand in that!" cried avondale aghast. "i'm not saying anything. but if it could be shown that he did it, he'd not pitch for yale--that's sure. shall i say any more? remember i'm making no cracks yet. but i know some things about matson no one else knows." this was true enough, but avondale did not take it in the sense in which it could have been truthfully said, but, rather, as weston meant he should--wrongly. now avondale had one fault. he was too easily led. he was brilliant, full of promise, and a jolly chap--hail-fellow-well-met with everyone, and that is not the best thing in the world, though it makes for temporary popularity. avondale was his own worst enemy, and many a time he had not the courage to say "no!" when the utterance of it would have saved him from trouble. so when weston thus temptingly held out the bait, avondale nibbled. "shall i say any more?" went on the other. "remember, you've got to be as tight as a drum on this." "of course. i--er--i--that is----" "come over here and i'll tell you something," went on the 'varsity pitcher, and the two were soon in close conversation. chapter xix the anonymous letter "have you seen the _news_?" gasped jimmie lee, bursting into the room of joe and his chum one afternoon, following some baseball practice. "it's great!" "you mean have we _heard_ the news; don't you?" questioned spike. "you can hear news, but not see it, that is unless the occurrence which makes news happens to come under your own observation. where is your logic, you heathen? _seen_ news!" "yes, that's what i mean!" snapped jimmie. "i mean have you seen the last copy of the yale _news_?" "no; what is it?" asked joe quickly. "something about the baseball nine?" "no, it's about those musty old manuscripts that got spoiled the time professor hardee slipped on his doorsteps in the red paint." "what about 'em?" demanded joe, thinking of the time he had seen weston slipping into his room, trying to conceal his hand on which was a scarlet smear. "what's new?" "why, it seems that some learned high-brow society wrote on to borrow them, to prove or disprove something that happened in the time of moses, and they had to be refused as the sheepskins are illegible. the powers that be tried to clean off the paint, but it took some of the lettering with it, and prof. hardee and some of his friends are wild over the loss. the _news_ says it's irreparable, and there's even an editorial on it." "well, that isn't much that's new," went on joe, as he took the college paper which jimmie held out to him. "it was known before that the parchments were pretty well on the blink. it's a shame, too, for they are the only ones in the world of that particular dynasty. what else?" "lots," went on jimmie. "the _news_ hints that a committee of seniors is working with professor hardee and some of the faculty, trying to find out who was responsible. if they do find out they may make the joker's folks pay heavy damages." "yes, if they find out," put in spike. "but it happened some time ago, and they haven't got a hint of it yet. it was a mean trick--i'll say that--but there are no welchers or squealers at yale." "i'm not so sure of that," murmured jimmie. "what do you mean?" asked joe quickly. "why this screed goes on to hint that the investigators have a line on who did it. they have some clews, it seems, and an exposure is hinted at." "get out!" cried joe, thinking of the effect it would have on weston should the truth--as joe thought it--come out. he had half made up his mind to deny everything he had seen, even if questioned. "that's right," asserted jimmie. "this article says it may soon be known who did the 'dastardly deed'--note the 'dastardly'--guess the editor dipped his pen in sulphuric acid. but it was a mean trick, and i guess we all feel the same way about it. the fellow who did it ought to be fired. fun is fun, and i like it as much as anybody, but this passes the limits." "right!" exclaimed spike. "but does it say anything about who it might be--what class?" "oh, it as much as says a freshman did it, of course--as if we did everything last year. anyhow, it's stirred up a lot of talk, i can tell you. i just came across the campus and the _news_ sold more copies than ever before, i guess. everyone seems to have one, and they're all talking about it. i hope if they do find out who did it, that he won't happen to be any of our crowd--or on the ball nine." "why?" asked spike. "why--he'd be expelled, of course, and if it was one of the 'varsity nine it might have a bad effect on winning the championship. we've got to win that this year." "oh, i guess it's mostly talk," asserted spike, as he read the article after joe had finished. as for joe he said little. but he thought much. "maybe," agreed jimmie. "and yet it looks as if there was something back of it all. i only hope there isn't. it would be tough for our class to have to stand for this." there was more talk along the same line, and, a little later, some other of the second-year class dropped in and continued the session. there were differences of opinion, as might have been expected. "well, after all is said and done," came from bert fost, who by reason of weight was ineligible for the nine, but who was an enthusiastic supporter, "when it's all over, i think we'll wipe amherst off the map." "we will--if the nine isn't broken up," declared jimmie. "broken up--what do you mean?" and bert glared at the questioner. "i mean that if it's proved that some member of the team did this red paint business it's all off with him having a chance to play against amherst." "oh, piffle!" declared bert. "that punk is written by some lad who's trying to make good on the _news_ so he'll get tapped for scroll and keys. forget it." but it was not so easily forgotten, for the article seemed to have some definite knowledge behind it, and the editorial, though student-inspired, as all knew, was a sharp one. "if it really is weston i'm sorry for him," thought joe, little thinking how near he himself was to danger. there were new developments the next morning--a certain something in the air as the young men assembled for chapel told that there was about to be a break. and it came. "here comes the dean!" the whisper went round, when the exercises were nearly over. "something's going to be cut loose." the dean addressed the students. he began mildly, but soon he had almost worked himself up to a dramatic situation. in veiled terms he referred to the red paint outrage, and then, after telling what it meant to have the valuable manuscripts ruined, he added: "i assume that you have all seen the article which appears in the college paper. with that, though i might, i take no issue. on another phase i do. "i have received an anonymous letter, accusing a certain student of the outrage. i shall, in this matter, take the course i always do when i receive such a cowardly communication as an anonymous letter--i destroy it unread," and, as he spoke the dean tore into fragments a piece of paper. the pieces he carefully put in his pocket, however, with the remark that they would be consigned to the fire unlooked at, as soon as possible. "i wonder who was accused?" said spike. "i wonder?" added joe. chapter xx the cornell host "that's the way to do it!" "yale always can do it!" "bull dog grit!" "the blue always wins!" "they came--they saw--but--we conquered!" it was the close of the yale-amherst baseball game, and the sons of eli had gloriously triumphed. they had trailed the banners of their opponents in the dust, they had raced around the bases, they had batted the ball into the far corners of the field, and they had raced home with the runs. "i told you so!" chirped jimmie lee. "hold on!" cried slim jones. "didn't you start to be a calamity howler, and say yale wouldn't win?" "never!" asserted jimmie. "yes, you did!" "well, i was only bluffing. i knew we could put it all over them." "and we did," said spike in a low voice to joe. "only----" "only i didn't have much share in it," interrupted the aspirant for pitching honors. there had indeed been a "shake-up" on the nine the day of the game. until the last moment it was not definitely settled who would pitch, and there were many rumors current. it lay between joe, weston, and mcanish, the left-handed one, and on the morning of the game--the first important one of the season for yale--the newspapers had various guesses as to who would be the twirler. joe had hoped to go in at the start, but when the game was called, and captain hatfield submitted his list, it was seen that weston had the coveted place. "well, old man, you're back where you belong," said avondale to him, as the name was called. "i suppose now, that little matter, which you were speaking to me about, can drop?" "it can--if i remain pitcher," answered weston. "but i've got it all cocked and primed to explode if i have to. i'm not going to sit tight and let some country whipper-snapper put it all over me." "i don't know as i blame you--and yet he seems a pretty decent sort." "oh, he's not in our class!" "well, maybe not. do your best!" and weston did. never had he pitched a better game--even his enemies, and he had not a few, admitted that. it was a "walkover" soon after the first few innings had demonstrated the superiority of yale. amherst was game, and fought to the last ditch, but neither in batting, fielding nor pitching was she the equal of the wearers of the blue. joe, sitting on the bench, with the other substitutes, fretted his heart out, hoping for a chance to play, but he was not called on until the eighth inning. then, after a conference of the coaches, during which the head one could be seen to gesticulate vigorously, joe was called on to bat in place of another, which gave him the call to pitch the next inning. "what's the matter?" was asked on all sides. "is weston going stale?" "glass arm," suggested some of his enemies. "no, they're saving him for the harvard game," was the opinion of many. "they don't want to work him too hard." "and we have this game anyhow." "but what's the matter with mcanish?" "oh, he's out of form." and so joe had gone in at the eleventh hour, before that sitting on the bench, eating his heart out. "show what you can do!" exclaimed the head coach to him as he took the mound. "and don't worry." "don't worry?" repeated joe. "that's what i said. remember what i told you, and don't try to win the game by merely pitching." joe recalled his instructions about backing up first base in an emergency, of taking care of the bunts, of watching the catcher, who might try to deceive the man on third. and it was well for joe that he did. for, though he did well from the pitching end, there came several opportunities to distinguish himself in making infield plays. once he made a fine stop of a bunt that, had it been a safety, would have done much to lower yale's lead. again he managed, by a quick play, on getting the ball from the catcher, to throw out the man at second, who was trying to steal third. there was applause for joe matson that day, though he did not pitch the team to victory. "well?" asked mr. hasbrook of his colleagues, after the contest. "what did i tell you? isn't he an all-around good player?" "he seems so," admitted mr. benson. "but i think weston did most excellently." "yes, he did," said the head coach, "but mark my words, he's overtrained or he hasn't the grit to stick it out. here we are at the beginning of the season, and he has failed us several times. i don't want to force my judgment on you gentlemen, but i think we ought to give matson a better trial." "all right, we'll send him in earlier in the cornell game next week," suggested mr. whitfield, and to that the head coach agreed. there were all sorts of baseball politics discussed in the dormitories, on the campus, and at glory's and other resorts that night. "it begins to look as if the coaches didn't quite know where they were at," declared ricky hanover. "they make a shift at the last minute." "a good shift--according to the way the game went," declared hen johnson, who held down second base. "that's yet to be seen," asserted jimmie lee. "amherst was fruit for us to-day." the opinions went back and forth--_pro_ and _con_--and it was, after all, a matter of judgment. yet back of it all was the indomitable yale spirit that has often turned defeat into victory. this was to hearten up those who picked flaws in the playing of the blue, and who predicted a slump in the following week, when the strong cornell team would be met. "oh, cornell may row us but she can't play ball us," declared jimmie lee. "we'll dump 'em." "we may--if joe matson pitches," spoke spike, in a low voice. "here! cut that out," advised joe, in a sharp whisper. meanwhile no more had been heard about the red paint matter, and it looked to be but a flash in the pan--what the _news_ had printed. the senior committee of investigation was not in evidence--at least as far as could be learned. baseball practice went on, sometimes joe pitching for the 'varsity, and again one of his rivals being called on. there was a tightening up on the part of the coaches--they were less tolerant--the errors were less excused. bitter words were the portion of those who made mistakes, and joe did not escape. "you must do a little better," the head coach urged him. "we're not playing school teams, remember, but teams that are but little removed from the professional class, as regards ability. play harder--sharper--more accurately--don't get rattled." and joe tried to tell himself that he would do or not do these things, but it was hard work. he had begun to realize what a career he had marked out for himself. "well, are you going to spring it?" asked avondale of weston, a day or so before the cornell game. "what about the red paint?" "oh, i guess it will keep--if i pitch the game," was the answer. "did you send the anonymous letter?" "don't ask me," snapped weston. the day of the next game came--one of the great battles of the diamond, on the winning or losing of which depended, in a measure, the gaining of the championship. the cornell host, many strong, descended on new haven, and made the air vibrant with their yells. they cheered yale, and were cheered in turn. out on the diamond they trotted--a likely looking lot of lads. "husky bunch," commented jimmie lee. "they sure are," agreed shorty kendall. "who'll pitch for you?" "don't know. they're just going to announce it." the umpire, the captains, managers, and coaches were holding a conference. joe, in spite of his seeming indifference, watched them narrowly. over in their section the cornell hosts were singing their songs and giving their cheers. the wearers of the blue had given their great cry--they had sung the boola song--some had even done the serpentine dance. all was in readiness for the game. "if he doesn't pitch me," murmured weston, "i'll be----" mr. hasbrook motioned to the umpire, who raised his megaphone to make the announcement. chapter xxi eager hearts "the battery for yale will be weston and kendall, and for cornell----" but the last announcement was given no heed by the supporters of the blue--at least by the players themselves, the substitutes, and joe matson in particular. a murmur went around. "weston! weston's going to pitch!" "after the work baseball joe's done too!" "why, weston isn't in form." "oh, he's practiced hard lately." "yes, and he was doing some hot warming-up work a little while ago. i guess they'll pitch him all right." "he must have put up a kick, and hasbrook gave in to him." "it looks so, and yet horsehide generally doesn't play a man unless he can make good. that's yale's way." these were only a few of the comments that were being heard on all sides. the yale team looked somewhat amazed, and then, lest their enemies find out that they feared they had a weak spot, they braced up, smiled and acted as if it was a matter of course. and, as far as cornell was concerned, they knew that there was rivalry between weston and joe, but as a pitcher is an uncertain quantity at best, they were not surprised that the 'varsity twirler whom they had faced the season before should again occupy the mound. it might be a part of the game to save matson until later. "tough luck, joe," said spike, as he passed his friend. "yes--oh, i don't know! i hadn't any right to expect to pitch!" joe tried to be brave about it, but there was a sore feeling in his heart. he had hoped to go into the game. "sure you had a right to expect it!" declared spike. "you're the logical pitcher. there's been some funny work going on, i'm sure. weston has pulled off something." "be careful, spike." "oh, i'm sure of it. why, look at horsehide's face!" joe glanced at the head coach. indeed the countenance of mr. hasbrook presented a study. he seemed puzzled as he turned away from a somewhat spirited conversation with mr. benson. for an instant his eyes met those of joe, and the young pitcher thought he read in them pity, and yet a trace of doubt. "i wonder if he has lost confidence in me?" thought joe. "i wonder if he thinks i can't pitch in a big game?" yet he knew in his own heart that he had not gone back--he was sure he could pitch better than he ever had before. the days at yale, playing with young men who were well-nigh professionals, had given him confidence he had not possessed before, and he realized that he was developing good control of the ball, as well as speed and curves. "i wonder why he didn't pitch me?" mused joe. "play ball!" called the umpire, and the hearts of all were eager for the battle of stick and horsehide to begin. cornell went to the bat first, and weston faced his man. there was a smile of confidence on the pitcher's face, as he wound up, and delivered a few practice balls to kendall. then he nodded as if satisfied, and the batter stepped up to the plate. "strike!" called the umpire, at the first delivery, and there was a murmur of amazement. the batter himself looked a bit confused, but made no comment. the ball had gone cleanly over the plate, though it looked as if it was going to shoot wide, and the player had thought to let it pass. weston smiled more confidently. he was hit for a foul, but after getting three and two he struck the batter out, and there was a round of applause. "i couldn't have done it any better myself," said joe, with honest praise for his rival. "wait," advised spike. "weston's got to last over eight more innings to make good, and he'll never do it." but when he struck out the next man, and the third had retired on a little pop fly, yale began to rise in her might and sing the beginning of a song of victory. "oh, we've got the goods!" her sons yelled. "how's that for pitching?" demanded someone. joe joined in the cheer that was called for weston, but his heart was still sore, for he felt that those cheers might have been for him. but he was game, and smiled bravely. yale managed to get one run during the last half of the first inning, and once more the sons of eli arose and sent forth a storm of cheers, songs and college cries. "go back home, cornell!" they screamed. but the cornell host smiled grimly. they were fighters from start to finish. joe noticed that weston did not seem quite so confident when he came to the mound the second time. there was an exchange of signals between him and the catcher, and weston seemed to be refusing to do what was wanted. after getting three and two on his man, the batter sent out a high one that the left fielder was unable to connect with, and the runner reached second. "never mind, play for the next one," advised kendall, and though the runner stole third, weston pitched the second man out. then, whether it was nervousness or natural inability cropping out at the wrong time, was not known, but the pitcher "went up in the air." with only one out, and a man on third, he began to be hit for disastrous results. he made wild throws, and the whole team became so demoralized that costly errors were made. the result was that cornell had four runs when the streak was stopped. "we've got to do better than this," declared the head coach, as the yale men came in to bat. "rap out a few heavy ones. show 'em what yale can do in a pinch." they tried, but cornell was fighting mad now, with the scent of victory to urge her players on. the best yale could do was two, leaving their opponents one ahead at the beginning of the third. and then weston went to pieces more than ever, though in the interval his arm had been rubbed and treated by the trainer. he had complained that it was stiff. i shall not give all the details of that game. yale wanted to forget it after it was over. but when, at the ending of the fifth inning, the score stood eight to four in favor of cornell there was a quick consultation among the coaches. what was said could not be heard, but mr. hasbrook seemed to be insisting on something to which the other two would not agree. finally horsehide threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "avondale, take the mound!" he exclaimed. "avondale!" gasped the players. the scrub pitcher to go in and joe, who was his master, kept on the bench? it was incredible. "well, what do you know about that?" demanded spike. "i've a good notion to----" "be quiet!" begged joe. "they know what they're doing." but it seems they did not, for avondale was worse by far than weston had been. he was hit unmercifully, and three more runs came in. but he had to stick it out, and when the miserable inning for yale ended he went dejectedly to the bench. weston, who had been having his arm rubbed again, and who had been practicing with a spare catcher, looked hopeful. but this time, following another conference of coaches, mr. hasbrook evidently had his way. fairly running over to where joe sat the head coach exclaimed: "quick--get out there and warm up. you'll pitch the rest of the game. it's a forlorn hope, but we'll take it!" joe's face shone as he ripped off his sweater, grabbed up a ball and his mitt, and started for the practice stretch. his heart was in a tumult, but he calmed himself and began his work. but it was too much to expect to pull the contest out of the fire by such desperate and late-day methods. in the part of the game he pitched joe allowed but one hit, and with howls of delight his friends watched him mow down the cornell batters. not another run came in, but the lead of the visitors was too big, and yale could not overcome it, though her sons did nobly, rising to the support of joe in great style. "well, it's over," remarked spike gleefully as he caught joe's arm at the close of the contest. "you seem glad that yale lost," said the pitcher. "never! but i'm glad you showed 'em what you could do when you had the chance. if you'd gone in first yale would have won!" "oh, you think so--do you?" sneered a voice behind them. they turned quickly, to see ford weston, scowling with rage. "yes, i do," declared spike boldly. "then you've got another think coming!" was the retort. "i'm the 'varsity pitcher, and i'm going to hold on to the job!" chapter xxii the crimson spot "what do you think of him, anyhow?" asked spike of his room-mate, as weston passed on. "isn't he the limit!" "he certainly doesn't seem to care much for me," replied joe, with a grim smile. "but i suppose it's natural. almost anyone would feel that way at the prospect of being replaced." "oh, he makes me tired!" exclaimed spike. "he ought to stand for yale--not for ford weston. it's the first time in a good many years that any player has placed himself above the team." "but weston hasn't done that yet." "no, but that's what he's scheming for. he as good as said that he'll pitch for the 'varsity no matter what happens." "who's that? what's up?" asked another voice, and, turning, the two chums saw ricky hanover. "oh, you're talking about weston," he added, as he noted the defeated pitcher walking away. "what's he been saying?" they told him, and ricky, making a wry face, went on: "so that's how things are; eh? well, if weston tries that sort of game, i can see the finish of the yale nine. it'll be the tail end of the kite, and the championship will be in the soup. in fact it's beginning to gravitate that way now, with the loss of this cornell game." "but where does weston get his pull?" demanded spike. "how is it that they put him in to-day, when it was almost known that he couldn't make good. and here was joe all ready to go on the mound. you saw what he did when he got there and yet----" "spare my blushes! i'm a modest youth!" laughed joe. "that's all right, there's something back of all this," continued spike, vigorous in defence of his chum. "why should the coaches put weston in, and then, when he slumped, call on avondale before they did you, joe? it isn't right, and i think horsehide should have made a better fight for you. you claim he's a friend of yours, joe." "well, yes, in a way. and yet if i had to depend on his friendship to get on the mound i'd never go there. i want to stand on my own feet and have the right to pitch because i can do better than some other fellow. that's all i ask--a fair show. i don't want any favors, and mr. hasbrook isn't the man to give them to me, if i'd take them." "i guess you're right there," commented ricky. "but what i can't understand," went on spike, "is how horsehide seemed to give in to the other two coaches. it was as plain as a flagpole that he didn't want to pitch weston to-day, and yet he had to in spite of himself. why was it?" "do you really want to know?" asked ricky, and his voice was lowered, while he glanced around as if to make sure that no one would hear him save his two friends. "do you really want to know?" "certainly," declared spike, and joe wondered what was coming. "well, it's because weston is a member of the anvil club," said ricky. "it's a class secret society, and it has a lot of influence--more so than even some of the big senior clubs. weston belongs and so do horsehide and the other two coaches. they were in college, and they still keep up their affiliations. now you know why they pitched weston to-day--because he demanded it as a part of his right as a member of the anvil club." "do you mean to tell me," asked spike, "that the secret society is bigger than yale--that it could make her lose a ball game?" "no, not exactly," replied ricky. "but it is powerful, and a member has an unwritten right to demand almost anything in reason of the other members, and by their promises made they are obliged to help him." "but this wasn't anything in reason," said spike. "joe should have pitched the game, and then we'd have won. it was unreasonable to let weston go in." "look here!" exclaimed ricky. "i don't mean to say that yale men would do any underhand work to make any athletic contest go by the board. but you can't say, right off the bat, that weston's demand was unreasonable. he thought he could pitch to a victory, and he probably said as much, very forcibly. it was a chance that he might, and, when he appealed for a try, on the ground that he was an anvil man--they had to give it to him, that's all. it was all they could do, though i guess horsehide didn't want to." "but there's avondale," went on ricky. "what about him?" "he's an anvil man, too." "and i'm not," broke in joe. "say," he asked with a laugh, "how do you join this society?" "you don't," spoke ricky solemnly. "you have to be asked, or tapped for it, just as for wolf's head, or skull and bones. oh, it's an exclusive society all right, and as secret as a dark cellar." "and you really know this to be so?" asked spike, almost incredulously. "well, no one says so out and out, but i've heard rumors before, and to-day they were strong enough to hear without a megaphone. oh, weston's got the thing cinched all right." "then i haven't a chance," sighed joe, and more than ever he regretted coming to yale. yet, deep in his heart, was a fierce desire to pitch the college to a championship. "haven't a chance!" cried spike, indignantly. "do you mean to say, ricky, that they'll let weston go on losing games the way he did to-day?" "no, not exactly. but they'll pitch him because he will appeal to their society side, and bamboozle 'em into thinking that he has come back strong, and can sure win." "and if he doesn't--if he slumps as he did to-day?" "then they'll put in avondale or mcanish." "and joe won't get a show until last?" asked spike. "that's about the size of it." "i don't believe so." "all right. just watch," said ricky, with a shrug of his shoulders. "of course," he went on, "the coaches may wake up to the fact before it's too late, or there may be such a howl made that they'll have to can the society plea. but it's a queer situation. come on down to glory's and we'll feed our faces." "wait until we get un-togged," suggested spike, for he, too, had on a uniform, hoping for a chance to play. but it had not come. it was late when joe and his chum got back to their room. they had met congenial spirits at the popular resort, and a sort of post-mortem had been held over the game. but, though the faults of many players were pointed out, and though joe received due praise for his work, little had been said of weston's poor pitching. "it's just as i told you," declared ricky. "there are too many members of the anvil club, and affiliated societies, and they hate to hurt weston's feelings, i guess." the 'varsity pitcher was not present. "well, it sure is a queer state of affairs," commented spike, as he and joe reached their apartment. "i wish we could do something. it's a shame, with a pitcher who has your natural abilities, joe, that----" "oh, forget it, old man, and go to sleep," advised joe. "i'm much obliged for your interest in me, but maybe it will come out right after all." "humph! it won't unless we make it," murmured spike. the coaches tried some shifting about of players when the next practice came on, though weston was still retained on the mound. joe was told to go in at shortstop, and he made good there, more by hard work than natural ability, for he wanted to show that he would do his duty wherever he was placed. weston seemed to be doing better, and he got into more plays, not being content to merely pitch. "we'll trim harvard!" was the general opinion, and yale stock, that had gone down, took an upward move. the harvard game was soon to come--one of the contests in the championship series, though yale generally regarded the fight with princeton as the deciding test. it was one afternoon following some sharp practice, when the 'varsity seemed on edge, that joe said to spike: "come on, let's take a walk. it's too nice to go back and bone." "all right--i'm with you. we'll get out in the country somewhere." weston passed as this was said, and though he nodded to the two, there was no cordiality in it. joe and spike thoroughly enjoyed their little excursion, and it was almost dusk when they returned. as they entered their room, ricky came out to greet them. "what have you fellows been doing?" he demanded. "i came in to have a chat, and i found your room empty. a little later i heard you in it, and then, after i had found my pipe which i dropped under the bed, and went in again, you weren't to be seen. yet i was sure i heard you moving about in it." "we haven't been home since practice," declared spike. "you say you heard someone in our room?" inquired joe. "i sure did." "maybe it was hoppy." "no, for i asked him, and he said no." "any messages or letters left?" asked spike, looking around, but no missives were in sight. "oh, well, maybe it was spooks," declared joe. "i'm going to get on something comfortable," and he went to the clothes closet, presently donning an old coat and trousers. ricky made himself comfortable in an armchair, and the three talked for some time. "i say, what's that on your sleeve?" asked ricky of joe during a pause. "it looks like red ink. see, you've smeared spike's trigonometry with it." "quit it, you heathen!" exclaimed the aggrieved one. "red ink," murmured joe, twisting his sleeve around to get a look at the crimson spot. he touched it with his finger. "it's paint--red paint!" he exclaimed, "and it's fresh!" chapter xxiii joe's triumph "red paint!" exclaimed ricky. "who put it there?" asked spike, and he looked queerly at joe. "not i," replied the pitcher. "and yet it's fresh. i can't understand. you say you heard someone in here, ricky?" "as sure as guns." "maybe it was some of those pesky freshies trying some of their funny work," suggested spike. "hazing and tricks are about over," came from joe, as he looked more closely at the red spot. "and yet someone seems to have been in here, daubing up my clothes. i wonder if they tried it on any more? lucky it was an old suit." he looked in the closet, but the coat, with the crimson spot on the sleeve, seemed to be the only one soiled. "i have it!" suddenly cried spike. "what, for cats' sake?" asked ricky. "it's good luck!" "good luck?" demanded joe. "how do you make that out? these aren't my glad rags, that's a fact, but still paint is paint, and i don't want it daubed all over me. good luck? huh!" "of course it is," went on spike. "don't you see? that's red--harvard's hue. we play them next week, you'll pitch and we've got their color already. hurray! we're going to win! it's an omen!" "cæsar's pineapples!" exclaimed ricky. "so it is. i'm going to grind out a song on it," and, having rather a knack with verse, he was soon scribbling away in rhyme. "how's this?" he demanded a few minutes later. "listen fellows, and pick out a good tune for it," and he recited: "we've got harvard's colors, we'll tell it to you. the red always runs at the sight of the blue. so cheer boys, once more, this bright rainbow hue, the red will turn purple when mixed with the blue!" "eh? how's that?" he asked proudly. "pretty nifty i guess! your uncle pete isn't so slow. i'm going to have the fellows practice this for the game, when you pitch, joe." "maybe i won't." "oh, yes you will. but what do you think of it?" "rotten!" exclaimed spike. "punk!" was the opinion of slim jones, who had entered in time to hear the verse. "disinfect it, ricky." "aw, you fellows are jealous because you can't sling the muse around when you want to. guess i'll try a second spasm." "not in here," declared spike, quickly. "this is a decent, law-abiding place, and, so far, has a good reputation. i'm not going to have the dean raiding it just because you think you're a poet. that stuff would give our english lit. prof. a chill. can it, ricky, can it." "you're jealous, that's all," and despite the protest ricky proceeded to grind out a second verse, that he insisted on reading to his audience, which, by this time had increased to half a dozen lads from neighboring rooms. there was quite a jolly little party, and ricky demanded that they sing his new song, which they finally did, with more or less success. the strains wafted out of doors and passing students were attracted by the sound until the place was swarming with congenial spirits, and nothing was talked of but the coming game with harvard. "it's queer though, about that red paint," said spike, later that night, when he and joe were alone. "it sure is," agreed the pitcher. "maybe hoppy sent someone around to do a bit of daubing, and the chap got in here by mistake," suggested his chum. but inquiry developed that this was not so, and the mystery remained unsolved for a time. but after he got in bed, joe did some hard thinking. he recalled the red paint episode of the spoiled manuscript, and wondered, without believing, if weston could have come to his room. "he might have," reflected joe, "and he might have had a hardened spot of red paint on his clothes from daubing it on the steps that time. if the hardened upper crust rubbed off, it would leave a fresh spot that might have gotten on my coat. and yet what would he be doing in my closet, let alone in the room here? no, it can't be that. unless he sneaked in here--knowing spike and i would be away--looking for something to use against me. "he doesn't want me to pitch, that's a fact, and if he could find something against me he'd use it. but he can't. i'm glad i'm not a candidate for any of their queer secret societies here, or i'd be worrying about them not asking me to join. i'm going to keep out of it. but that red spot is sure queer." all yale was on edge on the day before the harvard game, which was to take place on the cambridge diamond. the team and the substitutes were trained to the minute, and all ready to make the trip, together with nearly a thousand "rooters" who were going along to lend moral support. particular pains had been taken with the pitching staff, and joe, weston, mcanish and avondale had been worked to the limit. they had been coached as they never had been before, for yale wanted to win this game. as yet it was not known who would pitch. at least the 'varsity candidates did not know, and joe was hoping for at least half a game. he was modest, for weston arrogantly declared that he would last the nine innings. his friends said little, but he had a certain power in college not to be overlooked. the stadium was thronged with spectators as the teams trotted out for a little warming-up practice. in the cheering stands for the wearers of the blue the locomotive cry, the boola song, a new one--"bulldog grit!"--and ricky's effusion were gone over again. "hit the line!" came as a retort, and the cheerers tried to outdo each other. "do you think you'll pitch, joe?" asked spike, in a low tone, as he and his chum practised off to one side. "i don't know. there are all sorts of rumors going about. i'd like to--i guess you know how much--just as you would like to catch--but we can't always have what we want. the coaches are having a talk now. weston seems pretty confident." "yes, the cad! i wish he'd play fair." "oh, well," said joe, with an air of resignation, "i suppose he can't help it. i guess i shouldn't like it if i'd pitched for a year, and then found a new man trying for my place." "but if the new man was better than you, and it meant the winning of the game?" asked spike, as he took a vicious ball that joe slugged to him. "oh, well, of course in theory the best man ought to play--that's not saying i'm the best man by a long shot!" joe hastened to add; "but even in theory it's hard to see another man take your place." "something's doing," said spike suddenly. "the conference has broken up." joe looked nervously to where the coaches and captain had been talking. tom hatfield was buttoning on his shortstop glove, and then taking it off again as though under a strain. he walked over to the umpire, and weston, seeing him, made a joking remark to a companion. he started for the players' bench, for harvard was to bat last, and yale would come up first for the stick-work. "it looks like him," remarked spike in a low voice. "well, i'll be ready when they call me," said joe, with a good nature he did not feel. the umpire raised his megaphone. there was a hush, and then came the hollow tones: "batteries for to-day. harvard: elkert and snyder--yale: matson and kendall." "by halifax!" cried spike, clapping joe on the back with such force that he nearly knocked over his chum. "you pitch, old man!" chapter xxiv hard luck shouts and yells greeted the announcement of the umpire--cheers from the admirers of the respective batteries. "yah!" voiced the wearers of the crimson. "that's our one best bower! oh you elkert! tear 'em apart, snyder!" back came the challenge from the sons of yale. "you're our meat, harvard! keep your eye on the ball--that's all you'll be able to do. fool 'em, matson. 'rah for baseball joe!" our hero was becoming quite a favorite with his classmates, many of whom now knew of his one ambition. but kendall had his admirers too. "he eats 'em alive--shorty kendall does!" came the cry. "look out for our bear-cats, harvard!" once more came a riot of cheers and songs, each college group striving its best to outdo the other, giving its favorite cries or songs. "come, get together, you two, and make sure you don't have any mix-up on signals," exclaimed mr. hasbrook to joe and the catcher. "we want to win this game. and, joe, don't forget what i told you about getting in on all the plays you can. we'll need every man if we take this game. harvard has several good twirlers, and she's been playing like a house afire. watch yourselves." "then i'm really going to pitch?" asked joe. it was almost the only thing he had said since hearing the announcement, after spike had clapped him on the back with such force. "pitch! of course you're going to pitch," declared the head coach. "and i want you to pitch your head off. but save your arm, for there are going to be more games than this. but, mind!" and he spoke with earnestness. "you've got to make good!" "i will!" exclaimed joe, and he meant it. "come over here," suggested shorty. "plug in a few and we'll see if you're as good as you were yesterday," for joe and he had had considerable practice, as, in fact, had all the pitchers, including weston. as for that lad, when he heard the announcement a scowl shot across his face, and he uttered an exclamation. "what's the matter?" asked de vere, who had become rather intimate with ford of late. "matter! isn't there enough when that--when he pitches?" and he nodded his head toward joe. "why; do you think they'll get his goat, or that he'll blow, and throw the game?" "he might," sneered weston, "but i have a right to be on the mound to-day. i was half promised that i could pitch, and now, at the last minute, they put him in. i'm not going to stand for it!" "it's a sort of a raw deal," declared his friend. "i don't see why they let such fellows as he come to college. first we know there'll be a lot of hod-carriers' sons here instead of gentlemen," and de vere turned up, as far as possible, the point of his rather stubby nose. he himself was the son of a man who had gotten his start as a contractor, employing those same "hod-carriers" at whom the son now sneered. "that's right," agreed weston. "i should think they could keep yale a little more exclusive." "i agree with you," came from the other. "why i even understand that they are talking of forming a club where even those who eat at commons, and are working their way through, can join. it's going to be fierce. but none of them will get in the blue ribbon association," he added, referring to an exclusive college organization. "nor the anvil club either," added weston. "this is all hasbrook's fault. he's taken some silly notion to matson, and he thinks he's a wonderful pitcher. it seems they met somewhere, and matson did him a favor. now he's taking advantage of it." "but he can pitch," said de vere, who, for all his snobbishness, was inclined to be fair. "yes, after a fashion, but he hasn't anything on me. i won against harvard last year." "so you did." "and i could do it again." "i believe you. anyhow i think only the fellows in our own class--socially--should play. it makes it rather awkward, don't you know, if you meet one of the team out anywhere, and he isn't in your set. you've got to notice him, or there'd be a howl, i s'pose; but really some of the fellows are regular clod-hoppers, and this matson doesn't train in with us." "you're right. but if things go the way i think he may not last very long." "how do you mean? will he put up such a rotten game that they won't stand for him?" "that's all i can say now," rejoined weston, somewhat mysteriously. "but something may happen." "and you'll pitch?" "i hope so. i may get in this game, for i did beat harvard one year." but weston forgot to add that he pitched so wretchedly the remainder of the season that yale finished a poor third, losing the championship. "play ball!" called the umpire. those who had been practicing straggled to the bench, or walked out to take their fielding positions. "i guess you'll do," declared kendall to joe, with a nod of encouragement. "don't let 'em get your angora." "i'll try not to," came the smiling answer. "are they hard hitters?" "they are if they get the ball right, but it's up to you not to let 'em. give 'em twisters and teasers." "play ball," called the umpire again, and the first of the yale batsmen took his place. once more came the yells and cheers, and when the lad struck out, which he did with an ease that chagrined his mates, there was derisive yelling from the harvard stands. "two more and we've got 'em going!" was shouted. but jimmie lee, the diminutive first baseman, was up next, and perhaps the harvard pitcher did not think him a worthy foeman. at any rate jimmie caught a ball just where he wanted it, and rapped out a pretty two-bagger. "that's the way! come on in!" was shouted at him, but jimmie caught the signal to hug the half-way station, and stayed there. he stole third while they were throwing his successor out at first, and this made two down, with jimmie ready to come in on half a chance. but the harvard pitcher tightened up, and the fourth man succumbed to a slow twister on his final strike, making the third out, so that poor jimmie expired on the last sack. "now, joe, show 'em that we can do better than that," begged shorty, as he donned mask and protector. "throw me a few and warm up. then sting 'em in!" joe was a bit nervous as he went to the box, but he managed to control himself. he seemed to guess just what kind of a ball would fool the batter, and, after two balls had been called on him, sent over two in succession that were named strikes. "that's the way we do it!" yelled a yale admirer, in a high-pitched voice. "one more and he's done." but the one more did not come. instead, apparently getting the ball just where he wanted it, the harvard man swung on it to the tune of three sacks, amid a wild riot of cheers. "now we've got 'em going!" came harvard's triumphant yells, and joe felt the hot blood rush to his face. kendall saw it, and, guessing the pitcher's state of mind, walked out to the box and whispered: "don't mind. that was a fluke. it won't happen again. hold on to yourself--tighten up and we'll get 'em." joe felt better after that bit of advice, and was calmer when he wound up for the next batter. though he had been told that harvard would play a foxy game, he was hardly prepared for what followed. the next player up hit lightly, for a sacrifice, thinking to bring in the run. as it happened, joe stumbled as he raced to pick up the twisting ball, and though he managed to recover himself, and throw home, while on his knees, the man racing from third beat the throw and the first run for harvard was in. then such cheering as there was! yale was nonplussed for the moment, and her rooters in the stands sat glum and silent. but the spirit of the blue could not long be kept down, and soon the boola song came booming over the field. it cheered joe mightily, even though he saw the sneering look on the face of weston, who sat on the bench, hoping for a chance to supplant him. "here's where we walk away!" crowed a harvard man, but the wearers of the crimson did not, for that run was the only one they got that inning. but it was a start, and it looked big below the goose egg that adorned yale's score. the game went on, varyingly. yale managed to get two runs in the fifth inning, putting her one ahead, for joe had done such good work, aided by the rest of the team, when a hit was made, that harvard had not scored again. "matson's pitching a great game!" exclaimed mr. hasbrook, as he watched eagerly. "i told you we wouldn't make any mistake if we let him go in first," and he looked at his colleagues. "but that was a costly fumble," declared mr. benson. "yes, but no one is perfect. besides we're ahead." "only one run." "that's enough to win the game." "but hardly with four more innings to go," rejoined mr. whitfield, dubiously. "look at that!" exclaimed mr. hasbrook, in excitement, as joe grabbed a hot liner and whipped it over to first in time to catch the man napping there. "matson's more than just a pitcher." "you seem interested in him," spoke mr. benson. "i am. i think joe is going to make one of the finest ball players we've ever had at yale. he hasn't found himself yet, of course, and he needs more judgment. but he's got a future. i think we'll hear of him somewhere else besides on a college team, too." "i understand he has professional ambitions," admitted mr. benson. "but he's got a hard life ahead of him." "oh, he'll make good!" declared mr. hasbrook. and it seemed that joe was going to in this game. he was pitching wonderfully well, and harvard only found him for scattering hits. on her part yale was doing very well. harvard had tried another pitcher when she found that her first one was being pounded, but it availed little, and when the ninth inning closed, as far as the wearers of the blue were concerned, they were two runs ahead. "we've got 'em! we've got 'em!" yelled shorty with delight, capering about joe. "all you've got to do is to hold 'em down!" "yes--all--but that's a lot," declared the pitcher. "they're going to play fierce now." "but they need three runs to win. you can hold 'em down!" "i'll try," promised joe, as he went to the mound. it looked as if he was going to make good, but luck, that element that is always present in games, especially in baseball, deserted the blue for the red. the first man up knocked a long, high fly to deep centre. so sure was he, as well as everyone else, that it would be caught, that the player hardly ran, but the ball slipped through the fingers of ed. hutchinson as if it had been greased, and the man was safe on second. "now we've got 'em going," came the cry. "a couple more hits and we've got the game." joe was wary, but he was playing against experienced youths, and when he found the man on second trying to steal third he threw down, hoping to catch him. his throw was wild, the baseman jumped for it in vain, and the runner went on to third. "never mind--play for the batter," advised shorty. joe did, but somehow he could not get the right twist on the ball. he was hit for a single, and the man on third scored. "two more and we've got 'em!" yelled the delighted wearers of the crimson. "none down yet." then, whether it was the effect of luck, or because the yale team was hypnotized by the wearers of the crimson, was not manifest; but certain it was that the blue players went to pieces. it was not joe's fault--at least not all his, though he made one error. but this seemed to affect all the yale team, and the result was a wild finish on the part of harvard that put them two runs to the good, winning the game. "hard luck!" exclaimed shorty, in a dejected voice, as he took off his glove and mask. "hard luck!" chapter xxv at west point "we'd a right to that game!" "sure we had." "and we did have it in the refrigerator, only it got out through the drain pipe, i guess." "it's tough luck!" the yale team and its admirers--no, in this case its sympathizers--were coming off the field after the harvard defeat. all sorts of comments, excuses, philosophical expressions, and revilings at fate, were heard. joe said but little, though he thought much. every error--every little point he had missed--seemed to stand out glaringly. "never mind, old man!" it was spike who spoke, putting his arm affectionately around his chum's shoulders. "i--i can't help it," replied the pitcher, bitterly. "we lost the game." "that's just it--we did--not you. cæsar's ghost, man! you can't carry the whole blame of losing the game, any more than you can claim the whole credit when we win. it's all in the day's work." "i know, but----" "'but me no buts,' now joe. just brace up. this is only one of the championship games. there are more to come, and we'll get enough to put us on top of the heap. i only wish i had your chances to perform in public." "i wish you had, spike. but i guess this was my last chance." "nonsense! they'll play you again. why weston--or avondale either, for that matter--wouldn't have done half as well, i think." "oh, so that's your opinion; is it?" snapped a voice behind them. there was no need to turn to know that weston was there, and it took but a glance to show that he was frowning and sneering. "it sure is," retorted spike, sturdily, for he was not afraid to air his opinions. "well, you've got another think coming," snapped weston. "i'll pitch a game pretty soon, and show you what's what." joe did not make reply, but he wondered if weston's words held significance. "maybe they won't let me pitch after this," he mused. spike, reading his thoughts, said: "now don't you go to thinking gloomy thinks, joe. you're all right if you only believe so. have some confidence in yourself." "i have, but after the way things went to pieces in the last inning i don't know what to think." "oh, bosh! if you'd had anything like decent support it never would have happened. hutchinson muffing that ball started us down hill." "that's what!" chimed in jimmie lee, coming along just then. "this is only one game--the fortunes of war. we'll beat 'em next time; wallop princeton, and take the championship." "west point is next on the list," went on joe. "i wonder what sort of a game they play?" "like clockwork," explained spike. "i saw one, once, and they put it all over yale. but we've got to win this one." "that's what!" declared jimmie. "i say, i know a nice place where we can get a dandy rabbit. let's stay over to-night. i can stand some cuts, we'll take in a show, and have supper after it. come on, and we can go to new haven in the morning." "no, i guess i'll go back with the team," said joe, slowly. "they might think i was trying to dodge if i sneaked off. i'll go back with the rest." "all right--then we'll go to glory's and have a feed," insisted jimmie. "i've got to do something to raise my spirits." they went to the dressing rooms, and soon the players and their friends were moving to the hotel where they had stopped. yale had cheered her successful rivals, and had been cheered in turn, and now, as the team walked through the cambridge streets they heard, on all sides of them, the jubilant expressions that told of joy over the victory. to joe it was gall and wormwood, for, in spite of the efforts of his friends to make him feel better, he half blamed himself for the defeat. on the way home in the special train he was gloomy and silent, but later, when he and his chums went to the well-known resort, and heard the yale songs, and saw the jolly faces of the students--jolly in spite of the defeat--he felt better. "it's only once in a while that the bulldog loses his grip," declared ricky hanover. "we'll get a strangle hold on the rest of the games and come out on top of the heap." college life resumed its usual routine after this big game. there were others in prospect, though, and practice went on unceasingly. joe half feared he would be displaced from his position on the 'varsity, but he was not. true, weston and avondale were called on at times, for the policy of the coaches was to have the best pitchers always in reserve. but joe seemingly was the first one to be called on. nor did mr. hasbrook reproach him, personally, for the defeat. all the players received a calling down for their loose methods in the harvard game, and their faults were pointed out in no uncertain fashion. in a way the loss of the contest did good, for, following it, the practice was snappier than it had been in a long while. "we want to defeat the army lads!" exclaimed the head coach a few days before the west point game. contrary to the general custom the two who were to pitch and catch were announced the night before. it was at a meeting of the team, during which the coaches gave some good advice. joe saw weston in close conversation with mr. benson and mr. whitfield, and he had a fear that the deposed pitcher was trying to "pull strings" and make a place for himself. "of course you'll pitch, matson," said mr. hasbrook, in such a matter-of-fact voice that joe was rather startled. "and kendall will catch." there was a murmur, possibly at the remembrance of the harvard game, but no one said anything. joe, who sat beside spike, whispered: "i wonder when you'll get your chance?" "oh, some day, maybe," was the answer. "i can wait. i'm glad you've had yours." "i must make good, though," declared joe, half fearful that he would not. they arrived at west point to be enthusiastically greeted by the cadets, who took charge of the team, the substitutes and the "rooters" in right royal fashion. a big crowd had assembled, and as the day was a fine one there was every prospect of a game that would be all that was desired. "i wonder if we'll win?" mused joe, as he got into his uniform and started out on the field. the cadets were already at practice, and showed up well. "a fine, snappy lot of fellows," observed jimmie lee. "we've got our work cut out all right." "that's what," declared hen johnson. as joe left the dressing room, he saw weston talking to mr. benson, who was having a conversation with the trainer. the former 'varsity pitcher--who was now second choice it seemed--was much excited, and as joe passed he heard weston say: "well, i want half the game, anyhow. can't i have it?" "i--i'll see what i can do," replied mr. benson. "i'll do all i can." "i'm tired of playing second fiddle," snapped weston, as he drifted out behind a knot of players. joe began to think of many things. chapter xxvi a sore arm yale won the toss and chose to go to the bat last--always an advantage it seems--so joe had to go on the mound as soon as practice was concluded. the usual practice of the home team batting last did not prevail on this occasion. the stands were filled with a mass of spectators, in which pretty girls seemed to predominate. at least joe assumed that they were pretty for they had escorts who looked on them with eyes that seemed to bear witness to this designation. many of them were "stunning," to quote de vere, who took a position in the outfield during practice. "just so he could be nearer some of the girls," declared jimmie lee, who had the reputation of being a "woman hater." "some crowd," remarked joe to spike. "yes, and a good one, too," declared joe's room-mate. "it isn't all howling for yale blood. there are a lot of old grads. here to-day, as well as a lot of army men, and we've got our friends with us. you've got to play for all you're worth." "i intend to," declared joe, "but----" "now there you go!" interrupted his chum. "getting doubtful of yourself. stop it, i tell you! just make up your mind that you're going to make good and you will. these fellows are only human, and, though they've got the game down to a fine point, and play together like machinery, on account of their drill practice, yet baseball is always uncertain. yale luck is bound to turn up sooner or later." "it had better be sooner then," remarked joe, with a grim smile. "two defeats, hand running, would about put me out of business. i'd resign." "nonsense!" declared spike. "you can make good all right. remember that weston is just hankering for a chance to displace you, so don't give it to him. hold on to the mound." "i intend to. and yet i heard something that set me thinking," and joe related what he had inadvertently listened to, adding: "i may be taken out after two innings." "not much!" declared spike emphatically. "i see what's going on. weston is trying to work his society pull and get the trainers to pitch him. the cad!" "well, i can't find the heart to blame him," said joe, softly. "i can," snapped spike. "he's putting himself above the team." "well, maybe it will all come out right," said joe, but his tone did not support his words, for he ended with a doleful sigh. "oh, you get out!" cried spike cheerfully. "you've got the losing bugaboo in a bad form. cheer up--the worst is yet to come." "yes, a defeat," murmured joe, and then spike hit him such a thump in the back that the pitcher had to gasp to recover his breath, and in doing so he forgot some of his gloomy thoughts. the practice went on over the field, until the umpire called the captains together for the final conference, and an agreement on the ground rules. these were adjusted satisfactorily, and once more the inspiring cry rang out: "play ball!" "get 'em over, joe," advised shorty kendall, as the young pitcher walked out to his place. "shoot 'em in good and hard, but keep 'em over the plate. i know this umpire. he's fair, but he's careful. you'll have to work for all the strikes you get." "and i'm willing to," declared joe. somehow his confidence was coming back, and as he caught the new ball which the umpire tossed to him, he felt that he could pitch as he never had before. he was aware of the scowling glance of weston, who sat on the bench, and, as joe stooped over to rub some dirt on the ball, to render it less slippery, he wondered if the deposed pitcher had so managed to "pull strings" as to gain his end. "anyhow, i'll pitch as long as i can," thought joe with grim determination. the game started. there was nothing remarkable about it, at least at first, so i shall not weary you with details of the strikes, balls, the sliding for bases, the decisions, and the runs. sufficient to say that at first neither side could score. joe and the rival pitcher were in good form, and, aside from scattering hits, which were usually only good for a single bag, little was done. for four innings neither side scored a run, though on one decision of the umpire, when joe came sliding home on a sacrifice by jimmie lee, and was called out, there was a howl of protest. "robber!" "blind man!" "he was safe by a yard!" "don't give it!" were some of the mildest epithets and expressions of opinion hurled at the umpire. "hold on! that isn't yale's way," said the captain quietly. "it's all right," and the decision stood, though had it been otherwise it would have meant a run for yale. and so the game went on until the eighth inning, which put west point one run ahead. there was excitement on the part of the army and its supporters, for in the last half of it yale had been unable to score, and it looked as if she might lose. "we've got to get 'em!" declared captain hatfield grimly, as he and his men took the field for the beginning of the ninth. "don't let one get past you, joe, and then we'll bat out two runs." the young pitcher nodded, but he did not smile. he was a little in doubt of himself, for there was a strange numb feeling in his right arm, and he knew that the muscles were weakening. he had worked himself to the limit, not only in this game, but the one with harvard, and now he began to pay the penalty. once or twice as he wound up to deliver he felt a sharp twinge that alarmed him. he had not asked to have one of the professional rubbers with the team massage him, for fear the rumor would get out that yale's pitcher was weakening. so he bore it as best he could. but his arm was sore. joe had struck out one man, and then he was found for a two-bagger. this man was a notorious base stealer and managed to get to third, while the player following him, who was the heaviest hitter on the team, had been passed by joe on a signal from the captain, who did not want to take chances. "he's afraid!" came the taunt, and joe was beginning to get nervous, especially as his pain increased. with two on bases, and only one out, joe saw come to the bat a man who was an expert bunter. he could lay the ball almost anywhere he wanted to, and our hero realized that he was in for a bad few minutes. it would not do to walk another. he must get this man. what he had feared came to pass. the player bunted and the ball came lazily rolling toward the pitcher. joe and kendall started for it, and then joe yelled: "i'll get it--go back!" he felt himself slipping on a pebble, but recovered with a wrench that strained his sore arm. with an effort he managed to get the ball. he knew that if he threw it from the unnatural and disadvantageous position he had assumed in recovering it, he would make his sore arm worse. but there was no help for it. the man on third had started for home. joe, with a mighty effort, threw to kendall, who caught it and tagged his quarry. "out!" called the umpire. one run was saved. then, like a flash the catcher threw to third, for the man who had been on first, having reached second, rather imprudently tried for another bag. he was tagged there by as neat a double play as could be desired, and the west pointers had finished, with but the one run to their advantage. "we need one to tie and two to win," exclaimed shorty to joe, as he tossed his big mitt into the air. "why," he added, "what's the matter with your arm?" for he saw it hanging down limp. "a strain," replied joe shortly. "i'm all right." "you are not! mcleary must look at you. we'll play somebody else this inning. you go get rubbed." and joe was glad enough to do so. chapter xxvii the accusation yale won from west point. it was almost a foregone conclusion after that sensational inning when joe went down and out with his sprained arm, after saving the game. his mates rallied to the support of, not only himself, but the whole team, and, the cadets, having been held runless, the wearers of the blue made a determined stand. weston was called on to go in and replace joe, and the former 'varsity pitcher, in spite of his feeling against our hero, had that in him which made him do his best in spite of the odds against him. weston was half hoping that the game would be a tie, which would give him a chance to go on the mound and show what he could do at pitching against a formidable opponent of yale. but it was not to be, though he brought in one of the winning runs for the new haven bulldog. the crowd went wild when they saw what a game fight the visitors were putting up, and even the supporters of the army lads hailed them with delight as they pounded the cadet pitcher, for everyone likes to see a good play, no matter if it is made by the other side. "oh, wow! a pretty hit!" yelled the throng as weston sent a two-bagger well out in the field. his face flushed with pleasure, as he speeded around, and, probably, had he been taken in hand then, subsequent events might not have happened, for his unreasonable hatred against joe might have been dissipated. but no one did, and the result was that weston felt he had been wrongly treated, and he resolved to get even. "well played, boys, well played!" exclaimed the captain of the cadets, as he came up to shake hands with hatfield. "you did us up good and proper. we can't buck such a pitcher as you have. what happened to him!" "sprained arm," explained spike, who stood near. "too bad! tell him to take care of it," rejoined the cadet. "such twirlers as he is are few and far between. well, you beat us, but that's no reason why you can do it again. we'll have your scalps next year. now, boys, altogether! show 'em how west pointers can yell." the cheer for the yale team broke out in a gladsome yell, tinged with regret, perhaps, for west point had been sure of winning, especially toward the end, but there was no ill-feeling showing in the cries that echoed over the field. in turn the new haven bulldog barked his admiration of the gallant opponents, and then came a special cheer for joe matson, whose plucky play had made it possible for yale to win. joe, in the dressing room, heard his name, and flushed with delight. trainer mcleary was rubbing his sore arm. "hurt much?" the man asked, as he massaged the strained muscles. "some," admitted joe, trying not to wince as the pain shot along his arm. "how are we making out?" "we win," declared mcleary, as a scout brought him word. "and you did it." "not by pitching," asserted joe. "no, perhaps not. but every game isn't won by pitching. there are lots of other plays besides that. now you've got to take care of this arm." "is it bad?" "bad enough so you can't use it right away. you've got to have a rest. you've torn one of the small ligaments slightly, and it will have to heal. no baseball for you for a week." "no!" cried joe aghast. "no, sir! not if you want to play the rest of the season," replied the trainer. now joe did want to finish out the season, whether he came back to yale or not, for there were big games yet in prospect, particularly that with princeton, and, if it was necessary to play a third one, it would take place on the big new york polo grounds. "and, oh! if i could only pitch before that crowd!" thought joe, in a moment of anticipated delight. "there, i guess you'll do, if you keep it well wrapped up, stay out of draughts and don't use it," said the trainer finally, as he bound up joe's twirling wing. "no practice, even, for a week, and then very light." joe half groaned, and made a wry face, but there was no help for it, he realized that. he was surrounded by his mates, as the game ended, and many were the congratulations, mingled with commiserations, as they greeted him. weston even condescended to say: "hope you won't be knocked out long, old man." "thanks," replied joe dryly. "it'll be a week anyhow." "a week!" exclaimed weston, and he could not keep the delight from showing on his face. then he hurried off to see one of the coaches. joe had little doubt what it meant. weston was going to try for his old place again while joe was unable to pitch. "well," remarked de vere, as his crony came out of the dressing rooms, whither he had gone. "i should think you could drop your other game, now that's he out of it." "not much!" exclaimed weston, with some passion. "this won't last. he'll be back pitching again, and do me out of it. what i'm going to do won't hurt him much, and it will give me a chance. i'm entitled to it." "i guess you are, old man." the yale team went back jubilant, and there was a great celebration in new haven when the ball nine arrived. fires were made, and the campus as well as the streets about the college were thronged with students. there were marches, and songs, and joe matson's name was cheered again and again. meanwhile our hero was not having a very delightful time. not only was he in pain, but he worried lest the injury to his arm prove permanent. "if i shouldn't be able to pitch again!" he exclaimed to spike, in their room. "forget it!" advised the other. "you'll be at it again in a little while. just take it easy." and joe tried to, but it was hard work. it was galling to go to practice and watch others play the game while he sat and looked on--especially when weston was pitching. but there was no help for it. and then, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, it came. the week had passed and joe, who had done some light practice, was sent in to pitch a couple of innings against the scrub. weston was pulled out, and he went to the bench with a scowl. "i'll get him yet," he muttered to de vere. "he's put me out of it again." "i'd go slow," was the advice. "it's been slow enough as it is," growled the other. the day for the first princeton game was at hand. it was to be played at yale, and everyone was on edge for the contest. joe was practically slated to pitch, and he felt his responsibility. his arm was in good shape again. the night before the game the dean sent for joe to come to his office. "what's up now?" demanded spike, as his friend received the summons. "have you won a scholarship, or is the dean going to beg of you not to throw the game?" "both, i guess," answered joe with a laugh. in his heart he wondered what the summons meant. he was soon to learn. "i have sent for you, mr. matson," said the dean gravely, "to enable you to make some answer to a serious accusation that has been brought against you." "what is it?" faltered the pitcher. "do you remember, some time ago," the dean went on, "that some red paint was put on the steps of the house of one of the professors? the gentleman slipped, fell in the paint, and a very rare manuscript was ruined. do you remember?" "yes," answered joe quietly, wondering if he was to be asked to tell what he knew. "well," went on the dean, "have you anything to confess?" "who, me? confess? why, no, sir," answered joe. "i don't know what you mean." "then i must tell you. you have been accused of putting the red paint on the steps, and, unless you prove yourself innocent you can take no further part in athletics, and you may be suspended." chapter xxviii vindication joe fairly staggered back, so startled was he by the words of the dean--and, not only the words, but the manner--for the dean was solemn, and there was a vindictiveness about him that joe had never seen before. "why--why, what do you mean?" gasped joe. "i never put the red paint on the steps!" "no?" queried the dean coldly. "then perhaps you can explain how this pot of red paint came to be hidden in your closet." "my closet!" cried joe, and at once a memory of the crimson stain on his coat came to him. "i never----" "wait," went on the dean coldly. "i will explain. it is not altogether circumstantial evidence on which i am accusing you. the information came to me--anonymously i regret to say--that you had some red paint in your closet. the spoiling of the valuable manuscripts was such an offence that i decided to forego, for once, my objection to acting on anonymous information. i did ignore one letter that accused you----" "accused me!" burst out joe, remembering the incident in chapel. "yes. but wait, i am not finished. i had your room examined in your absence, and we found--this." he held up a pot of red paint. "i had the paint on the steps analyzed," went on the dean. "it is of exactly the same chemical mixture as this. moreover we found where this paint was purchased, and the dealer says he sold it to a student, but he will not run the risk of identifying him. but i deem this evidence enough to bar you from athletics, though i will not expel or punish you." barred from athletics! to joe, with the baseball season approaching the championship crisis, that was worse than being expelled. "i--i never did it!" he cried. "do you know who did, if you did not?" asked the dean. like a flash it came to joe. he could not tell. he could not utter his suspicions, though he was sure in his own heart that weston was the guilty one--the twice guilty one, for joe was sure his enemy had put the paint in the closet to direct suspicion to him. "well?" asked the dean, coldly. "i--i have nothing to say," faltered joe. "very well. you may go. i shall not make this matter public, except to issue the order barring you from athletics." without a word joe left. inside of an hour it was noised all over the college that he could not pitch against princeton, and great was the regret, mingled with anxiety. "what in thunder is up?" asked captain hatfield, as he sought out joe. "nothing." "oh, come off! can't you tell?" "no," answered joe, and that was all he would say. joe did not go to the yale-princeton game. yale won. won easily, though had weston, who pitched, not been ably supported the story might have been a different one. "one scalp for us," announced spike. "yes," assented joe gloomily. "oh, you get out!" cried spike. "i'm not going to stand for this. you've got to keep in form. there's no telling when this thing will all come out right, and you want to be in condition to pitch. you and i will keep up practice. the dean can't stop you from that." nor did he try, and, though joe was hard to move at first, he soon consented to indulge in pitching practice with his chum. and then life at yale went on much as before, though joe's heart was bitter. he seldom saw weston, who was again first choice for 'varsity pitcher. weston did fairly well, too, though some games yale should have won she lost. but it was to princeton that all eyes turned, looking for the college championship. could yale win the next contest? the answer was not long delayed. two weeks later the bulldog invaded the tiger's lair and was eaten up--to the end of his stubby tail. yale received the worst beating in her history. "and it's up to weston!" declared spike savagely, when he came back from princeton. "he was absolutely rotten. went up in the air first shot, and they got seven runs the first inning. then it was all over but the shouting, for avondale and mcanish couldn't fill in the gap. oh, joe, if you could only pitch!" "but i can't." "you've just got to! yale has a chance yet. it's a tie now for the championship. the deciding game will be played on the new york polo grounds in two weeks. you've got to pitch!" "i don't see how i can." "well, i'm going to!" and spike strode from the room, his face ablaze with anger and firm with determination. it seems that one of the janitors about the college had a son who was an epileptic. the lad was not badly afflicted and was able, most of the time, to help his father, sometimes doing the cleaning at one of the student clubs. it was to this club that spike went when he burst out of his room, intent on finding, in some fashion, a way of vindicating joe, for he was firm in his belief that joe was innocent in spite of the silence. there had been rain the night before, and on a billboard adjoining the club room some of the gaudy red and yellow posters, announcing the final yale-princeton game, had been torn off. hardly knowing what he was doing, spike picked up part of a sheet, colored a vivid red. at that moment, from the side entrance, charlie, the janitor's son, came out, and spike, who had often given him odd tasks to do, and who felt sorry for the afflicted one, playfully thrust the red paper at him, saying: "here, charlie, take it home, and let your little sister cut out some paper dolls." he slapped the paper on the lad's hand, and being damp and pasty it stuck there, like a splotch of blood. charlie shrank back, cowering and frightened, whimpering like a child, and mumbling: "don't! oh, don't mr. poole. don't put that on me. i--i can't bear it. it's been haunting me. i'll tell all i know. the red paint--i put it there. but he--he made me. some of it got on my hand, and i wiped it off on his coat. oh, the blood color! take it away. i--i can't stand it!" "what's that?" fairly yelled spike. "red paint? here, tell me all you know! jove, i begin to see things now!" "take it off! take it off!" begged charlie, and he trembled so that spike feared he would have a seizure. "there--there--it's all right," he said soothingly. "i'll take it off," and he removed the offending paper. "now you come with me, and tell me all about it," he went on quietly. and charlie obeyed, like a child. a little later spike was closeted with the dean, taking charlie with him, and when they came out joe's room-mate said: "then the ban is removed, sir?" "certainly, poole," replied the dean, "and i will make a public explanation in the morning. i am very sorry this occurred, and i deeply regret it. but circumstances pointed to him, and i felt i had to act. never again, though, shall i place any faith in an anonymous letter. yes, everything will be all right. if matson had only spoken, though!" "it's just like him not to," said spike. chapter xxix bucking the tiger "hurray! matson is going to pitch for us!" "get out! he's barred!" "not now. it's all off. he'll pitch against princeton!" "where'd you hear it?" "what's the matter with weston?" "oh, he's gone--vamoosed--flew the coop. couldn't stand the disgrace. it'll all be out in the morning." student meeting student on the campus, in dormitories, in the commons, at glory's--anywhere in fact, passed these, and similar remarks. "and to think you knew, all the while, that weston put that red paint on the steps, and you wouldn't squeal!" cried spike, clapping his chum on the shoulder. "would you?" asked joe quietly. "well--er--now you have got me, old man! but it's all right. come on out and celebrate." and they celebrated as they never had before. joe was given an ovation when he entered glory's, and every member of the nine--substitutes and all--were there to do him honor. that is, all but weston and de vere. they had quietly taken themselves from yale. the explanation was simple. weston had, as my readers know already, put the red paint on the professor's steps. he was not discovered, for joe kept quiet. then, when our hero was preferred as pitcher, in the bitterness of his heart, weston planned to throw suspicion on him. he sent the first anonymous letter, though avondale knew nothing of it. then weston took de vere into his confidence and the two evolved the scheme of smuggling the pot of red paint, that weston had used, into joe's closet. the epileptic lad, charlie, was the innocent medium, and once the paint was hidden weston sent the second anonymous letter to the dean, telling about it. what happened is well known. joe was accused, and would not inform on another to save himself. perhaps it was the wrong thing to do--certainly he owed it to himself to have the right to vindication. i am not defending him, i am only telling of what happened. then came the dramatic episode, when spike unwittingly brought out the truth from charlie. it seems that the boy's conscience had been troubling him, for though weston pretended it was only an innocent joke he was playing on joe, the lad suspected something. and so the full explanation was made to the dean, and the latter, publicly, at chapel the next morning, begged joe's pardon, and restored him to his full rights. as for weston and de vere, they were not in evidence. they had left yale. "sharp practice from now on," ordered mr. hasbrook, when the excitement had quieted down somewhat. "we'll have to replace de vere at right field, but otherwise the team will be the same as before. matson, you'll pitch, of course." "and he'll win for us, too!" cried spike. "i'm sure i hope so," went on the head coach. "spike, if it wasn't so late in the season i'd let you catch. you deserve something for your share in this." "oh, i wouldn't think of catching now, though it would be great," declared joe's chum. "give me a chance next season." "i sure will," said the head coach. "get busy now, everybody. we've got to beat princeton!" "oh, joe, do you think we'll win?" asked spike, half nervously, the night before they were to start for new york to meet their rivals. "win! of course we'll win!" cried joe, and though so much depended on him, he was the coolest member of the team. chapter xxx the championship such a crowd as filled the big polo grounds! the grandstands seemed full, and the bleachers too, but the elevated and surface roads brought more constantly, and the honking autos added to the clamor. it was a perfect day, and the ball field--one of the best in the world--where professionals meet professionals--was laid out with mathematical precision. from their lairs near the press boxes the tigers trotted to be welcomed with shouts and yells from their supporters and the songs of their fellows. "they beat us once--as we did them," said joe in a low voice. "they may beat us again." "not much!" cried spike. "a yale victory is in the air. i can feel it! look at that blue," and he pointed to the sky, "and then at that," and he waved toward the azure-hued yale stand, "and say we're going to lose! i guess not!" "a cheer for every man!" yelled the leader of the princeton cheer masters, who were armed with big megaphones as were their new haven rivals, except that the ribbons were of the tiger's stripes. "a cheer for every man!" and then, as the jersey cheer was howled there followed each time the name of some player--sweet music to their ears, no doubt. "they're signalling to us," said spike a little later. "i guess they want us inside to come out all in a bunch, as princeton did." this was the import of the message delivered to them a little later as they filed into the dressing rooms, where the team and substitutes now were. "remember, boys," said the captain solemnly, "we've got to win. it's yale's luck against princeton's maybe, but even with that it's got to be bulldog pluck against the tiger's fierceness. they can play ball." "and so can we!" declared several, in low voices. "prove it--by beating 'em!" was the quick retort. "pile out now, and have some snap to you!" if yale had gone wild, so now did the students from her rival college. the orange and black, which had been in evidence on the opposite stand to that which showed the blue, now burst forth in a frenzy of color. hats were tossed in the air, canes too, and one excited man dashed his tall silk head covering about with such energy that he split it on the walking stick of a gentleman seated near him. "i beg your pardon," said the one with the stick. "don't mention it! my fault entirely--i'm too excited, i guess, but i used to play on the princeton team years ago, and i came to-day to see her win. i don't care for a hat--i can buy lots more. but princeton is going to win! wow!" "i'm sorry for you," said the other with a smile. "but yale has the bulge to-day." "never!" "i tell you she has!" and then the argument began, good-natured enough, but only one of many like it going on all about the grounds. "hark!" said joe to spike, as they were walking back toward the diamond. "isn't that great?" there had come a momentary hush, and the sweet strains of the princeton song--"orange and black," floated over the big diamond. many of the spectators--former college men--joined in, yale ceased her cheering while this was rendered, and then came a burst of applause, for the melody was exceptionally well rendered. "well, they may sing, but they can't play ball," said spike. out came the bulldogs, and at once it seemed as if a bit of blue sky had suddenly descended on the stands, so solid was the mass of ultramarine color displayed, in contrast to the orange and black. "joe, old man, isn't it great!" cried spike, capering about. "to think that i'm really going to play in this big championship game!" "it's fine!" exclaimed joe, yet he himself was thinking how glorious it would be if he was only a professional, and could occupy the mound of the polo grounds regularly instead of on this rare occasion. "and i will, too, some day!" he murmured. "play ball!" the practice was over, the last conference between coaches, pitchers, catchers and captains had been held. the championship was now to be contested for. yale had won the toss and taken last chance at bat. "play ball!" joe walked to the mound, a trifle nervous, as anyone would have been under the circumstances, but, with it all, holding himself well in hand. as he got ready to deliver the customary five balls before attending to the batter a quiet-appearing man, sitting in one of the press boxes, moved so as to get a better view of the young pitcher. "what's the matter, mack?" asked one of the reporters. "think you see some bushleaguers in this bunch of college boys?" "you never can tell," was the quiet answer. "i'm always on the lookout for recruits, and i'm particularly in need of a good pitcher." "well, both teams have some good ones i hear," went on the newspaper man, and then he devoted himself to sending out an account of the game to his paper. with the first ball that he delivered joe knew that he was in shape to pitch the game of his career. he was sure of his control, and he realized that with a little care he could place the horsehide just where he wanted it to go. "if we can only bat a few we've got this cinched," decided joe, always aware, though, of the fatal element of luck. the early results seemed to justify his confidence. for four innings not a princeton man got farther than first base, and the crowd was wildly cheering him. "if it will only last," he thought, and the memory of his sore arm came to him as a shock. but he had not suffered from it since, and he hoped he would not. on her part yale had managed to get one run across, and thus the game stood at the beginning of the fifth inning. in that, for one fearful moment, joe had fears. he had been signalled to walk the heaviest batter, but something went wrong, and the man plugged a three bagger that got past spike. the next man up was a good hitter, and kendall, in fear and trembling, signalled for another pass. but joe shook his head. he was going to try to strike him out. and he did. amid wild roars the man was retired, and when two more had gone down, and princeton was still without a run, pandemonium broke loose. though yale tried with all her might to sweeten the score, she could not--at least in the next two innings. she batted well, but princeton seemed to be right on the ball every time. and with only one run as a margin, the game was far from won. "but we'll do it!" cried hatfield, fiercely. "that's what!" echoed joe. yale's chance came in the eighth inning, when, owing to an error by the princeton shortstop, a man got to first. none were out, and joe rapped out a pretty two-bagger that, followed by a wild throw home, enabled a man to score. then joe was brought in on a sacrifice hit, and when the inning ended yale had three more runs, making the score four to nothing in her favor. once more the riot of blue shot over the stands, while the orange and black fluttered listlessly. but the tiger was growling in his lair, while the bulldog was thus barking, and every yale player knew that fortune might yet turn against them. but when princeton had her last chance to bat, and only managed to get one run, it was all over but the shouting. joe had pitched magnificently, and when the last chance of the princeton tiger had vanished there was a rush for the young pitcher, and he was fairly carried away on the shoulders of his fellows. and such cheering as there was! "yale wins!" "yale is champion!" "three cheers for baseball joe!" the field swarmed with the spectators, who hardly stayed to hear the victors and vanquished cheer each other. the quiet man who had sat in the press box managed to get a word to joe, though he had to shout to be heard above the din. the young pitcher looked startled, then pleased, and his voice faltered as he answered; after a little more talk: "but supposing i don't make good, mr.--er--?" "mack is my name, i represent the manager; in fact i'm his assistant." "but supposing i don't make good?" repeated joe. "i know i can do pretty well here, but, as you say, i don't seem to take to the college life. still, i wouldn't want to make a public try as i'd have to, and then give up. it would bar me from the amateur ranks forever." "yes, i know that," was the answer, "but you needn't be afraid. look here, matson. this isn't the first time i've done such a thing as this. it's part of my business, and part of my business to know what i'm doing. i can size a player up as quick as a horse buyer can a spavined nag. i've sized you up, and i know you're all wool and a yard wide." "but this is the first time you've seen me play." "it was enough, i tell you." "and, as i said," went on joe, "i don't want to be in the position of putting myself out of the game. if i go in with you, and fail, i probably never could get another chance." "oh, yes you could. but look here, matson, you mustn't think of failure. you're not built that way. now aren't you sport enough to take a chance?" joe was silent for a moment. he thought of many things--of his overpowering ambition, and then answered falteringly: "i--i'm willing to try." "all right, then i'll sign you," was the answer. another rush of the delirious students almost carried joe off his feet. he was cheered and cheered again. through the mob came pushing and shoving the president of the exclusive anvil club. "i say, matson," he began, "this is great! yale has come into her own again. we'd like the honor of electing you to our society, and would be pleased to have you make application." "i'm much obliged to you," spoke joe slowly, "but i'm afraid i can't." "you can't! why not?" "because i'm going to leave yale!" "leave yale!" came the indignant protest. "what for?" "because i have just accepted, tentatively, an offer from one of the managers of a professional league to pitch for him the rest of this season, and all of next," replied joe quietly. "that's right," confirmed the man who had whispered in our hero's ear. "i know a good pitcher when i see one, and there is no use of matson wearing himself out on a college nine. he is cut out for a professional!" and to all the protests of his classmates joe would not give in. he knew that college was no place for him, and as the chance had come to get into the professional ranks, at good pay, he was going to take it; provided, of course, that his folks were willing. how he did, and what happened, will be told in the next volume of this series, to be called, "baseball joe in the central league; or, making good as a professional pitcher." "oh, joe, can't you reconsider, and stay at yale?" begged spike, when he and his chum, after the exciting events of the championship game, were in their room once more. "i don't know what i'm going to do without you." "spike, old man," said joe, and his voice broke a little. "i would like to stay, for your sake, and for some of the other fine fellows i've met here. i'd like to stay in spite of the unpleasant experience i've had. i know it's going to break mother all up to hear i've left college, but i'm not cut out for it. i'm a square peg in a round hole. i want to get into professional baseball, and i've just _got_ to. i shouldn't be happy here." "well, if that's the case," said spike, with a sigh, "i'm not going to say anything more. only it sure is tough luck. yale will miss you." "and i'll miss her, too, in a way. but my place isn't here." there was silence between them for a space, and then spike said softly: "come on down to glory's--for the last time. joe." and they went out together. the end the baseball joe series by lester chadwick _ mo. illustrated. price cents per volume._ _postage cents additional._ [illustration] . baseball joe of the silver stars _or the rivals of riverside_ . baseball joe on the school nine _or pitching for the blue banner_ . baseball joe at yale _or pitching for the college championship_ . baseball joe in the central league _or making good as a professional pitcher_ . baseball joe in the big league _or a young pitcher's hardest struggles_ . baseball joe on the giants _or making good as a twirler in the metropolis_ . baseball joe in the world series _or pitching for the championship_ . baseball joe around the world _or pitching on a grand tour_ . baseball joe: home run king _or the greatest pitcher and batter on record_ . baseball joe saving the league _or breaking up a great conspiracy_ . baseball joe captain of the team _or bitter struggles on the diamond_ . baseball joe champion of the league _or the record that was worth while_ . baseball joe club owner _or putting the home town on the map_ . baseball joe pitching wizard _or triumphs off and on the diamond_ _send for our free illustrated catalogue._ cupples & leon company, publishers new york the bomba books by roy rockwood _ mo. cloth. illustrated. with colored jacket._ _price cents per volume._ _postage cents additional._ [illustration] _bomba lived far back in the jungles of the amazon with a half-demented naturalist who told the lad nothing of his past. the jungle boy was a lover of birds, and hunted animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty machete. he had a primitive education in some things, and his daring adventures will be followed with breathless interest by thousands._ . bomba the jungle boy . bomba the jungle boy at the moving mountain . bomba the jungle boy at the giant cataract . bomba the jungle boy on jaguar island . bomba the jungle boy in the abandoned city . bomba the jungle boy on terror trail . bomba the jungle boy in the swamp of death . bomba the jungle boy among the slaves . bomba the jungle boy on the underground river . bomba the jungle boy and the lost explorers . bomba the jungle boy in a strange land . bomba the jungle boy among the pygmies _send for our free illustrated catalogue._ cupples & leon company, publishers new york the boy hunters series by captain ralph bonehill [illustration] _ mo. illustrated. jacket in full colors._ _price cents per volume. postage cents additional._ _captain ralph bonehill is one of the best known and most popular writers for young people. in this series he shows, as no other writer can, the joy, glory and happiness of outdoor life._ =four boy hunters= _or the outing of the gun club_ a fine, breezy story of the woods and waters, of adventures in search of game, and of great times around the campfire, told in captain bonehill's best style. in the book are given full directions for camping out. =guns and snowshoes= _or the winter outing of the young hunters_ in this volume the young hunters leave home for a winter outing on the shores of a small lake. they hunt and trap to their hearts' content and have adventures in plenty, all calculated to make boys "sit up and take notice." a good healthy book; one with the odor of the pine forests and the glare of the welcome campfire in every chapter. =young hunters of the lake= _or out with rod and gun_ another tale of woods and waters, with some strong hunting scenes and a good deal of mystery. the three volumes make a splendid outdoor series. =out with gun and camera= _or the boy hunters in the mountains_ takes up the new fad of photographing wild animals as well as shooting them. an escaped circus chimpanzee and an escaped lion add to the interest of the narrative. _send for our free illustrated catalogue._ cupples & leon company, publishers new york the jewel series by ames thompson [illustration] _ mo. cloth. illustrated. jacket in colors._ _price cents per volume._ _postage cents additional._ _a series of stories brimming with hardy adventure, vivid and accurate in detail, and with a good foundation of probability. they take the reader realistically to the scene of action. besides being lively and full of real situations, they are written in a straightforward way very attractive to boy readers._ . the adventure boys _and the_ valley of diamonds in this book they form a party of five, and with the aid of a shrewd, level-headed sailor named stanley green, they find a valley of diamonds in the heart of africa. . the adventure boys _and the_ river of emeralds with a guide, they set out to find the river of emeralds. but masked foes, emeralds, and falling mountains are all in the day's fun for these adventure boys. . the adventure boys _and the_ lagoon of pearls this time the group starts out on a cruise simply for pleasure, but their adventuresome spirits lead them into the thick of things on a south sea cannibal island. . the adventure boys _and the_ temple of rubies the adventure boys find plenty of thrills when they hit the ruby trail, and soon discover that they are marked by some sinister influence to keep them from reaching the ruby. . the adventure boys _and the_ island of sapphires the paths of the young jewel hunters lead to a mysterious island where the treasures are concealed. _send for our free illustrated catalogue._ cupples & leon company, publishers new york transcriber's notes: --text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). --text in bold is enclosed by "equal" signs (=bold=). --punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. --archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. --variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. --retained author's long dash style. none team. johns hopkins university studies in historical and political science herbert b. adams, editor history is past politics and politics present history--_freeman_ ninth series iii-iv the history of university education in maryland by bernard c. steiner, a.m. (yale) _fellow in history_ the johns hopkins university ( - ) by daniel c. gilman, ll.d. _president of the university_ _with supplementary notes on university extension and the university of the future, by r.g. moulton, a.m., cambridge, england_ baltimore the johns hopkins press march-april, contents. the history of university education in maryland: colonial attempts to found a college the first university of maryland the second university of maryland cokesbury college asbury college other extinct colleges mount hope college the college of st. james newton university roman catholic colleges st. mary's seminary mount st. mary's college st. charles's college loyola college rock hill college western maryland college female education the baltimore female college woman's college of baltimore conclusion the johns hopkins university ( - ): foundation preliminary organization inaugural assembly address of president eliot inaugural address of the first president the faculty distinction between collegiate and university courses students, courses of studies, and degrees publications, seminaries, societies buildings, libraries, and collections statistics trustees university extension and the university of the future the history of university education in maryland. by bernard c. steiner. colonial attempts to found a college. the state of maryland has been almost extravagantly liberal in bestowing charters on colleges and professional schools. over forty such charters have been given by the legislature and, in many cases, the result has proved that the gift of a charter was not warranted by the stability of the institution, to which was thus granted the power of conferring degrees. in many other cases, however, the institutions have grown and flourished, and have had an honorable history. collegiate education in maryland did not begin until after the revolution. in the colonial period there was no demand for it sufficient to warrant the establishment of a seat of higher learning. for this state of things there were several causes. the majority of the early settlers were planters and frontiersmen, having little need for an extended education and desiring it still less. of the wealthier classes, some were like the fox-hunting english gentry, caring for little else than sport; and others, who did desire the advantages of a culture higher than that obtainable from a village schoolmaster or a private tutor, found it elsewhere. they went over to william and mary's college in virginia, across the ocean to england, or, in case of some catholics like charles carroll, to the institutions on the continent of europe. but, though no college was established in colonial times, there was no lack of plans and attempts for one. in , while as yet harvard was the only american college, there was read and passed in the upper house of the assembly "an act for the founding and erecting of a school or college within this province for the education of youth in learning and virtue." the lower house amended and passed the bill; but the plan seems never to have progressed further. according to the bill the lord proprietor was "to set out his declaration of what privileges and immunities shall be enjoyed by the schollars;" and "the tutors or school masters" were to be of "the reformed church of england" or, if two in number, to be "the one for the catholick and other for the protestants' children."[ ] a second collegiate plan was brought before the legislature in ; but, having passed the upper house, was seemingly not acted on by the lower. this proposed college was intended to be placed at annapolis and was to offer instruction in "theology, law, medicine, and the higher branches of a collegiate education." the governor of the colony was to be its chancellor and provision was made for a faculty of five, under whom students were to be instructed in everything from their alphabet upwards.[ ] a third unsuccessful attempt to secure the founding of a college was made in ,[ ] and a fourth in , when contrary to the earlier course of events, the rock, on which the project was shipwrecked, was found in the upper house. the college was to be placed at annapolis, to occupy governor bladen's mansion, and to have a faculty of seven masters, who were to be provided with five servants. the expense was to be defrayed from the colonial treasury, in case a tax to be levied on bachelors should prove insufficient for the purpose.[ ] the failure of these projects did not dampen the zeal of the advocates of higher education. in we find william eddis, surveyor of customs at annapolis, writing that the legislature of the province had determined to fit up governor bladen's mansion and "to endow and form a college for the education of youth in every liberal and useful branch of science," which college, "conducted under excellent regulations, will shortly preclude the necessity of crossing the atlantic for the completion of a classical and polite education."[ ] the gathering storm of war, however, drew men's attention away from this project. the first university of maryland. the rev. dr. william smith,[ ] head of what is now the university of pennsylvania, being out of employment on account of the revocation of that college's charter, was called as pastor in chestertown on the eastern shore in . to add to his income, he conceived the idea "of opening a school for instruction in higher branches of education." as a nucleus for his school, he took an old academy, the kent county school, and, beginning the work of teaching, was so successful, that in the legislature, on his application, granted the school a charter as maryland's first college. to it the name of _washington_ was given, "in honorable and perpetual memory of his excellency, general george washington." dr. smith was so earnest and zealous in the presentation of the claims of the college, that in five years he had raised $ , from the people of the eastern shore. all seemed propitious for the college. in the first class graduated and the first degrees ever granted in maryland were conferred, at the same time the corner-stone of the college building was laid, and in general washington himself visited the college. dr. smith prepared a three years' curriculum for the institution, equal to that of any college of the day and similar to the one used at the university of pennsylvania. but the western shore could not endure that the educational success of its rival section of the state should so far outstrip its own. in the early days of the state, the sections were nearly equal in importance and the prevailing dualism of the political system invaded the field of education. in , two years after the founding of washington college, _st. john's college_ was chartered.[ ] it was to be placed at annapolis, and in it was merged the old county academy, "king william's school," founded some eighty years before. by the same act, the two colleges were united in the _university of maryland_. this university was modeled on the english type: the governor was to be its chancellor, and the governing body was to be the "convocation of the university of maryland." the convocation was to be composed of seven members of the board of visitors and governors and two of the faculty of each college; it was to establish ordinances for the government of the colleges, to cause a uniformity in the "manners and literature," to receive appeals from the students, and to confer "the higher degrees and honors of the university." its meetings were to be annual, and to be held alternately at each college on its commencement day. the provisions of the act were never carried out; two fruitless attempts were made to hold sessions of convocation in and , and then nothing was even attempted. so thoroughly was the project forgotten, that the legislature of , in withdrawing the state appropriations from the two colleges, did not even mention the university, and in , though the old charter had never been repealed, there was no hesitation in bestowing the name of university of maryland on a second institution.[ ] the two colleges which constituted this first university are still existing and doing good work. the elder, washington college, lost dr. smith in by his return to philadelphia and re-accession to his old position there. he was succeeded by rev. colin ferguson, a native of kent county, and educated at edinburgh university. under him the college continued to flourish, until the withdrawal of the state's appropriation in . the constitutionality of this withdrawal is questionable, as the original grant was to be paid annually "forever;" but the state refused to permit itself to be sued by the college and, some years later, on increasing its appropriation to the college, the legislature required a release of all claims on the state under the original act. by the act of , the activity of the college was paralyzed and its usefulness much impaired. it had not yet become strong enough to stand alone and, when the helping hand of the state was taken away, it was almost obliged to close its doors to students. since that time the state has renewed its grants to the college and has greatly aided it in performing its functions; but from the disastrous effects of the act of , the institution has never fully recovered. indeed, from to , nothing but a grammar school seems to have been maintained in the college building. in the latter year, however, the college was re-opened, since the legislature had granted it a lottery of $ , . a year later rev. dr. francis waters became "principal," and under his able leadership the college bid fair to regain its old position; but in a second great misfortune overtook it. on january , , the college building was discovered to be on fire, and, in spite of the most zealous efforts, was entirely consumed. after this misfortune the college proper seems to have been suspended a second time, and only a grammar school maintained with one instructor. the classes were conducted in a building intended originally for a rectory, until that was destroyed by fire in , when the school was again moved. richard w. ringgold, the principal of the school from to , seems to have been a man of ability, and under him the number of students so much increased that in it was resolved to rebuild the college on the old site and to revive the college course. as a result, the present main building was erected, the corner-stone laid with imposing ceremonies on may , , and the college was reopened in its own edifice on january , . in , a class of four was graduated, and in , two additional buildings were erected; one for the principal's residence and the other for dormitories and recitation rooms. the college continued prosperous during the second administration of rev. dr. waters from to ; but in the presidency of his successor, rev. andrew j. sutton, came the civil war, depriving the college of its southern constituency and distracting men's minds from learning. after the rebellion, an unfortunate selection of teachers and laxness of discipline caused the college to lose still more ground, and wm. j. rivers, principal from to , had much to do to build it up again. he was a faithful and diligent teacher, and under him the moral tone of the college was improved and the course of instruction enlarged. the present head, c.w. reid, ph.d., is still further advancing the cause of the institution and a new career of prosperity seems opening before maryland's oldest college and the only one on the eastern shore of the chesapeake bay. st. john's college, like its sister institution, founded on a non-denominational basis, started out under even fairer auspices.[ ] it was granted, by the state, governor bladen's mansion and four acres of land surrounding it, was made heir to the funds of king william's school, and secured £ , from private beneficence in the first two years of its history. the bladen mansion, now known as mcdowell hall, was repaired and enlarged and, on august , , bishop carroll was elected president of the board of visitors and governors and dr. john mcdowell accepted the professorship of mathematics. after unsuccessful attempts to obtain a principal from england, dr. mcdowell was chosen to that position in the following year and continued in office, until the state withdrew its aid to the college in . he was a man of great learning and was very successful at st. john's and later at the university of pennsylvania as provost. under him, st. john's flourished greatly and many men of a national reputation were enrolled among its students, from the time the first class graduated in . the same disaster fell on st. john's, as on washington college. the legislature withdrew the annual grant given by the state. the same doubt as to the constitutionality of this withdrawal existed here, and the state confirmed its position in the same way, by increasing its appropriation in ,[ ] on condition of the college's accepting it in full satisfaction of all claims against the state under the original charter. of late years maryland has been quite generous to st. john's, but it has never quite recovered the station and prestige it lost by the taking away of the state's grant in . in the first despair over the act of the legislature, the visitors and governors voted to discontinue the college, but their courage soon returned and the rev. bethel judd, elected principal in , was able to graduate a class in . after his withdrawal in , matters were in a disturbed state for some years and no classes were graduated until , when rev. henry l. davis, the father of maryland's famous orator, henry winter davis, was principal. after that year there were no graduates until , when rev. william rafferty was head of the college. the struggle for existence was a hard one and the wonder is that the college succeeded as well as it did. with , however, began a third and more successful period in the history of st. john's. in that year the rev. hector humphreys, then only thirty-four years of age, was chosen president. he was a native of connecticut and a graduate of yale college in , and was called to st. john's from the professorship of ancient languages at washington (trinity) college in his native state. the effect of his energy and devotion was soon recognized, and, largely through his efforts, was passed the compromise of . the curriculum was enlarged, the instruction made more thorough, and classes were yearly graduated, with but six exceptions, until his death in . his energy was very great, his learning wide and accurate. in , after travelling about the state in the interests of the college, he succeeded in raising about $ , , which were used in the erection of a second building for the college, which most appropriately has since been called by his name. during his administration, the professors' houses were also built, as was pinkney hall, a third building for the use of the college. dr. humphreys also secured cabinets and philosophical apparatus for the college and gave instruction in political economy, latin and greek, chemistry, geology, natural philosophy, astronomy, composition, elocution, evidences of christianity, moral and intellectual philosophy, rhetoric, and logic. verily, an encyclopaedic man of vast industry! only four years after dr. humphreys' death the war of the rebellion broke out, and st. john's, unlike the temple of janus, closed its doors at the rumors of war. the buildings were used as an hospital, and not until was the college again reopened with the well-known educator, henry barnard, at its head. in less than a year he resigned to become the first united states commissioner of education, and neither he nor his successor, dr. james c. welling, who was principal until , was able to graduate a class. since the beginning of the administration of the next principal, james m. garnett, ll. d., the succession of classes has been unbroken and the college has steadily advanced in reputation and usefulness. dr. garnett made the english department especially excellent and, after ten years faithful service, resigned in . the rev. j.d. leavitt, his successor, made a departure from the old classic curriculum and organized a department of mechanical engineering. after he resigned prof. w.h. hopkins acted as principal for a time and introduced military discipline, having secured the detail of an officer from the united states army as instructor in military tactics. st. john's celebrated its centennial in , and has begun its second century with excellent prospects. the four years' administration of its present principal, thomas fell, ll. d., has been a most successful one, and st. john's is fulfilling the purpose of its founders "to train up and perpetuate a succession of able and honest men, for discharging the various offices and duties of life, both civil and religious, with usefulness and reputation." the second university of maryland. most universities have developed from a college; the university of maryland differs from them, for it originated in a medical school.[ ] in dr. john b. davidge of baltimore began a private class in medicine and was so successful in it, that, in , he associated with himself drs. james cocke and john shaw and these three obtained from the legislature a charter for the school, under the name of "the college of medicine of maryland."[ ] there was made a close connection between the college of medicine and the state "medical and chirurgical faculty," and its board of medical examiners were made _ex-officio_ members of the board of trustees of the college. the legislature also granted the college a lottery of $ , .[ ] lectures, which had been carried on at the professors' houses, were begun in , at a building on the corner of fayette (chatham) street and mcclellan's alley, and the first class, consisting of five, received its degrees in . as the school grew and nourished, the ideas of its founders become more extensive and, in , a long act was passed,[ ] authorizing "the college for the promotion of medical knowledge" "to constitute, appoint, and annex to itself the other three colleges or faculties, viz.: the faculty of divinity, the faculty of law, and the faculty of the arts and sciences; and that the four faculties or colleges thus united, shall be and they are hereby constituted an university, by the name and under the title of the university of maryland." the connection with the medical and chirurgical faculty was severed and the members of the four faculties, under the name of the regents of the university of maryland, were to have full powers over the university and be permitted to hold property not exceeding $ , in yearly value. each faculty was allowed to appoint its own professors and lecturers, to choose a dean, and to exercise such powers as the regents shall delegate. the faculty of physic was to be composed of the professors in the medical college; that of theology, of the professor of theology and any "six ordained ministers of any religious society or denomination;" that of law, of the professor of law, "together with six qualified members of the bar;" that of the arts and sciences, of the professors in that department, "together with three of the principals of any three academies or colleges of the state." such a strangely formed and loosely united body could not succeed, as a more homogeneous and closely compacted one would have done. the university was founded "on the most liberal plan, for the benefit of students of every country and every religious denomination, who shall be freely admitted to equal privileges and advantages of education, and to all the honors of the university, according to their merit, without requiring or enforcing any religious or civil test, urging their attendance upon any particular plan of religious worship or service." with these broad powers and provisions,[ ] "the faculty of phisick, late of the college of medicine of maryland, *** convened and, by the authority vested in it by said charter and with the advice and recommendations of learned men of the several professions of divinity, law, and the arts and sciences, proceeded to annex to itself the other three faculties." on april , , the hon. robert smith, formerly united states secretary of state, was chosen the first provost, and the organization of the regents was completed.[ ] a lottery of $ , was granted the university in , and another of $ , in .[ ] from the proceeds of these lotteries and other sources was built the building of the medical department on the corner of lombard and greene streets. it was modelled on the pantheon at rome, and, when built, is said to have been without an equal in america. the medical school grew extremely fast; a loan of $ , from the state in [ ] enabled it to build a practice hall and purchase a fine collection for its museum, and the university hospital across the street was opened in . in the number of students in attendance on lectures amounted to . the other faculties took no active steps for some time and, not until , did the regents urge them to proceed to deliver lectures as soon as possible and to lay before the regents annually a report as to their progress and condition. in , possibly on account of this vote. prof. david hoffman began the instruction in the faculty of law, his school being known as the "maryland law institute." he published part of his lecture notes in a book called _legal outlines_ and continued lecturing about ten years. after his withdrawal, the law school was given up; but the organization of the faculty was still maintained. the faculty of theology reported in "no active organization of the faculty has ever been attempted and, in view of the character of the department contemplated by the charter, none seems desirable." its only activity was a course or two of lectures on the evidences of christianity, delivered before the medical students about by the rev. william e. wyatt, professor of theology. a nominal organization of the faculty was kept up, however, until . the prosperity of the medical department was destroyed by the effort of some of its professors, discontented with being prohibited from having private classes, to have the legislature do away with the regents and replace them with a board of trustees, in whom should vest the property. as early as november , , the regents feared trouble and obtained from william wirt, john purviance and daniel webster, a legal opinion that their position was inexpugnable. with this conclusion the legislature did not agree, and on march , , an act was passed abolishing the regents and appointing a board of twenty-one trustees in their place.[ ] the trustees, by decree of the courts, obtained control of the property and forced the professors to accept them as the legal authority. so matters went on for twelve years, until in , the trustees appointed a professor personally objectionable to some of the others, who resigned their positions under the trustees and opened a separate medical school in the indian queen hotel at the corner of baltimore and hanover streets. few out-of-town students attended either school, for the quarrel frightened them away, and the baltimore students largely attended the regents' school. feeling ran high at one time, the regents took possession of the university buildings by force, and bloodshed was feared. the board of regents reorganized with ashton alexander, m.d., as provost, and employed distinguished counsel to plead the case for them in the courts. the legislature authorized the court of appeals to try the suit, and maryland's dartmouth college case was decided in june, , entirely in favor of the regents. the court held that the act of was void, since it was "a judicial act, a sentence that condemned without a hearing. the legislature has no right, without the assent of a corporation, to alter its charter, or take from it any of its franchises or property." the trustees would not yield at once and, in march, , presented a petition to the legislature, praying it not to pass an act requiring them to give up the property to the regents. the memorial was referred to a joint committee, which reported a bill restoring the property to the regents. the bill was enacted and the regents have since ruled. during the supremacy of the trustees, the faculty of the arts and sciences was organized. they contemplated activity in , and issued a circular, which drew down on them the wrath of professor hoffman, inasmuch as they "contemplated 'academic' instruction" not intended by the charter. the founders, he said, intended that instruction should be conveyed by lectures and that no other form of instruction should be allowed. the discussion which followed seems to show that he had the idea of having work carried on, like that done by graduate students to-day. but nothing was done, apparently, until baltimore college was annexed in . that institution was chartered on january , ,[ ] and was the development of an academy kept by james priestley, the first president, on paul's lane (st. paul street). "it was hoped that it would, together with the other valuable seminaries of education in the same city and in the state, become adequate to the wants and wishes of our citizens," and from the proceeds of a lottery, the grant of which was an easy way for a state to be benevolent, a plain but convenient building was erected on mulberry street.[ ] it is very doubtful if it ever graduated any students, and we learn in that "the celebrity and, in some cases, the superior existing advantages of other institutions have prevented the accomplishment of this object." still a school had been kept up continuously, and from time to time, we catch glimpses of its lectures, &c. in january, , a joint petition of the trustees of the university of maryland and of baltimore college to the legislature "proposed the charter of baltimore college shall be surrendered to the state, on the condition that the property belonging to the college shall be invested in the trustees of the university of maryland." the petition was granted,[ ] and in , we learn that "the baltimore college *** has now been merged in the university of maryland and constitutes the chair of ancient languages."[ ] on october , , the trustees issued a prospectus, from which we learn that it was intended "to maintain an institution on the most enlarged scale of usefulness and responsibility," and that there was a "necessity for the proposed organization of a department in the university of maryland, exclusively collegiate in its system, requiring an advanced state of classical and scientific attainments for admission to its lectures, calculated to conduct its pupils through the highest branches of a liberal education and to afford them advantages similar to what may be obtained in the distant universities of this country and europe." a course of study equal to that of any college of the country was announced, and a brilliant faculty appointed; but the time was not yet come for a great college in baltimore and the institution languished away. in , the commissioners of public schools petitioned to have it transferred to the city as a high school, and in , it had only one teacher and scholars, a mere boys' school. in it was reorganized as the "school of letters under the faculty of arts and sciences," with rev. e.a. dalrymple, formerly of the episcopal theological seminary at alexandria, as its head. on paper the course was fairly complete, and the faculty an able one, and there were graduates in , ' , ' , and ' . the course was to be a three years' one; for "the studies of freshman year will be pursued in the preparatory department, where experience has shown they may be attended with greater advantage." gradually students fell off, it became a mere boys' school, and finally dr. dalrymple was all that was left of the "school of letters" and the "faculty of the arts and sciences," and at his death, both formally became extinct. with the restoration of the property to the regents, the classes in the medical school increased to a size somewhat like that attained in years previous to , although, owing to the opening of new schools, they never quite equalled it. during the war of the rebellion, the school suffered from the loss of southern patronage; but at its close, students came back and the school took on fresh life. it has always been in the front rank; first of all american medical schools it recognized gynecology as a separate branch of instruction, and it was second in making practical anatomy a compulsory study. with the session of it will require a three years' graded course of all candidates for degrees. in the hon. john p. kennedy, statesman and author, was chosen provost, and on his death in , the hon. s. teackle wallis was made his successor and he now fills the office with honor. the faculty of law revived the law school in the beginning of , with a class of . an efficient faculty has caused a steady increase, until, in , there were students in the three years' course. the instruction is given by lectures, examinations, and moot-courts. in , the law department moved from its former quarters in the old baltimore college building on mulberry street, to a new building erected for it on the university property on lombard street, next to the building of the medical department. in , the university of maryland obtained from the legislature authority to open a dental department.[ ] in , the first dental lectures in america had been delivered before the medical students of the university, and it was quite fitting that there should be a dental school connected with it. the first class numbered , the last , and in eight years there have been graduates. this fact and the further one that twice has it been found necessary to make large additions to the buildings of the department on green street, adjoining those of the medical school, will show how rapid has been its growth. the university has, at present, flourishing departments of medicine, law, and dentistry, and worthily maintains the reputation of thorough and careful training, which it has gained in its history of eighty years. cokesbury college. in maryland was the first methodist church in america, and it was natural that here too should be the first methodist college in the world. there was no permanent organization of this denomination in the united states, until john wesley, on the petition of the american churches, consecrated rev. thomas coke, superintendent for the united states, in . dr. coke sailed directly from england, and arrived in new york on november , . he thence traveled southward and, on the th of the same month, met francis asbury at dover, delaware. at this first meeting, coke suggested the founding of an institution for higher education, to be under the patronage of the methodist church.[ ] this was not a new idea to asbury; for, four years previous to this meeting, john dickins had made the same suggestion to him. the earlier idea had contemplated only a school, on the plan of wesley's at knightwood, england, and for that purpose, a subscription had been opened in north carolina in .[ ] coke's suggestion, to have a college, was favorably received and, at the famous christmas conference at baltimore in , the church was formally organized, with coke and asbury as bishops, and the first methodist college was founded. thus the denomination which has increased to be the largest in the united states, recognized the paramount importance of education at its very foundation.[ ] to the new institution, the name of cokesbury was given, in honor of the two bishops, from whose names the title was compounded. for this college, collections were yearly taken, amounting in to £ and implying great self-denial by the struggling churches ill-supplied with wealth.[ ] as early as january , , only two weeks after the college was decided on, its managers were able to report that £ , had been subscribed, a sum that put the enterprise on a firm footing. the site was next to be chosen, and abingdon in harford county was pitched upon. of the , methodists in the union in , over one-third were in maryland, and hence, it had the best claim for the college, and the beauty of the situation of abingdon charmed coke so much that he determined upon placing the college there. it was also a place easy of access, being on the direct stage line from baltimore to philadelphia and near the chesapeake bay. bishop coke, the most zealous advocate of the college, contracted for the building materials; but was prevented from being present at the laying of the corner-stone. bishop asbury, however, was present and preached a sermon on psalms , verses to .[ ] in this sermon, "he dwelt on the importance of a thoroughly religious education, and looked forward to the effects, which would result to the generality, to come from the streams which should spring from this opening fountain of sanctified learning." the building was built of brick, one hundred feet in length and forty in width, faced east and west, and stood on "the summit and centre of six acres of land, with an equal proportion of ground on each side." it was said to be in architecture "fully equal, if not superior, to anything of the kind in the country." dormitory accommodations were provided in the building; but it was intended that "as many of the students as possible, shall be lodged and boarded in the town of abingdon among our pious friends,"[ ] gardening, working in wood in a building called the "taberna lignaria," bathing under supervision of a master, walking, and riding were the only outdoor exercises permitted. the students were prohibited "from indulging in anything which the world calls play. let this rule be observed with the strictest nicety; for those who play when they are young, will play when they are old." in the bishops issued a "plan for erecting a college intended to advance religion in america." it is quite long and many of its provisions are very quaint. from it we learn that cokesbury is intended "to receive for education and board the sons of the elders and preachers of the methodist episcopal church, poor orphans, and the sons of the subscribers and other friends. it will be expected that all our friends, who send their children to the college, will, if they be able, pay a moderate sum for their education and board; the others will be taught and boarded and, if our finances allow it, clothed gratis. the institution is also intended for the benefit of our young men, who are called to preach, that they may receive a measure of that improvement, which is highly expedient as a preparation for public service." teachers of ancient languages and of english will be provided, and no necessary branch of literature shall be omitted. "above all, especial care shall be taken that due attention be paid to the religion and morals of the children, and to the exclusion of all such as continue of an ungovernable temper." "the expense of such an undertaking will be very large, and the best means we could think of, at our late conference, to accomplish our design, was to desire the assistance of all those in every place who wish well to the cause of god. the students will be instructed in english, latin, greek, logic, rhetoric, history, geography, natural philosophy, and astronomy. to these languages and sciences shall be added, when the finances of our college will admit of it, the hebrew, french, and german languages. but our first object shall be, to answer the designs of _christian_ education, by forming the minds of the youth, through divine aid, to wisdom and holiness by instilling into their minds the principles of true religion--speculative, experimental, and practical--and training them in the ancient way, that they may be rational, spiritual christians. we have consented to receive children of seven years of age, as we wish to have the opportunity of teaching 'the young idea how to shoot' and gradually forming their minds, through the divine blessing, almost from their infancy, to holiness and heavenly wisdom, as well as human learning. we shall rigidly insist on their rising early in the morning (five a.m.), and we are convinced by constant observation and experience, that it is of vast importance, both to body and mind. "we prohibit play in the strongest terms, and in this we have the two greatest writers on the subject that, perhaps, any age has produced (mr. locke and mr. rousseau) of our sentiments; for, though the latter was essentially mistaken in his religious system, yet his wisdom in other respects and extensive genius are indisputably acknowledged. the employments, therefore, which we have chosen for the recreation of the students are such as are of greatest public utility:--agriculture and architecture. "in conformity to this sentiment, one of the completest poetic pieces of antiquity (the georgics of virgil) is written on the subject of husbandry; by the perusal of which and submission to the above regulations, the students may delightfully unite the theory and practice together." there is something extremely ludicrous in the idea of making the average student delight in spending his leisure hours in farming, by means of a study of the georgics in the original. but we can hardly laugh at these men, they were too much in earnest. to return to the circular, "the four guineas a year for tuition, we are persuaded cannot be lowered, if we give the students that finished education, which we are determined they shall have. and, though our principal object is to instruct them in the doctrines, spirit, and practice of christianity, yet we trust that our college will, in due time, send forth men that will be a blessing to their country in every laudable office and employment of life, thereby uniting the two greatest ornaments of human beings which are too often separated: _deep learning_ and _genuine piety_." as soon as the building was under roof, a preparatory school was opened and the trustees applied to john wesley for a president. he suggested a rev. mr. heath, and this suggestion was accepted on december , .[ ] his inauguration occurred a year later and was a grand affair. asbury presided on each of the three days of the ceremony, and his text on the second day, "o man of god, there is death in the pot,"[ ] was looked on by the superstitious, in time to come, as a presage of disaster. the faculty was filled up and all seemed to bid fair for prosperity; but mr. heath remained in charge of the college less than a year, resigning because of certain charges of insufficiency, which seem rather trival. another professor left to go into business and asbury's soul was tried by these "heavy tidings." the good bishop was indefatigable in his care of cokesbury. his visits were frequent, and while there, he was very active, examining the pupils, preaching, and arranging the affairs, both temporal and spiritual. abingdon became a centre of methodism, families moved there to enjoy the educational advantages, and the conference regularly visited the college, coming over from baltimore for that purpose. dr. jacob hall, of abingdon, was the second president, and had under him a faculty of three professors and a chaplain. the school prospered and had public exhibitions of its students' proficiency from time to time. it is doubtful if sufficient care was exercised in the expenditure of money and, in december, , the trustees felt obliged to contract a loan of £ . the charitable contributions fell off, and asbury was forced to go from house to house in baltimore, "through the snow and cold, begging money for the support of the poor orphans at cokesbury."[ ] the instruction was good, and asbury could write to coke, then in england, that "one promising young man has gone forth into the ministry, another is ready, and several have been under awakenings. none so healthy and orderly as our children, and some promise great talents for learning."[ ] still, "all was not well there," and on october , , he "found matters in a poor state at college; £ in debt, and our employes £ in arrears." a year later, matters were desperate and the good bishop wrote that "we now make a sudden and dead pause--we mean to incorporate and breathe and take some better plan. if we can not have a christian school (_i.e._ a school under christian discipline and pious teachers), we will have none."[ ] the project of incorporation was not favored by some, who feared that the college would not be thereby so directly under the control of the conference, but was carried through, and the charter bears date, december , .[ ] by it, the institution was allowed to have an income not exceeding £ , . how a charter was to avoid increased indebtedness does not appear and the college's debt had so increased, that the conference in decided to suspend the collegiate department and have only an english free school kept in the buildings.[ ] misfortunes never come singly: an unsuccessful attempt to burn the buildings had been made in the fall of , and now, on december , , a completely successful one was made, and the building and its contents were consumed. rewards to discover the incendiary were offered in vain, and asbury writes:[ ] "we have a second and confirmed report that cokesbury college is consumed to ashes--a sacrifice of £ , in about ten years. if any man should give me £ , to do and suffer again what i have done for that house, i would not do it. the lord called not mr. whitefield, nor the methodists to build colleges. i wished only for schools; dr. coke wanted a college. i feel distressed at the loss of the library." asbury despaired, but coke did not and, going to work, he raised £ , from his friends. after the determination was made to move the college to baltimore, the church there gave £ , and a house to house solicitation brought in £ more. a building originally erected for balls and assemblies was purchased and fitted up. it stood next the old light street methodist church and a co-educational school was opened therein on may , . the high course planned for girls is especially noticeable at this early period. the school opened with promises of success, and within a month there were nearly scholars. fatality pursued the enterprise, however, and a year to a day from the burning of the first building, this second one was reduced to ashes, with the adjoining church and several houses. asbury writes rather philosophically:[ ] "i conclude god loveth the people of baltimore, and he will keep them poor to make them pure;" but even coke gave up hope at this new disaster, and it was twenty years before a second methodist college was attempted. asbury college. this was the second methodist college in the world, and was organized in , the year of bishop asbury's death. after a year or two of successful work, a charter was applied for and it was granted to the college february , .[ ] the president, samuel k. jennings, m.d., a methodist local preacher, was a rather remarkable man. coming from new jersey, graduating at rutgers, and settling in the practice of the medical profession in virginia, he was converted by the preaching of asbury, and was persuaded by him some years later, to move to baltimore and take the leadership of the new enterprise.[ ] he was said to be, at one time, the only methodist preacher with a collegiate education and was well adapted to the task, from his administrative ability and wide learning. around him, he gathered an undenominational faculty of four professors and began the life of the institution in a large brick building on the corner of park avenue and franklin street. in march, , the _methodist magazine_ tells us that there were one hundred and seventy students, and that "the asbury college has probably exceeded in its progress, considering the short time it has been established, any literary institution in the country."[ ] in that spring, a class was graduated, and yet only a few months later dr. bangs wrote that the college "continued for a short time and then, greatly to the disappointment and mortification of its friends, went down as suddenly as it had come up, and asbury college lives only in the recollection of those who rejoiced over its rise and mourned over its fall." this statement is not absolutely correct; it is probable that there was some catastrophe, and possibly dr. jennings then began to break away from the methodist episcopal church, which he left entirely, when the methodist protestant church was formed in . still some sort of an organization was kept up under the old name; for does not good hezekiah niles, of register fame, tell us of examinations and exhibitions he witnessed in the early spring of ,[ ] at which time prodigies of learning and cramming were exhibited, and do we not find in , a pamphlet published by dr. jennings, entitled "remarks on the subject of education, to which are added the general rules of the school under the appellation of asbury college." apparently the college had passed entirely out of the control of the church, and having lowered its grade, was now little more than dr. jennings' private school. the school was then situated on the corner of charles and baltimore streets and, in , when we catch the last glimpse of it, another removal had taken it to the corner of south and fayette streets. it was then merely a boys' day school and doubtless soon perished. so the second methodist college failed as the first had done and another was added to the many abortive attempts to found a college in maryland. other extinct colleges. three other attempts to found colleges demand a passing notice. _mount hope college_ stood at the corner of eutaw place and north avenue, and was charted as a college in .[ ] the building was constructed by the baltimore branch of the united states bank in , during an epidemic of yellow fever in the city. people feared to come into town to transact business and so a suburban banking house was built. this building was bought by the rev. frederick hall in and in it a school was begun, which was later expanded into the college. the institution lasted some ten years and is worthy of note from the fact that among the teachers were two young yale graduates, who afterwards obtained considerable renown: professor elias loomis and rev. s.w.s. dutton. _the college of st. james_ was situated in washington county and was originally intended by its founder, bishop whittingham, as a preparatory school. it was opened in october, , with rev. j.b. kerfoot,[ ] afterwards bishop of pittsburg, as principal, and had such speedy and encouraging success, that it was chartered as a college in , under the control of the protestant episcopal church. the college prospered greatly under bishop kerfoot's able management, and was kept up during the war of the rebellion in spite of the loss of southern students, a large portion of the entire number. in , however, general early, of the confederate army, invaded maryland and took dr. kerfoot and professor coit prisoners, and the college thus forcibly discontinued, was never again reorganized. _newton university_ was chartered by the legislature[ ] on march , and was situated on lexington street, between north and calvert. it was originally intended to combine the baltimore preparatory schools and to furnish boys, graduating from them, the means of completing their education without leaving the city. there was an enormous list of trustees and the unwieldy character of the board, coupled with the irregular habits of the president, made the failure of the enterprise inevitable. still it offered in its catalogues a good course of study and gave exhibitions, at which polyglot orations were delivered. the late prof. perley r. lovejoy was the life of the institution and, after several classes had graduated, the university finally ceased to be, when mr. lovejoy accepted a position as professor in the baltimore city college. roman catholic colleges. maryland has been the cradle of the roman catholic church in america, as well as of the methodist and the presbyterian. the centenary of the consecration of john carroll, as the first roman catholic bishop in the united states, occurred little more than a year ago. a few months after bishop carroll's consecration, he received from the superior of the order of st. sulpice an offer to found a seminary in baltimore for the education of priests. this offer was accepted and, on july , , four sulpician priests arrived in baltimore. they soon bought a house known as "one mile tavern" with four acres of land and there they opened _st. mary's seminary_, on the first sunday in october, . the seminary still occupies the same site, at the corner of paca and st. mary's streets. the number of the candidates for the priesthood, who entered the seminary, was disappointing from its smallness and, in order to procure clerics, an academy was opened in the rooms of the seminary, on august , . this was presided over by rev. wm. du bourg, and proved so successful, as to demand a separate building. accordingly, the corner-stone of st. mary's college was laid on april , . at bishop carroll's request, no american boys were admitted for a time and only spaniards and french were received. in , however, the college was opened to all day scholars or boarders, without reference to birth or religion. this step roused some opposition and many communications upon the subject appeared in the newspapers, which were afterwards collected in pamphlet form. the students soon became numerous and the institution grew to such an extent that, in january, , it was chartered as st. mary's university. on august , , the first class was graduated; in that year there were students. new buildings were erected and a superb botanical garden was laid out. the chapel, built soon after the incorporation, was said to be the most beautiful in the united states. the rev. william du bourg, the president, was a man of great ability and the reputation of the college rapidly spread. many prominent men, roman catholics and protestants, were graduated from st. mary's; but the sulpicians felt that their vocation was to educate young men exclusively for the priesthood, and not for secular life, and they finally closed st. mary's college in , in order to devote all their energies to the theological seminary, which has continued its prosperous career to this present day.[ ] a second roman catholic college was formed by the sulpicians in at emmittsburg, frederick county. it was begun by rev. john dubois and was soon chartered as _mount saint mary's college_. the exercises were first held in a log house with a handful of pupils, who increased to within five years. with the growth of the institution came the demand for larger accommodations. better buildings were erected and a large stone edifice was undertaken in . when nearly ready for occupancy, it was destroyed by fire; but father dubois did not despair and, aided by the people of the vicinity, at once began a new building. in he was appointed bishop of new york, and in the same year, the connection of the college with the sulpician order was terminated. although originally intended chiefly as a place for the education of clerics, mt. st. mary's has ever kept in view the preparation of students for a secular life, and many of its graduates have been distinguished in state, as well as in church. in , rev. john mccaffrey, d.d., became president, and under his able control, the college prospered until . during this period, the jubilee of the institution was celebrated with great ceremony in . the civil war injured the college greatly and the declaration of peace found it burdened with a heavy load of debt. for twenty years the struggle went on and it was doubtful all the time, whether the college could survive. finally dr. william bryne, at his leaving the presidency in , was able to report that the institution was placed on a firm financial basis as to the future, and that the debt had been reduced to $ , . the present president, rev. edward p. allen, has still further diminished the debt by more than half and the attendance has been largely increased through his efficient administration. a third roman catholic college is _st. charles's_, situated in howard county, near ellicott city. it is situated on land given by charles carroll of carroll ton, and was chartered on february , ,[ ] its name being taken from that of its founder and of the great archbishop of milan.[ ] the institution was placed under the control of the society of st. sulpice and was established "exclusively for the education of pious young men of the catholic persuasion for the ministry of the gospel." the corner-stone was laid by the venerable charles carroll, on july , ; but, for want of funds to carry on the work successfully, the institution was not opened until the fall of . the first president, rev. o.l. jenkins, began the institution with four pupils, and at his death in , the number had grown to . since the closing of st. mary's college in , st. charles's has been used by the sulpicians as preparatory to st. mary's seminary. to supply the want of a college, to which baltimore boys of roman catholic families could go without leaving home, _loyola college_ was opened in september, . it is under the control of the jesuits and has confined itself to receiving day scholars. the fifth and last roman catholic college, _rock hill_, was chartered in .[ ] it is situated near ellicott city, as is st. charles's, and is under the supervision of the brothers of the christian schools. it prepares youth for the various duties and occupations of life with great thoroughness, and has ever been noted especially for the attention paid to the development of the body as well as the mind of its pupils. westeen maryland college. in , mr. fayette r. buell began an academy for boys and girls at westminster, carroll county,[ ] and, in the spring of , he proposed to the conference of the methodist protestant church, of which he was a member, that the school should be chartered as a college and taken under the church's patronage. this proposition was not acceded to, but mr. buell went on with his plan. confidence in the rev. j.t. ward, one of the teachers in mr. buell's school, induced two of his friends to lend the enterprise $ , , and the corner-stone of the college building was laid on september , . the college opened a year later with seventy-three pupils. in february, , mr. buell found himself so much in debt, that he appealed to the conference to take the property off his hands. this was done, and a board of trustees appointed by the conference was incorporated by the legislature on march , . the next fall, the institution reopened with rev. j.t. ward as president, in which office he continued for seventeen years. these were years of trouble and severe work to make the college a success. there was no endowment, and only by the most strenuous efforts was the college saved on several occasions from being overwhelmed with debt. still, in spite of all disadvantages, good work was done and valuable experience was gained. the college has been a co-educational one from the first, and connected with it was a department of biblical literature, for such as intended to become clergymen, until a separate theological school was opened in . during dr. ward's administration, new buildings were erected and, at his resignation in , he left the institution ready to be made still more efficient by his successor. rev. thomas h. lewis succeeded as president and, while he has caused the work and equipment of the college to be further enlarged, he has also been successful in paying off the last dollar of the debt that had hung over it so long as an incubus. female education. _the baltimore female college_, so long presided over by dr. n.c. brooks, was the pioneer institution in maryland for the higher education of women. founded in , it long had a prosperous existence; but finally was obliged to close its doors in june, , on account of the withdrawal of the grant formerly given by the state. besides this institution there was no successful attempt in maryland to found a college for female education, until the _woman's college of baltimore_ was chartered in .[ ] it was founded by the methodist episcopal church, in honor of the centenary of its organized existence in this country, and is "denominational but not sectarian." for it beautiful buildings, adjoining the first methodist church, have been erected on st. paul street. much of the money for its endowment was given by the present president, the rev. j.f. goucher, d.d., and, largely through his influence, was it able to open its doors to students on september , . it has determined, very sensibly, to grant no degrees, save to those thoroughly fitted to receive them, and so has had no graduates up to the present. its growth under the care of w.h. hopkins, ph.d., its first president, was great in numbers and endowment and the prospects are now fair for this baltimore woman's college taking high rank among similar institutions. conclusion. to a superficial observer from a distance, it sometimes seems as if university education in maryland began with the foundation of the johns hopkins university, a sketch of which follows from the pen of its honored president. our study into the history of education in the state, however, has shown us that maryland, instead of being one of the latest of the united states to conceive the university idea, was, in fact, one of the very earliest, and that her institutions have a history of which they need not be ashamed; though their work has not been so widely known as some others and though the bright promise of morning, in many cases, has not been followed by the full development of noontide. the patient labors of william smith, of hector humphreys, of francis asbury, of john dubois, and of many others, have been far from lost. wherein they failed, they gained valuable experience for their successors, and wherein they succeeded, they helped to instil "into the minds and hearts of the citizens, the principles of science and good morals." footnotes: [footnote : _md. archives_; assembly proceedings, - , pp. - .] [footnote : scharf, _hist. of md._, ii, p. .] [footnote : sharpe, _correspondence_, vol. ii, pp. - and .] [footnote : scharf, _hist, of md_., ii, p. .] [footnote : eddis, _letters from maryland_, - .] [footnote : ms. sketch of prof. rowland watts.] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. . the appropriation had already been diminished by act of , ch. .] [footnote : _centennial of st. john's._ address of p.r. voorhees, esq.] [footnote : resolutions of , no. .] [footnote : ms. sketch of dr. e.f. cordell.] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : _records of univ. of md_., vol. a.] [footnote : in he was succeeded by the rt. rev. james kemp, d.d.] [footnote : acts of , ch. ; , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : scharf, _chron. of baltimore_, p. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : lucas, _picture of baltimore_, p. .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : stevens' _history of methodism_, ii, .] [footnote : some account of cokesbury. mss. of rev. wm. hamilton.] [footnote : _early schools of methodism_, p. .] [footnote : mss. of rev. i.p. cook.] [footnote : strickland's _asbury_, p. .] [footnote : methodist discipline, , p. .] [footnote : _asbury's journal_, vol. i, p. .] [footnote : ii kings, : .] [footnote : _journal_, december , .] [footnote : _early schools of methodism_, p. .] [footnote : _journal_, november , .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : rev. mr. hamilton's mss.] [footnote : _journal_, january , .] [footnote : _journal_, .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : sprague, _annals of american pulpit_, vii, .] [footnote : _history of the m.e. church_, vol. iii.] [footnote : _niles' register_, february , .] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : _life of bishop kerfoot_, by rev. hall harrison.] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : mss. of fr. g.e. viger.] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : mss. of rev. g.e. viger.] [footnote : act of , ch. .] [footnote : lewis, _outline of western maryland college_.] [footnote : mss. of pres. w.h. hopkins.] the johns hopkins university ( - ). by daniel c. gilman. foundation. the year is commonly taken as the date of the foundation of the johns hopkins university, as in that year its doors were opened for the reception of students. on the twenty-second of february the plans of the university were publicly made known, and consequently "washington's birthday" has since been observed as an anniversary or commemoration day. but in reality the trustees were organized nine years before. the founder, johns hopkins, as he saw the end of life approaching (although he continued in active business for several years afterwards), determined to bestow a large part of his fortune upon two institutions which he proposed to establish, a university and a hospital. these establishments were to be managed by separate boards of trustees, citizens of baltimore, whom he selected for their integrity, wisdom, and public spirit. in order that the two boards might be closely allied, the founder was careful that a majority of the trustees of one corporation should also be a majority of the trustees of the other corporation, and in a letter which he left as the final expression of his wishes, he declared it to be his "constant wish and purpose that the hospital should ultimately form a part of the medical school of the university." the hospital was opened for the reception of patients in may, ; and a volume which was prepared in the following year by dr. j.s. billings, gives a full description of the buildings, with other papers illustrative of the history and purposes of that great charity. but as the medical school, which is to form the bond of union between the two establishments has not yet been organized, the following statements will only refer to those opportunities which are here provided for the study of science and literature, in the faculty commonly known as the faculty of philosophy and the liberal arts. before speaking of his gifts, a few words should be devoted to the memory of johns hopkins. this large-minded man, whose name is now renowned in the annals of american philanthropy, acquired his fortune by slow and sagacious methods. he was born in anne arundel county, maryland, not far from the city of annapolis, of a family which for several generations had adhered to the views of the society of friends. his ancestors were among the earliest settlers of the colony. while still a boy, johns hopkins came to baltimore without any capital but good health, the good habits in which he had been brought up, and unusual capacity for a life of industrious enterprise. he began on the lowest round of the ladder of fortune, and by his economy, fidelity, sagacity, and perseverance he rose to independence and influence. he was called to many positions of financial responsibility, among the most important being that of president of the merchants' national bank, and that of a director in the baltimore and ohio railroad company. he was a man of positive opinions in political affairs, yet he never entered political life; and although he contributed to the support of educational and benevolent societies he was not active in their management. in the latter part of his life, he dwelt during the winter in a large mansion, still standing on the north side of saratoga street, west of north charles street, and during the summer on an estate called clifton, in baltimore county. in both these places he exercised hospitality without ostentation. he bought a large library and many oil paintings which are now preserved in a memorial room at the hospital. nevertheless, his pursuits were wholly mercantile, and his time and strength were chiefly devoted to the business in which he was engaged,--first as a wholesale grocer, and afterwards as a capitalist interested in many and diverse financial undertakings. more than once, in time of commercial panic, he lent his credit to the support of individuals and firms with a liberality which entitled him to general gratitude. he died in baltimore, december , , at the age of seventy-nine years. he had never married. after providing for his near relations, he gave the principal part of his estate to the two institutions which bear his name, the johns hopkins university and the johns hopkins hospital. each of them received property estimated in round numbers at three and a half million dollars. the gift to the university included his estate of clifton (three hundred and thirty acres of land), fifteen thousand shares of the common stock of the baltimore and ohio railroad, and other securities which were valued at seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. many persons have expressed surprise that mr. hopkins should have made so large an investment in one corporation. but the stock of the baltimore and ohio railroad was free from taxation, for many years it paid a dividend of ten per cent. per annum, and the managers, of whom he was one, confidently anticipated that a large stock dividend would be declared at an early day. mr. hopkins not only gave to the university all the common stock that he held in this corporation; he also advised that the trustees should not dispose of it, nor of the stock accruing thereon by way of increment or dividend. in view of the vibrations to which this stock was subjected during the fifteen years subsequent to the death of mr. hopkins, it should not be forgotten that it was his will that linked the fortune of the great educational institution, which he founded, to the fortune of another corporation, in which he had the highest confidence. fortunately, the crisis into which this union led, has been successfully passed. the friends of the university generously subscribed for its support an "emergency fund" of more than $ , . other large gifts were made and others still are known to be in the future. the trustees, moreover, have changed four-fifths of their holdings of the common stock of the railroad company above mentioned, into its preferred stock, from which a permanent income of six per centum will be derived. the finances of the university are now on a solid basis, although additional gifts will be required for the construction of buildings and for the enlargement of the course of study, and still more before a medical department can be instituted. preliminary organization. the johns hopkins university was incorporated under the laws of the state of maryland, august , . three years later, june , , the trustees met and elected a president and a secretary of the board. they did not meet again until after the death of mr. hopkins, when they entered with a definite purpose on the work for which they were associated. they collected a small but excellent library of books, illustrating the history of the universities of this and of other lands; they visited in a body cambridge, new haven, ithaca, ann arbor, philadelphia, charlottesville, and other seats of learning; they were favored with innumerable suggestions and recommendations from those who knew much about education, and from those who knew little; and they invited several scholars of distinction to give them their counsel. three presidents of colleges gave them great assistance, answering in the frankest manner all the searching questions which were put to them by a sagacious committee. grateful acknowledgments will always be due to these three gentlemen: charles w. eliot, ll. d., president of harvard university, andrew d. white, ll. d., president of cornell university, and james b. angell, ll. d., president of the university of michigan. inaugural assembly. the election of a president of the university took place in december, . he entered upon the duties of his station in the following spring, and in the summer of , at the request of the trustees, he went to europe and conferred with many leaders of university education in great britain and on the continent. at the same time he visited many of the most important seats of learning. during the following winter the plans of the university were formulated and were made public in the inaugural address of the president, which was delivered on the nd of february, , before a large audience assembled in the academy of music. on this occasion, the governor of the state, hon. john lee carroll; the mayor of the city, hon. ferdinand c. latrobe; the presidents and representative professors of a large number of universities and colleges; the trustees and other officers of the scientific, literary and educational institutions of baltimore; the state and city officers of public instruction and other invited guests, together with the trustees of johns hopkins, occupied the platform. the house was filled with an attentive audience. at eleven o'clock, the chair was taken by the president of the trustees, mr. galloway cheston. the orchestra of the peabody institute, directed by professor asger hamerik, performed several pieces of classical music. a prayer was then offered up by rev. alfred m. randolph, d d., of emmanuel church, now assistant bishop of virginia, after which the chairman of the executive committee, mr. reverdy johnson, jr., said: "our gathering to-day is one of no ordinary interest. from all sections of our state, from varied sections of our land, we have met at the opening of another avenue to social progress and national renown. after two years of pressing responsibility and anxious care the trustees of the johns hopkins university present the first detailed account of their trust. of the difficulties attending the discharge of their duty; of the nice balancing of judgment; of the careful investigation and continued labor called for in the organization of the university, this is not the place to speak; but for the board of trustees, i may be allowed to claim the credit of entire devotion to the work, and a sincere desire to make of the university all that the public could expect from the generous foundation. happily, our action is unfettered, and where mistakes occur, as occur they must, the will and power are at hand to correct them. we may say that the university's birth takes place today, and i do not think it mere sentiment, should we dwell with interest upon its concurrence with the centennial year of our national birth, and the birthday of him who led the nation from the throes of battle to maturity and peace. but it is not my province to detain you from the exercises which are to follow. i am happy to state that we have among us to-day one who represents the highest type of american education, and one who, from the beginning, has sympathized with, counselled and aided us. i know you anticipate me, as i announce the distinguished name, from the most distinguished seat of learning in our land--president eliot, of harvard university." address of president eliot. president eliot next delivered a congratulatory address in which he said: "the oldest university of the country cordially greets the youngest, and welcomes a worthy ally--an ally strong in material resources and in high purpose. "i congratulate you, gentlemen, trustees of the johns hopkins university, upon the noble work which is before you. a great property, an important part of the fruit of a long life devoted with energy and sagacity to the accumulation of riches, has been placed in your hands, upon conditions as magnanimous as they are wise, to be used for the public benefit in providing for coming generations the precious means of liberal culture. your board has great powers. it must hold and manage the property of the university, make all appointments, fix all salaries, and, while leaving both legislative and administrative details to the several faculties which it will create, it must also prescribe the general laws of the university. your cares and labor will grow heavy as time goes on; but in accordance with an admirable usage, fortunately established in this country, you will serve without other compensation than the public consideration which will justly attach to your office, and the happy sense of being useful. the actuating spirit of your board will be a spirit of scrupulous fidelity to every trust reposed in you, and of untiring zeal in promoting the welfare of the university and the advancement of learning. judged by its disinterestedness, its beneficence and its permanence, your function is as pure and high as any that the world knows, or in all time has known. may the work which you do in the discharge of your sacred trust be regarded with sympathetic and expectant forbearance by the present generation, and with admiration and gratitude by posterity. "the university which is to take its rise in the splendid benefaction of johns hopkins must be unsectarian. none other could as appropriately be established in the city named for the catholic founder of a colony to which all christian sects were welcomed, or in the state in which religious toleration was expressly declared in the name of the government for the first time in the history of the christian world. there is a too common opinion that a college or university which is not denominational must therefore be irreligious; but the absence of sectarian control should not be confounded with lack of piety. a university whose officers and students are divided among many sects need no more be irreverent and irreligious than the community which in respect to diversity of creeds it resembles. it would be a fearful portent if thorough study of nature and of man in all his attributes and works, such as befits a university, led scholars to impiety. but it does not; on the contrary, such study fills men with humility and awe, by bringing them on every hand face to face with inscrutable mystery and infinite power. the whole work of a university is uplifting, refining and spiritualizing: it embraces whatsoever touches life with upward impulse; be he nowhere else, god is in all that liberates and lifts; in all that humbles, sweetens and consoles. "a university cannot be built upon a sect, unless, indeed, it be a sect which includes the whole of the educated portion of the nation. this university will not demand of its officers and students the creed, or press upon them the doctrine of any particular religious organization; but none the less--i should better say, all the more--it can exert through high-minded teachers a strong moral and religious influence. it can implant in the young breasts of its students exalted sentiments and a worthy ambition; it can infuse into their hearts the sense of honor, of duty, and of responsibility. "i congratulate the city of baltimore, mr. mayor, that in a few generations she will be the seat of a rich and powerful university. to her citizens its grounds and buildings will in time become objects of interest and pride. the libraries and other collections of a university are storehouses of the knowledge already acquired by mankind, from which further invention and improvement proceed. they are great possessions for any intelligent community. the tone of society will be sensibly affected by the presence of a considerable number of highly educated men, whose quiet and simple lives are devoted to philosophy and teaching, to the exclusion of the common objects of human pursuit. the university will hold high the standards of public duty and public spirit, and will enlarge that cultivated class which is distinguished, not by wealth merely, but by refinement and spirituality. "i felicitate the state of maryland, whose chief magistrate honors this assembly with his presence, upon the establishment within her borders of an independent institution of the highest education. the elementary school is not more necessary to the existence of a free state than the university. the public school system depends upon the institutions of higher education, and could not be maintained in real efficiency without them. the function of colleges, universities, and professional schools is largely a public function; their work is done primarily, indeed, upon individuals, but ultimately for the public good. they help powerfully to form and mould aright the public character; and that public character is the foundation of everything which is precious in the state, including even its material prosperity. in training men thoroughly for the learned professions of law and medicine, this university will be of great service to maryland and the neighboring states. during the past forty years the rules which governed admission to these honorable and confidential professions have been carelessly relaxed in most of the states of the union, and we are now suffering great losses and injuries, both material and moral, in consequence of thus thoughtlessly abandoning the safer ways of our fathers. it is for the strong universities of the country to provide adequate means of training young men well for the learned professions, and to set a high standard for professional degrees. "president gilman, this distinguished assembly has come together to give you god-speed. i welcome you to arduous duties and grave responsibilities. in the natural course of life you will not see any large part of the real fruits of your labors; for to build a university needs not years only, but generations; but though 'deeds unfinished will weigh on the doer,' and anxieties will sometimes oppress you, great privileges are nevertheless attached to your office. it is a precious privilege that in your ordinary work you will have to do only with men of refinement and honor; it is a glad and animating sight to see successive ranks of young men pressing year by year into the battle of life, full of hope and courage, and each year better armed and equipped for the strife; it is a privilege to serve society and the country by increasing the means of culture; but, above all, you will have the great happiness of devoting yourself for life to a noble public work without reserve, or stint, or thought of self, looking for no advancement, 'hoping for nothing again,' knowing well by experience the nature of the charge which you this day publicly assume, familiar with its cares and labors, its hopes and fears, its trials and its triumphs, i give you joy of the work to which you are called, and welcome you to a service which will task your every power. "the true greatness of states lies not in territory, revenue, population, commerce, crops or manufactures, but in immaterial or spiritual tilings; in the purity, fortitude and uprightness of their people, in the poetry, literature, science and art which they give birth to, in the moral worth of their history and life. with nations, as with individuals, none but moral supremacy is immutable and forever beneficent. universities, wisely directed, store up the intellectual capital of the race, and become fountains of spiritual and moral power. therefore our whole country may well rejoice with you, that you are auspiciously founding here a worthy seat of learning and piety. here may young feet, shunning the sordid paths of low desire and worldly ambition, walk humbly in the steps of the illustrious dead--the poets, artists, philosophers and statesmen of the past; here may fresh minds explore new fields and increase the sum of knowledge; here from time to time may great men be trained up to be leaders of the people; here may the irradiating light of genius sometimes flash out to rejoice mankind; above all, here may many generations of manly youth learn righteousness." inaugural address of the first president. in his inaugural address, the president of the johns hopkins university, after a grateful reference to the founder and his generosity, and a reminder that the endowment, large as it appears, is not large when compared with the acquisitions of many other institutions, called attention to some of the special distinctions of this gift. among them were named: the freedom from conditions; the absence of political or ecclesiastical control; the connection with an endowed hospital; the geographical advantages of baltimore; and the timeliness of the foundation. five agencies for the promotion of superior instruction were next briefly discussed, universities, learned academies, colleges, technical schools, and museums. the object of these paragraphs was to suggest the distinctive idea of the university, and to show that while forms and methods vary in different countries, the freedom for investigation, the obligation to teach, and the careful bestowal of academic honors are always understood to be among the university functions. wherever a strong university is established, learned societies, colleges, technical schools, and museums are clustered. it is the sun and they are the planets. twelve points were then enumerated on which there is a consensus so general that further discussion seemed needless. . all sciences are worthy of promotion; or in other words, it is useless to dispute whether literature or science should receive most attention, or whether there is any essential difference between the old and the new education. . religion has nothing to fear from science, and science need not be afraid of religion. religion claims to interpret the word of god, and science to reveal the laws of god. the interpreters may blunder, but truths are immutable, eternal, and never in conflict. . remote utility is quite as worthy to be thought of as immediate advantage. those ventures are not always most sagacious that expect a return on the morrow. it sometimes pays to send our argosies across the seas,--to make investments with an eye to slow but sure returns. so it is always in the promotion of science. . as it is impossible for any university to encourage with equal freedom all branches of learning, a selection must be made by enlightened governors, and that selection must depend on the requirements and deficiencies of a given people, in a given period. there is no absolute standard of preference. what is more important at one time or in one place may be less needed elsewhere and otherwise. . individual students cannot pursue all branches of learning, and must be allowed to select, under the guidance of those who are appointed to counsel them. nor can able professors be governed by routine. teachers and pupils must be allowed great freedom in their method of work. recitations, lectures, examinations, laboratories, libraries, field exercises, travel, are all legitimate means of culture. . the best scholars will almost invariably be those who make special attainments on the foundation of a broad and liberal culture. . the best teachers are usually those who are free, competent, and willing to make original researches in the library and the laboratory. . the best investigators are usually those who have also the responsibilities of instruction, gaining thus the incitement of colleagues, the encouragement of pupils, the observation of the public. . universities should bestow their honors with a sparing hand; their benefits most freely. . a university cannot be created in a day; it is a slow growth. the university of berlin has been quoted as a proof of the contrary. that was indeed a quick success, but in an old, compact country, crowded with learned men eager to assemble at the prussian court. it was a change of base rather than a sudden development. . the object of the university is to develop character--to make men. it misses its aim if it produces learned pedants, or simple artisans, or cunning sophists, or pretentious practitioners. its purport is not so much to impart knowledge to the pupils, as to whet the appetite, exhibit methods, develop powers, strengthen judgment, and invigorate the intellectual and moral forces. it should prepare for the service of society a class of students who will be wise, thoughtful, progressive guides in whatever department of work or thought they may be engaged. . universities easily fall into ruts. almost every epoch requires a fresh start. if these twelve points are conceded, our task is simplified, though it is still difficult. it is to apply these principles to baltimore in . we are trying to do this with no controversy as to the relative importance of letters and science, the conflicts of religion and science, or the relation of abstractions and utilities; our simple aim is to make scholars, strong, bright, useful and true. proceeding to speak of the johns hopkins university, the speaker then announced that at first the faculty of philosophy would alone be organized, where instruction would be given in language, mathematics, ethics, history and science. the medical faculty would not long be delayed. that of jurisprudence would come in time. that of theology is not now proposed. the next paragraphs of the address will be given without abbreviation. who shall our teachers be? this question the public has answered for us; for i believe there is scarcely a preeminent man of science or letters, at home or abroad, who has not received a popular nomination for the vacant professorships. some of these candidates we shall certainly secure, and their names will be one by one made known. but i must tell you, in domestic confidence, that it is not an easy task to transplant a tree which is deeply rooted. it is especially hard to do so in our soil and climate. though a migratory people, our college professors are fixtures. such local college attachments are not known in germany; and the promotions which are frequent in germany are less thought of here. when we think of calling foreign teachers, we encounter other difficulties. many are reluctant to cross the sea; and others are, by reason of their lack of acquaintance with our language and ways, unavailable. besides we may as well admit that london, paris, leipsic, berlin, and vienna afford facilities for literary and scientific growth and influence, far beyond what our country affords. hence, it is probable that among our own countrymen, our faculty will be chiefly found. i wrote, not long ago, to an eminent physicist, presenting this problem in social mechanics, for which i asked his solution, "we cannot have a great university without great professors; we cannot get great professors till we have a great university: help us from the dilemma." let me tell his answer: "your difficulty," he says, "applies only to old men who are great; these you can rarely move; but the young men of genius, talent, learning and promise, you can draw. they should be your strength." the young americans of talent and promise--there is our strength, and a noble company they are! we do not ask from what college, or what state, or what church they come; but what do they know, and what can they do, and what do they want to find out. in the biographies of eminent scholars, it is curious to observe how many indicated in youth preeminent ability. isaac casaubon, whose name in the sixteenth century shed lustre on the learned circles of geneva, montpellier, paris, london and oxford, began as professor of greek, at the age of twenty-two; and heinsius, his leyden contemporary, at eighteen. it was at the age of twenty-eight, that linnaeus first published his _systema naturae_. cuvier was appointed a professor in paris at twenty-six, and, a few months later, a member of the institute. james kent, the great commentator on american law, began his lectures in columbia college at the age of thirty-one. henry was not far from thirty years of age when he made his world-renowned researches in electro-magnetism; and dana's great work on mineralogy was first published before he was twenty-five years old, and about four years after he graduated at new haven. look at the harvard lists:--everett was appointed professor of greek at twenty-one; benjamin peirce, of mathematics at twenty-four; and agassiz was not yet forty when he came to this country. for fifty years yale college rested on three men selected in their youth by dr. dwight, and almost simultaneously set at work; day was twenty-eight, silliman, twenty-three, and kingsley, twenty-seven, when they began their professorial lives. the university of virginia, early in its history, attracted foreign teachers, who were all young men. we shall hope to secure a strong staff of young men, appointing them because they have twenty years before them; selecting them on evidence of their ability; increasing constantly their emoluments, and promoting them because of their merit to successive posts, as scholars, fellows, assistants, adjuncts, professors and university professors. this plan will give us an opportunity to introduce some of the features of the english fellowship and the german system of privat-docents; or in other words, to furnish positions where young men desirous of a university career may have a chance to begin, sure at least of a support while waiting for promotion. our plans begin but do not end here. as men of distinction, who have won the highest rank in their callings, are known to be free, we shall invite them to come among us. if we would maintain a university, great freedom must be allowed both to teachers and scholars. this involves freedom of methods to be employed by the instructors on the one hand, and on the other, freedom of courses to be selected by the students. but this freedom is based on laws,--two of which cannot be too distinctly or too often enunciated. a law which should govern the admission of pupils is this, that before they win this privilege they must have been matured by the long, preparatory discipline of superior teachers, and by the systematic, laborious, and persistent pursuit of fundamental knowledge; and a second law, which should govern the work of professors, is this, that with unselfish devotion to the discovery and advancement of truth and righteousness, they renounce all other preferment, so that, like the greatest of all teachers, they may promote the good of mankind. i see no advantage in our attempting to maintain the traditional four-year class-system of the american colleges. it has never existed in the university of virginia; it is modified, though not nominally given up at harvard; it is not an important characteristic of michigan and cornell; it is not known in the english, french or german universities. it is a collegiate rather than a university method. if parents or students desire us to mark out prescribed courses, either classical or scientific, lasting four years, it will be easy to do so. but i apprehend that many students will come to us excellent in some branches of a liberal education and deficient in others--good perhaps in greek, latin and mathematics; deficient in chemistry, physics, zoology, history, political economy, and other progressive sciences. i would give to such candidates on examination, credit for their attainments, and assign them in each study the place for which they are fitted. a proficient in plato may be a tyro in euclid. moreover, i would make attainments rather than time the condition of promotion; and i would encourage every scholar to go forward rapidly or go forward slowly, according to the fleetness of his foot and his freedom from impediment. in other words, i would have our university seek the good of individuals rather than of classes. the sphere of a university is sometimes restricted by its walls or is limited to those who are enrolled on its lists. there are three particulars in which we shall aim at extramural influence: first, as an examining body, ready to examine and confer degrees or other academic honors on those who are trained elsewhere; next, as a teaching body, by opening to educated persons (whether enrolled as students or not) such lectures as they may wish to attend, under certain restrictions--on the plan of the lectures in the high seminaries of paris; and, finally, as in some degree at least a publishing body, by encouraging professors and lecturers to give to the world in print the results of their researches. what are we aiming at? an enduring foundation; a slow development; first local, then regional, then national influence; the most liberal promotion of all useful knowledge; the special provision of such departments as are elsewhere neglected in the country; a generous affiliation with all other institutions, avoiding interferences, and engaging in no rivalry; the encouragement of research; the promotion of young men; and the advancement of individual scholars, who by their excellence will advance the sciences they pursue, and the society where they dwell. no words could indicate our aim more fitly than those by which john henry newman expresses his "idea of the university," in a page glowing with enthusiasm, to which i delight to revert. what will be our agencies? a large staff of teachers; abundance of instruments, apparatus, diagrams, books, and other means of research and instruction; good laboratories, with all the requisite facilities; accessory influences, coming both from baltimore and washington; funds so unrestricted, charter so free, schemes so elastic, that as the world goes forward, our plans will be adjusted to its new requirements. what will be our methods? liberal advanced instruction for those who want it; distinctive honors for those who win them; appointed courses for those who need them; special courses for those who can take no other; a combination of lectures, recitations, laboratory practice, field work and private instruction; the largest discretion allowed to the faculty consistent with the purposes in view; and, finally, an appeal to the community to increase our means, to strengthen our hands, to supplement our deficiencies, and especially to surround our scholars with those social, domestic and religious influences which a corporation can at best imperfectly provide, but which may be abundantly enjoyed in the homes, the churches and the private associations of an enlightened christian city. _citizens of baltimore and maryland_.--this great undertaking does not rest upon the trustees alone; the whole community has a share in it. however strong our purposes, they will be modified, inevitably, by the opinions of enlightened men; so let parents and teachers incite the youth of this commonwealth to high aspirations; let wise and judicious counsellors continue their helpful suggestions, sure of being heard with grateful consideration; let skilful writers, avoiding captionsness on the one hand and compliment on the other, uphold or refute or amend the tenets here announced; let the guardians of the press diffuse widely a knowledge of the benefits which are here provided; let men of means largely increase the usefulness of this work by their timely gifts. at the moment there is nothing which seems to me so important, in this region, and indeed in the entire land, as the promotion of good secondary schools, preparatory to the universities. there are old foundations in maryland which require to be made strong, and there is room for newer enterprises, of various forms. every large town should have an efficient academy or high school; and men of wealth can do no greater service to the public than by liberally encouraging, in their various places of abode, the advanced instruction of the young. none can estimate too highly the good which came to england from the endowment of lawrence sheriff at rugby, and of queen elizabeth's school at westminster, or the value to new england of the phillips foundations in exeter and and over. every contribution made by others to this new university will enable the trustees to administer with greater liberality their present funds. special foundations may be affiliated with our trust, for the encouragement of particular branches of knowledge, for the reward of merit, for the construction of buildings; and each gift, like the new recruits of an army, will be more efficient because of the place it takes in an organized and efficient company. it is a great satisfaction in this world of changes and pecuniary loss to remember what safe investments have been made at harvard and yale, and other old colleges, where dollar for dollar is still shown for every gift. the atmosphere of maryland seems favorable to such deeds of piety, hospitality and "good-will to men." george calvert, the first lord baltimore, comes here, returns to england and draws up a charter which becomes memorable in the annals of civil and religious liberty, for which, "he deserves to be ranked," (as bancroft says), "among the most wise and benevolent lawgivers of all ages;" among the liberals of none was bolder than charles carroll of carrollton; john eager howard, the hero of cowpens, is almost equally worthy of gratitude for the liberality of his public gifts; john mcdonogh, of baltimore birth, bestows his fortune upon two cities for the instruction of their youth; george peabody, resident here in early life, comes back in old age to endow an athenaeum, and begins that outpouring of munificence which gives him a noble rank among modern philanthropists; moses sheppard bequeaths more than half a million for the relief of mental disease; rinehart, the teamster boy, attains distinction as a sculptor, and bequeaths his hard-won acquisitions for the encouragement of art in the city of his residence; and a baltimorean still living, provides for the foundation of an astronomical observatory in yale college; while johns hopkins lays a foundation for learning and charity, which we celebrate to-day. the closing sentences of the discourse were addressed to the young men of baltimore and to the trustees. the faculty. one of the earliest duties which devolved upon the president and trustees, after deciding upon the general scope of the university, was to select a staff of teachers by whose assistance and counsel the details of the plan should be worked out. it would hardly be right in this place to recall the distinctive merits of the able and learned scholars who have formed the academic staff during the first fourteen years, but perhaps the writer may be allowed to pay in passing a tribute of gratitude and respect to those who entered the service of the university at its beginning. to their suggestions, their enthusiasm, their learning, and above all their freedom from selfish aims and from petty jealousies, must be attributed in a great degree the early distinction of this institution. they came from widely distant places; they had been trained by widely different methods; they had widely different intellectual aptitudes; but their diversities were unified by their devotion to the university in which they were enlisted, and by their desire to promote its excellence. this spirit has continued till the present time, and has descended to those who have from time to time joined the ranks, so that it may be emphatically said that the union of the faculty has been the key to its influence. the first requisite of success in any institution is a staff of eminent teachers, each of whom gives freely the best of which he is capable. the best varies with the individual; one may be an admirable lecturer or teacher; another a profound thinker; a third a keen investigator; another a skilful experimenter; the next, a man of great acquisitions; one may excel by his industry, another by his enthusiasm, another by his learning, another by his genius; but every member of a faculty should be distinguished by some uncommon attainments and by some special aptitudes, while the faculty as a whole should be united and cooperative. each professor, according to his subject and his talents, should have his own best mode of working, adjusted to and controlled by the exigencies of the institution with which he is associated. the original professors, who were present when instructions began in october, , were these: as the head and guide of the mathematical studies, professor sylvester, of cambridge, woolwich and london, one of the foremost of european mathematicians; as the leader of classical studies, professor gildersleeve, then of the university of virginia; as director of the chemical laboratory and of instruction in chemistry, professor remsen, then of williams college; to organize the work in biology (a department then scarcely known in american institutions, but here regarded as of great importance with reference to the future school of medicine), professor martin, then of cambridge (eng.), a pupil of professor michael foster and of professor huxley; as chief in the department of physics, professor rowland, then holding a subordinate position in the rensselaer polytechnic institute, whose ability in this department had been shown by the contributions he had made to scientific journals; and as collegiate professor, or guide to the undergraduate students, professor charles d. morris, once an oxford fellow, and then of the university of the city of new york. the names of the professors in the faculty of philosophy, from to , are as follows, arranged in the order of their appointment: basil l. gildersleeve, ll. d _greek_. j.j. sylvester, ll. d _mathematics_. ira kemsen, ph. d _chemistry_. henry a. rowland, ph. d _physics_. h. newell martin, sc. d _biology_. charles d. morris, a. m _classics, (collegiate)._ paul haupt, ph. d _semitic languages_. g. stanley hall, ll. d _psychology._ william h. welch, m. d _pathology_. simon newcomb, ll. d _mathematics and astronomy_. john h. wright, a.m _classical philology_. edward h. griffin, ll.d _history of philosophy_. herbert b. adams, ph.d _amer. and inst. history_. william k. brooks, ph.d _animal morphology_. the persons below named have been appointed associate professors,--and their names are arranged in the order of their appointment: herbert b. adams, ph.d _history_. maurice bloomfield, ph.d _sanskrit and comp. philology_. william k. brooks, ph.d _animal morphology_. thomas craig, ph.d _mathematics_. charles s. hastings, ph.d _physics_. harmon n. morse, ph.d _chemistry._ william e. story, ph.d _mathematics._ minton warren, ph.d _latin._ a. marshall elliot, ph.d _romance languages_. j. rendel harris, a.m _new testament greek_. george h. emmott, a.m _logic_. c. rene gregory, ph.d _new testament greek_. george h. williams, ph.d _inorganic geology_. henry wood, ph.d _german_. richard t. ely, ph.d _political economy_. william t. councilman, m.d _anatomy_. william h. howell, ph.d _animal physiology_. arthur l. kimball, ph.d _physics_. edward h. spieker, ph.d _greek and latin_. louis duncan, ph.d _electricity_. fabian franklin, ph.d _mathematics_. at the opening of the johns hopkins hospital, the principal physicians and surgeons of that foundation were appointed professors of the university, namely, arranged in the order of their appointment: william osler, m.d _medicine._ henry m. hurd, m.d _psychiatry_. howard a. kelly, m.d _gynecology_. william s. halsted, m.d _surgery_. in selecting a staff of teachers, the trustees have endeavored to consider especially the devotion of the candidate to some particular line of study and the certainty of his eminence in that specialty; the power to pursue independent and original investigation, and to inspire the young with enthusiasm for study and research; the willingness to coöperate in building up a new institution; and the freedom from tendencies toward ecclesiastical or sectional controversies. they announced that they would not be governed by denominational or geographical considerations in the appointment of any teacher; but would endeavor to select the best person whose services they could secure in the position to be filled,--irrespective of the place where he was born, or the college in which he was trained, or the religious body with which he might be enrolled. it is obvious that in addition to the qualifications above mentioned, regard has always been paid to those personal characteristics which cannot be rigorously defined, but which cannot be overlooked if the ethical as well as the intellectual character of a professorial station is considered, and if the social relations of a teacher to his colleagues, his pupils, and their friends, are to be harmoniously maintained. the professor in a university teaches as much by his example as by his precepts. besides the resident professors, it has been the policy of the university to enlist from time to time the services of distinguished scholars as lecturers on those subjects to which their studies have been particularly directed. during the first few years the number of such lecturers was larger, and the duration of their visits was longer than it has been recently. when the faculty was small, the need of the occasional lecturer was more apparent for obvious reasons, than it has been in later days. still the university continues to invite the cooperation of non-resident professors, and the proximity of baltimore to washington makes it particularly easy to engage learned gentlemen from the capital to give occasional lectures upon their favorite studies. recently a lectureship of poetry has been founded by mr. and mrs. turnbull of baltimore, in memory of a son who is no longer living, and an annual course may be expected from writers of distinction who are known either as poets, or as critics, or as historians of poetry. the first lecturer on this foundation will be mr. e.c. stedman, of new york, the second, professor jebb, of cambridge (eng.). another lectureship has been instituted by mr. eugene levering with the object of promoting the purposes of the young men's christian association. the first lecturer on this foundation was rev. dr. broadus, of louisville, ky. a few of those who held the position of lecturers made baltimore their home for such prolonged periods that they could not properly be called non-resident. the following list contains the principal appointments. it might be much enlarged by naming those persons who have lectured at the request of one department of the university and not of the trustees, and by naming some who gave but single lectures. simon newcomb _astronomy_. lÉonce rabillon _french_. john s. billings _medical history, etc_. francis j. child _english literature_, thomas m. cooley _law._ julius e. hilgard _geodetic surveys_. james russell lowell _romance literature_. john w. mallet _technological chemistry_. francis a. walker _political economy_. william d. whitney _comparative philology_. william f. allen _history_. william james _psychology_. george s. morris _history of philosophy_. j. lewis diman _history._ h. von holst _history_. william g. farlow _botany_. j. willard gibbs _theoretical mechanics_. sidney lanier _english literature_. charles s. peirce _logic_. john trowbridge _physics_. a. graham bell _phonology_. s.p. langley _physics_. john mccrady _biology_. james bryce _political science_. edward a. freeman _history_. john j. knox _banking_. arthur cayley _mathematics_. william w. goodwin _plato_. g. stanley hall _psychology_. richard m. venable _constitutional law_. james a. harrison _anglo-saxon_. j. rendel harris _new testament greek_. george w. cable _english literature_. william w. story _michel angela_. hiram corson _english literature_. f. seymour haden _etchers and etching_. john s. billings _municipal hygiene_. james bryce _roman law_. h. von holst _political science_. william trelease _botany_. j. thacher clarke _explorations in assos_. josiah royce _philosophy_. william j. stillman _archaeology_. charles waldstein _archaeology_. sir william thomson _molecular dynamics_. a. melville bell _phonetics, etc_. edmund gosse _english literature_. eugene schuyler _u.s. diplomacy_. justin winsor _shakespeare_. frederick wedmore _modern art_. isaac h. hall _new testament_. william hayes ward _assyria_. william libbey, jr _alaska_. alfred r. wallace _island life_. mandell creighton _rise of european universities_. arthur l. frothingham, jr _babylonian and assyrian art_. rodolfo lanciani _roman archaeology_. andrew d. white _the french revolution_. john a. broadus _origin of christianity_. the number of associates, readers, and assistants has been very large, most such appointments having been made for brief periods among young men of promise looking forward to preferment in this institution or elsewhere. distinction between collegiate and university courses. from the opening of the university until now a sharp distinction has been made between the methods of university instruction and those of collegiate instruction. in the third annual report, september , , the views which had been announced at the opening of the university are expanded and are illustrated by the action of the trustees and the faculty during the first two years. the terms university and college have been so frequently interchanged in this country that their significance is liable to be confounded; and it may be worth while, once more at least, to call attention to the distinction which is recognized among us. by the college is understood a place for the orderly training of youth in those elements of learning which should underlie all liberal and professional culture. the ordinary conclusion of a college course is the bachelor's degree. usually, but not necessarily, the college provides for the ecclesiastical and religious as well as the intellectual training of its scholars. its scheme admits but little choice. frequent daily drill in languages, mathematics, and science, with compulsory attendance and frequent formal examinations, is the discipline to which each student is submitted. this work is simple, methodical, and comparatively inexpensive. it is understood and appreciated in every part of this country. in the university more advanced and special instruction is given to those who have already received a college training or its equivalent, and who now desire to concentrate their attention upon special departments of learning and research. libraries, laboratories, and apparatus require to be liberally provided and maintained. the holders of professorial chairs must be expected and encouraged to advance by positive researches the sciences to which they are devoted; and arrangements must be made in some way to publish and bring before the criticism of the world the results of such investigations. primarily, instruction is the duty of the professor in a university as it is in a college; but university students should be so mature and so well trained as to exact from their teachers the most advanced instruction, and even to quicken and inspire by their appreciative responses the new investigations which their professors undertake. such work is costly and complex; it varies with time, place, and teacher; it is always somewhat remote from popular sympathy, and liable to be depreciated by the ignorant and thoughtless. but it is by the influence of universities, with their comprehensive libraries, their costly instruments, their stimulating associations and helpful criticisms, and especially their great professors, indifferent to popular applause, superior to authoritative dicta, devoted to the discovery and revelation of truth, that knowledge has been promoted, and society released from the fetters of superstition and the trammels of ignorance, ever since the revival of letters. in further exposition of these views, from men of different pursuits, reference should be made to an article on classics and colleges, by professor gildersleeve _(princeton review_, july, ), lately reprinted in the author's "essays and studies," (baltimore, ); to an address by professor sylvester before the university on "mathematical studies and university life," (february , ); to an address by professor martin on the study of biology _(popular science monthly,_ january, ); to some remarks on the study of chemistry by professor remsen _(popular science monthly,_ april, ); and to an address entitled "a plea for pure science" (salem, ), by professor rowland, as a vice-president of the american association for the advancement of science. although of a much later date, reference should also be made to an address by professor adams (february , ) on the work of the johns hopkins university, printed in the _johns hopkins university circulars_, no. . an address by dr. james carey thomas, one of the trustees, at the tenth anniversary, in , may also be consulted _(ibid._ no. ). reference may also be made to the fifteen annual reports of the university and to the articles below named, by the writer of this sketch. the group system of college courses in the johns hopkins university _(andover review,_ june, ); the benefits which society derives from universities: annual address on commemoration day, _(johns hopkins university circulars_, no. ); article on universities in lalor's _cyclopaedia of political science_; an address before the phi beta kappa society of harvard university, july , ; an address at the opening of bryn mawr college, . students, courses of studies, and degrees. in accordance with the plans thus formulated, the students have included those who have already taken an academic degree, and who have here engaged in advanced studies; those who have entered as candidates for the bachelors' degree; and those who have pursued special courses without reference to degrees. the whole number of persons enrolled in these three classes during the first fourteen years ( - ) is fifteen hundred and seventy-one. seven hundred and three persons have pursued undergraduate courses and nine hundred and two have followed graduate studies. many of those who entered as undergraduates have continued as graduates, and have proceeded to the degree of doctor of philosophy. these students have come from nearly every state in the union, and not a few of them have come from foreign lands. many of those who received degrees before coming here were graduates of the principal institutions of this country. the degree of doctor of philosophy has been awarded after three years or more of graduate studies to one hundred and eighty-four persons, and that of bachelor of arts to two hundred and fifty at the end of their collegiate course. two degrees, and two only, have been opened to the students of this university. believing that the manifold forms in which the baccalaurate degree is conferred are confusing the public, and that they tend to lessen the respect for academic titles, the authorities of the johns hopkins university determined to bestow upon all those who complete their collegiate courses the title of bachelor of arts. this degree is intended to indicate that its possessor has received a liberal education, or in other words that he has completed a prolonged and systematic course of studies in which languages, mathematics, sciences, history, and philosophy have been included. the amount of time devoted to each of these various subjects varies according to individual needs and preference, but all the combinations are supposed to be equally difficult and honorable. seven such combinations or groups of studies have been definitely arranged, and "the group system," thus introduced, combines many of the advantages of the elective system, with many of the advantages of a fixed curriculum. the undergraduate has his choice among many different lines of study, but having made this determination he is expected to follow the sequence prescribed for him by his teachers. he may follow the old classical course; or he may give decided preference to mathematics and physics; or he may select a group of studies, antecedent to the studies of a medical school; or he may pursue a scientific course in which chemistry predominates; or he may lay a foundation for the profession of law by the study of history and political science; or he may give to modern languages the preference accorded in the first group to the ancient classics. in making his selection, and indeed in prosecuting the career of an undergraduate, he has the counsel of some member of the faculty who is called his adviser. while each course has its predominant studies, each comprises in addition the study of french and german, and at least one branch of science, usually chemistry or physics, with laboratory exercises. the degree of doctor of philosophy is offered to those who continue their studies in a university for three years or more after having attained the baccalaureate degree. their attention must be given to studies which are included in the faculty of philosophy and the liberal arts, and not to the professional faculties of law, medicine, and theology. students who have graduated in other institutions of repute may offer themselves as candidates for this degree. in addition to the requirements above mentioned, the student must show his proficiency in one principal subject and in two that are secondary, and must submit himself to rigid examinations, first written and then oral. he must also present a thesis which must gain the approval of the special committee to which it may be referred, and must subsequently be printed. all these requisitions are enforced by a faculty which is known as the board of university studies. as an encouragement to the systematic prosecution of university studies, the degree of doctor of philosophy in this university is offered under the following conditions. a board of university studies is constituted for the purpose of guiding the work of those who may become candidates for this degree. the time of study is a period of at least three years of distinctive university work in the philosophical faculty. it is desirable that the student accepted as a candidate should reside here continuously until his final examinations are passed, and he is required to spend the last year before he is graduated in definite courses of study at this university. before he can be accepted as a candidate, he must satisfy the examiners that he has received a good collegiate education, that he has a reading knowledge of french and german, and that he has a good command of literary expression. he must also name his principal subject of study and the two subordinate subjects. the board reserves the right to say in each case whether the antecedent training has been satisfactory, and, if any of the years of advanced work have been passed by the candidate away from this university, whether they may be regarded as spent in university studies under suitable guidance and favorable conditions. such studies must have been pursued without serious distractions and under qualified teachers. private study, or study pursued at a distance from libraries and laboratories and other facilities, will not be considered as equivalent to university study. in the conditions which are stated below, it will appear that there are several tests of the proficiency of the candidate, in addition to the constant observation of his instructors. a carefully prepared thesis must be presented by the candidate on a subject approved by his chief adviser, and this thesis must receive the approbation of the board. there are private examinations of the candidate, both in his chief subject and in the subordinate subjects. if these tests are successfully passed, there is a final oral examination in the presence of the board. as an indication of the possible combinations which may be made by those who are studying for the degree of doctor of philosophy, the following schedule is presented: physics, mathematics, and chemistry; animal physiology, animal morphology, and chemistry; chemistry, mineralogy, and geology; mathematics, astronomy, and physics; sanskrit, greek, and latin; history, political economy, and international law; greek, sanskrit, and latin; french, italian and spanish, and german; latin, sanskrit, and roman law; latin, sanskrit, and german; assyriology, ethiopic and arabic, and greek; political economy, history, and administration; english, german, and old norse; inorganic geology and petrography, mineralogy, and chemistry; geology and mineralogy, chemistry, and physics; romance languages, german, and english; latin, greek, and sanskrit; german, english, and sanskrit. while students are encouraged to proceed to academic degrees, the authorities have always borne in mind the needs of those who could not, for one reason or another, remain in the university for more than a year or two, and who might wish to prosecute their studies in a particular direction without any reference to academic honors. such students have always been welcome, especially those who have been mature enough to know their own requirements and to follow their chosen courses, without the incentive of examinations and diplomas. publications, seminaries, societies. the johns hopkins university has encouraged publication. in addition to the annual register or catalogue, the report of the president is annually published, and from time to time during the year "circulars" are printed, in which the progress of investigations, the proceedings of societies, reports of lectures, and the appearance of books and essays are recorded. encouragement is also given by the trustees to the publication of literary and scientific periodicals and occasionally of learned essays and books. the journals regularly issued are: i. _american journal of mathematics_. s. newcomb, editor, and t. craig, associate editor. quarterly. to. volume xiii in progress. ii. _american chemical journal_. i. remsen, editor. nos. yearly. vo. volume xiii in progress. iii. _american journal of philology_. b.l. gildersleeve, editor. quarterly, vo. volume xi in progress. iv. _studies from the biological laboratory_. ii. n. martin, editor, and w.k. brooks, associate editor. vo. volume v in progress. v. _studies in historical and political science_, ii. b. adams, editor. monthly. vo. vol. ix in progress. vi. _contributions to assyriology, etc_. fr. delitzsch and paul haupt, editors. vol. ii in progress. vii. _johns hopkins university circulars_. numbers issued. another form of intellectual activity is shown in the seminaries and scientific associations which have more or less of an official character. in the seminary, the professor engages with a small company of advanced students, in some line of investigation--the results of which, if found important, are often published. the relations of the head of a seminary to those whom he admits to this advanced work, are very close. the younger men have an opportunity of seeing the methods by which older men work. the sources of knowledge, the so-called authorities, are constantly examined. the drift of modern discussions is followed. investigations, sometimes of a very special character, are carefully prosecuted. all this is done upon a plan, and with the incessant supervision of the director, upon whose learning, enthusiasm, and suggestiveness, the success of the seminary depends. each such seminary among us has its own collection of books. the associations or societies serve a different purpose. they bring together larger companies of professors and graduate students, who hear and discuss such papers as the members may present. these papers are not connected by one thread like those which come before the seminaries. they are usually of more general interest, and they often present the results of long continued thought and investigation. buildings, libraries, and collections. the site selected when the university was opened in the heart of baltimore, near the corner of howard and monument streets, has proved so convenient, that from time to time additional property in that neighborhood has been secured and the buildings thus purchased have either been modified so as to meet the academic needs, or have given place to new and commodious edifices. the principal buildings now in use are these: ( ). a central administration building, in which are the class-rooms for classical and oriental studies. ( ). a library building, in which are also rooms devoted especially to history and political science. ( ). a chemical laboratory well equipped for the service of more than a hundred workers. ( ). a biological laboratory, with excellent arrangements for physiological and morphological investigations. ( ). a physical laboratory--the latest and best of the laboratories--with excellent accommodations for physical research and instruction. ( ). a gymnasium for bodily exercise. ( ). two dwelling houses, appropriated to the collections in mineralogy and geology until a suitable museum and laboratory can be constructed. ( ). levering hall, constructed for the uses of the young men's christian association, and containing a large hall which may be used for general purpeses. ( ). smaller buildings used for the smaller classes. ( ). an official residence of the president, which came to the university as a part of the bequest of the late john w. mccoy, esq. the library of the university numbers nearly , well selected volumes,--including "the mccoy library" not yet incorporated with the other books, and numbering , volumes. not far from , periodicals are received, from every part of the civilized world. quite near to the university is the library of the peabody institute, a large, well-chosen, well-arranged, and well-catalogued collection. it numbers more than one hundred thousand volumes. the university has extensive collections of minerals and fossils, a select zoological and botanical museum, a valuable collection of ancient coins, a remarkable collection of egyptian antiquities (formed by col. mendes i. cohen, of baltimore), a bureau of maps and charts, a number of noteworthy autographs and literary manuscripts of modern date, and a large amount of the latest and best scientific apparatus--astronomical, physical, chemical, biological, photographical, and petrographical. statistics. _summary of attendance_, - . total enrolled years. teachers. students. graduates. matriculates. special. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - _summary of attendance_, - (continued). degrees conferred. years. a.b. ph.d. - -- -- - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -- trustees. it should never be forgotten in considering the history of such a foundation that the ultimate responsibility for its organization and government rests upon the board of trustees. if they are enlightened and high-minded men, devoted to the advancement of education, their influence will be felt in every department of instruction. the johns hopkins university has been exceptionally favored in this respect. mr. hopkins chose the original body with the same sagacity that he showed in all his career as a business man; and as, one by one, vacancies have occurred, men of the same type have been selected, by coöptation, for these important positions. the names of the trustees from the beginning are as follows: * george william brown. * galloway cheston. george w. dobbin. * john fonerden. * john w. garrett. charles j.m. gwinn. lewis n. hopkins. * william hopkins. reverdy johnson, jr. francis t. king. * thomas m. smith. francis white. james carey thomas. c. morton stewart. joseph p. elliott. j. hall pleasants. alan p. smith. robert garrett. james l. mclane. * deceased. notes supplementary to the johns hopkins university studies in historical and political science, , no. . university extension and the university of the future. the substance of addresses delivered before the johns hopkins and other university audiences. by richard g. moulton, a.m., _of cambridge university, england_. i am requested to furnish information with reference to the university extension movement in england. it will be desirable that side by side with the facts i should put the ideas of the movement, for, in matters like these, the ideas are the inspiration of the work; the ideas, moreover, are the same for all, whereas the detailed methods must vary with different localities. the idea of the movement is its soul; the practical working is no more than the body. but body and soul alike are subject to growth, and so it has been in the present case. the english university extension movement was in no sense a carefully planned scheme, put forward as a feat of institutional symmetry; it was the product of a simple purpose pursued through many years, amid varying external conditions, in which each modification was suggested by circumstances and tested by experience. and with the complexity of our operations our animating ideas have been striking deeper and growing bolder. speaking then up to date, i would define the root idea of 'university extension' in the following simple formula: university education for the whole nation organized on a basis of itinerant teachers. but every clause in this defining formula will need explanation and defence. the term 'university' extension has no doubt grown up from the circumstance that the movement in england was started and directed by the universities, which have controlled its operations by precisely the same machinery by which they manage every other department of university business. i do not know that this is an essential feature of the movement. the london branch presents an example of a flourishing organization directed by a committee formed for the purpose, though this committee at present acts in concert with three universities. i can conceive the new type of education managed apart from any university superintendence; only i should look upon such severance as a far more serious evil for the universities than for the popular movement. but i use the term 'university education' for the further purpose of defining the type of instruction offered. it is thus distinguished from school education, being moulded to meet the wants of adults. it is distinguished from the technical training necessary for the higher handicrafts or for the learned professions. it is no doubt to the busy classes that the movement addresses itself, but we make no secret of the fact that our education will not help them in their business, except that, the mind not being built in water-tight compartments, it is impossible to stimulate one set of faculties without the stimulus reacting upon all the rest. the education that is properly associated with universities is not to be regarded as leading up to anything beyond, but is an end in itself, and applies to life as a whole. and the foundation for university extension is a change, subtle but clear, that may be seen to be coming over the attitude of the public mind to higher education, varying in intensity in different localities, but capable of being encouraged where it is least perceptible,--a change by which education is ceasing to be regarded as a thing proper to particular classes of society or particular periods of life, and is coming to be recognized as one of the permanent interests of life, side by side with such universal interests as religion and politics. for persons of leisure and means such growing demand can be met by increased activity of the universities. university extension is to be the university of the busy. my definition puts the hope of extending university education in this sense to the whole nation without exception. i am aware that to some minds such indiscriminate extension will seem like an educational communism, on a par with benevolent schemes for redistributing the wealth of society so as to give everybody a comfortable income all round. but it surely ought not to be necessary to explain that in proposing a universal system of education we are not meaning that what each individual draws from the system will be the same in all cases. in this as in every other public benefit that which each person draws from it must depend upon that which he brings to it. university extension may be conceived as a stream flowing from the high ground of universities through the length and breadth of the country; from this stream each individual helps himself according to his means and his needs; one takes but a cupful, another uses a bucket, a third claims to have a cistern to himself: every one suits his own capacity, while our duty is to see that the stream is pure and that it is kept running. the truth is that the wide-reaching purpose of university extension will seem visionary or practicable according to the conception formed of education, as to what in education is essential and what accidental. if i am asked whether i think of shop-assistants, porters, factory-hands, miners, dock or agricultural laborers, women with families and constant home duties, as classes of people who can be turned into economists, physicists, literary critics, art connoisseurs,--i admit that i have no such idea. but i do believe, or rather, from my experience in england i know, that all such classes can be _interested_ in economic, scientific, literary and artistic questions. and i say boldly that to interest in intellectual pursuits is the essential of education, in comparison with which all other educational purposes must be called secondary. i do not consider that a child has been taught to read unless he has been made to like reading; i find it difficult to think of a man as having received a classical education if the man, however scholarly, leaves college with no interest in classical literature such as will lead him to go on reading for himself. in education the interest is the life. if a system of instruction gives discipline, method, and even originating power, without rousing a lasting love for the subject studied, the whole process is but a mental galvanism, generating a delusive activity that ceases when the connection between instructor and pupil is broken off. but if a teacher makes it his first business to stir up an interest in the matter of study, the education becomes self-continuing when teacher and pupil have parted, and the subject becomes its own educator. if then it be conceded that the essence of education is to interest, does it not seem a soberly practical purpose that we should open up to the whole nation without exception an interest in intellectual pursuits? i take my stand on the broad moral ground that every human being, from the highest to the lowest, has two sides to his life--his work and his leisure. to be without work in life is selfishness and sloth. but if a man or woman is so entangled in routine duties as never to command leisure, we have a right to say to such persons that they are leading an immoral life. such an individual has no claim to the title of a working man, he is a slave. it may be cruel circumstances that have thus absorbed him in business, but that does not alter the fact: slavery was a misfortune rather than a fault to those who suffered it, but in any case to be content with slavery is a crime. once get society to recognize the duty of leisure, and there is immediately a scope for such institutions as university extension that exist for the purpose of giving intellectual interests for such leisure time. the movement is thus one of the greatest movements for the 'raising of the masses.' with a large section of the people there is, at the present moment, no conception of 'rising' in life, except that of rising out of one social rank into another. this last is of course a perfectly legitimate ambition, but it is outside the present discussion: university extension knows nothing of social distinctions. it has to do with a far more important mode of 'rising' in life,--that of rising in the rank to which a man happens to belong at the moment, whether it be the rank in which he started or any other. there is a saying that all men are equal after dinner: and it is true that, while in the material wealth we seek in our working hours equality is a chimera, yet in the intellectual pursuits that belong to leisure there is no bar to the equality of all, except the difference of individual capacity and desire. macaulay tells of the dutch farmers who worked in the fields all day, and at night read the georgics in the original. scotch and american universities are largely attended by students who have had to engage in menial duties all the summer in order to gain funds for their high education during the winter. and every university extension lecturer, highly trained specialist as he is, will testify how his work has continually brought him into contact with persons of the humblest social condition whom a moment's conversation has made him recognize as his intellectual equals. no one has any difficulty in understanding that in religious intercourse and experience all classes stand upon an equality; and i have spoken of the foundation for the university extension movement as being the growing recognition of education as a permanent human interest akin to religion. the experience of a few years has sufficiently demonstrated the possibility of arousing such interest: to make it universal is no more than a practical question of time, money and methods. but no doubt when we come to _modus operandi_ the main difficulty of the movement is the diversity of the classes it seeks to approach--diversity in individual capacity, in leisure, means, and previous training. opposite policies have been urged upon us. some have said: whatever you do, you must never lower the standard; let the extension movement present outside the universities precisely the same education as the universities themselves are giving, however long you may have to wait for its acceptance. on the other hand, it has been urged: you must go first where you are most needed; be content with a makeshift education until the people are ready for something better. the movement has accepted neither of these policies, but has made a distinction between two elements of university training--method and curriculum. so far as method is concerned we have considered that we are bound to be not less thorough, but more thorough, if possible, than the universities themselves, in proportion as our clients work under peculiar difficulties. but in the matter of curriculum we have felt it our first duty to be elastic, and to offer little or much as may in each case be desired. accordingly, we have elaborated an educational unit--the three months' course of instruction in a single subject: this unit course we have used all the resources we could command for making as thorough in method as possible; where more than this is desired, we arrange that more in a combination or series of such unit courses. the instruction can thus be taken by retail or wholesale: but in all cases it, must be administered on the same rigorous method. the key to the whole system is thus the unit course of three months' instruction in a single subject. the method of such a course is conveyed by the technical terms lecture, syllabus, exercises, class. the lectures are addressed to audiences as miscellaneous as the congregation of a church, or the people in a street car; and it is the duty of the teacher to attract such miscellaneous audiences, as well as to hold and instruct them. those who do nothing more than simply attend the lectures will at least have gained the education of continuous interest; it is something to have one's attention kept upon the same subject for three months together. but it may be assumed that in every such audience there will be a nucleus of students, by which term we simply mean persons willing to do some work between one lecture and another. the lectures are delivered no oftener than once a week; for the idea is not that the lectures convey the actual instruction--great part of which is better obtained from books, but the office of the lecture is to throw into prominence the salient points of the study, and rouse the hearers to read, for themselves. the course of instruction is laid down in the syllabus--a document of perhaps thirty or forty pages, sold for a trifling sum; by referring for details to the pages of books this pamphlet can be made to serve as a text-book for the whole course, making the teacher independent in his order of exposition of any other text-book. the syllabus assists the general audience in following the lectures without the distraction of taking notes; and guides the reading and thinking of the students during the week. the syllabus contains a set of 'exercises' on each lecture. these exercises, unlike examination questions or 'quizzes,' are not tests of memory, but are intended to train the student to work for himself; they are thus to be done under the freest conditions--at home, with full leisure, and all possible access to books, notes or help from other persons. the written answers are sent to the lecturer for marginal comment, and returned by him at the 'class.' this class is a second meeting for students and others, at which no formal lecture is given, but there is free talk on points suggested to the teacher by the exercises he has received: the usual experience is that it is more interesting than the lecture. this weekly routine of lecture, syllabus-reading, exercise and class goes on for a period of twelve weeks. there is then an 'examination' in the work of the course held for students who desire to take it. certificates are given by the university, but it is an important arrangement that these certificates are awarded _jointly_ on the result of the weekly exercises and the final examination. the subjects treated have been determined by the demand. literature stands at the head in popularity, history with economy is but little behind. all the physical sciences have been freely asked for. art constitutes a department of work; but it is art-appreciation, not art-production; the movement has no function to train artists, but to make audiences and visitors to art-galleries more intelligent. it will be observed that the great study known as 'classics' is not mentioned in this list. but it is an instructive fact that a considerable number of the courses in literature have been on subjects of greek and latin literature treated in english, and some of these have been at once the most successful in numbers and the most technical in treatment. i am not without hope that our english university extension may react upon our english universities, and correct the vicious conception of classical studies which gives to the great mass of university men a more or less scholarly hold upon ancient languages without any interest whatever in ancient literatures. this university extension method claims to be an advance on existing systems partly because under no circumstances does it ever give lectures unaccompanied by a regular plan of reading and exercises for students. these exercises moreover are designed, not for mental drill, but for stimulus to original work. the association of students with a general audience is a gain to both parties. many persons follow regularly the instruction of the class who have not participated in the exercises. moreover, the students, by their connection with the popular audience, are saved from the academic bias which is the besetting sin of teachers: more human interest is drawn into the study. the same effect follows from the miscellaneous character of the students who contribute exercises. high university graduates, experts in special pursuits, deeply cultured individuals who have never before had any field in which to exhibit the fruits of their culture, as well as persons whose spelling and writing would pass muster nowhere else, or casual visitors from the world of business, or young men and women fresh from school, or even children writing in round text,--all these classes may be represented in a single week's work; and the papers sent in will vary in elaborateness from a scrawl on a post-card to a magazine article or treatise. i have received an exercise of such a character that the student considerately furnished me with an index; i remember one longer still, but as this hailed from a lunatic asylum i will quote it only for illustrating the diversity of the spheres reached by the movement. study participated in by such diverse classes cannot but have an all-roundness which is to teachers and students one of the main attractions of the movement. but we shall be expected to judge our system by results: and, so far as the unit courses are concerned, we have every reason to be satisfied. very few persons fail in our final examinations, and yet examiners report that the standard in university extension is substantially the same as that in the universities--our pass students being on a par with pass men in the universities, our students of 'distinction' reaching the standard of honors schools. personally i attach high importance to results which can never be expressed in statistics. we are in a position to assert that a successful course perceptibly influences the _tone_ of a locality for the period it lasts: librarians volunteer reports of an entirely changed demand for books, and we have even assurances that the character of conversation at 'five o'clock teas' has undergone marked alteration. i may be permitted an anecdote illustrating the impression made upon the universities themselves. i once heard a brilliant university lecturer, who had had occasional experience of extension teaching, describe a course of investigation which had interested him. with an eye to business i asked him if he would not give it in an extension course. he became grave. "well, no," he replied, "i have not thought it out sufficiently for that;" and when he saw my look of surprise he added, "you know, anything goes down in college; but when i have to face your mature classes i must know my ground well." i believe the impression thus suggested is not uncommon amongst experts who really know the movement. our results are much less satisfactory when we turn to the other side of our system, and enquire as to curriculum. it must be admitted that the larger part of our local centres can only take unit courses; there may be often a considerable interval between one course and another; or where courses are taken regularly the necessity of meeting popular interest involves a distracting variety of subjects; while an appreciable portion of our energies have to be taken up with preliminary half-courses, rather intended to illustrate the working of the movement than as possessing any high educational value. the most important advance from the unit course is the affiliation system of cambridge university. by this a town that becomes regularly affiliated, has arranged for it a series of unit courses, put together upon proper sequence of educational topics, and covering some three or four years: students satisfying the lecturers and examiners in this extended course are recognized as 'students affiliated' (s.a.), and can at any time enter the university with the status of second year's men,--the local work being accepted in place of one year's residence and study. apart from this, the steps in our educational ladder other than the first are still in the stage of prophecy. but it is universally recognized that this drawback is a matter solely of funds: once let the movement command endowment and the localities will certainly demand the wider curriculum that the universities are only too anxious to supply. the third point in our definition was that the movement was to be organized on a basis of itinerant teachers. this differentiates university extension from local colleges, from correspondence teaching, and from the systems of which chautauqua is the type. the chief function of a university is to teach, and university extension must stand or fall with its teachers. it may or may not be desirable on other grounds to multiply universities; but there is no necessity for it on grounds of popular education, the itinerancy being a sufficient means of bringing any university into touch with the people as a whole. and the adoption of such a system seems to be a natural step in the evolution of universities. in the middle ages the whole body of those who sought a liberal education were to be found crowded into the limits of university towns, where alone were teachers to listen to and manuscripts to copy: the population of such university centres then numbered hundreds where to-day it numbers tens. the first university extension was the invention of printing, which sent the books itinerating through the country, and reduced to a fraction the actual attendance at the university, while it vastly increased the circle of the educated. the time has now come to send teachers to follow the books: the ideas of the university being circulated through the country as a whole, while residence at a university is reserved as the apex only of the university system. an itinerancy implies central and local management, and travelling lecturers who connect the two. the central management is a university, or its equivalent; this is responsible for the educational side of the movement, and negotiates for the supply of its courses of instruction at a fixed price per course.[ ] the local management may be in the hands of a committee formed for the purpose, or of some local institution--such as a scientific or literary club or institute--which may care to connect itself with the universities. on the local management devolves the raising funds for the university fee, and for local expenses, as well as the duty of putting the advantages of the course offered before the local community. the widest diversity of practice prevails in reference to modes of raising funds. a considerable part of the cost will be met by the tickets of those attending the lectures, the prices of which i have known to vary from a shilling to a guinea for the unit course, while admission to single lectures has varied from a penny to half a crown. but all experience goes to show that only a part of this cost can be met in this way; individual courses may bring in a handsome profit, but taking account over various terms and various districts, we find that not more than two-thirds of the total cost will be covered by ticket money. and even this is estimated on the assumption that no more than the unit course is aimed at: while even for this the choice of subjects, and the chance of continuity of subject from term to term are seriously limited by the consideration of meeting cost as far as possible from fees. university extension is a system of higher education, and higher education has no market value, but needs the help of endowment. but the present age is no way behind past ages in the number of generous citizens it exhibits as ready to help good causes. the millionaire who will take up university extension will leave a greater mark on the history of his country than even the pious founder of university scholarships and chairs. and even if individuals fail us, we have the common purse of the public or the nation to fall back upon. the itinerant lecturers, not less than the university and the local management, have responsibility for the progress of the cause. an extension lecturer must be something more than a good teacher, something more even than an attractive lecturer: he must be imbued with the ideas of the movement, and ever on the watch for opportunities of putting them forward. it is only the lecturer who can maintain in audiences the feeling that they are not simply receiving entertainment or instruction which they have paid for, but that they are taking part in a public work, and are responsible for giving their locality a worthy place in a national scheme of university education. the lecturer again must mediate between the local and the central management, always ready to assist local committees with suggestions from the experience of other places, and equally attentive to bringing the special wants of different centres before the university authorities. the movement is essentially a teaching movement, and it is to the body of teachers i look for the discovery of the further steps in the development of popular education. for such a purpose lecturers and directors alike must be imbued with the missionary spirit. for university extension is a missionary university, not content with supplying culture, but seeking to stimulate the demand for it. this is just the point in which education in the past has shown badly in comparison with religion or politics. when a man is touched with religious ideas he seeks to make converts, when he has views on political questions he agitates to make his views prevail: culture on the other hand has been only too often cherished as a badge of exclusiveness, instead of the very consciousness of superior education being felt as a responsibility which could only be satisfied by efforts to educate others. to infuse a missionary spirit into culture is not the least purpose of university extension. i cannot resist the temptation to carry forward this thought from the present into the future. in university extension so described may we not see a germ for the university of the future? i have made the foundation of our movement the growing conception of education as a permanent interest of adult life side by side with religion and politics. the change is at best only beginning; it tasks the imagination to conceive all it will imply when it is complete. to me it appears that this expanding view of education is the third of the three great waves of change the succession of which has made up our modern history. there was a time when religion itself was identified with a particular class, the clergy alone thinking out what the rest of the nation simply accepted; then came the series of revolutions popularly summed up as the reformation, by which the whole adult nation claimed to think for itself in matters of religion, and the special profession of the clergy became no more than a single element in the religious life of the nation. again, there has been in the past a distinct governing class, to which the rest of society submitted; until a series of political revolutions lifted the whole adult population into self-government, using the services of political experts, but making public progress the interest of all. before the more quiet changes of the present age the conception of an isolated learned class is giving way before the ideal of a national culture, in which universities will still be centres for educational experts, while university extension offers liberal education to all, until educationally the whole adult population will be just as much within the university as politically the adult population is within the constitution. it would appear then that the university of such a future would be by no means a repetition of existing types, such as oxford or cambridge, harvard or johns hopkins. these institutions would exist and be more flourishing than ever, but they would all be merged in a wider 'university of england,' or 'university of america'; and, just as the state means the whole nation acting in its political capacity through municipal or national institutions, so the university would mean the whole adult nation acting in its educational capacity through whatever institutions might be found desirable. such a university would never be chartered; no building could ever house it; no royal personage or president of the united states would ever be asked to inaugurate it; the very attempt to found it would imply misconception of its essential character. it would be no more than a floating aggregation of voluntary associations; like the companies of which a nation's commerce is made up such associations would not be organized, but would simply tend to coöperate because of their common object. each association would have its local and its central side, formed for the purpose of mediating between the wants of a locality and the educational supply offered by universities or similar central institutions. no doubt such a scheme is widely different from the ideal education of european countries, so highly organized from above that the minister of education can look at his watch and know at any moment all that is being done throughout the country. on the contrary the genius of the anglo-saxon race leans towards self-help; it has been the mission of the race in the past to develop self-government in religion and politics, it remains to crown this work with the application of the voluntary system to liberal education. in indulging this piece of speculation i have had a practical purpose before me. if what i have described be a reasonable forecast for the university of the future, does it not follow that university extension, as the germ of it, presents a field for the very highest academic ambition? to my mind it appears that existing types of university have reached a point where further development in the same direction would mean decline. in english universities the ideal is 'scholarship.' scholarship is a good thing, and we produce it. but the system which turns out a few good scholars every year passes over the heads of the great mass of university students without having awakened them to any intellectual life; the universities are scholarship-factories producing good articles but with a terrible waste of raw material. the other main type of university enthrones 'research' as its summum bonum. possibly research is as good a purpose as a man can set before him, but it is not the sole aim in life. and when one contemplates the band of recruits added each year to the army of investigators, and the choice of ever minuter fields--not to say lanes and alleys--of research, one is led to doubt whether research is not one of the disintegrating forces of society, and whether ever increasing specialisation must not mean a perpetual narrowing of human sympathies in the intellectual leaders of mankind. both types of university appear to me to present the phenomena of a country suffering from the effects of overproduction, where the energies of workers had been concentrated upon adding to the sum of wealth, and all too little attention had been given to the distribution of that wealth through the different ranks of the community. just at this point the university extension movement appears to recall academic energy from production to distribution; suggesting that devotion to physics, economics, art, can be just as truly shown by raising new classes of the people to an interest in physical and economic and aesthetic pursuits, as by adding to the discoveries of science, or increasing the mass of art products. to the young graduate, conscious that he has fairly mastered the teaching of the past, and that he has within him powers to make advances, i would suggest the question whether, even for the highest powers, there is any worthier field than to work through university extension towards the university of the future. footnotes: [footnote : the cambridge fee is £ per course of three months.] the snowball effect by katherine maclean illustrated by emsh [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from galaxy science fiction september . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] tack power drives on a sewing circle and you can needle the world into the darndest mess! "all right," i said, "what _is_ sociology good for?" wilton caswell, ph.d., was head of my sociology department, and right then he was mad enough to chew nails. on the office wall behind him were three or four framed documents in latin that were supposed to be signs of great learning, but i didn't care at that moment if he papered the walls with his degrees. i had been appointed dean and president to see to it that the university made money. i had a job to do, and i meant to do it. he bit off each word with great restraint: "sociology is the study of social institutions, mr. halloway." i tried to make him understand my position. "look, it's the big-money men who are supposed to be contributing to the support of this college. to them, sociology sounds like socialism--nothing can sound worse than that--and an institution is where they put aunt maggy when she began collecting wheaties in a stamp album. we can't appeal to them that way. come on now." i smiled condescendingly, knowing it would irritate him. "what are you doing that's worth anything?" he glared at me, his white hair bristling and his nostrils dilated like a war horse about to whinny. i can say one thing for them--these scientists and professors always keep themselves well under control. he had a book in his hand and i was expecting him to throw it, but he spoke instead: "this department's analysis of institutional accretion, by the use of open system mathematics, has been recognized as an outstanding and valuable contribution to--" the words were impressive, whatever they meant, but this still didn't sound like anything that would pull in money. i interrupted, "valuable in what way?" he sat down on the edge of his desk thoughtfully, apparently recovering from the shock of being asked to produce something solid for his position, and ran his eyes over the titles of the books that lined his office walls. "well, sociology has been valuable to business in initiating worker efficiency and group motivation studies, which they now use in management decisions. and, of course, since the depression, washington has been using sociological studies of employment, labor and standards of living as a basis for its general policies of--" i stopped him with both raised hands. "please, professor caswell! that would hardly be a recommendation. washington, the new deal and the present administration are somewhat touchy subjects to the men i have to deal with. they consider its value debatable, if you know what i mean. if they got the idea that sociology professors are giving advice and guidance--no, we have to stick to brass tacks and leave washington out of this. what, specifically, has the work of this specific department done that would make it as worthy to receive money as--say, a heart disease research fund?" he began to tap the corner of his book absently on the desk, watching me. "fundamental research doesn't show immediate effects, mr. halloway, but its value is recognized." i smiled and took out my pipe. "all right, tell me about it. maybe i'll recognize its value." prof. caswell smiled back tightly. he knew his department was at stake. the other departments were popular with donors and pulled in gift money by scholarships and fellowships, and supported their professors and graduate students by research contracts with the government and industry. caswell had to show a way to make his own department popular--or else. i couldn't fire him directly, of course, but there are ways of doing it indirectly. * * * * * he laid down his book and ran a hand over his ruffled hair. "institutions--organizations, that is--" his voice became more resonant; like most professors, when he had to explain something he instinctively slipped into his platform lecture mannerisms, and began to deliver an essay--"have certain tendencies built into the way they happen to have been organized, which cause them to expand or contract without reference to the needs they were founded to serve." he was becoming flushed with the pleasure of explaining his subject. "all through the ages, it has been a matter of wonder and dismay to men that a simple organization--such as a church to worship in, or a delegation of weapons to a warrior class merely for defense against an outside enemy--will either grow insensately and extend its control until it is a tyranny over their whole lives, or, like other organizations set up to serve a vital need, will tend to repeatedly dwindle and vanish, and have to be painfully rebuilt. "the reason can be traced to little quirks in the way they were organized, a matter of positive and negative power feedbacks. such simple questions as, 'is there a way a holder of authority in this organization can use the power available to him to increase his power?' provide the key. but it still could not be handled until the complex questions of interacting motives and long-range accumulations of minor effects could somehow be simplified and formulated. in working on the problem, i found that the mathematics of open system, as introduced to biology by ludwig von bertalanffy and george kreezer, could be used as a base that would enable me to develop a specifically social mathematics, expressing the human factors of intermeshing authority and motives in simple formulas. "by these formulations, it is possible to determine automatically the amount of growth and period of life of any organization. the un, to choose an unfortunate example, is a shrinker type organization. its monetary support is not in the hands of those who personally benefit by its governmental activities, but, instead, in the hands of those who would personally lose by any extension and encroachment of its authority on their own. yet by the use of formula analysis--" "that's theory," i said. "how about proof?" "my equations are already being used in the study of limited-size federal corporations. washington--" i held up my palm again. "please, not that nasty word again. i mean, where else has it been put into operation? just a simple demonstration, something to show that it works, that's all." he looked away from me thoughtfully, picked up the book and began to tap it on the desk again. it had some unreadable title and his name on it in gold letters. i got the distinct impression again that he was repressing an urge to hit me with it. he spoke quietly. "all right, i'll give you a demonstration. are you willing to wait six months?" "certainly, if you can show me something at the end of that time." reminded of time, i glanced at my watch and stood up. "could we discuss this over lunch?" he asked. "i wouldn't mind hearing more, but i'm having lunch with some executors of a millionaire's will. they have to be convinced that by, 'furtherance of research into human ills,' he meant that the money should go to research fellowships for postgraduate biologists at the university, rather than to a medical foundation." "i see you have your problems, too," caswell said, conceding me nothing. he extended his hand with a chilly smile. "well, good afternoon, mr. halloway. i'm glad we had this talk." i shook hands and left him standing there, sure of his place in the progress of science and the respect of his colleagues, yet seething inside because i, the president and dean, had boorishly demanded that he produce something tangible. i frankly didn't give a hoot if he blew his lid. my job isn't easy. for a crumb of favorable publicity and respect in the newspapers and an annual ceremony in a silly costume, i spend the rest of the year going hat in hand, asking politely for money at everyone's door, like a well-dressed panhandler, and trying to manage the university on the dribble i get. as far as i was concerned, a department had to support itself or be cut down to what student tuition pays for, which is a handful of over-crowded courses taught by an assistant lecturer. caswell had to make it work or get out. but the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to hear what he was going to do for a demonstration. * * * * * at lunch, three days later, while we were waiting for our order, he opened a small notebook. "ever hear of feedback effects?" "not enough to have it clear." "you know the snowball effect, though." "sure, start a snowball rolling downhill and it grows." "well, now--" he wrote a short line of symbols on a blank page and turned the notebook around for me to inspect it. "here's the formula for the snowball process. it's the basic general growth formula--covers everything." it was a row of little symbols arranged like an algebra equation. one was a concentric spiral going up, like a cross-section of a snowball rolling in snow. that was a growth sign. i hadn't expected to understand the equation, but it was almost as clear as a sentence. i was impressed and slightly intimidated by it. he had already explained enough so that i knew that, if he was right, here was the growth of the catholic church and the roman empire, the conquests of alexander and the spread of the smoking habit and the change and rigidity of the unwritten law of styles. "is it really as simple as that?" i asked. "you notice," he said, "that when it becomes too heavy for the cohesion strength of snow, it breaks apart. now in human terms--" the chops and mashed potatoes and peas arrived. "go on," i urged. he was deep in the symbology of human motives and the equations of human behavior in groups. after running through a few different types of grower and shrinker type organizations, we came back to the snowball, and decided to run the test by making something grow. "you add the motives," he said, "and the equation will translate them into organization." "how about a good selfish reason for the ins to drag others into the group--some sort of bounty on new members, a cut of their membership fee?" i suggested uncertainly, feeling slightly foolish. "and maybe a reason why the members would lose if any of them resigned, and some indirect way they could use to force each other to stay in." "the first is the chain letter principle," he nodded. "i've got that. the other...." he put the symbols through some mathematical manipulation so that a special grouping appeared in the middle of the equation. "that's it." since i seemed to have the right idea, i suggested some more, and he added some, and juggled them around in different patterns. we threw out a few that would have made the organization too complicated, and finally worked out an idyllically simple and deadly little organization setup where joining had all the temptation of buying a sweepstakes ticket, going in deeper was as easy as hanging around a race track, and getting out was like trying to pull free from a malayan thumb trap. we put our heads closer together and talked lower, picking the best place for the demonstration. "abington?" "how about watashaw? i have some student sociological surveys of it already. we can pick a suitable group from that." "this demonstration has got to be convincing. we'd better pick a little group that no one in his right mind would expect to grow." "there should be a suitable club--" picture professor caswell, head of the department of sociology, and with him the president of the university, leaning across the table toward each other, sipping coffee and talking in conspiratorial tones over something they were writing in a notebook. that was us. * * * * * "ladies," said the skinny female chairman of the watashaw sewing circle. "today we have guests." she signaled for us to rise, and we stood up, bowing to polite applause and smiles. "professor caswell, and professor smith." (my alias.) "they are making a survey of the methods and duties of the clubs of watashaw." we sat down to another ripple of applause and slightly wider smiles, and then the meeting of the watashaw sewing circle began. in five minutes i began to feel sleepy. there were only about thirty people there, and it was a small room, not the halls of congress, but they discussed their business of collecting and repairing second hand clothing for charity with the same endless boring parliamentary formality. i pointed out to caswell the member i thought would be the natural leader, a tall, well-built woman in a green suit, with conscious gestures and a resonant, penetrating voice, and then went into a half doze while caswell stayed awake beside me and wrote in his notebook. after a while the resonant voice roused me to attention for a moment. it was the tall woman holding the floor over some collective dereliction of the club. she was being scathing. i nudged caswell and murmured, "did you fix it so that a shover has a better chance of getting into office than a non-shover?" "i think there's a way they could find for it," caswell whispered back, and went to work on his equation again. "yes, several ways to bias the elections." "good. point them out tactfully to the one you select. not as if she'd use such methods, but just as an example of the reason why only _she_ can be trusted with initiating the change. just mention all the personal advantages an unscrupulous person could have." he nodded, keeping a straight and sober face as if we were exchanging admiring remarks about the techniques of clothes repairing, instead of conspiring. after the meeting, caswell drew the tall woman in the green suit aside and spoke to her confidentially, showing her the diagram of organization we had drawn up. i saw the responsive glitter in the woman's eyes and knew she was hooked. we left the diagram of organization and our typed copy of the new bylaws with her and went off soberly, as befitted two social science experimenters. we didn't start laughing until our car passed the town limits and began the climb for university heights. if caswell's equations meant anything at all, we had given that sewing circle more growth drives than the roman empire. * * * * * four months later i had time out from a very busy schedule to wonder how the test was coming along. passing caswell's office, i put my head in. he looked up from a student research paper he was correcting. "caswell, about that sewing club business--i'm beginning to feel the suspense. could i get an advance report on how it's coming?" "i'm not following it. we're supposed to let it run the full six months." "but i'm curious. could i get in touch with that woman--what's her name?" "searles. mrs. george searles." "would that change the results?" "not in the slightest. if you want to graph the membership rise, it should be going up in a log curve, probably doubling every so often." i grinned. "if it's not rising, you're fired." he grinned back. "if it's not rising, you won't have to fire me--i'll burn my books and shoot myself." i returned to my office and put in a call to watashaw. while i was waiting for the phone to be answered, i took a piece of graph paper and ruled it off into six sections, one for each month. after the phone had rung in the distance for a long time, a servant answered with a bored drawl: "mrs. searles' residence." i picked up a red gummed star and licked it. "mrs. searles, please." "she's not in just now. could i take a message?" i placed the star at the thirty line in the beginning of the first section. thirty members they'd started with. "no, thanks. could you tell me when she'll be back?" "not until dinner. she's at the meetin'." "the sewing club?" i asked. "no, sir, not that thing. there isn't any sewing club any more, not for a long time. she's at the civic welfare meeting." somehow i hadn't expected anything like that. "thank you," i said and hung up, and after a moment noticed i was holding a box of red gummed stars in my hand. i closed it and put it down on top of the graph of membership in the sewing circle. no more members.... poor caswell. the bet between us was ironclad. he wouldn't let me back down on it even if i wanted to. he'd probably quit before i put through the first slow move to fire him. his professional pride would be shattered, sunk without a trace. i remembered what he said about shooting himself. it had seemed funny to both of us at the time, but.... what a mess _that_ would make for the university. i had to talk to mrs. searles. perhaps there was some outside reason why the club had disbanded. perhaps it had not just died. i called back. "this is professor smith," i said, giving the alias i had used before. "i called a few minutes ago. when did you say mrs. searles will return?" "about six-thirty or seven o'clock." five hours to wait. and what if caswell asked me what i had found out in the meantime? i didn't want to tell him anything until i had talked it over with that woman searles first. "where is this civic welfare meeting?" she told me. five minutes later, i was in my car, heading for watashaw, driving considerably faster than my usual speed and keeping a careful watch for highway patrol cars as the speedometer climbed. * * * * * the town meeting hall and theater was a big place, probably with lots of small rooms for different clubs. i went in through the center door and found myself in the huge central hall where some sort of rally was being held. a political-type rally--you know, cheers and chants, with bunting already down on the floor, people holding banners, and plenty of enthusiasm and excitement in the air. someone was making a speech up on the platform. most of the people there were women. i wondered how the civic welfare league could dare hold its meeting at the same time as a political rally that could pull its members away. the group with mrs. searles was probably holding a shrunken and almost memberless meeting somewhere in an upper room. there probably was a side door that would lead upstairs. while i glanced around, a pretty girl usher put a printed bulletin in my hand, whispering, "here's one of the new copies." as i attempted to hand it back, she retreated. "oh, you can keep it. it's the new one. everyone's supposed to have it. we've just printed up six thousand copies to make sure there'll be enough to last." the tall woman on the platform had been making a driving, forceful speech about some plans for rebuilding watashaw's slum section. it began to penetrate my mind dimly as i glanced down at the bulletin in my hands. "civic welfare league of watashaw. the united organization of church and secular charities." that's what it said. below began the rules of membership. i looked up. the speaker, with a clear, determined voice and conscious, forceful gestures, had entered the homestretch of her speech, an appeal to the civic pride of all citizens of watashaw. "with a bright and glorious future--potentially without poor and without uncared-for ill--potentially with no ugliness, no vistas which are not beautiful--the best people in the best planned town in the country--the jewel of the united states." she paused and then leaned forward intensely, striking her clenched hand on the speaker's stand with each word for emphasis. "_all we need is more members. now get out there and recruit!_" i finally recognized mrs. searles, as an answering sudden blast of sound half deafened me. the crowd was chanting at the top of its lungs: "recruit! recruit!" mrs. searles stood still at the speaker's table and behind her, seated in a row of chairs, was a group that was probably the board of directors. it was mostly women, and the women began to look vaguely familiar, as if they could be members of the sewing circle. i put my lips close to the ear of the pretty usher while i turned over the stiff printed bulletin on a hunch. "how long has the league been organized?" on the back of the bulletin was a constitution. she was cheering with the crowd, her eyes sparkling. "i don't know," she answered between cheers. "i only joined two days ago. isn't it wonderful?" i went into the quiet outer air and got into my car with my skin prickling. even as i drove away, i could hear them. they were singing some kind of organization song with the tune of "marching through georgia." even at the single glance i had given it, the constitution looked exactly like the one we had given the watashaw sewing circle. all i told caswell when i got back was that the sewing circle had changed its name and the membership seemed to be rising. * * * * * next day, after calling mrs. searles, i placed some red stars on my graph for the first three months. they made a nice curve, rising more steeply as it reached the fourth month. they had picked up their first increase in membership simply by amalgamating with all the other types of charity organizations in watashaw, changing the club name with each fusion, but keeping the same constitution--the constitution with the bright promise of advantages as long as there were always new members being brought in. by the fifth month, the league had added a mutual baby-sitting service and had induced the local school board to add a nursery school to the town service, so as to free more women for league activity. but charity must have been completely organized by then, and expansion had to be in other directions. some real estate agents evidently had been drawn into the whirlpool early, along with their ideas. the slum improvement plans began to blossom and take on a tinge of real estate planning later in the month. the first day of the sixth month, a big two page spread appeared in the local paper of a mass meeting which had approved a full-fledged scheme for slum clearance of watashaw's shack-town section, plus plans for rehousing, civic building, and rezoning. _and_ good prospects for attracting some new industries to the town, industries which had already been contacted and seemed interested by the privileges offered. and with all this, an arrangement for securing and distributing to the club members _alone_ most of the profit that would come to the town in the form of a rise in the price of building sites and a boom in the building industry. the profit distributing arrangement was the same one that had been built into the organization plan for the distribution of the small profits of membership fees and honorary promotions. it was becoming an openly profitable business. membership was rising more rapidly now. by the second week of the sixth month, news appeared in the local paper that the club had filed an application to incorporate itself as the watashaw mutual trade and civic development corporation, and all the local real estate promoters had finished joining en masse. the mutual trade part sounded to me as if the chamber of commerce was on the point of being pulled in with them, ideas, ambitions and all. i chuckled while reading the next page of the paper, on which a local politician was reported as having addressed the club with a long flowery oration on their enterprise, charity, and civic spirit. he had been made an honorary member. if he allowed himself to be made a _full_ member with its contractual obligations and its lures, if the politicians went into this, too.... i laughed, filing the newspaper with the other documents on the watashaw test. these proofs would fascinate any businessman with the sense to see where his bread was buttered. a businessman is constantly dealing with organizations, including his own, and finding them either inert, cantankerous, or both. caswell's formula could be a handle to grasp them with. gratitude alone would bring money into the university in carload lots. * * * * * the end of the sixth month came. the test was over and the end reports were spectacular. caswell's formulas were proven to the hilt. after reading the last newspaper reports, i called him up. "perfect, wilt, _perfect_! i can use this watashaw thing to get you so many fellowships and scholarships and grants for your department that you'll think it's snowing money!" he answered somewhat disinterestedly, "i've been busy working with students on their research papers and marking tests--not following the watashaw business at all, i'm afraid. you say the demonstration went well and you're satisfied?" he was definitely putting on a chill. we were friends now, but obviously he was still peeved whenever he was reminded that i had doubted that his theory could work. and he was using its success to rub my nose in the realization that i had been wrong. a man with a string of degrees after his name is just as human as anyone else. i had needled him pretty hard that first time. "i'm satisfied," i acknowledged. "i was wrong. the formulas work beautifully. come over and see my file of documents on it if you want a boost for your ego. now let's see the formula for stopping it." he sounded cheerful again. "i didn't complicate that organization with negatives. i wanted it to _grow_. it falls apart naturally when it stops growing for more than two months. it's like the great stock boom before an economic crash. everyone in it is prosperous as long as the prices just keep going up and new buyers come into the market, but they all knew what would happen if it stopped growing. you remember, we built in as one of the incentives that the members know they are going to lose if membership stops growing. why, if i tried to stop it now, they'd cut my throat." i remembered the drive and frenzy of the crowd in the one early meeting i had seen. they probably would. "no," he continued. "we'll just let it play out to the end of its tether and die of old age." "when will that be?" "it can't grow past the female population of the town. there are only so many women in watashaw, and some of them don't like sewing." the graph on the desk before me began to look sinister. surely caswell must have made some provision for-- "you underestimate their ingenuity," i said into the phone. "since they wanted to expand, they didn't stick to sewing. they went from general charity to social welfare schemes to something that's pretty close to an incorporated government. the name is now the watashaw mutual trade and civic development corporation, and they're filing an application to change it to civic property pool and social dividend, membership contractual, open to all. that social dividend sounds like a technocrat climbed on the band wagon, eh?" while i spoke, i carefully added another red star to the curve above the thousand member level, checking with the newspaper that still lay open on my desk. the curve was definitely some sort of log curve now, growing more rapidly with each increase. "leaving out practical limitations for a moment, where does the formula say it will stop?" i asked. "when you run out of people to join it. but after all, there are only so many people in watashaw. it's a pretty small town." * * * * * "they've opened a branch office in new york," i said carefully into the phone, a few weeks later. with my pencil, very carefully, i extended the membership curve from where it was then. after the next doubling, the curve went almost straight up and off the page. allowing for a lag of contagion from one nation to another, depending on how much their citizens intermingled, i'd give the rest of the world about twelve years. there was a long silence while caswell probably drew the same graph in his own mind. then he laughed weakly. "well, you asked me for a demonstration." that was as good an answer as any. we got together and had lunch in a bar, if you can call it lunch. the movement we started will expand by hook or by crook, by seduction or by bribery or by propaganda or by conquest, but it will expand. and maybe a total world government will be a fine thing--until it hits the end of its rope in twelve years or so. what happens then, i don't know. but i don't want anyone to pin that on me. from now on, if anyone asks me, i've never heard of watashaw. [transcriber's notes] this is derived from these copies on the internet archive: http://www.archive.org/details/cu ( ) http://www.archive.org/details/cu ( ) the two editions are combined because of missing pages in one and missing images in the other. page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. { }. they have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book. obvious spelling errors have been corrected but "inventive" and inconsistent spelling is left unchanged. [end transcriber's notes] by the same author fordham university press series makers of modern medicine lives of the men to whom nineteenth century medical science owes most. second edition. new york, . $ . net. the popes and science the story of papal patronage of the sciences and especially medicine. th thousand. new york, . $ . net. makers of electricity lives of the men to whom important advances in electricity are due. in collaboration with brother potamian, f. s. c, sc.d. (london), professor of physics at manhattan college. new york, . $ . net. education, how old the new addresses in the history of education on various occasions. rd thousand. new york, . $ . net. old-time makers of medicine the story of the students and teachers of the sciences related to medicine during the middle ages. new york, , $ . net. modern progress and history. academic addresses on how old the new is in education, medicine, dentistry, politics, etc. new york, . $ . act. the century of columbus the story of the renaissance $ . net. the dolphin press series catholic churchmen in science first, second and third series, each $ . net. psychotherapy lectures on the influence of the mind on the body delivered at fordham university school of medicine. appletons, new york, . $ . net. {i} {ii} [illustration] le beau dieu (amiens) {iii} the thirteenth greatest of centuries by james j. walsh, k.c.st.g., m.d., ph.d., ll.d, litt. d. (georgetown), sc.d. (notre dame) medical director, school of sociology, fordham university; professor of physiological psychology at cathedral college, new york; lecturer in psychology, marywood college, scranton and st. mary's college, plainfield; trustee of the catholic summer school of america; member of the new york academy of medicine, of the german and french and italian societies of the history of medicine, a.m.a., a.a.a.s., etc. _popular edition_ _ (sixtieth thousand)_ catholic summer school press new york, {iv} _ copyright _ james j. walsh set up and stereotyped (first edition , ) reprinted with appendix georgetown edition enlarged and extra illustrated fourth edition reprinted with additions ( th thousand) fifth edition, knights of columbus, , , - . made by the superior printing co akron, ohio {v} to right rev. monsignor m. j. lavelle, rector of st. patrick's cathedral, new york, sometime president of the catholic summer school, to whose fatherly patronage this book is largely due, and without whose constant encouragement it would not have been completed, it is respectfully and affectionately dedicated by the author. {vi} proem. (epimetheus.) wake again, teutonic father-ages, speak again, beloved primeval creeds; flash ancestral spirit from your pages, wake the greedy age to noble deeds. ..... ye who built the churches where we worship, ye who framed the laws by which we move, fathers, long belied, and long forsaken, oh, forgive the children of your love! (peometheus.) there will we find laws which shall interpret, through the simpler past, existing life; delving up from mines and fairy caverns charmed blades to cut the age's strife. _--rev. charles kingsley.--the saints' tragedy._ {vii} preface. "why take the style of these heroic times? for nature brings not back the mastodon--nor we those times; and why should any man remodel models?" what tennyson thus said of his own first essay in the idyls of the king, in the introduction to the morte d'arthur, occurs as probably the aptest expression of most men's immediate thought with regard to such a subject as the thirteenth, greatest of centuries. though tennyson was confessedly only remodeling the thoughts of the thirteenth century, we would not be willing to concede-- "that nothing new was said, or else. something so said, 'twas nothing," for the loss of the idyls would make a large lacuna in the literature of the nineteenth century, "if it is allowed to compare little things with great," a similar intent to that of the laureate has seemed sufficient justification for the paradox the author has tried to set forth in this volume. it may prove "nothing worth, mere chaff and draff much better burnt," but many friends have insisted they found it interesting. authors usually blame friends for their inflictions upon the public, and i fear that i can find no better excuse, though the book has been patiently labored at, with the idea that it should represent some of the serious work that is being done by the catholic summer school on lake champlain, {viii} now completing nearly a decade and a half of its existence. this volume is, it is hoped, but the first of a series that will bring to a wider audience some of the thoughts that have been gathered for summer school friends by many workers, and will put in more permanent form contributions that made summer leisure respond to the greek term for school. the object of the book is to interpret, in terms that will be readily intelligible to this generation, the life and concerns of the people of a century who, to the author's mind, have done more for human progress than those of any like period in human history. there are few whose eyes are now holden as they used to be, as to the surpassing place in the history of culture of the last three centuries of the middle ages. personally the author is convinced, however, that only a beginning of proper appreciation has come as yet, and he feels that the solution of many problems that are vexing the modern world, especially in the social order, are to be found in these much misunderstood ages, and above all in that culmination of medieval progress--the period from to . the subject was originally taken up as a series of lectures in the extension course of the catholic summer school, as given each year in lent and advent at the catholic club, new york city. portions of the material were subsequently used in lectures in many cities in this country from portland, me., to portland, ore., st. paul, minn., to new orleans, la. the subject was treated _in extenso_ for the brooklyn institute of arts and sciences in , after which publication was suggested. the author does not flatter himself that the book adequately represents the great period which it claims to present. the subject has been the central idea of studies in leisure moments for a dozen years, and during many wanderings in europe but there will doubtless prove to be errors in detail, for which the author would crave the indulgence of more serious students {ix} of history. the original form in which the material was cast has influenced the style to some extent, and has made the book more wordy than it would otherwise have been, and has been the cause of certain repetitions that appear more striking in print than they seemed in manuscript. there were what seemed good reasons for not delaying publication, however, and leisure for further work at it, instead of growing, was becoming more scant. it is intrusted to the tender mercies of critics, then, and the benevolent reader, if he still may be appealed to, for the sake of the ideas it contains, in spite of their inadequate expression. preface. (georgetown university edition). this third edition is published under the patronage of georgetown university as a slight token of appreciation for the degree of doctor of letters, conferred on the author for this work at the last commencement. this issue has been enlarged by the addition of many illustrations selected to bring out the fact that all the various parts of europe shared in the achievements of the time and by an appendix containing in compendium twenty-six chapters that might have been. each of these brief sketches could easily have been extended to the average length of the original chapters. it was impossible to use all the material that was gathered. these hints of further sources are now appended so as to afford suggestions for study to those who may care to follow up the idea of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries, that is, of that period in human existence when man's thoughts on all the important human interests were profoundly valuable for future generations and their accomplishments models for all the after time. {x} preface. (fourth edition). many of the now rather numerous readers and hearers of this book, for it has been read in the refectories of over religious communities, have said that the title seemed almost deterring at first because of the high claim that is set up for a medieval century. to mitigate the possible initial deterrent effect of the paradox of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries, it has seemed worth while in this edition then to premise a series of quotations from some of the most distinguished historical writers in english of our own time which amply justify the claim here set up. frederic harrison, macaulay, freeman, and fiske are sufficiently different in themselves to make their agreement in supreme admiration for the thirteenth century very striking. in spite of their lack of sympathy with many things in the period, all of them emphatically declare that it is the source of most that is great and good since, and that while we have added details, we have failed to surpass its artistic and intellectual achievement in all the years that have elapsed. august , . preface. (fifth edition). after the success of the knights of columbus edition of the popes and science of which , were issued it gives me great pleasure to accede to the request of the supreme officers of the order to permit them to issue a correspondingly large edition of the present volume. the good work which the knights of columbus have thus done in diffusing a knowledge of the true relations of the church to science,--generous patronage and encouragement, instead of supposed opposition,--will, i think, be greatly furthered by the wide distribution of the information contained in this volume with regard to the supremely helpful attitude of the church towards art and architecture, literature, education and above all the important social problems, which is so well illustrated during the great period of the thirteenth century. i sincerely hope that brother knights of columbus will find in the book some of that renewal of devotion to mother church that came as the result of my own studies of this glorious period of her history, when her action was untrammelled by political considerations and when she was free to express herself in every great movement for the benefit of humanity. feast of the immaculate conception, . {xi} frederic harrison, macaulay, freeman, and fiske on the place of the thirteenth century in history of all the epochs of effort after a new life, that of the age of aquinas, roger bacon, st. francis, st. louis, giotto, and dante is the most purely spiritual, the most really constructive, and indeed the most truly philosophic. . . . the whole thirteenth century is crowded with creative forces in philosophy, art, poetry, and statesmanship as rich as those of the humanist _renaissance_. and if we are accustomed to look on them as so much more limited and rude it is because we forget how very few and poor were their resources and their instruments. in creative genius giotto is the peer, if not the superior of raphael. dante had all the qualities of his three chief successors and very much more besides. it is a tenable view that in inventive fertility and in imaginative range, those vast composite creations--the cathedrals of the thirteenth century, in all their wealth of architectural statuary, painted glass, enamels, embroideries, and inexhaustible decorative work may be set beside the entire painting of the sixteenth century. albert and aquinas, in philosophic range, had no peer until we come down to descartes, nor was roger bacon surpassed in versatile audacity of genius and in true encyclopaedic grasp by any thinker between him and his namesake the chancellor. in statesmanship and all the qualities of the born leader of men we can only match the great chiefs of the thirteenth century by comparing them with the greatest names three or even four centuries later. now this great century, the last of the true middle ages, which as it drew to its own end gave birth to modern society, has a special character of its own, a character that gives it an abiding and enchanting interest. we find in it a harmony of power, a universality of endowment, a glow, an aspiring ambition and confidence such as we never find in later centuries, at least so generally and so permanently diffused. . . . the thirteenth century was an era of no special character. it was in nothing one-sided and in nothing discordant. it had great thinkers, great rulers, great teachers, great poets, {xii} great artists, great moralists, and great workmen. it could not be called the material age, the devotional age, the political age, or the poetic age in any special degree. it was equally poetic, political, industrial, artistic, practical, intellectual, and devotional. and these qualities acted in harmony on a uniform conception of life with a real symmetry of purpose. there was one common creed, one ritual, one worship, one sacred language, one church, a single code of manners, a uniform scheme of society, a common system of education, an accepted type of beauty, a universal art, something like a recognized standard of the good, the beautiful, and the true. one-half of the world was not occupied in ridiculing or combating what the other half was doing. nor were men absorbed in ideals of their own, while treating the ideals of their neighbors as matters of indifference and waste of power. men as utterly different from each other, as were stephen langton, st. francis, thomas aquinas, roger bacon, dante, giotto, st. louis, edward i--all profoundly accepted one common order of ideas, equally applying to things of the intellect, of moral duty, of action, and of the soul--to public and private life at once--and they could all feel that they were all together working out the same task. it may be doubted if that has happened in europe ever since.--frederic harrison, _a survey of the thirteenth century in the meaning of history and other historical pieces_. macmillan, . * * * the sources of the noblest rivers which spread fertility over continents, and bear richly laden fleets to the sea, are to be sought in wild and barren mountain tracts, incorrectly laid down in maps, and rarely explored by travellers. to such a tract the history of our country during the thirteenth century may not unaptly be compared. sterile and obscure as is that portion of our annals, it is there that we must seek for the origin of our freedom, our prosperity, and our glory. then it was that the great english people was formed, that the national character began to exhibit those peculiarities which it has ever since retained, and that our fathers became emphatically islanders, islanders not merely in geographical position, but in their politics, their feelings, and their manners. then first appeared with distinctness that constitution which has ever since, through all changes, preserved its identity; that constitution of which all the other free constitutions in the world are copies, and which, in spite of some defects, deserves to be regarded as the best under which any great {xiii} society has ever yet existed during many ages. then it was that the house of commons, the archetype of all the representative assemblies which now meet, either in the old or in the new world, held its first sittings. then it was that the common law rose to the dignity of a science, and rapidly became a not unworthy rival of the imperial jurisprudence. then it was that the courage of those sailors who manned the rude barks of the cinque ports first made the flag of england terrible on the seas. then it was that the most ancient colleges which still exist at both the great national seats of learning were founded. then was formed that language, less musical indeed than the languages of the south, but in force, in richness, in aptitude for all the highest purposes of the poet, the philosopher, and the orator, inferior to the tongue of greece alone. then too appeared the first faint dawn of that noble literature, the most splendid and the most durable of the many glories of england.--macaulay. * * * this time of fusion during which all direct traces of foreign conquest were got rid of, was naturally the time during which the political and social institutions of the country gradually took on that form which distinguishes modern england, the england of the last years from the older england of the first years of english history. ... by the time of edward i, though the english tongue had not yet finally displaced french, it had assumed the main characters which distinguished its modern from its ancient form. in architecture a great change had taken place, by which the romanesque style gave way to the so-called gothic. the subordinate arts had taken prodigious strides. the sculpture of the thirteenth century is parted from that of the twelfth by a wider gap than any that parts these centuries, in law or language. _and in the root of the matter in our law and constitution itself those changes have been made which wrought the body politic of england into a shape which has left future ages nothing to do but to improve in detail_. (italics ours.) in short the great destructive and creative age of europe and civilized asia passed over england as it passed over other lands. the age which saw the eastern empire fall beneath the arms of the frank and the eastern caliphate before the arms of the mogul--the age which saw the true power and glory of the western empire buried in the grave of the wonder of the world--the age which ruled that the warriors of the cross should work their will in spain and in prussia {xiv} and should not work their will in the holy land itself--the age which made venice mistress of the eastern seas, and bade florence stand forth as the new type of democratic freedom--the age which changed the nominal kingship of the lord of paris and orleans into the mighty realm of philip augustus and philip the fair--this age of wonders did its work of wonder in england also.--freeman, _the norman conquest_, vol. v, page . oxford, the clarendon press, . * * * the moment when this interaction might have seemed on the point of reaching a complete and harmonious result was the glorious thirteenth century, the culminating moment of the holy roman empire. then, as in the times of caesar or trajan, there might have seemed to be a union among civilized men, in which the separate life of individuals and localities was not submerged. in that golden age, alike of feudal system of empire and of church, there were to be seen the greatest monarchs, in fullest sympathy with their peoples, that christendom has ever known--an edward i, a st. louis, a frederick ii. then when in the pontificates of innocent iii and his successors the roman church reached its apogee, the religious yearning of men sought expressions in the sublimest architecture the world has seen. then aquinas summed up in his profound speculations the substance of catholic theology, and while the morning twilight of modern science might be discerned in the treatises of roger bacon, while wandering minstrelsy revealed the treasures of modern speech, soon to be wrought under the hands of dante and chaucer into forms of exquisite beauty, the sacred fervor of the apostolic ages found itself renewed in the tender and mystic piety of st. francis of assisi. it was a wonderful time, but after all less memorable as the culmination of medieval empire and medieval church than as the dawning of the new era in which we live to-day. * * * while wave after wave of germanic colonization poured over romanized europe, breaking down old boundary lines and working sudden and astonishing changes on the map, setting up in every quarter baronies, dukedoms, and kingdoms fermenting with vigorous political life; while for twenty generations this salutary but wild and dangerous work was going on, there was never a moment when the imperial sway of {xv} rome was quite set aside and forgotten, there was never a time when union of some sort was not maintained through the dominion which the church had established over the european mind. when we duly consider this great fact in its relations to what went before and what came after, it is hard to find words fit to express the debt of gratitude which modern civilization owes to the roman catholic church. when we think of all the work, big with promise of the future, that went on in those centuries which modern writers in their ignorance used once to set apart and stigmatize as the "dark ages"; when we consider how the seeds of what is noblest in modern life were then painfully sown upon the soil which imperial rome had prepared; when we think of the various work of a gregory, a benedict, a boniface, an alfred, a charlemagne, we feel that there is a sense in which the most brilliant achievements of pagan antiquity are dwarfed in comparison with these. until quite lately, indeed, the student of history has had his attention too narrowly confined to the ages that have been pre-eminent for literature and art--the so-called classical ages--and thus his sense of historical perspective has been impaired.--fiske, _the beginnings of new england, or the puritan theocracy in its relations to civil and religions liberty_. {xvi} {xvii} contents. chapter i introduction, the thirteenth, greatest of centuries. deeds and men of a marvellous period. evolution and man. no intellectual development in historical period. the wonderful medieval pre-renaissance. our gothic ancestors. education for the classes and masses. universities, cathedrals, arts, and crafts. origins in art. supreme literature in every language. origins in law and liberty. beginnings of modern democracy. chapter ii universities and preparatory schools. origins of universities. triumph of invention. character unchanged ever since. university evolution, salerno, bologna, paris, oxford, cambridge, italian, french and spanish universities. origin of preparatory schools. cathedral colleges. decree of the council of lateran, every cathedral to have a school and metropolitan churches to have colleges. attendance at these preparatory schools. chapter iii what and how they studied at the universities. education of the middle ages usually ridiculed. ignorance of critics. scholastics laughed at by those only who know them, but at second hand. "logic, ethics and metaphysics owe to scholasticism a precision, unknown to the ancients themselves" (condorcet.) teaching methods. scholarly interests quite as in our own day. magnetism in literature. a magnetic engine. aquinas and the indestructibility of matter and the conservation of energy. roger bacon's four grounds of human ignorance. prophecy of explosives for motor purposes. correction of the calendar. contributions to optics. experiment as the basis of scientific knowledge. whewell's appreciation. albertus magnus and the natural sciences humboldt's praise for his physical geography. contributions to botany. declaration with regard to foolish popular notions. the {xviii} great group of scientific men at the university of paris. robert of sorbonne's directions how to study. education of the heart as well as the head. chapter iv the number of students and discipline. largest universities of all time. more students to the population than at any time since. discussion as to the numbers in attendance. comparative average ages of students. how such numbers were supported. working their way through college. some reasons for false impressions, as to university attendance. m. compayré's paragraph on education in the middle ages. supposed ignorance. the monks at the universities. how many students clerical. college abuses and discipline. the "nations," the under-graduate committee on discipline. teaching practical democracy. chapter v post-graduate work at the universities. medieval universities and additions to knowledge. original work done, their best apology. extensive writings of professors. enthusiasm of students who copied their books. post-graduate work in theology and in philosophy. period of the scholastics. graduates in law and collections and digests. post-graduate work in medicine most important. teaching by case histories. the significance of dropsy, suture of divided nerves, healing by first intention. william of salicet and his pupil lanfranc. the danger of the separation of surgery from medicine. red light and smallpox. mondaville and arnold of villanova. the republication of old texts. the supposed bull forbidding anatomy. the supposed bull forbidding chemistry. the encouragement of science in the medieval universities. chapter vi the book of the arts and popular education. the gothic cathedrals, the stone books of medieval arts. st. hugh of lincoln. wealth of meaning in the cathedrals. their power to please. gothic architecture everywhere, but no slavish imitation. english, french, german, and italian gothic. spanish gothic. gothic ideas in modern architecture. beauty of details. sculpture. gothic statuary, not stiff, nor ugly. most affinity with greek sculpture (reinach). the angel choir at lincoln. {xix} the marvellous stained glass of the period,--lincoln, york, chartres, bourges. storied windows and their teachings. beauty and utility in the arts. magnificent needlework, the cope of ascoli. the cathedral as an educator. the great stone book, which he who ran must read. symbolism of the cathedrals. the great abbeys, the monasteries, municipal and domestic architecture of the century. furniture and decorations. ruskin on giotto's tower. chapter vii arts and crafts--great technical schools. solution of problems of social unrest. blessed is the man who has found his work. merrie england. the workman's pleasure in his work. influence of the church in the arts and crafts movement. rivalry in building the cathedrals. organization of technical instruction. correction of optical illusions. the village blacksmith and carpenter. comparative perfection of the work done then and now. the trade guilds and the training of workmen. the system of instruction, apprentice, journeyman, master. the masterpiece. social co-operation and fraternity. mystery plays and social education. chapter viii great origins in painting. rise of painting. franciscans and dominicans, patrons of art. st. francis' return to nature, the incentive of art. cimabue's madonna. gaddi. guido, ugolino and duccio of siena. berlinghieri of lucca, giunta of pisa. giotto the master. his work at assisi, verona, naples, rome. marvellous universal appreciation of art. contrast with other times. false notions with regard to gothic art. sadness not a characteristic. the beauty of the human form divine. chapter ix libraries and bookmen. monastic regulations for collecting and lending books. library rules. circulating libraries. the abbey of st. victor, the sorbonne, st. germain des prés, and notre dame. fines for misuse of books. library catalogues. library of la ste. chapelle. first medical library at the hotel dieu. how books were collected. exchange of books. special revenue for the libraries in the monasteries. book collecting and bequests by ecclesiastics. cost of books. franciscan and dominican libraries. richard de bury's {xx} philobiblon. how books were valued. richard a typical bookman. his place in history. illuminated books. the most interesting and original of all time (humphreys). st. louis' beautiful books. chapter x the cid, the holy grail, the nibelungen. literature equal to accomplishment in other lines. architecture and literature, and the expression of national feelings. national epics of three western-most nations informed within the same half century. the cid, its unity of authorship and action. martial interest and spirited style. tender domestic scenes. psychological analysis. walter mapes, and the arthur legends. authorship and place in literature. launcelot one of the greatest heroes ever invented. unity of authorship of nibelungen. place in literature. modern interest. influence of these epics on national poetry. chapter xi meistersingers, minnesingers, trouvÃ�res, troubadours. a great century of song. the high character of women, as represented in these songs. nature-poetry, and love. walter von der vogelweide, hartman von aue, wolfram von eschenbach, conrad von kirchberg. the troubadours and their love songs. selections from arnaud de marveil, arnaud daniel, bertrand de born, william of st. gregory, and peyrols. chapter xii great latin hymns. greatest poetic bequest of the period. place of rhyme in latin. latin hymns the first native poetry in the language. influence of their charm of rhyme and rhythm on the developing languages of europe. supremacy of the dies irae, its many admirers. other surpassing latin hymns. celtic origin of rhyme. the stabat mater, some translations. critical faculty in hymn selection. jerusalem the golden, its place in christian song. aquinas' hymn, the pange lingua, its popularity. musical expression of feeling and plain chant. the best examples from this period. invention of part music, its adaptation and development in popular music. {xxi} chapter xiii the three most read books. a generation and the books it reads. reynard the fox, the golden legend, and the romance of the rose. "reynard the most profoundly humorous book ever written." powers of the author as observer. besides gulliver's travels, don quixote and pilgrim's progress. its relations to uncle remus and many other animal stories. the place of the golden legend in literature. longfellow's use of it. the romance of the rose for three centuries the most read book in europe. the answer to the charge of dullness. the rose as a commentary on the morning paper. the abuse of wealth as the poet saw it in the thirteenth century. praise of "poverty light heart and gay." chapter xiv some thirteenth century prose. prose of the century as great as the poetry. medieval latin unappreciated but eminently expressive. the prose style, simple, direct and nicely accurate. saintsbury's opinion as to the influence on modern literature of the scholastic philosophers' style. the chroniclers and the modern war correspondent. villehardouin, jocelyn of brakelond, joinville, matthew of paris. vincent of beauvais and the first encyclopedia. pagel's opinion of vincent's style. durandus' famous work on symbolism. examples of his style. the scriptures as the basis of style. chapter xv origin of drama. st. francis and the first nativity play. earlier mystery plays. chester cycle. humorous passages introduced. complete bible story represented. actors' wages and costumes. innocent diversion and educational influence. popular interest. everyman in our own day. comparison with the passion play at oberammergau. the drama as an important factor in popular education. active as well as passive participation in great poetry. anticipation of a movement only just beginning again. chapter xvi francis, the saint--the father of the renaissance. the renaissance, so-called. before the renaissance. gothic architecture and art. francis the father of the real renaissance. {xxii} matthew arnold and "the poor little man of god." st. francis as a literary man. the canticle of the sun. st. francis' career. the simple life. ruskin on francis' poverty. st. francis in the last ten years. the disciples who gathered around him. a century of franciscans. the third order of st. francis. kings and queens, nobles and scholars hail st. francis as father. what the religious orders accomplished. st. clare and the second order. chapter xvii aquinas, the scholar. the nobility and education. studies at cologne and paris. the distinguished faculty of paris in his time. _summa contra gentiles_. pope leo xiii. and aquinas' teaching. foundations of christian apologetics. characteristic passages from aquinas. necessity for revelation of god's existence. explanation of resurrection. liberty in aquinas' writings. greatness of aquinas and his contemporaries and the subsequent decadence of scholasticism. contemporary appreciation of st. thomas. his capacity for work. his sacred poetry. chapter xviii louis, the monarch. the greatest of rulers. his relations as a son, as a husband, as a father. his passion for justice. interest in education, in books, in the encyclopedia. tribute of voltaire. guizot's praise. the righting of wrongs. letters to his son. affection for his children. regard for monks. would have his children enter monasteries. treatment of the poor. attitude towards lepers. one of nature's noblemen. louis and the crusades. bishop stubbs, on the real meaning of the crusades. louis' interest in the crusades not a stigma, but an added reason for praise. chapter xix dante, the poet. dante not a solitary phenomenon. a troubadour. his minor poems and prose works. his wonderful sonnets. the growth of appreciation for him. italian art, great as it kept nearer to dante. tributes from italy's' greatest literary men. michael angelo's sonnets to him. a world poet. english admiration old and new. tributes of the two great english cardinals. dean church's essay. ruskin on the grotesque on {xxiii} dante. german critical appreciation. humboldt's tribute. america's burden of praise. dante and the modern thinker. his wonderful powers of observation. comparison with milton. his place as one of the supreme poets of all times. a type of the century. chapter xx the women of the century. women of the century worthy of the great period. st. clare of assisi's place in history. happiness. the supper at the portiuncula. peace, in the cloister and woman's influence. equality of sexes in the religious orders. st. elizabeth of hungary, the first settlement worker. "dear st. elizabeth's" influence on women since her time. blanche of castile as queen and mother. her influence as a ruler. difficulties with her daughter-in-law. mabel rich, the london tradesman's wife, and her sons. isabella countess of arundel and courageous womanly dignity. women's work in the century. service of the sick. co-education in italy. reason for absence in france and england. women professors at italian universities. feminine education four times in history. reasons for decline. women in the literature of the century. the high place accorded them by the poets of every country. dante's tribute to their charm without a hint of the physical. chapter xxi city hospitals--organized charity. charity occupied a co-ordinate place to education. pope innocent iii. organized both. his foundations of the city hospitals of the world, the santo spirito at rome the model. rise of hospitals in every country, virchow's tribute to innocent iii. care for lepers in special hospitals and eradication of this disease. the meaning of this for the modern time and tuberculosis. special institutions for erysipelas which prevented the spread of this disease. the organization of charity. the monasteries and the people. the freeing of prisoners held in slavery. two famous orders for this purpose. chapter xxii great origins in law. legal origins most surprising feature of the century. significance of magna charta. excerpts that show its character. the church, widows and orphans, common pleas, international law, no {xxiv} tax without consent, rights of freemen. development of meaning as time and progress demanded it. bracton's digest of the common law. edward i. the english justinian. simon de montfort. real estate laws. chapter xxiii justice and legal development. legal origins in other countries besides england. montalembert and france. st. louis and the enforcement of law. fehmic courts of germany and our vigilance committees. andrew ii., and the "golden bull, that legalized anarchy" in hungary. laws of poland. the popes and legal codification; innocent iii, gregory ix. commentaries on law at the universities. pope boniface viii, the canonist. origin of "no taxation without representation." chapter xxiv democracy, christian socialism and nationality. origins in popular self-government. representation in the governing body. german free cities. swiss declaration of independence. christian socialism and "the three eights." saturday half-holiday, and the vigils of holy-days. christian fraternity and the guilds. organization of charity. the guild merchant and fraternal solidarity. the guild of the holy cross, stratford, and its place in town government and education. progress of democracy. how the crusades strengthened the democratic spirit. their place in the history of human liberty and of nationality. chapter xxv great explorers and the foundation of geography. geography's wonderful development. modern problems, thibet explored, lhasa entered. this perhaps the greatest triumph of the century. marco polo's travels. former mistrust now unstinted admiration. striking observations of polo. john of carpini's travels in the near east. colonel yule on the book of the tartars. friar william of rubruquis' travels in tartary. anticipations of modern opinions as to language. some details of description. friar odoric and his irish companion. the praemonstratensian hayton. franciscan missionary zeal supplied for our geographical societies. idle monks. {xxv} chapter xxvi great beginnings of modern commerce. this is the most interesting phase for our generation. hanseatic league and obscurity of its origin. league of lombard cities and effect of crusades. importance of hansa. enforcement of its decrees. confederation of cities from england to central russia. surprising greatness of the cities. beginnings of international law. commerce and peace. origins of coast regulation. fraternal initiations and their equivalents in the aftertime. origins in hazing. commerce and liberty. fostering of democracy. international comity. appendix i so-called history. appendix ii twenty-six chapters that might have been. i. america in the thirteenth century--papal documents. ii. a representative upper house. iii. the parish, and training in citizenship. iv. the chance to rise. v. insurance--fire, marine, robbery, against injustice. vi. old age pensions, disability wages. vii. ways and means of charity--organized charity. viii. scientific universities, investigation, writing. ix. medical education and high professional status. x. magnetism--first perpetual motion inventor--the north pole. xi. biological theories--evolution, recapitulation. xii. the pope of the century--innocent iii. xiii. international arbitration. xiv. bible revision. xv. fiction of the century. xvi. great orators. xvii. great beginnings of english literature. xviii. origins of music. xix. refinement and table manners. xx. textiles, satins, brocades, laces, needlework. xxi. glass-making. xxii. inventions. xxiii. industry and trade. xxiv. fairs and markets. xxv. intensive farming. xxvi. cartography and the teaching of geography--hereford map of the world. appendix iii criticisms, comments, documents. human progress. the century of origins. education. technical education of the masses. how it all stopped. comfort and poverty. comfort and happiness. comfort and health. hygiene. wages and the condition of working people. interest and loans. the eighteenth lowest of centuries. {xxvi} {xxvii} list of illustrations. . le beau dieu (amiens)--frontispiece (ii) . virgin with the divine child (mosaic, st. mark's, venice)--opposite page . pulpit (n. pisano, siena)--opposite page . archangel michael (giovanni pisano, pisa)--opposite page . christ (andrea pisano, florence)--opposite page . sta. reparata (andrea pisano, florence)--opposite page . paschal candlestick (baptistery, florence)--opposite page . reliquary (cathedral orvieto, ugolino di vieri)--opposite page . the church in symbol (paris)--on page . adoration of magi (pulpit, siena, nic. pisano)--opposite page . cathedral (lincoln)--opposite page . cathedral (york)--opposite page . cloister of st. john lateran (rome)--opposite page . jacques coeur's house (bourges)--on page . rathhaus (tangermünde)--opposite page . cathedral (hereford)--opposite page . cathedral (york, east)--opposite page . single flying buttress--on page . christ driving out money changers (giotto)--opposite page . bride from marriage of cana (giotto)--opposite page . head (mosaic, st. mark's, venice)--opposite page . head of blessed virgin annunciation--opposite page . petrarch portraits by benozzo gozzoli--opposite page . dante portraits by benozzo gozzoli--opposite page . giotto portraits by benozzo gozzoli--opposite page . screen (hereford)--opposite page . doorway of sacristy (bourges)--opposite page . double flying buttress--on page . angel choir (lincoln)--opposite page . cathedral (amiens)--opposite page . cathedral (rheims)--opposite page . cloister of st. paul's (without the walls, rome)--opposite page . cathedral (bourges)--opposite page . cathedral (chartres)--opposite page . durham castle and cathedral--opposite page . king john's castle (limerick)--opposite page . giotto's tower (florence)--opposite page . palazzo vecchio (florence) campanile (giotto)--opposite page {xxviii} . fountain (perugia) [town pump]--opposite page . lavatoio (todi) [public wash-house]--opposite page . reliquary (limoges museo, florence)--opposite page . crucifix (duomo, siena)--opposite page . madonna, cimabue (rucellai chapel, santa maria novella, florence)-- opposite page . st. francis' marriage with poverty (giotto, assisi)--opposite page . espousal of st. catherine (gaddi, xiii. century pupil, perugia)-- opposite page . group from visitation (rheims)--on page . monument of cardinal de bray (arnolfo)--opposite page . decoration (xiii. cent. psalter mss.)--on page . santa maria sopra minerva (rome's gothic cathedral)--opposite page . crozier (obverse and reverse)--on page . tower of scaligers--on page . st. francis prophesies the death of celano (giotto, upper ch., assisi)--opposite page . virgin and child (pisa, campo santo, giov. pisano)--opposite page . entombment of blessed virgin--on page . st. christopher (alto relievo, venice)--opposite page . madonna and child (giov. pisano, padua)--opposite page . tower (lincoln)--on page . porta romana gate, florence (n. pisano)--opposite page . ponte alle grazie (lapo)--opposite page . church and cloisters, san antonio (padua)--opposite page . st. catherine's (lübeck)--opposite page . stone carving (paris)--on page . the first nativity play (giotto, upper church of assisi)--opposite page . palazzo buondelmonti (florence)--opposite page . palazzo tolomei (siena)--opposite page . capital (lincoln)--on page . the glorification of st. francis (giotto, lower church of assisi)-- opposite page . st. francis (church of the frari, venice, nic. pisano)--opposite page . st. clare--three franciscans (giotto)--opposite page . st. louis--three franciscans (giotto)--opposite page . st. elizabeth--three franciscans (giotto)--opposite page . side capital (lincoln)--on page . notre dame (paris)--opposite page . la sainte chapelle (paris)--opposite page [missing] . cathedral (orvieto)--opposite page [missing] {xxix} . apostle (la sainte chapelle, paris)--opposite page . decoration (queen mary's psalter, xiii. century ms.)--on page . portrait of dante (giotto, in the bargello, florence)--opposite page . torre del fame (dante, pisa)--opposite page . palazzo pretorio (todi)--opposite page . angel (rheims)--on page . st. clare bids the dead st. francis good-bye (giotto, up. ch. assisi)--opposite page . church (doberan, germany)--opposite page . san damiano (assisi)--opposite page . st. elizabeth's cathedral (marburg)--opposite page . marriage of the blessed virgin (giotto, padua)--opposite page . mosaic (st. mark's, venice, )--opposite page . stone carving (amiens)--on page . hospital of the holy ghost (lübeck)--opposite page . charity (giotto)--opposite page . fortitude (giotto)--opposite page . hope (giotto)--opposite page . hospital interior--on page . tower (marburg)--on page . city gate (neubrandenburg)--opposite page . rathhaus (stralsund)--opposite page . portrait of pope boniface viii. (giotto, rome)--opposite page . decoration (xiii. cent. psalter)--on page . doorway (lincoln)--opposite page . nave (durham)--opposite page . broken arch (st. mary's, york, climax of gothic)--opposite page . animals from bestiarium (xiii. cent. ms.)--on page . door of giotto's tower (florence)--opposite page . principal door of baptistery (pisa)--opposite page . palazzo dei consoli (gubbio)--opposite page . palazzo zabarella (padua)--opposite page . rathhaus (lübeck)--opposite page . city gate (neubrandenburg)--opposite page . minster (chorin, germany)--opposite page . hinge from schlestadt--on page . portion of letter of innocent iii., mentioning greenland--on page . double pivoted compass needle--on page . peregrinus' compass--on page . portion of ms. of ormulum--on page . key of map of world (hereford)--on page . map of world (hereford)--opposite page {xxx} { } i introduction the thirteenth, the greatest of centuries it cannot but seem a paradox to say that the thirteenth was the greatest of centuries. to most people the idea will appear at once so preposterous that they may not even care to consider it. a certain number, of course, will have their curiosity piqued by the thought that anyone should evolve so curious a notion. either of these attitudes of mind will yield at once to a more properly receptive mood if it is recalled that the thirteenth is the century of the gothic cathedrals, of the foundation of the university, of the signing of magna charta, and of the origin of representative government with something like constitutional guarantees throughout the west of europe. the cathedrals represent a development in the arts that has probably never been equaled either before or since. the university was a definite creation of these generations that has lived and maintained its usefulness practically in the same form in which it was then cast for the seven centuries ever since. the foundation stones of modern liberties are to be found in the documents which for the first time declared the rights of man during this precious period. a little consideration of the men who, at this period, lived lives of undying influence on mankind, will still further attract the attention of those who have not usually grouped these great characters together. just before the century opened, three great rulers died at the height of their influence. they are still and will always be the subject of men's thoughts and of literature. they were frederick barbarossa, saladin, and richard coeur de lion. they formed but a suggestive prelude of what was to come in the following century, when such { } great monarchs as st. louis of france, st. ferdinand of spain, alfonso the wise of castile, frederick ii of germany, edward i, the english justinian, rudolph of hapsburg, whose descendants still rule in austria, and robert bruce, occupied the thrones of europe. was it by chance or providence that the same century saw the rise of and the beginning of the fall of that great eastern monarchy which had been created by the genius for conquest of jenghiz khan, the tartar warrior, who ruled over all the eastern world from beyond what are now the western confines of russia, poland, and hungary, into and including what we now call china. but the thrones of europe and of asia did not monopolize the great men of the time. the thirteenth century claims such wonderful churchmen as st. francis and st. dominic, and while it has only the influence of st. hugh of lincoln, who died just as it began, it can be proud of st. edmund of canterbury, stephen langton, and robert grosseteste, all men whose place in history is due to what they did for their people, and such magnificent women as queen blanche of castile, st. clare of assisi, and st. elizabeth of hungary. the century opened with one of the greatest of the popes on the throne, innocent iii, and it closed with the most misunderstood of popes, who is in spite of this one of the worthiest successors of peter, boniface viii. during the century there had been such men as honorius iv, the patron of learning, gregory ix, to whom canon law owes so much, and john xxi, who had been famous as a scientist before becoming pope. there are such scholars as st. thomas of aquin, albertus magnus, roger bacon, st. bonaventure, duns scotus, raymond lully, vincent of beauvais, and alexander of hales, and such patrons of learning as robert of sorbonne, and the founders of nearly twenty universities. there were such artists as gaddi, cimabue, and above all giotto, and such literary men as the authors of the arthur legends and the nibelungen, the meistersingers, the minnesingers, the troubadours, and trouvères, and above all dante, who is universally considered now to be one of the greatest literary men of all times, but who was not, as is so often thought and said, a solitary phenomenon in the period, but only the culmination of a great literary movement that had to have { } some such supreme expression of itself as this in order to properly round out the cycle of its existence. if in addition it be said that this century saw the birth of the democratic spirit in many different ways in the various countries of europe, but always in such form that it was never quite to die out again, the reasons for talking of it as possibly the greatest of centuries will be readily appreciated even by those whose reading has not given them any preliminary basis of information with regard to this period, which has unfortunately been shrouded from the eyes of most people by the fact, that its place in the midst of the middle ages would seem to preclude all possibility of the idea that it could represent a great phase of the development of the human intellect and its esthetic possibilities. there would seem to be one more or less insuperable objection to the consideration of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries, and that arises from the fact that the idea of evolution has consciously and unconsciously tinged the thoughts of our generation to such a degree, that it seems almost impossible to think of a period so far in the distant past as having produced results comparable with those that naturally flow from the heightened development of a long subsequent epoch. whatever of truth there may be in the great theory of evolution, however, it must not be forgotten that no added evidence for its acceptance can be obtained from the intellectual history of the human race. we may be "the heirs of all the ages in the foremost files of time," but one thing is certain, that we can scarcely hope to equal, and do not at all think of surpassing, some of the great literary achievements of long past ages. in the things of the spirit apparently there is very little, if any, evolution. homer wrote nearly three thousand years ago as supreme an expression of human life in absolute literary values as the world has ever known, or, with all reverence for the future be it said, is ever likely to know. the great dramatic poem job emanated from a hebrew poet in those earlier times, and yet, if judged from the standpoint of mere literature, is as surpassing an expression of human intelligence in the presence of the mystery of evil as has ever come from the mind of man. we are no nearer the solution of the problem of { } evil in life, though thousands of years have passed and man has been much occupied with the thoughts that disturbed the mind of the ruler of moab. the code of hammurabi, recently discovered, has shown very definitely, that men could make laws nearly five thousand years ago as well calculated to correct human abuses as those our legislators spend so much time over at present, and the olden time laws were probably quite as effective as ours can hope to be, for all our well intentioned purpose and praiseworthy efforts at reform. it used to be a favorite expression of virchow, the great german pathologist, who was, besides, however, the greatest of living anthropologists, that from the history of the human race the theory of evolution receives no confirmation of any kind. his favorite subject, the study of skulls, and their conformation in the five thousand years through which such remains could be traced, showed him absolutely no change. for him there had been also no development in the intellectual order in human life during the long period of human history. of course this is comparatively brief if the long aeons of geological times be considered, yet some development might be expected to manifest itself in the more than two hundred generations that have come and gone since the beginning of human memory. perhaps, then, the prejudice with regard to evolution and its supposed effectiveness in making the men of more recent times superior to those of the past, may be considered to have very little weight as an _a priori_ objection to the consideration of the thirteenth century as representing the highest stage in human accomplishment. so far as scientific anthropology goes there is utter indifference as to the period that may be selected as representing man at his best. to most people the greater portion of surprise with regard to the assertion of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries will be the fact that the period thus picked out is almost in the heart of the middle ages. it would be not so amazing if the fifth century before christ, which produced such marvelous accomplishments in letters and art and philosophy among the greeks, was chosen as the greatest of human epochs. there might not even be so much of unpreparedness of mind if that supreme century of roman history, from fifty years before christ to fifty years after, were picked out for such signal notice. [illustration] virgin with the divine child (mosaic, st. mark's, venice) { } we have grown accustomed, however, to think of the middle ages as hopelessly backward in the opportunities they afforded men for the expression of their intellectual and artistic faculties, and above all for any development of that human liberty which means so much for the happiness of the race and must constitute the basis of any real advance worth while talking about in human affairs. it is this that would make the thirteenth century seem out of place in any comparative study for the purpose of determining proportionate epochal greatness. the spirit breathes where it will, however, and there was a mighty wind of the spirit of human progress abroad in that thirteenth century, whose effects usually miss proper recognition in history, because people fail to group together in their minds all the influences in our modern life that come to us from that precious period. all this present volume pretends to do is to gather these scattered details of influence in order to make the age in which they all coincided so wonderfully, be properly appreciated. if we accept the usual historical division which places the middle ages during the thousand years between the fall of the roman empire, in the fifth century and the fall of the grecian empire of constantinople, about the middle of the fifteenth, the thirteenth century must be considered the culmination of that middle age. it is three centuries before the renaissance, and to most minds that magical word represents the beginning of all that is modern, and therefore all that is best, in the world. most people forget entirely how much of progress had been made before the so-called renaissance, and how many great writers and artists had been fostering the taste and developing the intelligence of the people of italy long before the fall of constantinople. the renaissance, after all, means only the re-birth of greek ideas and ideals, of greek letters and arts, into the modern world. if this new birth of greek esthetics had not found the soil thoroughly prepared by the fruitful labor of three centuries before, history would not have seen any such outburst of artistic and literary accomplishments as actually came at the end of the fifteenth and during the sixteenth centuries. { } in taking up the thesis, the thirteenth the greatest of centuries, it seems absolutely necessary to define just what is meant by the term great, in its application to a period. an historical epoch, most people would concede at once, is really great just in proportion to the happiness which it provides for the largest possible number of humanity. that period is greatest that has done most to make men happy. happiness consists in the opportunity to express whatever is best in us, and above all to find utterance for whatever is individual. an essential element in it is the opportunity to develop and apply the intellectual faculties, whether this be of purely artistic or of thoroughly practical character. for such happiness the opportunity to rise above one's original station is one of the necessary requisites. out of these opportunities there comes such contentment as is possible to man in the imperfect existence that is his under present conditions. almost as important a quality in any epoch that is to be considered supremely great, is the difference between the condition of men at the beginning of it and at its conclusion. the period that represents most progress, even though at the end uplift should not have reached a degree equal to subsequent periods, must be considered as having best accomplished its duty to the race. for purposes of comparison it is the amount of ground actually covered in a definite time, rather than the comparative position at the end of it, that deserves to be taken into account. this would seem to be a sort of hedging, as if the terms of the comparison of the thirteenth with other centuries were to be made more favorable by the establishment of different standards. there is, however, no need of any such makeshift in order to establish the actual supremacy of the thirteenth century, since it can well afford to be estimated on its own merits alone, and without any allowances because of the stage of cultural development at which it occurred. john ruskin once said that a proper estimation of the accomplishments of a period in human history can only be obtained by careful study of three books--the book of the deeds, the book of the arts, and the book of the words, of the given epoch. the thirteenth century may be promptly ready for this judgment of what it accomplished for men, of { } what it wrote for subsequent generations, and of the artistic qualities to be found in its art remains. in the book of the deeds of the century what is especially important is what was accomplished for men, that is, what the period did for the education of the people, not alone the classes but the masses, and what a precious heritage of liberty and of social coordination it left behind. to most people it will appear at once that if the most important chapter of thirteenth century accomplishment is to be found in the book of its deeds and the deeds are to be judged according to the standard just given of education and liberty, then there will be no need to seek further, since these are words for which it is supposed that there is no actual equivalent in human life and history for at least several centuries after the close of the thirteenth. as a matter of fact, however, it is in this very chapter that the thirteenth century will be found strongest in its claim to true greatness. the thirteenth century saw the foundation of the universities and their gradual development into the institutions of learning which we have at the present time. those scholars of the thirteenth century recognized that, for its own development and for practical purposes, the human intellect can best be trained along certain lines. for its preliminary training, it seemed to them to need what has since come to be called the liberal arts, that is, a knowledge of certain languages and of logic, as well as a thorough consideration of the great problems of the relation of man to his creator, to his fellow-men, and to the universe around him. grammar, a much wider subject than we now include under the term, and philosophy constituted the undergraduate studies of the universities of the thirteenth century. for the practical purposes of life, a division of post-graduate study had to be made so as to suit the life design of each individual, and accordingly the faculties of theology, for the training of divines; of medicine, for the training of physicians; and of law, for the training of advocates, came into existence. we shall consider this subject in more detail in a subsequent chapter, but it will be clear at once that the university, as organized by these wise generations of the thirteenth century, has come down unchanged to us in the modern time. we { } still have practically the same methods of preliminary training and the same division of post-graduate studies. we specialize to a greater degree than they did, but it must not be forgotten that specialism was not unknown by any means in the thirteenth century, though there were fewer opportunities for its practical application to the things of life. if this century had done nothing else but create the instrument by which the human mind has ever since been trained, it must be considered as deserving a place of the very highest rank in the periods of human history. it is, however, much more for what it accomplished for the education of the masses than for the institutions it succeeded in developing for the training of the classes, that the thirteenth century merits a place in the roll of fame. this declaration will doubtless seem utterly paradoxical to the ordinary reader of history. we are very prone to consider that it is only in our time that anything like popular education has come into existence. as a matter of fact, however, the education afforded to the people in the little towns of the middle ages, represents an ideal of educational uplift for the masses such as has never been even distantly approached in succeeding centuries. the thirteenth century developed the greatest set of technical schools that the world has ever known. the technical school is supposed to be a creation of the last half century at the outside. these medieval towns, however, during the course of the building of their cathedrals, of their public buildings and various magnificent edifices of royalty and for the nobility, succeeded in accomplishing such artistic results that the world has ever since held them in admiration, and that this admiration has increased rather than diminished with the development of taste in very recent years. nearly every one of the most important towns of england during the thirteenth century was erecting a cathedral. altogether some twenty cathedrals remain as the subject of loving veneration and of frequent visitation for the modern generation. there was intense rivalry between these various towns. each tried to surpass the other in the grandeur of its cathedral and auxiliary buildings. instead of lending workmen to one another there was a civic pride in accomplishing for one's native town whatever was best. [illustration] pulpit (pisano, siena) { } each of these towns, then, none of which had more than twenty thousand inhabitants except london, and even that scarcely more, had to develop its own artist-artisans for itself. that they succeeded in doing so demonstrates a great educational influence at work in arts and crafts in each of these towns. we scarcely succeed in obtaining such trained workmen in proportionately much fewer numbers even with the aid of our technical schools, and while these thirteenth century people did not think of such a term, it is evident that they had the reality and that they were able to develop artistic handicraftsmen--the best the world has ever known. with all this of education abroad in the lands, it is not surprising that great results should have flowed from human efforts and that these should prove enduring even down to our own time. accomplishments of the highest significance were necessarily bound up with opportunities for self-expression, so tempting and so complete, as those provided for the generations of the thirteenth century. the books of the words as well as of the arts of the thirteenth century will be found eminently interesting, and no period has ever furnished so many examples of wondrous initiative, followed almost immediately by just as marvelous progress and eventual approach to as near perfection as it is perhaps possible to come in things human. ordinarily literary origins are not known with sufficient certainty as to dates for any but the professional scholar to realize the scope of the century's literature. only a very little consideration, however, is needed to demonstrate how thoroughly representative of what is most enduring in literary expression in modern times, are the works in every country that had origin in this century. there was not a single country in civilized europe which did not contribute its quota and that of great significance to the literary movement of the time. in spain there came the cid and certain accompanying products of ballad poetry which form the basis of the national literature and are still read not only by scholars and amateurs, but even by the people generally, because of the supreme human interest in them. in england, the beginning of the thirteenth century saw the putting { } into shape of the arthur legends in the form in which they were to appeal most nearly to subsequent generations. walter map's work in these was, as we shall see, one of the great literary accomplishments of all time. subsequent treatments of the same subject are only slight modifications of the theme which he elaborated, and mallory's and spenser's and even our own tennyson's work derive their interest from the humanly sympathetic story, written so close to the heart of nature in the thirteenth century that it will always prove attractive. in germany, just at the same time, the nibelungen-lied was receiving the form in which it was to live as the great national epic. the meistersingers also were accomplishing their supreme work of christianizing and modernizing the old german and christian legends which were to prove such a precious heritage of interest for posterity. in the south of germany the minnesingers sang their tuneful strains and showed how possible it was to take the cruder language of the north, and pour forth as melodious hymns of praise to nature and to their beloved ones as in the more fluent southern tongues. most of this was done in the old suabian high german dialect, and the basis of the modern german language was thus laid. the low german was to prove the vehicle for the original form of the animal epic or stories with regard to reynard, the fox, which were to prove so popular throughout all of europe for all time thereafter. in north france the trouvères were accomplishing a similar work to that of the minnesingers in south germany, but doing it with an original genius, a refinement of style characteristic of their nation, and a finish of form that was to impress itself upon french literature for all subsequent time. here also jean de meun and guillaume de lorris wrote the romance of the rose, which was to remain the most popular book in europe down to the age of printing and for some time thereafter. at the south of france the work of the troubadours, similar to that of the trouvères and yet with, a spirit and character all its own, was creating a type of love songs that the world recurs to with pleasure whenever the lyrical aspect of poetry becomes fashionable. the influence of the troubadours was to be felt in italy, and before the end of the { } thirteenth century there were many writers of short poems that deserve a place in what is best in literature. men like sordello, guido cavalcanti, cino da pistoia, and dante da maiano, deserve mention in any historical review of literature, quite apart from the influence which they had on their great successor, the prince of italian poets and one of the immortal trio of the world's supreme creative singers--dante alighieri. with what must have seemed the limit of conceit he placed himself among the six greatest poets, but posterity breathes his name only with those of homer and shakespeare. dante, in spite of his giant personality and sublime poetic genius, is not an exception nor a solitary phenomenon in the course of the century, but only a worthy culmination of the literary movement which, beginning in the distant west in spain and england, gradually worked eastward quite contrary to the usual trend of human development and inspired its greatest work in the musical tuscan dialect after having helped in the foundation of all the other modern languages. dante is the supreme type of the thirteenth century, the child of his age, but the great master whom medieval influences have made all that he is. that he belongs to the century there can be no doubt, and of himself alone he would be quite sufficient to lift any period out of obscurity and place it among the favorite epochs, in which the human mind found one of those opportune moments for the expression of what is sublimest in human thought. it is, however, the bock of the arts of the thirteenth century that deserves most to be thumbed by the modern reader intent on learning something of this marvelous period of human existence. there is not a single branch of art in which the men of this generation did not accomplish excelling things that have been favorite subjects for study and loving imitation ever since. perhaps the most marvelous quality of the grand old gothic cathedrals, erected during the thirteenth century, is not their impressiveness as a whole so much as their wonderful finish in detail. it matters not what element of construction or decoration be taken into consideration, always there is an approach to perfection in accomplishment in some one of the cathedrals that shows with what thoroughness the men of the { } time comprehended what was best in art, and how finally their strivings after perfection were rewarded as bountifully as perhaps it has ever been given to men to realize. of the major arts--architecture itself, sculpture and painting--only a word will be said here since they will be treated more fully in subsequent chapters. no more perfect effort at worthy worship of the most high has ever been accomplished than is to be seen in the gothic cathedrals in every country in europe as they exist to the present day. while the movement began in north france, and gradually spread to other countries, there was never any question of mere slavish imitation, but on the contrary in each country gothic architecture took on a national character and developed into a charming expression of the special characteristics of the people for whom and by whom it was made. english gothic is, of course, quite different to that of france; spanish gothic has a character all its own; the german gothic cathedrals partake of the heavier characteristics of the northern people, while italian gothic adds certain airy decorative qualities to the french model that give renewed interest and inevitably indicate the origin of the structures. in painting, cimabue's work, so wonderfully appreciated by the people of florence that spontaneously they flocked in procession to do honor to his great picture, was the beginning of modern art. how much was accomplished before the end of the century will be best appreciated when the name of giotto is mentioned as the culmination of the art movement of the century. as we shall see, the work done by him, especially at assisi, has been a source of inspiration for artists down even to our own time, and there are certain qualities of his art, especially his faculty for producing the feeling of solidity in his paintings, in which very probably he has never been surpassed. gothic cathedrals in other countries did not lend themselves so well as subjects of inspiration for decorative art, but in every country the sacred books in use in the cathedral were adorned, at the command of the artistic impulse of the period, in a way that has made the illuminated missals and office books of the thirteenth century perhaps the most precious that there are in the history of book-making. {opp } [illustration] archangel michael (giovanni pisano, pisa) [illustration] christ (andrea pisano, florence) [illustration] sta. reparata (andrea pisano, florence) { } it might be thought that in sculpture, at least, these thirteenth-century generations would prove to be below the level of that perfection and artistic expression which came so assuredly in other lines. it is true that most of the sculptures of the period have defects that make them unworthy of imitation, though it is in the matter of technique that they fail rather than in honest effort to express feelings appropriately within the domain of chiseled work. on the other hand there are some supreme examples of what is best in sculpture to be found among the adornments of the cathedrals of the period. no more simply dignified rendition of the god man has ever been made in stone than the statue of christ, which with such charming appropriateness the people of amiens have called _le beau dieu_, their beautiful god, and that visitors to their great cathedral can never admire sufficiently, admirably set off, as it is, in its beautiful situation above the main door of the great cathedral. other examples are not lacking, as for instance some of the thirteenth-century effigies of the french kings and queens at st. denis, and some of the wonderful sculptures at rheims. in its place as a subsidiary art to architecture for decorative purposes, sculpture was even more eminently successful. the best example of this is the famous angel choir of lincoln, one of the most beautiful things that ever came from the hand of man and whose designation indicates the belief of the centuries that only the angels could have made it. in the handicrafts most nearly allied to the arts, the thirteenth century reigns supreme with a splendor unapproached by what has been accomplished in any other century. the iron work of their gates and railings, even of their hinges and latches and locks, has been admired and imitated by many generations since. when a piece of it is no longer of use, or loosens from the crumbling woodwork to which it was attached, it is straightway transported to some museum, there to be displayed not alone for its antiquarian interest, but also as a model and a suggestion to the modern designer. this same thing is true of the precious metal work of the times also, at least as regards the utensils and ornaments employed in the sacred services. the chalices and other sacred { } vessels were made on severely simple lines and according to models which have since become the types of such sacred utensils for all times. the vestments used in the sacred ceremonials partook of this same character of eminently appropriate handiwork united to the chastest of designs, executed with supreme taste. the famous cope of ascoli which the recent pierpont morgan incident brought into prominence a year or so ago, is a sample of the needlework of the times that illustrates its perfection. it is said by those who are authorities in the matter that thirteenth-century needlework represents what is best in this line. it is not the most elaborate, nor the most showy, but it is in accordance with the best taste, supremely suitable to the objects of which it formed a part. it is, after all, only an almost inevitable appendix to the beautiful work done in the illumination of the sacred books, that the sacred vestments should have been quite as supremely artistic and just as much triumphs of art. as a matter of fact, every minutest detail of cathedral construction and ornamentation shared in this artistic triumph. even the inscriptions, done in brass upon the gravestones that formed part of the cathedral pavements, are models of their kind, and rubbings from them are frequently taken because of their marvelous effectiveness as designs in gothic tracery. their bells were made with such care and such perfection that, down to the present time, nothing better has been accomplished in this handicraft, and their marvelous retention of tone shows how thorough was the work of these early bell-makers. the triumph of artistic decoration in the cathedrals, however, and the most marvelous page in the book of the arts of the century, remains to be spoken of in their magnificent stained-glass windows. where they learned their secret of glass-making we know not. artists of the modern time, who have spent years in trying to perfect their own work in this line, would give anything to have some of the secrets of the glass-makers of the thirteenth century. such windows as the five sisters at york, or the wonderful jesse window of chartres with some of its companions, are the despair of the modern { } artists in stained glass. the fact that their glass-making was not done at one, or even a few, common centers, but was apparently executed in each of these small medieval towns that were the site of a cathedral, only adds to the marvel of how the workmen of the time succeeded so well in accomplishing their purpose of solving the difficult problems of stained glasswork. {opp } [illustration ] paschal candlestick (baptistery, florence) [illustration:] reliquary (cathedral orvieto, ugolino di vieri) if, to crown all that has been said about the thirteenth century, we now add a brief account of what was accomplished for men in the matter of liberty and the establishment of legal rights, we shall have a reasonably adequate introduction to this great subject. liberty is thought to be a word whose true significance is of much more recent origin than the end of the middle ages. the rights of men are usually supposed to have received serious acknowledgment only in comparatively recent centuries. the recalling of a few facts, however, will dispel this illusion and show how these men of the later middle age laid the foundation of most of the rights and privileges that we are so proud to consider our birthright in this modern time. the first great fact in the history of modern liberty is the signing of magna charta which took place only a little after the middle of the first quarter of the thirteenth century. the movement that led up to it had arisen amongst the guildsmen as well as the churchmen and the nobles of the preceding century. when the document was signed, however, these men did not consider that their work was finished. they kept themselves ready to take further advantage of the necessities of their rulers and it was not long before they had secured political as well as legal rights. shortly after the middle of the thirteenth century the first english parliament met, and in the latter part of that half century it became a formal institution with regularly appointed times of meeting and definite duties and privileges. then began the era of law in its modern sense for the english people. the english common law took form and its great principles were enunciated practically in the terms in which they are stated down to the present day. bracton made his famous digest of the english common law for the use of judges and lawyers and it became a standard work of reference. such it { } has remained down to our own time. at the end of the century, during the reign of edward i, the english justinian, the laws of the land were formulated, lacunae in legislation filled up, rights and privileges fully determined, real-estate laws put on a modern basis, and the most important portions of english law became realities that were to be modified but not essentially changed in all the after time. this history of liberty and of law-making, so familiar with regard to england, must be repeated almost literally with regard to the continental nations. in france, the foundation of the laws of the kingdom were laid during the reign of louis ix, and french authorities in the history of law, point with pride, to how deeply and broadly the foundations of french jurisprudence were laid. under louis's cousin, ferdinand iii of castile, who, like the french monarch, has received the title of saint, because of the uprightness of his character and all that he did for his people, forgetful of himself, the foundations of spanish law were laid, and it is to that time that spanish jurists trace the origin of nearly all the rights and privileges of their people. in germany there is a corresponding story. in saxony there was the issue of a famous book of laws, which represented all the grants of the sovereigns, and all the claims of subjects that had been admitted by monarchs up to that time. in a word, everywhere there was a codification of laws and a laying of foundations in jurisprudence, upon which the modern superstructure of law was to rise. this is probably the most surprising part of the thirteenth century. when it began men below the rank of nobles were practically slaves. whatever rights they had were uncertain, liable to frequent violation because of their indefinite character, and any generation might, under the tyranny of some consciousless monarch, have lost even the few privileges they had enjoyed before. at the close of the thirteenth century this was no longer possible. the laws had been written down and monarchs were bound by them as well as their subjects. individual caprice might no longer deprive them arbitrarily of their rights and hard won privileges, though tyranny might still assert itself and a submissive generation might, for a time, { } allow themselves to be governed by measures beyond the domain of legal justification. any subsequent generation might, however, begin anew its assertion of its rights from the old-time laws, rather than from the position to which their forbears had been reduced by a tyrant's whim. is it any wonder, then, that we should call the generations that gave us the cathedrals, the universities, the great technical schools that were organized by the trades guilds, the great national literatures that lie at the basis of all our modern literature, the beginnings of sculpture and of art carried to such heights that artistic principles were revealed for all time, and, finally, the great men and women of this century--for more than any other it glories in names that were born not to die--is it at all surprising that we should claim for the period which, in addition to all this, saw the foundation of modern law and liberty, the right to be hailed--the greatest of human history? [illustration] the church [symbolized] (paris) { } ii universities and preparatory schools. to see, at once, how well the thirteenth deserves the name of the greatest of centuries, it is necessary, only, to open the book of her deeds and read therein what was accomplished during this period for the education of the men of the time. it is, after all, what a generation accomplishes for intellectual development and social uplift that must be counted as its greatest triumph. if life is larger in its opportunities, if men appreciate its significance better, if the development of the human mind has been rendered easier, if that precious thing, whose name, education, has been so much abused, is made readier of attainment, then the generation stamps itself as having written down in its book of deeds, things worthy for all subsequent generations to read. though anything like proper appreciation of it has come only in very recent times, there is absolutely no period of equal length in the history of mankind in which so much was not only attempted, but successfully accomplished for education, in every sense of the word, as during the thirteenth century. this included, not only the education of the classes but also the education of the masses. for the moment, we shall concern ourselves only with the education offered to, and taken advantage of by so many, in the universities of the time. it was just at the beginning of the thirteenth century that the great universities came into being as schools, in which all the ordinary forms of learning were taught. during the twelfth century, bologna had had a famous school of law which attracted students from all over europe. under irnerius, canon and civil law secured a popularity as subjects of study such as they never had before. the study of the old roman law brought back with it an interest in the latin classics, and the beginning of the true new birth--the real renaissance--of modern education must be traced from here. at paris there was a theological school attached to { } the cathedral which gradually became noted for its devotion to philosophy as the basis of theology, and, about the middle of the twelfth century, attracted students from every part of the civilized world. as was the case at bologna, interest after a time was not limited to philosophy and theology; other branches of study were admitted to the curriculum and a university in the modern sense came into existence. during the first quarter of the thirteenth century both of these schools developed faculties for the teaching of all the known branches of knowledge. at bologna faculties of arts, of philosophy and theology, and finally of medicine, were gradually added, and students flocked in ever increasing numbers to take advantage of these additional opportunities. at paris, the school of medicine was established early in the thirteenth century, and there were graduates in medicine before the year . law came later, but was limited to canon law to a great extent, orleans having a monopoly of civil law for more than a century. these two universities, bologna and paris, were, in every sense of the word, early in the century, real universities, differing in no essential from our modern institutions that bear the same name. if the thirteenth century had done nothing else but put into shape this great instrument for the training of the human mind, which has maintained its effectiveness during seven centuries, it must be accorded a place among the epoch-making periods of history. with all our advances in modern education we have not found it necessary, or even advisable, to change, in any essential way, this mold in which the human intellect has been cast for all these years. if a man wants knowledge for its own sake, or for some practical purpose in life, then here are the faculties which will enable him to make a good beginning on the road he wishes to travel. if he wants knowledge of the liberal arts, or the consideration of man's duties to himself, to his fellow-man and to his creator, he will find in the faculties of arts and philosophy and theology the great sources of knowledge in these subjects. if, on the other hand, he wishes to apply his mind either to the disputes of men about property, or to their injustices toward one another and the correction of abuses, then the faculty of law will { } supply his wants, and finally the medical school enables him, if he wishes, to learn all that can be known at a given time with regard to man's ills and their healing. we have admitted the practical-work subjects into university life, though not without protest, but architecture, engineering, bridge-building and the like, in which the men of the thirteenth century accomplished such wonders, were relegated to the guilds whose technical schools, though they did not call them by that name, were quite as effective practical educators as even the most vaunted of our modern university mechanical departments. it is rather interesting to trace the course of the development of schools in our modern sense of the term, because their evolution recapitulates, to some degree at least, the history of the individual's interest in life. the first school which acquired a european reputation was that of salernum, a little town not far from naples, which possessed a famous medical school as early as the ninth century, perhaps earlier. this never became a university, though its reputation as a great medical school was maintained for several centuries. this first educational opportunity to attract a large body of students from all over the world concerned mainly the needs of the body. the next set of interests which man, in the course of evolution develops, has to do with the acquisition and retention of property and the maintenance of his rights as an individual. it is not surprising, then, to find that the next school of world-wide reputation was that of law at bologna which became the nucleus of a great university. it is only after man has looked out for his bodily needs and his property rights, that he comes to think of his duties toward himself, his fellow-men, and his creator, and so the third of these great medieval schools, in time, was that of philosophy and theology, at paris. it is sometimes thought that the word university applied to these institutions after the aggregation of other faculties, was due to the fact that there was a universality of studies, that all branches of knowledge might be followed in them. the word university, however, was not originally applied to the school itself, which, if it had all the faculties of the modern university, was, in the thirteenth century, called a _studium generale_. the latin word universitas had quite a different { } usage at that time. whenever letters were formally addressed to the combined faculties of a _studium generale_ by reigning sovereigns, or by the pope, or by other high ecclesiastical authorities, they always began with the designation, universitas vestra, implying that the greeting was to all of the faculty, universally and without exception. gradually, because of this word constantly occurring at the beginning of letters to the faculty, the term universitas came to be applied to the institution. [footnote ] [footnote : certain other terms that occur in these letters of greeting to university officials have a more than passing interest. the rector of the university, for instance, was always formally addressed as amplitudo vestra, that is, your ampleness. considering the fact that not a few of the rectors of the old time universities, all of whom were necessarily ecclesiastics, must have had the ampleness of girth so characteristic of their order under certain circumstances, there is an appropriateness about this formal designation which perhaps appeals more to the risibilities of the modern mind than to those of medieval time.] while the universities, as is typically exemplified by the histories of bologna and paris, and even to a noteworthy degree of oxford, grew up around the cathedrals, they cannot be considered in any sense the deliberate creation, much less the formal invention, of any particular set of men. the idea of a university was not born into the world in full panoply as minerva from the brain of jove. no one set about consciously organizing for the establishment of complete institutions of learning. like everything destined to mean much in the world the universities were a natural growth from the favoring soil in which living seeds were planted. they sprang from the wonderful inquiring spirit of the time and the marvelous desire for knowledge and for the higher intellectual life that came over the people of europe during the thirteenth century. the school at paris became famous, and attracted pupils during the twelfth century, because of the new-born interest in scholastic philosophy. after the pupils had gathered in large numbers their enthusiasm led to the establishment of further courses of study. the same thing was true at bologna, where the study of law first attracted a crowd of earnest students, and then the demand for broader education led to the establishment of other faculties. { } above all, there was no conscious attempt on the part of any supposed better class to stoop down and uplift those presumably below it. as we shall see, the students of the university came mainly from the middle class of the population. they became ardently devoted to their teachers. as in all really educational work, it was the man and not the institution that counted for much. in case of disagreement of one of these with the university authorities, not infrequently there was a sacrifice of personal advantage for the moment on the part of the students in order to follow a favorite teacher. paris had examples of this several times before the thirteenth century, and notably in the case of abelard had seen thousands of students follow him into the distant desert where he had retired. later on, when abuses on the part of the authorities of paris limited the university's privileges, led to the withdrawal of students and the foundation of oxford, there was a community of interest on the part of certain members of the faculty and thousands of students. this movement was, however, distinctly of a popular character, in the sense that it was not guided by political or other leaders. nearly all of the features of university life during the thirteenth century, emphasize the democracy of feeling of the students, and make it clear that the blowing of the wind of the spirit of human liberty and intellectual enthusiasm influencing the minds of the generation, rather than any formal attempt on the part of any class of men deliberately to provide educational opportunities, is the underlying feature of university foundation and development. while the great universities of paris, bologna, and oxford were, by far, the most important, they must not be considered as the only educational institutions deserving the name of universities, even in our modern sense, that took definite form during the thirteenth century. in italy, mainly under the fostering care of ecclesiastics, encouraged by such popes as innocent iii, gregory ix, and honorius iv, nearly a dozen other towns and cities saw the rise of studia generalia eventually destined, and that within a few decades after their foundation, to have the complete set of faculties, and such a number of teachers and of students as merited for them the name of university. {opp } [illustration] adoration of magi (pulpit, siena, nic. pisano). { } very early in the century vicenza, reggio, and arezzo became university towns. before the first quarter of the century was finished there were universities at padua, at naples, and at vercelli. in spite of the troublous times and the great reduction in the population of rome there was a university founded in connection with the roman curia, that is the papal court, before the middle of the century, and siena and piacenza had founded rival university institutions. perugia had a famous school which became a complete university early in the fourteenth century. nor were other countries much behind italy in this enthusiastic movement. montpelier had, for over a century before the beginning of the thirteenth, rejoiced in a medical school which was the most important rival of that at salernum. at the beginning this reflected largely the moorish element in educational affairs in europe at this time. during the course of the thirteenth century montpelier developed into a full-fledged university though the medical school still continued to be the most important faculty. medical students from all over the world flocked to the salubrious town to which patients from all over were attracted, and its teachers and writers of medicine have been famous in medical history ever since. how thorough was the organization of clinical medical work at montpelier may perhaps best be appreciated from the fact, noted in the chapter on city hospitals--organized charity, that when pope innocent iii. wished to establish a model hospital at rome with the idea that it would form an exemplar for other european cities, he sent down to montpelier and summoned guy, the head of the hospital of the holy ghost in that city, to the papal capital to establish the roman hospital of the holy ghost and, in connection with it, a large number of hospitals all over europe. a corresponding state of affairs to that of montpelier is to be noted at orleans, only here the central school, around which the university gradually grouped itself, was the faculty of civil law. canon law was taught at paris in connection with the theological course, but there had always been objection to the admission of civil law as a faculty on a basis of equality with the other faculties. there was indeed { } at this time some rivalry between the civil and the canon law and so the study of civil law was relegated to other universities. even early in the twelfth century orleans was famous for its school of civil law in which the exposition of the principles of the old roman law constituted the basis of the university course. during the thirteenth century the remaining departments of the university gradually developed, so that by the close of the century, there seem to be conservative claims for over one thousand students. besides these three, french universities were also established at angers, at toulouse, and the beginnings of institutions to become universities early in the next century are recorded at avignon and cahors. spain felt the impetus of the university movement early in the thirteenth century and a university was founded at palencia about the end of the first decade. this was founded by alfonso xii. and was greatly encouraged by him. it is sometimes said that this university was transferred to salamanca about , but this is denied by denifle, whose authority in matters of university history is unquestionable. it seems not unlikely that salamanca drew a number of students from palencia but that the latter continued still to attract many students. about the middle of the thirteenth century the university of valladolid was founded. before the end of the century a fourth university, that of lerida, had been established in the spanish peninsula. spain was to see the greatest development of universities during the fourteenth century. it was not long after the end of the thirteenth century before coimbra, in portugal, began to assume importance as an educational institution, though it was not to have sufficient faculty and students to deserve the more ambitious title of university for half a century. while most people who know anything about the history of education realize the important position occupied by the universities during the thirteenth century and appreciate the estimation in which they were held and the numbers that attended them, very few seem to know anything of the preparatory schools of the time, and are prone to think that all the educational effort of these generations was exhausted in connection { } with the university. it is often said, as we shall see, that one reason for the large number of students reported as in attendance at the universities during the thirteenth century is to be found in the fact that these institutions practically combined the preparatory school and the academy of our time with the university. the universities are supposed to have been the only centers of education worthy of mention. there is no doubt that a number of quite young students were in attendance at the universities, that is, boys from to who would in our time be only in the preparatory school. we shall explain, however, in the chapter on the numbers in attendance at the universities that students went to college much younger in the past and graduated much earlier than they do in our day, yet apparently, without any injury to the efficacy of their educational training. in the universities of southern europe it is still the custom for boys to graduate with the degree of a. b. at the age of to , which supposes attendance at the university, or its equivalent in under-graduate courses, at the age of or even less. there is no need, however, to appeal to the precociousness of the southern nations in explanation of this, since there are some good examples of it in comparatively recent times here in america. most of the colleges in this country, in the early part of the nineteenth century and the end of the eighteenth, graduated young men of and and thought that they were accomplishing a good purpose, in allowing them to get at their life work in early manhood. many of the distinguished divines who made names in educational work are famous for their early graduations. dr. benjamin rush, of philadelphia, whom the medical profession of this country hails as the father of american medicine, graduated at princeton at . he must have begun his college course, therefore, about the age of . this may be considered inadvisable in our generation, but, it must be remembered that there are many even in our day, who think that our college men are allowed to get at their life-work somewhat too late for their own good. it must be emphasized, moreover, that in many of the university towns there were also preparatory schools. courses { } were not regularly organized until well on in the thirteenth century, but younger brothers and friends of students as well as of professors would not infrequently be placed under their care and thus be enabled to receive their preparation for university work. at paris, robert sorbonne founded a preparatory school for that institution under the name of the college of calvi. other colleges of this kind also existed in paris. this custom of having a preparatory school in association with the university has not been abandoned even in our own day, and it has some decided advantages from an educational standpoint, though perhaps these are not enough to balance certain ethical disadvantages almost sure to attach to such a system, disadvantages which ultimately led in the middle ages to the prohibition that young students should be taken at the universities under any pretext. the presence of these young students in university towns probably did add considerably to the numbers reported as in attendance. it must not be thought, however, that there were no formal preparatory schools quite apart from university influence. this thought has been the root of more misunderstanding of the medieval system of education than almost any other. as a matter of fact there were preliminary and preparatory schools, what we would now call academies and colleges, in connection with all of the important monasteries and with every cathedral. schools of less importance were required by a decree of a council held at the beginning of the thirteenth century to be maintained in connection with every bishop's church. during the thirteenth century there were some twenty cathedrals in various parts of england; each one had its cathedral school. besides these there were at least as many important abbeys, nearly a dozen of them immense institutions, in which there were fine libraries, large writing rooms, in which copies of books were being constantly made, many of the members of the communities of which were university men, and around which, therefore, there clung an atmosphere of bookishness and educational influence that made them preparatory schools of a high type. the buildings themselves were of the highest type of architecture; the community life was well calculated to bring out what was best in the { } intellectuality of members of the community, and, then, there was a rivalry between the various religious orders which made them prepare their men well in order that they might do honor to the order when they had the opportunity later, as most of those who had the ability and the taste actually did have, to go to one or other of the universities. this system of preparatory schools need not be accepted on the mere assumption that the monasteries and churches must surely have set about such work, because there is abundant evidence of the actual establishment and maintenance of such schools. with regard to the monasteries there can be no doubt, because it was the members of the religious orders who particularly distinguished themselves at the universities, and the histories of oxford, cambridge, and paris are full of their accomplishments. they succeeded in obtaining the right to have their own houses at the universities and to have their own examinations count in university work, in order that they might maintain their influence over the members of the orders during the precious formative period of their intellectual life. with regard to the church schools there is convincing evidence of another kind. in the chapter on the foundation of city hospitals we have detailed on the authority of virchow all that innocent iii. accomplished for the hospital system of europe. this chapter was published originally in the form of a lecture from the historical department of the medical school of fordham university and a reprint of it was sent to a distinguished american educator well known for his condemnation of supposed church intolerance in the matter of education and scientific development. he said that he was glad to have it because it confirmed and even broadened the idea that he had long cherished, that the church had done more for charity during the despised middle ages than national governments had ever been able to accomplish since, though it was all the more surprising to him that it should not have under the circumstances, done more for education, since this might have prevented some of the ills that charity had afterward to relieve. this expression very probably represents the state of mind of very many scholars with regard to this period. the church is supposed to have interested herself { } in charity almost to the exclusion of educational influence. charity is of course admitted to be her special work, yet these scholars cannot help but regret that more was not done in social prophylaxis by the encouragement of education. in the light of this almost universal expression it is all the more interesting to find that such opinions are founded entirely on a lack of knowledge of what was done in education, since the same pope, in practically the same way and by the exertion of the same prestige and ecclesiastical authority, did for education just what he did for charity in the matter of the hospitals and the ailing poor. virchow, as we shall see, declared that to innocent iii. is due the foundation of practically all the city hospitals in europe. if the effect of certain of the decrees issued in his papacy be carefully followed, it will be found that practically as many schools as hospitals owe their origin to his beneficent wisdom and his paternal desire to spread the advantages of christianity all over the civilized world. this policy with regard to the hospitals led to the foundation before the end of the century of at least one hospital in every diocese of all the countries which were more closely allied with the holy see. there is extant a decree issued by the famous council of lateran, in , a council in which innocent's authority was dominant, requiring the establishment of a chair of grammar in connection with every cathedral in the christian world. this chair of grammar included at least three of the so-called liberal arts and provided for what would now be called, the education of a school preparatory to a university. before this, innocent iii, [footnote ] who had himself received the benefit of the best education of the time, having spent some years at rome and later at paris and at bologna, had encouraged the sending of students to these universities in every way. [footnote : most of the details of what was accomplished for education by pope innocent iii, and all the references needed to supply further information, can be found in the _hestoire litteratire de la france_, recent volumes of which were issued by the french institute, though the magnificent work itself was begun by benedictines of st. maur, who completed some fifteen volumes. the sixteenth volume, most of which is written by dauñou, is especially valuable for this period. du boulay, in his history of the university of paris, will furnish additional information with regard to pope innocent's relations to education throughout europe, especially, of course, in what regards the university of paris.] [illustration] cathedral (york) [illustration] cathedral (lincoln) { } bishops who came to rome were sure to hear inculcated the advisability of a taste for letters in clergymen, hear it said often enough that such a taste would surely increase the usefulness of all churchmen. schools had been encouraged before the issuance of the decree. this only came as a confirmatory document calculated to perpetuate the policy that had already been so prominently in vogue in the church for over fifteen years of the pope's reign. it was meant, too, to make clear to hesitant and tardy bishops, who might have thought that the papal interest in education was merely personal, that the policy of the church was concerned in it and recalled them to a sense of duty in the matter, since the ordinary enthusiasm for letters, even with the added encouragement of the pope, did not suffice to make them realize the necessity for educational establishments. the institution of the schools of grammar in connection with cathedrals was well adapted to bring about a definite increase in the opportunities for book learning for those who desired it. in connection with the cathedrals there was always a band of canons whose duty it was to take part in the singing of the daily office. their ceremonial and ritual duties did not, however, occupy them more than a few hours each day. during the rest of the time they were free to devote themselves to any subject in which they might be interested and had ample time for teaching. the requirement that there should be at least a school of grammar in connection with every cathedral afforded definite opportunity to such of these ecclesiastics as had intellectual tastes to devote themselves to the spread of knowledge and of culture, and this reacted, as can be readily understood, to make the whole band of canons more interested in the things of the mind, and to make the cathedral even more the intellectual center of the district than might otherwise have been the case. for the metropolitan churches a more far-reaching regulation was made by this same council of lateran under the inspiration of the pope himself. these important archiepiscopal cathedrals were required to maintain professors of three chairs. one of these was to teach grammar, a second philosophy, and a third canon law. under these designations there was practically included much of what is now studied not only in preparatory { } schools but also at the beginning of university courses. the regulation was evidently intended to lead eventually to the formation of many more universities than were then in existence, because already it had become clear that the traveling of students to long distances and their gathering in such large numbers in towns away from home influences, led to many abuses that might be obviated if they could stay in their native cities, or at least did not have to leave their native provinces. this was a far-seeing regulation that, like so many other decrees of the century, manifests the very practical policy of the pope in matters of education as well as charity. as a matter of fact this decree did lead to the gradual development of about twenty universities during the thirteenth century, and to the establishment of a number of other schools so important in scope and attendance that their evolution into universities during the fourteenth century became comparatively easy. this formal church law, moreover, imposed upon ecclesiastical authorities the necessity for providing for even higher education in their dioceses and made them realize that it was entirely in sympathy with the church's spirit and in accord with the wish of the father of christendom, that they should make as ample provision for education as they did for charity, though this last was supposed to be their special task as pastors of the christian flock. all this important work for the foundation of preparatory schools in every diocese and of the preliminary organization of teaching institutions that might easily develop into universities, as they actually did in a score of cases in metropolitan cities, was accomplished under the first pope of the thirteenth century, innocent iii. his successors kept up this good work. pope honorius iii., his immediate successor, went so far in this matter as to depose a bishop who had not read donatus, the popular grammarian of the time. the bishop evidently was considered unfit, as far as his mental training went, to occupy the important post of head of a diocese. pope gregory ix., the nephew of innocent iii., was one of the most important patrons of the study of law in this period (see legal origins in other countries), and encouraged the collection of the decrees of former popes so as to make them available for purposes of study as well as for court use. he is famous for { } having protected the university of paris during some of the serious trouble with the municipal authorities, when the large increase of the number of students in attendance at the university had unfortunately brought about strained relations between town and gown. pope innocent iv. by several decrees encouraged the development of the university of paris, increased its rights and conferred new privileges. he also did much to develop the university of toulouse, and especially to raise its standard and make it equal to that of paris as far as possible. the patronage of toulouse on the part of the pope is all the more striking because the study of civil law was here a special feature and the ecclesiastical authorities were often said to have looked askance at the rising prominence of civil law, since it threatened to diminish the importance of canon law; and the cultivation of it, only too frequently, seemed to give rise to friction between civil and ecclesiastical authorities. while the pontifical court of innocent iv. was maintained at lyons it seemed, according to the literary history of france, [footnote ] more like an academy of theology and of canon law than the court of a great monarch whose power was acknowledged throughout the world, or a great ecclesiastic who might be expected to be occupied with details of church government. [footnote : histoire litteratire de la france, vol. xvi, introductory discourse.] succeeding popes of the century were not less prominent in their patronage of education. pope alexander iv. supported the cause of the mendicant friars against the university of paris, but this was evidently with the best of intentions. the mendicants came to claim the privilege of having houses in association with the university in which they might have lectures for the members of their orders, and asked for due allowance in the matter of degrees for courses thus taken. the faculty of the university did not want to grant this privilege, though it was acknowledged that some of the best professors in the university were members of the mendicant orders, and we need only mention such names as albertus magnus and st. thomas aquinas from the dominicans, and st. bonaventure, roger bacon and duns scotus from the franciscans, to show the truth of this assertion. to give such a privilege { } seemed a derogation of the faculty rights and the university refused. then the holy see interfered to insist that the university must give degrees for work done, rather than merely for regulation attendance. the best possible proof that pope alexander cannot be considered as wishing to injure or even diminish the prestige of the university in any way, is to be found in the fact that he afterwards sent two of his nephews to paris to attend at the university. all these popes, so far mentioned, were not frenchmen and therefore could have no national feeling in the matter of the university of paris or of the french universities in general. it is not surprising to find that pope urban iv., who was a frenchman and an alumnus of the university of paris, elevated many french scholars, and especially his fellow alumni of paris, to church dignitaries of various kinds. after urban iv., nicholas iv. who succeeded him, though once more an italian, founded chairs in the university of montpelier, and also a professorship in a school that it was hoped would develop into a university at gray in franche comte. in a word, looked at from every point of view, it must be admitted that the church and ecclesiastical authorities were quite as much interested in education as in charity during this century, and it is to them that must be traced the foundation of the preparatory schools, as well as the universities, and the origin and development of the great educational movement that stamps this century as the greatest in human history. [illustration] jacques coeur's house (bourges) [illustration] cloister of st. john lateran (rome) { } iii what and how they studied at the universities. it is usually the custom for text books of education to dismiss the teaching at the universities of the middle ages with some such expression as: "the teachers were mainly engaged in metaphysical speculations and the students were occupied with exercises in logic and in dialectics, learning in long drawn out disputations how to use the intellectual instruments they possessed but never actually applying them. all knowledge was supposed to be amenable to increase through dialectical discussion and all truth was supposed, to be obtainable as the conclusion of a regular syllogism." great fun especially is made of the long-winded disputations, the time-taking public exercises in dialectics, the fine hair-drawn distinctions presumably with but the scantiest basis of truth behind them and in general the placing of words for realities in the investigation of truth and the conveyance of information. the sublime ignorance of educators who talk thus about the century that saw the rise of the universities in connection with the erection of the great cathedrals, is only equaled by their assumption of knowledge. it is very easy to make fun of a past generation and often rather difficult to enter into and appreciate its spirit. ridicule comes natural to human nature, alas! but sympathy requires serious mental application for understanding's sake. fortunately there has come in recent years a very different feeling in the minds of many mature and faithful students of this period, as regards the middle ages and its education. dialectics may seem to be a waste of time to those who consider the training of the human mind as of little value in comparison with the stocking of it with information. dialectical training will probably not often enable men to earn more money than might have otherwise been the case. this will be { } eminently true if the dialectician is to devote himself to commercial enterprises in his future life. if he is to take up one of the professions, however, there may be some doubt as to whether even his practical effectiveness will not be increased by a good course of logic. there is, however, another point of view from which this matter of the study of dialectics may be viewed, and which has been taken very well by prof. saintsbury of the university of edinburgh in a recent volume on the thirteenth century. he insists in a passage which we quote at length in the chapter on the prose of the century, that if this training in logic had not been obtained at this time in european development, the results might have been serious for our modern languages and modern education. he says: "if at the outset of the career of the modern languages, men had thought with the looseness of modern thought, had indulged in the haphazard slovenliness of modern logic, had popularized theology and vulgarized rhetoric, as we have seen both popularized and vulgarized since, we should indeed have been in evil case." he maintains that "the far-reaching educative influence in mere language, in mere system of arrangement and expression, must be considered as one of the great benefits of scholasticism." this is, after all, only a similar opinion to that evidently entertained by mr. john stuart mill, who, as prof. saintsbury says, was not often a scholastically-minded philosopher, for he quotes in the preface of his logic two very striking opinions from very different sources, the scotch philosopher, hamilton, and the french philosophical writer, condorcet. hamilton said, "it is to the schoolmen that the vulgar languages are indebted for what precision and analytical subtlety they possess." condorcet went even further than this, and used expressions that doubless will be a great source of surprise to those who do not realize how much of admiration is always engendered in those who really study the schoolmen seriously and do not take opinions of them from the chance reading of a few scattered passages, or depend for the data of their judgment on some second-hand authority, who thought it clever to abuse these old-time thinkers. condorcet thought them far in advance of the old greek philosophers for, he said, "logic, ethics, and metaphysics { } itself, owe to scholasticism a precision unknown to the ancients themselves." with regard to the methods and contents of the teaching in the undergraduate department of the university, that is, in what we would now call the arts department, there is naturally no little interest at the present time. besides the standards set up and the tests required can scarcely fail to attract attention. professor turner, in his history of philosophy, has summed up much of what we know in this matter in a paragraph so full of information that we quote it in order to give our readers the best possible idea in a compendious form of these details of the old-time education. "by statutes issued at various times during the thirteenth century it was provided that the professor should read, that is expound, the text of certain standard authors in philosophy and theology. in a document published by denifle, (the distinguished authority on medieval universities) and by him referred to the year , we find the following works among those prescribed for the faculty of arts: logica vetus (the old boethian text of a portion of the organon, probably accompanied by porphyry's isagoge); logica nova (the new translation of the organon); gilbert's liber sex principorium; and donatus's barbarismus. a few years later ( ), the following works are prescribed: aristotle's physics, metaphysics, de anima, de animalibus, de caelo et mundo, meteorica, the minor psychological treatises and some arabian or jewish works, such as the liber de causis and de differentia spirititus et animae." "the first degree for which the student of arts presented himself was that of bachelor. the candidate for this degree, after a preliminary test called responsiones (this regulation went into effect not later than ), presented himself for the determination which was a public defense of a certain number of theses against opponents chosen from the audience. at the end of the disputation, the defender summed up, or determined, his conclusions. after determining, the bachelor resumed his studies for the licentiate, assuming also the task of cursorily explaining to junior students some portion of the organon. the test for the degree of licentiate consisted { } in a _collatio_, or exposition of several texts, after the manner of the masters. the student was now a licensed teacher; he did not, however, become magister, or master of arts, until he had delivered what was called the _inceptio_, or inaugural lecture, and was actually installed (_birrettatio_). if he continued to teach he was called _magisier actu regens_; if he departed from the university or took up other work, he was called _magister non regens_. it may be said that, as a general rule, the course of reading was: ( ) for the bachelor's degree, grammar, logic, and psychology; ( ) for the licentiate, natural philosophy; ( ) for the master's degree, ethics, and the completion of the course of natural philosophy." quite apart from the value of its methods, however, scholasticism in certain of its features had a value in the material which it discussed and developed that modern generations only too frequently fail to realize. with regard to this the same distinguished authority whom we quoted with regard to dialectics, prof. saintsbury, does not hesitate to use expressions which will seem little short of rankly heretical to those who swear by modern science, and yet may serve to inject some eminently suggestive ideas into a sadly misunderstood subject. "yet there has always in generous souls who have some tincture of philosophy, subsisted a curious kind of sympathy and yearning over the work of these generations of mainly disinterested scholars, who, whatever they were, were thorough, and whatever they could not do, could think. _and there, have even, in these latter days, been some graceless ones who have asked whether the science of the nineteenth century, after an equal interval, will be of any more positive value--whether it will not have even less comparative interest than that which appertains to the scholasticism of the thirteenth."_ in the light of this it has seemed well to try to show in terms of present-day science some of the important reflections with regard to such problems of natural history, as magnetism, the composition of matter, and the relation of things physical to one another, which we now include under the name science, some of the thoughts that these scholars of the thirteenth century were thinking and were developing for the benefit of the { } enthusiastic students who flocked to the universities. we will find in such a review though it must necessarily be brief many more anticipations of modern science than would be thought possible. to take the example for the moment of magnetism which is usually considered to be a subject entirely of modern attention, a good idea of the intense interest of this century in things scientific, can be obtained from the following short paragraph in which brother potamian in his sketch of petrus peregrinus, condenses the references to magnetic phenomena that are found in the literature of the time. most of the writers he mentions were not scientists in the ordinary sense of the word but were literary men, and the fact that these references occur shows very clearly that there must have been wide-spread interest in such scientific phenomena, since they had attracted the attention of literary writers, who would not have spoken of them doubtless, but that they knew that in this they would be satisfying as well as exciting public interest. "abbot neckam, the augustinian ( - ), distinguished between the properties of the two ends of the lodestone, and gives in his de utensilibus, what is perhaps the earliest reference to the mariner's compass that we have. albertus magnus, the dominican ( - ), in his treatise de mineralibus, enumerates different kinds of natural magnets and states some of the properties commonly attributed to them; the minstrel, guyot de provins, in a famous satirical poem, written about , refers to the directive quality of the lodestone and its use in navigation, as do also cardinal de vitry in his historia orientialis ( - ), brunetto latini, poet, orator and philosopher (the teacher of dante), in his tresor des sciences, a veritable library, written in paris in ; raymond lully, the enlightened doctor, in his treatise, de contemplatione, begun in , and guido guinicelli, the poet-priest of bologna, who died in ." [footnote ] [footnote : the letter of petrus peregrinus on the magnet, a. d. , translated by bro. arnold, m. sc., with an introductory note by bro. potamian, n. y., .] { } the metaphysics of the medieval universities have come in for quite as much animadversion, not to say ridicule, as the dialectics. none of its departments is spared in the condemnation, though most fun is made of the gropings of the medieval mind after truth in the physical sciences. the cosmology, the science of matter as it appealed to the medieval mind, is usually considered to have been so entirely speculative as to deserve no further attention. we have presumably, learned so much by experimental demonstration and original observation in the physical sciences, that any thinking of the medieval mind along these lines may, in the opinion of those who know nothing of what they speak, be set aside as preposterous, or at best nugatory. it will surely be a source of surprise, then, to find that in the consideration of the composition of matter and of the problem of the forces connected with it, the minds of the medieval schoolmen were occupied with just the same questions that have been most interesting to the nineteenth century and that curiously enough the conclusions they reached, though by very different methods of investigation, were almost exactly the same as those to which modern physical scientists have attained by their refined methods of investigation. one or two examples will suffice, i think, to show very clearly that the students of the thirteenth century had presented to them practically the same problems with regard to matter, its origin and composition, as occupy the students of the present generation. for instance thomas aquinas usually known as st. thomas, in a series of lectures given at the university of paris toward the end of the third quarter of the thirteenth century, stated as the most important conclusion with regard to matter, that _"nihil omnino in nihilum redigetur_,"' "nothing at all will ever be reduced to nothingness." by this it was very evident from the context that he meant that matter would never be annihilated and could never be destroyed. it might be changed in various ways but it could never go back into the nothingness from which it had been taken by the creative act. annihilation was pronounced as not being a part of the scheme of things as far as the human mind could hope to fathom its meaning. in this sentence, then, thomas of aquin was proclaiming the { } doctrine of the indestructibility of matter. it was not until well on in the nineteenth century that the chemists and physicists of modern times realized the truth of this great principle. the chemists had seen matter change its form in many ways, had seen it disappear apparently in the smoke of fire or evaporate under the influence of heat, but investigation proved that if care were taken in the collection of the gases that came off under these circumstances, of the ashes of combustion and of the residue of evaporation, all the original material that had been contained in the supposedly disappearing substance could be recovered or at least completely accounted for. the physicists on their part had realized this same truth and finally there came the definite enunciation of the absolute indestructibility of matter. st. thomas' conclusion "nothing at all will ever be reduced to nothingness" had anticipated this doctrine by nearly seven centuries. what happened in the nineteenth century was that there came an experimental demonstration of the truth of the principle. the principle itself, however, had been reached long before by the human mind by speculative processes quite as inerrable in their way as the more modern method of investigation. when st. thomas used the aphorism "nothing at all will ever be reduced to nothingness" there was another signification that he attached to the words quite as clearly as that by which they expressed the indestructibility of matter. for him _nihil_ or nothing meant neither _matter_ nor _form_, that is, neither the material substance nor the energy which is contained in it. he meant then, that no energy would ever be destroyed as well as no matter would ever be annihilated. he was teaching the conservation of energy as well as the indestructibility of matter. here once more the experimental demonstration of the doctrine was delayed for over six centuries and a half. the truth itself, however, had been reached by this medieval master-mind and was the subject of his teaching to the university students in paris in the thirteenth century. these examples should, i think, serve to illustrate that the minds of medieval students were occupied with practically the same questions as those which are now taught to the university students of our day. there are, however, some even { } more striking anticipations of modern teaching that will serve to demonstrate this community of educational interests in spite of seven centuries of time separation. in recent years we have come to realize that matter is not the manifold material we were accustomed to think it when we accepted the hypothesis that there were some seventy odd different kinds of atoms, each one absolutely independent of any other and representing an ultimate term in science. the atomic theory from this standpoint has proved to be only a working hypothesis that was useful for a time, but that our physicists are now agreed must not be considered as something absolute. radium has been observed changing into helium and the relations of atoms to one another as they are now known, make it almost certain that all of them have an underlying sub-stratum the same in all, but differentiated by the dynamic energies with which matter in its different forms is gifted. sir oliver lodge has stated this theory of the constitution of matter very clearly in recent years, and in doing so has only been voicing the practically universal sentiment of those who have been following the latest developments in the physical sciences. strange as it may appear, this was exactly the teaching of aquinas and the schoolmen with regard to the constitution of matter. they said that the two constituting principles of matter were prime matter and form. by prime matter they meant the material sub-stratum the same in all material things. by form they meant the special dynamic energy which, entering into prime matter, causes it to act differently from other kinds and gives it all the particular qualities by which we recognize it. this theory was not original with them, having been adopted from aristotle, but it was very clearly set forth, profoundly discussed, and amply illustrated by the schoolmen. in its development this theory was made to be of the greatest help in the explanation of many other difficulties with regard to living as well as non-living things in their hands. the theory has its difficulties, but they are less than those of any other theory of the constitution of matter, and it has been accepted by more philosophic thinkers since the thirteenth century than any other doctrine of similar nature. it may be said that it was reached only by deduction and not by experimental observation. such an expression, { } however, instead of being really an objection is rather a demonstration of the fact that great truths may be reached by deduction yet only demonstrated by inductive methods many centuries later. of course it may well be said even after all these communities of interest between the medieval and the modern teaching of the general principles of science has been pointed out, that the universities of the middle ages did not present the subjects under discussion in a practical way, and their teaching was not likely to lead to directly beneficial results in applied science. it might well he responded to this, that it is not the function of a university to teach applications of science but only the great principles, the broad generalizations that underlie scientific thinking, leaving details to be filled in in whatever form of practical work the man may take up. very few of those, however, who talk about the purely speculative character of medieval teaching have manifestly ever made it their business to know anything about the actual facts of old-time university teaching by definite knowledge, but have rather allowed themselves to be guided by speculation and by inadequate second-hand authorities, whose dicta they have never taken the trouble to substantiate by a glance at contemporary authorities on medieval matters. it will be interesting to quote for the information of such men, the opinion of the greatest of medieval scientists with regard to the reason why men do not obtain real knowledge more rapidly than would seem ought to be the case, from the amount of work which they have devoted to obtaining it. roger bacon, summing up for pope clement the body of doctrine that he was teaching at the university of oxford in the thirteenth century, starts out with the principle that there are four grounds of human ignorance. "these are first, trust in inadequate authority; second, the force of custom which leads men to accept too unquestioningly what has been accepted before their time; third, the placing of confidence in the opinion of the inexperienced; and fourth, the hiding of one's own ignorance with the parade of a superficial wisdom." surely no one will ever be able to improve on these four grounds for human ignorance, and they continue to be as { } important in the twentieth century as they were in the thirteenth. they could only have emanated from an eminently practical mind, accustomed to test by observation and by careful searching of authorities, every proposition that came to him. professor henry morley, professor of english literature at university college, london, says of these grounds for ignorance of roger bacon, in his english writers, volume iii, page : "no part of that ground has yet been cut away from beneath the feet of students, although six centuries ago the oxford friar clearly pointed out its character. we still make sheep walks of second, third, and fourth and fiftieth-hand references to authority; still we are the slaves of habit; still we are found following too frequently the untaught crowd; still we flinch from the righteous and wholesome phrase, 'i do not know'; and acquiesce actively in the opinion of others that we know what we appear to know. substitute honest research, original and independent thought, strict truth in the comparison of only what we really know with what is really known by others, and the strong redoubt of ignorance has fallen." the number of things which roger bacon succeeded in discovering by the application of the principle of testing everything by personal observation, is almost incredible to a modern student of science and of education who has known nothing before of the progress in science made by this wonderful man. he has been sometimes declared to be the discoverer of gunpowder, but this is a mistake since it was known many years before by the arabs and by them introduced into europe. he did study explosives very deeply, however, and besides learning many things about them realized how much might be accomplished by their use in the after-time. he declares in his opus magnum: "that one may cause to burst forth from bronze, thunderbolts more formidable than those produced by nature. a small quantity of prepared matter occasions a terrible explosion accompanied by a brilliant light. one may multiply this phenomenon so far as to destroy a city or an army." considering how little was known about gunpowder at this time, this was of itself a marvelous anticipation of what might be accomplished by it. [illustration] rathhaus (tangermÃ�nde) bacon prophesied, however, much more than merely { } destructive effects from the use of high explosives, and indeed it is almost amusing to see how closely he anticipated some of the most modern usages of high explosives for motor purposes. he seems to have concluded that some time the apparently uncontrollable forces of explosion would come under the control of man and be harnessed by him for his own purposes. he realized that one of the great applications of such a force would be for transportation. accordingly he said: "art can construct instruments of navigation such that the largest vessels governed by a single man will traverse rivers and seas more rapidly than if they were filled with oarsmen. one may also make carriages which without the aid of any animal will run with remarkable swiftness." [footnote ] when we recall that the very latest thing in transportation are motor-boats and automobiles driven by gasoline, a high explosive, roger bacon's prophesy becomes one of these weird anticipations of human progress which seem almost more than human. [footnote : these quotations are taken from ozanam's dante and catholic philosophy, published by the cathedral library association, new york, . ] it was not with regard to explosives alone, however, that roger bacon was to make great advances and still more marvelous anticipations in physical science. he was not, as is sometimes claimed for him, either the inventor of the telescope or of the theory of lenses. he did more, however, than perhaps anyone else to make the principles of lenses clear and to establish them on a mathematical basis. his traditional connection with the telescope can probably be traced to the fact that he was very much interested in astronomy and the relations of the heavens to the earth. he pointed out very clearly the errors which had crept into the julian calendar, calculated exactly how much of a correction was needed in order to restore the year to its proper place, and suggested the method by which future errors of this kind could be avoided. his ideas were too far beyond his century to be applied in a practical way, but they were not to be without their effect and it is said that they formed the basis of the subsequent correction of the calendar in the time of pope gregory xiii three centuries later. { } it is rather surprising to find how much besides the theory of lenses friar bacon had succeeded in finding out in the department of optics. he taught, for instance, the principle of the aberration of light, and, still more marvelous to consider, taught that light did not travel instantaneously but had a definite rate of motion, though this was extremely rapid. it is rather difficult to understand how he reached this conclusion since light travels so fast that as far as regards any observation that can be made upon earth, the diffusion is practically instantaneous. it was not for over three centuries later that römer, the german astronomer, demonstrated the motion of light and its rate, by his observations upon the moons of jupiter at different phases of the earth's orbit, which showed that the light of these moons took a definite and quite appreciable time to reach the earth after their eclipse by the planet was over. we are not surprised to find that bacon should praise those of his contemporaries who devoted themselves to mathematics and to experimental observations in science. of one of his correspondents who even from distant italy sent him his observations in order that he might have the great franciscan's precious comments on them. bacon has given quite a panegyric. the reasons for his praise, however, are so different from those which are ordinarily proclaimed to have been the sources of laudation in distant medieval scientific circles, that we prefer to quote bacon's own words from the opus tertium. bacon is talking of petrus peregrinus and says: "i know of only one person who deserves praise for his work in experimental philosophy, for he does not care for the discourses of men and their wordy warfare, but quietly and diligently pursues the works of wisdom. therefore, what others grope after blindly, as bats in the evening twilight, this man contemplates in all their brilliancy because he is a master of experiment. hence, he knows all natural science whether pertaining to medicine and alchemy, or to matters celestial and terrestrial. "he has worked diligently in the smelting of ores as also in the working of minerals; he is thoroughly acquainted with all sorts of arms and implements used in military service and in hunting, besides which he is skilled in agriculture and in the measurement of lands. { } it is impossible to write a useful or correct treatise in experimental philosophy without mentioning this man's name. moreover, he pursues knowledge for its own sake; for if he wished to obtain royal favor, he could easily find sovereigns who would honor and enrich him." [illustration] cathedral (york) [illustration] cathedral (hereford) lest it should be thought that these expressions of laudatory appreciation of the great thirteenth century scientist are dictated more by the desire to magnify his work and to bring out the influence in science of the churchmen of the period, it seems well to quote an expression of opinion from the modern historian of the inductive sciences, whose praise is scarcely if any less outspoken than that of others whom we have quoted and who might be supposed to be somewhat partial in their judgment. this opinion will fortify the doubters who must have authority and at the same time sums up very excellently the position which roger bacon occupies in the history of science. dr. whewell says that roger bacon's opus majus is "the encyclopedia and novam organon of the thirteenth century, a work equally wonderful with regard to its general scheme and to the special treatises with which the outlines of the plans are filled up. the professed object of the work is to urge the necessity of a reform in the mode of philosophizing, to set forth the reasons why knowledge had not made a greater progress, to draw back attention to the sources of knowledge which had been unwisely neglected, to discover other sources which were yet almost untouched, and to animate men in the undertaking by a prospect of the vast advantages which it offered. in the development of this plan all the leading portions of science are expanded in the most complete shape which they had at that time assumed; and improvements of a very wide and striking kind are proposed in some of the principal branches of study. even if the work had no leading purposes it would have been highly valuable as a treasure of the most solid knowledge and soundest speculations of the time; even if it had contained no such details it would have been a work most remarkable for its general views and scope." it is only what might have been expected, however, from { } roger bacon's training that he should have made great progress in the physical sciences. at the university of paris his favorite teacher was albertus magnus, who was himself deeply interested in all the physical sciences, though he was more concerned with the study of chemical problems than of the practical questions which were to occupy his greatest pupil. there is no doubt at all that albertus magnus accomplished a great amount of experimental work in chemistry and had made a large series of actual observations. he was a theologian as well as a philosopher and a scientist. some idea of the immense industry of the man can be obtained from the fact that his complete works as published consist of some twenty large folio volumes, each one of which contains on the average at least , words. among these works are many treatises relating to chemistry. the titles of some of them will serve to show how explicit was albert in his consideration of various chemical subjects. he has treatises concerning metals and minerals; concerning alchemy; a treatise on the secret of chemistry; a concordance, that is a collection of observations from many sources with regard to the philosopher's stone; a brief compend on the origin of the metals; a treatise on compounds; most of these are to be found in his works under the general heading "theatrum chemicum." it is not surprising for those who know of albert's work, to find that his pupil roger bacon defined the limits of chemistry very accurately and showed that he understood exactly what the subject and methods of investigation must be, in order that advance should be made in it. of chemistry he speaks in his "opus tertium" in the following words: "there is a science which treats of the generation of things from their elements and of all inanimate things, as of the elements and liquids, simple and compound, common stones, gems and marble, gold and other metals, sulphur, salts, pigments, lapis lazuli, minium and other colors, oils, bitumen, and infinite more of which we find nothing in the books of aristotle; nor are the natural philosophers nor any of the latins acquainted with these things." in physics albertus magnus was, if possible, more advanced { } and progressive even than in chemistry. his knowledge in the physical sciences was not merely speculative, but partook to a great degree of the nature of what we now call applied science. humboldt, the distinguished german natural philosopher of the beginning of the nineteenth century, who was undoubtedly the most important leader in scientific thought in his time and whose own work was great enough to have an enduring influence in spite of the immense progress of the nineteenth century, has summed up albert's work and given the headings under which his scientific research must be considered. he says: "albertus magnus was equally active and influential in promoting the study of natural science and of the aristotelian philosophy. his works contain some exceedingly acute remarks on the organic structure and physiology of plants. one of his works bearing the title of 'liber cosmographicus de natura locorum,' is a species of physical geography. i have found in it considerations on the dependence of temperature concurrently on latitude and elevation, and on the effect of different angles of incidence of the sun's rays in heating the ground, _which have excited my surprise_." to take up some of humboldt's headings in their order and illustrate them by quotations from albert himself and from condensed accounts as they appear in his biographer sighart and in christian schools and scholars [footnote ], will serve to show at once the extent of albert's knowledge and the presumptuous ignorance of those who make little of the science of the medieval period. when we have catalogued, for instance, the many facts with regard to astronomy and the physics of light that are supposed to have come to human ken much later, yet may be seen to have been clearly within the range of albert's knowledge, and evidently formed the subject of his teaching at various times at both paris and cologne, for they are found in his authentic works, we can scarcely help but be amused at the pretentious misconception that has relegated their author to a place in education so trivial as is that which is represented in many minds by the term scholastic. [footnote : christian schools and scholars. drane.] "he decides that the milky way is nothing but a vast { } assemblage of stars, but supposes naturally enough that they occupy the orbit which receives the light of the sun. the figures visible on the moon's disc are not, he says, as hitherto has been supposed, reflections of the seas and mountains of the earth, but configurations of her own surface. he notices, in order to correct it, the assertion of aristotle that lunar rainbows appear only twice in fifty years; 'i myself,' he says have observed two in a single year.' he has something to say on the refraction of a solar ray, notices certain crystals which have a power of refraction, and remarks that none of the ancients and few moderns were acquainted with the properties of mirrors." albert's great pupil roger bacon is rightly looked upon as the true father of inductive science, an honor that history has unfortunately taken from him to confer it undeservedly on his namesake of four centuries later, but the teaching out of which roger bacon was to develop the principles of experimental science can be found in many places in his master's writings. in albert's tenth book, wherein he catalogues and describes all the trees, plants, and herbs known in his time, he observes: "all that is here set down is the result of our own experience, or has been borrowed from authors whom we know to have written what their personal experience has confirmed: for in these matters experience alone can give certainty" (_experimentum solum certificat in talibus_). "such an expression," says his biographer, "which might have proceeded from the pen of (francis) bacon, argues in itself a prodigious scientific progress, and shows that the medieval friar was on the track so successfully pursued by modern natural philosophy. he had fairly shaken off the shackles which had hitherto tied up discovery, and was the slave neither of pliny nor of aristotle." botany is supposed to be a very modern science and to most people humboldt's expression that he found in albertus magnus's writings some "exceedingly acute remarks on the organic structure and physiology of plants" will come as a supreme surprise. a few details with regard to albert's botanical knowledge, however, will serve to heighten that surprise and to show, that the foolish tirades of modern sciolists, { } who have often expressed their wonder that with all the beauties of nature around them, these scholars of the middle ages did not devote themselves to nature study, are absurd, because if the critics but knew it there was profound interest in nature and all her manifestations and a series of discoveries that anticipated not a little of what we consider most important in our modern science. the story of albert's botanical knowledge has been told in a single very full paragraph by his biographer. sighart also quotes an appreciative opinion from a modern german botanist which will serve to dispel any doubts with regard to albert's position in botany that modern students might perhaps continue to harbor, unless they had good authority to support their opinion, though of course it will be remembered that the main difference between the medieval and the modern mind is only too often said to be, that the medieval required an authority while the modern makes its opinion for itself. even the most skeptical of modern minds however, will probably be satisfied by the following paragraph. "he was acquainted with the sleep of plants, with the periodical opening and closing of blossoms, with the diminution of sap through evaporation from the cuticle of the leaves, and with the influence of the distribution of the bundles of vessels on the folial indentations. his minute observations on the forms and variety of plants intimate an exquisite sense of floral beauty. he distinguished the star from the bell-floral, tells us that a red rose will turn white when submitted to the vapor of sulphur and makes some very sagacious observations on the subject of germination. . . . the extraordinary erudition and originality of this treatise (his tenth book) has drawn from m. meyer the following comment: 'no botanist who lived before albert can be compared to him, unless theophrastus, with whom he was not acquainted; and after him none has painted nature in such living colors or studied it so profoundly until the time of conrad gesner and cesalpino.' all honor, then, to the man who made such astonishing progress in the science of nature as to find no one, i will not say to surpass, but even to equal him for the space of three centuries." { } we point out in the chapter on geography and exploration how much this wonderful thirteenth century added to the knowledge of geographical science. even before the great explorers of this time, however, had accomplished their work, this particular branch of science had made such great progress as would bring it quite within the domain of what we call the science of geography at the present time. when we remember how much has been said about the ignorance of the men of the later middle ages as regards the shape of the earth and its inhabitants, and how many foolish notions they are supposed to have accepted with regard to the limitation of possible residents of the world and the queer ideas as to the antipodes, the following passages taken from albert's biographer will serve better than anything else to show how absurdly the traditional notions with regard to this time and its knowledge, have been permitted by educators to tinge what are supposed to be serious opinions with regard to the subject matters of education in that early university period: "he treats as fabulous the commonly-received idea, in which bede had acquiesced, that the region of the earth south of the equator was uninhabitable, and considers, that from the equator to the south pole, the earth was not only habitable, but in all probability actually inhabited, except directly at the poles, where he imagines the cold to be excessive. if there be any animals there, he says, they must have very thick skins to defend them from the rigor of the climate, and they are probably of a white color. the intensity of cold, is however, tempered by the action of the sea. he describes the antipodes and the countries they comprise, and divides the climate of the earth into seven zones. he smiles with a scholar's freedom at the simplicity of those who suppose that persons living at the opposite region of the earth must fall off, an opinion that can only rise out of the grossest ignorance, 'for when we speak of the lower hemisphere, this must be understood merely as relatively to ourselves.' it is as a geographer that albert's superiority to the writers of his own time chiefly appears. bearing in mind the astonishing ignorance which then prevailed on this subject, it is truly admirable to find him correctly tracing the chief mountain chains of europe, with the rivers which take { } their source in each; remarking on portions of coast which have in later times been submerged by the ocean, and islands which have been raised by volcanic action above the level of the sea; noticing the modification of climate caused by mountains, seas and forests, and the division of the human race whose differences he ascribes to the effect upon them of the countries they inhabit! in speaking of the british isles he alludes to the commonly-received idea that another distant island called tile or thule, existed far in the western ocean, uninhabitable by reason of its frightful climate, but which, he says, has perhaps not yet been visited by man." nothing will so seriously disturb the complacency of modern minds as to the wonderful advances that have been made in the last century in all branches of physical science as to read albertus magnus' writings. nothing can be more wholesomely chastening of present day conceit than to get a proper appreciation of the extent of the knowledge of the schoolmen. albertus magnus' other great pupil besides roger bacon was st. thomas aquinas. if any suspicion were still left that thomas did not appreciate just what the significance of his teachings in physics was, when he announced that neither matter nor force could ever be reduced to nothingness, it would surely be removed by the consideration that he had been for many years in intimate relations with albert and that he had probably also been close to roger bacon. after association with such men as these, any knowledge he displays with regard to physical science can scarcely be presumed to have been stumbled upon unawares. st. thomas himself has left three treatises on chemical subjects and it is said that the first occurrence of the word amalgam can be traced to one of these treatises. everybody was as much interested then, as we are at the present time, in the transformation of metals and mercury with its silvery sheen, its facility to enter into metallic combinations of all kinds, and its elusive ways, naturally made it the center of scientific interest quite as radium is at the present moment. further material with regard to st. thomas and also to the subject of education will be found in the chapter, aquinas the scholar. after this brief review of only a few of the things that they taught in science at the thirteenth century universities, most { } people will scarcely fail to wonder how such peculiar erroneous impressions with regard to the uselessness of university teaching and training have come to be so generally accepted. the fault lies, of course, with those who thought they knew something about university teaching, and who, because they found a few things that now look ridiculous, as certain supposed facts of one generation always will to succeeding generations who know more about them, thought they could conclude from these as to the character of the whole content of medieval education. it is only another example of what artemus ward pointed out so effectively when he said that "there is nothing that makes men so ridiculous as the knowing so many things that aint so." we have been accepting without question ever so many things that simply are not so with regard to these wonderful generations, who not only organized the universities but organized the teaching in them on lines not very different from those which occupy people seven centuries later. what would be the most amusing feature, if it were not unfortunately so serious an arraignment of the literature that has grown up around these peculiar baseless notions with regard to scholastic philosophy, is the number of men of science who have permitted themselves to make fun of certain supposed lucubrations of the great medieval philosophers. it is not so very long ago that, as pointed out by harper in the metaphysics of the school, professor tate in a lecture on some recent advances in physical science repeated the old slander that even aquinas occupied the attention of his students with such inane questions as: "how many angels could dance on the point of a needle?" modern science very proudly insists that it occupies itself with observations and concerns itself little with authority. prof. tate in this unhappy quotation, shows not only that he has made no personal studies in medieval philosophy but that he has accepted a very inadequate authority for the statements which he makes with as much confidence as if they had been the result of prolonged research in this field. many other modern scientists (?) have fallen into like blunders. (for huxley's opinion see appendix.) the modern student, as well as the teacher, is prone to wonder what were the methods of study and the habits of life { } of the students of the thirteenth century, and fortunately we have a short sketch, written by robert of sorbonne, the famous founder of the sorbonne, in which he gives advice to attendants at that institution as to how they should spend their time, so that at least we are able to get a hint of the ideals that were set before the student. robert, whose long experience of university life made him thoroughly competent to advise, said: "the student who wishes to make progress ought to observe six essential rules. "first: he ought to consecrate a certain hour every day to the study of a determined subject, as st. bernard counselled his monks in his letter to the brothers of the mont dieu. "second: he ought to concentrate his attention upon what he reads and ought not to let it pass lightly. there is between reading and study, as st. bernard says, the same difference as between a host and a guest, between a passing salutation exchanged in the street and an embrace prompted by an unalterable affection. "third: he ought to extract from the daily study one thought, some truth or other, and engrave it deeply upon his memory with special care. seneca said _'cum multa percurreris in die, unum tibi elige quod illa die excoquas'_--when you have run over many things in a day select one for yourself which you should digest well on that day. "fourth: write a resume of it, for words which are not confided to writing fly as does the dust before the wind. "fifth: talk the matter over with your fellow-students, either in the regular recitation or in your familiar conversation. this exercise is even more profitable than study for it has as its result the clarifying of all doubts and the removing of all the obscurity that study may have left. nothing is perfectly known unless it has been tried by the tooth of disputation. "sixth: pray, for this is indeed one of the best ways of learning. st. bernard teaches that study ought to touch the heart and that one should profit by it always by elevating the heart to god, _without, however, interrupting the study_." sorbonne proceeds in a tone that vividly recalls the modern university professor who has seen generation after generation { } of students and has learned to realize how many of them waste their time. "certain students act like fools; they display great subtility over nonsensical subjects and exhibit themselves devoid of intelligence with regard to their most important studies. so as not to seem to have lost their time they gather together many sheets of parchment, make thick volumes of note books out of them, with many a blank interval, and cover them with elegant binding in red letters. then they return to the paternal domicile with their little sack filled up with knowledge which can be stolen from them by any thief that comes along, or may be eaten by rats or by worms or destroyed by fire or water. "in order to acquire instruction the student must abstain from pleasure and not allow himself to be hampered by material cares. there was at paris not long since two teachers who were great friends. one of them had seen much, had read much and used to remain night and day bent over his books. he scarcely took the time to say an 'our father.' nevertheless he had but four students. his colleague possessed a much less complete library, was less devoted to study and heard mass every morning before delivering his lecture. in spite of this, his classroom was full. 'how do you do it?' asked his friend. 'it is very simple,' said his friend smiling. 'god studies for me. i go to mass and when i come back i know by heart all that i have to teach.'" "meditation," so sorbonne continues, "is suitable not only for the master, but the good student ought also to go and take his promenade along the banks of the seine, not to play there, but in order to repeat his lesson and meditate upon it." these instructions for students are not very different from those that would be issued by an interested head of a university department to the freshmen of the present day. his insistence, especially on the difference between reading and study, might very well be taken to heart at the present time, when there seems to be some idea that reading of itself is sufficient to enable one to obtain an education. the lesson of learning one thing a day and learning that well, might have been selected as a motto for students for all succeeding generations with manifest advantage to the success of college study. { } in other things sorbonne departs further from our modern ideas in the matter of education, but still there are many even at the present time who will read with profound sympathy his emphatic advice to the university students that they must educate their hearts as well as their intellects, and make their education subserve the purpose of bringing them closer to god. a word about certain customs that prevailed more or less generally in the universities at this time, and that after having been much misunderstood will now be looked at more sympathetically in the light of recent educational developments will not be out of place here. one of the advantages of modern german university education has often been acclaimed to be the fact that students are tempted to make portions of their studies in various cities, since all the courses are equalized in certain ways, so that the time spent at any one of them will be counted properly for their degrees. it has long been recognized that travel makes the best possible complement to a university course, and even when the english universities in the eighteenth century sank to be little more than pleasant abiding places where young men of the upper classes "ate their terms," the fact that it was the custom "to make the grand tour" of continental travel, supplied for much that was lacking in the serious side of their education. little as this might be anticipated as a feature of the ruder times of the thirteenth century, when travel was so difficult, it must be counted as one of the great advantages for the inquiring spirits of the time. dante, besides attending the universities in italy, and he certainly was at several of them, was also at paris at one time and probably also at oxford. professor monroe in his text book in the history of education has stated this custom very distinctly. "with the founding of the universities and the establishment of the nations in practically every university, it became quite customary for students to travel from university to university, finding in each a home in their appropriate nation. many, however, willing to accept the privileges of the clergy and the students without undertaking their obligations, adopted this wandering life as a permanent one. being a privileged order, they readily found a living, or made it by begging. a monk of { } the early university period writes: 'the scholars are accustomed to wander throughout the whole world and visit all the cities, and their many studies bring them understanding. for in paris they seek a knowledge of the liberal arts; of the ancient writers at orleans; of medicine at salernum; of the black art at toledo; and in no place decent manners.'" with regard to the old monk's criticism it must be remembered that old age is always rather depreciative in criticism of the present and over-appreciative of what happened in the past _se pueris_. abuses always seem to be creeping in that are going to ruin the force of education, yet somehow the next generation succeeds in obtaining its intellectual development in rather good shape. besides as we must always remember in educational questions, evils are ever exaggerated and the memory of them is prone to live longer and to loom up larger than that of the good with which they were associated and to which indeed, as anyone of reasonable experience in educational circles knows, they may constitute by comparison only a very small amount. undoubtedly the wanderings of students brought with it many abuses, and if we were to listen to some of the stories of foreign student life in paris in our own time, we might think that much of evil and nothing of good was accomplished by such wandering, but inasmuch as we do so we invite serious error of judgment. another striking feature of university life which constituted a distinct anticipation of something very modern in our educational system, was the lending of professors of different nationalities among the universities. it is only at the beginning of the twentieth century that we have reestablished this custom. in the thirteenth century, however, albertus magnus taught for a time at cologne and then later at paris and apparently also at rome. st. thomas of aquin, after having taught for a time at paris, lectured in various italian universities and then finally at the university of rome to which he was tempted by the popes. duns scotus, besides teaching in oxford, taught also at paris. alexander of hales before him seems to have done the same thing. roger bacon, after studying at the university of paris, seems to have commenced teaching there, though most of his professional work was { } accomplished at the university of oxford. raymond lully probably had professional experiences at several spanish universities besides at paris. in a word, if a man were a distinguished genius he was almost sure to be given the opportunity to influence his generation at a number of centers of educational life, and not be confined as has been the case in the centuries since to but one or at most, and that more by accident than intent, to perhaps two. in a word there is not a distinctive feature of modern university life that was not anticipated in the thirteenth century. [illustration] flying buttress (amiens) { } iv the number of students and discipline. for most people the surprise of finding that the subjects with which the students were occupied at the universities of the thirteenth century were very much the same as those which claim the attention of modern students, will probably be somewhat mitigated by the thought that after all there were only few in attendance at the universities, and as a consequence only a small proportion of the population shared in that illumination, which has become so universal in the spread of opportunities for the higher education in these later times. while such an impression is cherished by many even of those who think that they know the history of education, and unfortunately are considered _by others_ to be authorities on the subject, it is the falsest possible idea that could be conceived of this medieval time with which we are concerned. we may say at once that it is a matter of comparatively easy collation of statistics to show, that in proportion to the population of the various countries, there were actually more students taking advantage of the opportunity to acquire university education in the thirteenth century, than there were at any time in the nineteenth century, or even in the midst of this era of widespread educational opportunities in the twentieth century. most people know the traditions which declare that there were between twenty and thirty thousand students at the university of paris toward the end of the thirteenth century. at the same time there were said to have been between fifteen and twenty thousand students at the university of bologna. correspondingly large numbers have been reported for the university of oxford and many thousands were supposed to be in attendance at the university of cambridge. it is usually considered, however, that these figures are gross exaggerations. it is easy to assert this but rather difficult to prove. as a matter of fact the nearer one comes to the actual times in the { } history of education, the more definitely do writers speak of these large numbers of students in attendance. for instance gascoigne, who says that there were thirty thousand students at the university of oxford at the end of the thirteenth century, lived himself within a hundred years of the events of which he talks, and he even goes so far as to declare that he saw the rolls of the university containing this many names. there is no doubt at all about his evidence in the matter and there is no mistake possible with regard to his figures. they were written out in latin, not expressed in arabic or roman numerals, the copying of which might so easily give opportunities for error to creep in. in spite of such evidence it is generally conceded that to accept these large numbers would be almost surely a mistake. there were without any doubt many thousands of students at the thirteenth century universities. there were certainly more students at the university of paris in the last quarter of the thirteenth century than there were at any time during the nineteenth century. this of itself is enough to startle modern complacency out of most of its ridiculous self-sufficiency. there can be scarcely a doubt that the university of bologna at the time of its largest attendance had more students than any university of modern times, proud as we may be (and deservedly) of our immense institutions of learning. with regard to the english universities the presence of very large numbers is much more doubtful. making every allowance, however, there can be no hesitation in saying that oxford had during the last quarter of the thirteenth century a larger number than ever afterwards within her walls and that cambridge, though never so numerous as her rival, had a like good fortune. professor laurie of edinburgh, a very conservative authority and one not likely to concede too much to the middle ages in anything, would allow, as we shall see, some ten thousand students to oxford. others have claimed more than half that number for cambridge as the lowest possible estimate. even if it be conceded, as has sometimes been urged, that all those in service in the universities were also counted as students, these numbers would not be reduced very materially and it must not be { } forgotten that, in those days of enthusiastic striving after education, young men were perfectly willing to take up even the onerous duties of personal services to others, in order to have the opportunity to be closely in touch with a great educational institution and to receive even a moderate amount of benefit from its educational system. in our own time there are many students who are working their way through the universities, and in the thirteenth century when the spirit of independence was much less developed, and when any stigma that attached to personal service was much less felt than it is at the present time, there were many more examples of this earnest striving for intellectual development. if we discuss the situation in english-speaking countries as regards the comparative attendance at the universities in the thirteenth century and in our own time, we shall be able to get a reasonably good idea of what must be thought in this matter. the authorities are neither difficult of consultation nor distant, and comparatively much more is known about the population of england at this time than about most of the continental countries. england was under a single ruler, while the geographical divisions that we now know by the name of france, spain, italy and germany were the seats of several rulers at least and sometimes of many, a circumstance which does not favor our obtaining an adequate idea of the populations. that but two universities provided all the opportunities for whatever higher education there was in england at this time, would of itself seem to stamp the era as backward in educational matters. a little consideration of the comparative number of students with reference to the population of the country who were thus given the opportunity for higher education--and took advantage of it--at that time and the present, will show the unreasonableness of such an opinion. it is not so easy as might be imagined to determine just what was the population even of england in the thirteenth century. during elizabeth's reign there were, according to the census, an estimate made about the time of the great armada, altogether some four millions of people. froude, accepts this estimate as representing very well the actual number of the population. certainly there were not more { } than five millions at the end of the sixteenth century. lingard, who for this purpose must be considered as a thoroughly conservative authority, estimates that there were not much more than two millions of people in england at the end of the twelfth century. this is probably not an underestimate. at the end of the thirteenth century there were not many more than two millions and a half of people in the country. at the very outside there were, let us say, three millions. out of this meagre population, ten thousand students were, on the most conservative estimate, taking advantage of the opportunities for the higher education that were provided for them at the universities. at the present moment, though we pride ourselves on the numbers in attendance at our universities, and though the world's population is so much more numerous and the means of transportation so much more easy, we have very few universities as large as these of the thirteenth century. no american university at the present moment has as large a number of students as had oxford at the end of the thirteenth century, and of course none of them compares at all with paris or bologna in this respect. even the european universities, as we have suggested, fall behind their former glory from this standpoint. in the attendance to the number of population the comparison is even more startling for those who have not thought at all of the middle ages as a time of wonderful educational facilities and opportunities. in the greater city of new york as we begin the twentieth century there are perhaps fifteen thousand students in attendance at educational institutions which have university privileges. i may say that this is a very liberal allowance. at universities in the ordinary sense of the word there are not more than ten thousand students and the remainder is added in order surely to include all those who may be considered as doing undergraduate work in colleges and schools of various kinds. of these fifteen thousand at least one-fourth come from outside of the greater city, and there are some who think that even one-third would not be too large a number to calculate as not being drawn directly from our own population. connecticut and new jersey furnish large numbers of students and then, besides, the post-graduate schools { } of the universities have very large numbers in attendance even from distant states and foreign countries. it will be within the bounds of truth, then, to say, that there are between ten and twelve thousand students, out of our population of more than four millions in greater new york taking advantage of the opportunities for the higher education provided by our universities and colleges. at the end of the thirteenth century in england there were at least ten thousand students out of a population of not more and very probably less than three millions, who were glad to avail themselves of similar opportunities. this seems to be perfectly fair comparison and we have tried to be as conservative as possible in every way in order to bring out the truth in the matter. it can scarcely fail to be a matter of supreme surprise to find that a century so distant as the thirteenth, should thus equal our own vaunted twentieth century in the matter of opportunities for the higher education afforded and taken advantage of. it has always been presumed that the middle ages, while a little better than the dark ages, were typical periods in which there was little, if any desire for higher education and even fewer opportunities. it was thought that there was constant repression of the desire for knowledge which springs so eternally in the human heart and that the church, or at least the ecclesiastical authorities of the time, set themselves firmly against widespread education, because it would set people to thinking for themselves. as a matter of fact, however, every cathedral and every monastery became a center of educational influence, and even the poorest, who showed special signs of talent, obtained the opportunity to secure knowledge to the degree that they wished. it is beyond doubt or cavil, that at no time in the world's history have so many opportunities for the higher education been open to all classes as during the thirteenth century. in order to show how thoroughly conservative are the numbers in attendance at the universities that i have taken, i shall quote two good recent authorities, one of them professor laurie, the professor of the institutes and history of education in the university of edinburgh, and the other thomas davidson, a well-known american authority on educational { } subjects. each of their works from which i shall quote has been published or revised within the last few years. professor laurie in "the rise and early constitution of the university with a survey of the medieval education," which formed one of the international educational series, edited by commissioner harris and published by appleton, said: "when one hears of the large number of students who attended the earliest universities--ten thousand and even twenty thousand at bologna, an equal, and at one time a greater, number at paris, and thirty thousand at oxford--one cannot help thinking that the numbers have been exaggerated. there is certainly evidence that the oxford attendance was never so great as has been alleged (see anstey's 'mon acad.'); but when we consider that attendants, servitors, college cooks, etc., were regarded as members of the university community, and that the universities provided for a time the sole recognized training grounds for those wishing to enter the ecclesiastical or legal or teaching professions, i see no reason to doubt the substantial accuracy of the tradition as to attendance--especially when we remember that at paris and oxford a large number were mere boys of from twelve to fifteen years of age." as to the inclusion of servitors, we have already said that many, probably, indeed, most of them, were actual students working their way through the university in these enthusiastic days. professor laurie's authority for the assertion that a large number of the students at paris and oxford were mere boys, is a regulation known to have existed at one of these universities requiring that students should not be less than twelve years of age. anyone who has studied medieval university life, however, will have been impressed with the idea, that the students were on the average older at the medieval universities rather than younger than they are at the present time. the rough hazing methods employed, almost equal to those of our own day! would seem to indicate this. besides, as professor laurie confesses in the next paragraph, many of the students were actually much older than at present. our university courses are arranged for young men between and , but that is, to fall back on herbert spencer, presumably because the period of infancy is { } lengthening with the evolution of the race. there are many who consider that at the present time students are too long delayed in the opportunity to get at the professional studies, and that it is partly the consequence of this that the practical branches are so much more taken up under the elective system. as we said in the chapter on universities and preparatory schools, in italy and in other southern countries, it is not a surprising thing to have a young man graduate at the age of or with his degree of a. b., after a thoroughly creditable scholastic career. this means that he began his university work proper under years of age; so that we must judge the medieval universities to some extent at least with this thought in mind. mr. thomas davidson in his "history of education," [footnote ] in the chapter on the medieval university has a paragraph in which he discusses the attendance, especially during the thirteenth century, and admits that the numbers, while perhaps not so large as have been reported, were very large in comparison to modern institutions of the same kind, and frankly concedes that education rose during these centuries which are often supposed to have been so unfavorable to educational development, to an amazing height scarcely ever surpassed. he says: [footnote : a history of education, by thomas davidson, author of aristotle and ancient educational ideas. new york: scribners, .] "the number of students reported as having attended some of the universities in those early days almost passes belief; _e. g._ oxford is said to have had thirty thousand about the year , and half that number even as early as . the numbers attending the university of paris were still greater. these numbers become less surprising when we remember with what poor accommodations--a bare room and an armful of straw--the students of those days were content, and what numbers of them even a single teacher like abelard could, long before draw into lonely retreats. that in the twelfth and following centuries there was no lack of enthusiasm for study, notwithstanding the troubled condition of the times, is very clear. the instruction given at the universities, moreover, reacted upon the lower schools, raising their standard and supplying them with competent teachers. thus, in the thirteenth and { } fourteenth centuries, education rose in many european states to a height which it had not attained since the days of seneca and quintilian." {opp } [illustration] christ driving out money changers (giotto) [illustration] head from annunciation (giotto) [illustration] bride marriage at cana (giotto) [illustration] saint's head (mosaic, st. mark's venice) a very serious objection that would seem to have so much weight as to preclude all possibility of accepting as true the large numbers mentioned, is the fact that it is very hard to understand how such an immense number of students could have been supported in any town of the middle ages. this objection has carried so much weight to some minds as to make them give up the thought of large numbers at the medieval universities. professor laurie has answered it very effectively, however, and in his plausible explanation gives a number of points which emphasize the intense ardor of these students of the middle ages in their search for knowledge, and shows how ready they were to bear serious trials and inconveniences, not to say absolute sufferings and hardships, in order that they might have opportunities for the higher education. the objection then redounds rather to the glory of the medieval universities than lessens their prestige, either as regards numbers or the enthusiasm of their students. "the chief objection to accepting the tradition (of large numbers at the universities) lies in the difficulty of seeing how in those days, so large a number of the young men of europe could afford the expense of residence away from their homes. this difficulty, however, is partly removed when we know that many of the students were well to do, that a considerable number were matured men, already monks and canons, and that the endowments of cathedral schools also were frequently used to enable promising scholars to attend foreign universities. monasteries also regularly sent boys of thirteen and fourteen to university seats. a papal instruction of required every benedictine and augustinian community to send boys to the universities in the proportion of one in twenty of their residents. then, state authorities ordered free passages for all who were wending their way through the country to and from the seat of learning. in the houses of country priests--not to speak of the monastery hospitals--traveling scholars were always accommodated gratuitously, and even local subscriptions were frequently made to help them on their way. { } poor traveling scholars were, in fact, a medieval institution, and it was considered no disgrace for a student to beg and receive alms for his support." after reading these authoritative opinions, it would be rather difficult to understand the false impressions which have obtained so commonly for the last three centuries with regard to education in the middle ages, if we did not realize that history, especially for english-speaking people, has for several centuries been written from a very narrow standpoint and with a very definite purpose. about a century ago the comte de maistre said in his soirées de st. petersburg, that history for the three hundred years before his time "had been a conspiracy against the truth." curiously enough the editors of the cambridge modern history in their first volume on the renaissance, re-echoed this sentiment of the french historical writer and philosopher. they even use the very words "history has been a conspiracy against the truth" and proclaim that if we are to get at truth in this generation, we must go behind all the classical historians, and look up contemporary documents and evidence and authorities once more for ourselves. it is the maintenance of a tradition that nothing good could possibly have come out of the nazareth of the times before the reformation, that has led to this serious misapprehension of the true position of those extremely important centuries in modern education--the thirteenth and the fourteenth. to those who know even a little of what was accomplished in these centuries, it is supremely amusing to read the childish treatment accorded them and the trivial remarks that even accredited historians of education make with regard to them. occasionally, however, the feeling of the reader who knows something of the subject is not one of amusement, but far from it. there are times when one cannot help but feel that it is not ignorance, but a deliberate purpose to minimize the importance of these times in culture and education, that is at the basis of some of the utterly mistaken remarks that are made. we shall take occasion only to give one example of this, but that will afford ample evidence of the intolerant spirit that characterizes the work of some even of the supposedly most enlightened historians of education. the quotation will be from compayré's { } "history of pedagogy" which is, i understand, in use in nearly every normal school in this country and is among the books required in many normal school examinations. m. compayré in an infamous paragraph which bears the title "the intellectual feebleness of the middle age," furnishes an excellent example of how utterly misunderstood, if not deliberately misrepresented, has been the whole spirit and content and the real progressiveness of education in this wonderful period. after some belittling expressions as to the influence of christianity on education--expressions utterly unjustified by the facts--he has this to say with regard to the thirteenth century, which is all the more surprising because it is the only place where he calls any attention to it. he says: "in , of all the monks in the convent of st. gall, there was not one who could read and write. it was so difficult to find notaries public, that acts had to be passed verbally. the barons took pride in their ignorance. even after the efforts of the twelfth century, instruction remained a luxury for the common people; it was the privilege of the ecclesiastics and even they did not carry it very far. the benedictines confess that the mathematics were studied only for the purpose of calculating the date of easter." this whole paragraph of m. compayré (the rest must be read to be appreciated), whose history of education was considered to be of such value that it was deemed worthy of translation by the president of a state normal school and that it has been adopted as a work of reference, in some cases of required study, in many of the normal schools throughout the country, is a most wonderful concoction of ingredients, all of which are meant to dissolve every possible idea that people might have of the existence of any tincture of education during the middle ages. there is only one fact which deeply concerns us because it refers to the thirteenth century. m. compayré says that in of all the monks of the convent of saint gall there was not one who could read and write. this single fact is meant to sum up the education of the century for the reader. especially it is meant to show the student of pedagogy how deeply sunk in ignorance were the monks and all the ecclesiastics of this period. { } before attempting to say anything further it may be as well to call attention to the fact that in the original french edition the writer did not say that there was not a single monk. he said, "there was but one monk, who could read and write." possibly it seemed to the translator to make the story more complete to leave out this one poor monk and perhaps one monk more or less, especially a medieval monk, may not count for very much to modern students of education. there are those of us, however, who consider it too bad to obliterate even a single monk in this crude way and we ask that he shall be put back. there _was one_ who could read and write and carry on the affairs of the monastery. let us have him at least, by all means. in the year when m. compayré says that there was but a single monk at the monastery of st. gall who could read and write, he, a professor himself at a french normal school, must have known very well that there were over twenty thousand students at the university of paris, almost as many at the university of bologna, and over five thousand, some authorities say many more than this (professor laurie would admit more than ten thousand), at the university of oxford, though all christian europe at this time did not have a population of more than , , people. he must have known, too, or be hopelessly ignorant in educational matters, that many of the students at these universities belonged to the franciscans and dominicans, and that indeed many of the greatest teachers at the universities were members of these monastic orders. of this he says nothing, however. all that he says is "education was the privilege of the ecclesiastics and they did not carry it very far." this is one way of writing a history of education. it is a very effective way of poisoning the wells of information and securing the persistence of the tradition that there was no education until after the beginning of the sixteenth century. meantime one can scarcely help but admire the ingenuity of deliberate purpose that uses the condition of the monastery of st. gall to confirm his statement. st. gall had been founded by irish monks probably about the beginning of the eighth century. it had been for at least three centuries a center of education, civilization and culture, as well as of religion, for the { } barbarians who had settled in the swiss country after the trans-migration of nations. the irish had originally obtained their culture from christian missionaries, and now as christian missionaries they brought it back to europe and accomplished their work with wonderful effectiveness. st. gall was for centuries a lasting monument to their efforts. after the tenth century, however, the monastery began to degenerate. it was almost directly in the path of armies which so frequently went down to italy because of the german interest in the italian peninsula and the claims of the german emperor. after a time according to tradition, the emperor insisted that certain of the veterans of his army should be received and cared for in their old age at st. gall. gradually this feature of the institution became more and more prominent until in the thirteenth century it had become little more than a home for old soldiers. in order to live on the benefices of the monastery these men had to submit to ecclesiastical regulations and wear the habit. they were, it is true, a sort of monk, that is, they were willing, for the sake of the peace and ease which it brought, to accept the living thus provided for them and obey to some degree at least the rules of the monastery. it is not surprising that among these there should have been only one who could read and write. the soldiers of the time despised the men of letters and prided themselves on not being able to write. that a historian of pedagogy, however, should take this one fact in order to give students an idea of the depth of ignorance of the middle ages, is an exhibition of some qualities in our modern educated men, that one does not like to think of as compatible with the capacity to read and write. it would indeed be better not to be able to read and write than thus to read and write one's own prejudices into history, and above all the history of education. compayré's discussion of the "causes of the ignorance" of the middle ages in the next paragraph, is one of the most curious bits of special pleading by a man who holds a brief for one side of the question, that i think has ever been seen in what was to be considered serious history. he first makes it clear how much opposed the christian church was to education, then he admits that she did some things which cannot be denied, but minimizes their significance. then he concludes that it was not { } the fault of the church, but in this there is a precious bit of damning by faint praise. it would be impossible for any ordinary person who had only compayré for authority to feel anything after reading the paragraph, but that christianity was a serious detriment and surely not a help to the cause of progress in education. i quote part of the paragraph: "what were the permanent causes of that situation which lasted for ten centuries? the catholic church has sometimes been held responsible for this. doubtless the christian doctors did not always profess a very warm sympathy for intellectual culture. saint augustine has said: it is the ignorant who gain possession of heaven (indocti coelum rapiunt.) saint gregory the great, a pope of the sixth century, declared that he would blush to have the holy word conform to the rules of grammar. too many christians, in a word, confounded ignorance with holiness. doubtless, towards the seventh century, the darkness still hung thick over the christian church. barbarians invaded the episcopate, and carried with them their rude manners. doubtless, also, during the feudal period the priest often became a soldier, and remained ignorant. it would, however, be unjust to bring a constructive charge against the church of the middle age, and to represent it as systematically hostile to instruction. directly to the contrary, it is the clergy who, in the midst of the general barbarism, preserved some vestiges of the ancient culture. the only schools of that period are the episcopal and claustral schools, the first annexed to the bishops' palaces, the second to the monasteries. the religious orders voluntarily associated manual labor with mental labor. as far back as , st. benedict founded the convent of monte cassino, and drew up statutes which made reading and intellectual labor a part of the daily life of the monks." when this damning by faint praise is taken in connection with the paragraph in which only a single monk at the monastery of st. gall is declared to have been able to read and write, the utterly false impression that is sure to result, can be readily understood even by those who are not sympathetic students of the middle ages. this is how our histories of education have been written as a rule, and as a consequence the most precious period in modern education, its great origin, has been ignored even by professional scholars, to the great detriment not only of historical knowledge but also of any proper appreciation of the evolution of education. portraits bennozo gozzoli [illustration] petrarca omnium virtutum monarca [illustration] giotto, pictor eximius [illustration] dante theologus nullius dogmatis expers { } it will be said by those who do not appreciate the conditions that existed in the middle ages, that these numbers at the universities seeking the higher education, mean very little for the culture of the people, since practically all of those in attendance at the universities belonged to the clerical order. there is no doubt that most students were clerics in the thirteenth century. this did not mean, however, that they had taken major orders or had in any way bound themselves irrevocably to continue in the clerical vocation. the most surprising thing about the spread of culture and the desire for the higher education during the thirteenth century, is that they developed in spite of the fact that the rulers of the time were all during the century, embroiled in war either with their neighbors or with the nobility. anyone who wanted to live a quiet, intellectual life turned naturally to the clerical state, which enabled him to escape military duties and gave him opportunities for study, as well as protection from many exactions that might otherwise be levied upon him. the church not only encouraged education, but supplied the peaceful asylums in which it might be cultivated to the heart's content of the student. while this clerical state was a necessity during the whole time of residence at the university, it was not necessarily maintained afterward. many of the clerics did not even have minor orders--orders which it is well understood carry with them no absolute obligation of continuing in the clerical state. sextons and their assistants were clerics. when the word canon originally came into use it meant nothing more than that the man was entered on the rolls of a church and received some form of wages therefrom. students at the universities were by ecclesiastical courtesy then, clerics (from which comes the word clerk, one who can read and write) though not in orders, and it was because of this that the university was able to maintain the rights of students. it was well understood that after graduation men might take up the secular life and indeed most of them did. in succeeding chapters we shall see examples of this and discuss the question further. professors at the { } universities had to maintain their clerical condition so that even professors of law and of medicine were not allowed to marry. this law continued long beyond the thirteenth century, however. professors of medicine were the first to be freed from the obligation of celibacy, but not until the middle of the fifteenth century at paris, while other professors were bound thus for a full century later. certain minor teaching positions at oxford are still under this law, which evidently has seemed to have some advantage or it would not have been maintained. it might perhaps be thought that only the wealthier class, the sons of the nobility and of the wealthy merchants of the cities had opportunities at the universities. as a matter of fact, however, the vast majority of the students was drawn from the great middle class. the nobility were nearly always too occupied with their pleasures and their martial duties to have time for the higher education. the tradition that a nobleman should be an educated gentleman had not yet come in. indeed many of the nobility during the thirteenth century rather prided themselves on the fact that they not only had no higher education, but that they did not know even how to read and write. when we reflect, then, on the large numbers who went to the universities, it adds to our surprise to realize that they were drawn from the burgher class. it is evident that many of the sons even of the poor were afforded opportunities in different ways at the universities of the time. tradition shows that from the earliest time there were foundations on which poor students could live, and various arrangements were made by which, aside from these, they might make their living while continuing their studies. working one's way through the university was more common in the thirteenth century than it is at the present day, though we are proud of the large numbers who now succeed in the double task of supporting and educating themselves, with excellent success in both enterprises. there are many stories of poor students who found themselves about to be obliged to give up their studies, encountering patrons of various kinds who enabled them to go on with their education. there is a very pretty set of legends with regard to st. edmund of canterbury in this matter. he bears this name { } because he was afterward the sainted primate of england. for many years he taught at the university of oxford. the story is told of a clerical friend sending him up a student to oxford and asking that his bills be sent to him. st. edmund's answer was that he would not be robbed of an opportunity of doing good like this, and he took upon himself the burden of caring for the student. at the time there were many others dependent on his bounty and his reputation was such that he was enabled to help a great many through the benefactions of friends, who found no higher pleasure in life than being able to come generously to edmund's assistance in his charities. those who know the difficulty of managing very large bodies of students will wonder inevitably, how the medieval universities, with their less formal and less complete organizations, succeeded in maintaining discipline for all these thousands of students. most people will remember at once all the stories of roughness, of horse play, of drinking and gaming or worse that they have heard of the medieval students and will be apt to conclude that they are not to be wondered at after all, since it must have been practically impossible for the faculties of universities to keep order among such vast numbers. as a matter of fact, however, the story of the origin and maintenance of discipline in these universities is one of the most interesting features of university life. the process of discipline became in itself a very precious part of education, as it should be of course in any well regulated institution of learning. the very fact, moreover, that in spite of these large numbers and other factors that we shall call attention to in a moment, comparatively so few disgraceful stories of university life have come down to us, and the other and still more important fact that the universities could be kept so constantly at the attainment of their great purpose for such numbers, is itself a magnificent tribute to those who succeeded in doing it, and to the system which was gradually evolved, not by the faculty alone but by teachers and students for university government. with regard to the discipline of the medieval universities not much is known and considerable of what has been written on this obscure subject wears an unfavorable tinge, because it is unfortunately true that "the good men do is oft interred with { } their bones" while the evil has an immortality all its own. the student escapades of the universities, the quarrels between town and gown, the stories of the evils apparently inevitable, where many young men are congregated--the hazing, the rough horse play, the carousing, the immoralities--have all come down to us, while it is easy to miss the supreme significance of the enthusiasm for learning that in these difficult times gathered so many students together from distant parts of the world, when traveling was so difficult and dangerous, and kept them at the universities for long years in spite of the hardships and inconveniences of the life. with regard to our modern universities the same thing is true, and the outside world knows much more of the escapades of the few, the little scandals of college life, that scarcely make a ripple but are so easily exaggerated, and so frequently repeated and lose nothing by repetition, the waste of time in athletics, in gambling, in social things, than of the earnest work and the successful intellectual progress and interests of the many. this should be quite enough to make the modern university man very slow to accept the supposed pictures of medieval student life, which are founded mainly on the worse side of it. goodness is proverbially uninteresting, a happy people has no history and the ordinary life of the university student needs a patient sympathetic chronicler; and such the medieval universities have not found as yet. but they do not need many allowances, if it will only be remembered under what discouragements they labored and how much they accomplished. the reputation of the medieval universities has suffered from this very human tendency to be interested in what is evil and to neglect the good. even as it is, however, a good deal with regard to the discipline of the universities in the early times is known and does not lose in interest from the fact, that the main factor in it was a committee of the students themselves working in conjunction with the faculty, and thus anticipating what is most modern in the development of the disciplinary regime of our up-to-date universities. at first apparently, in the schools from which the universities originated there was no thought of the necessity for discipline. the desire for education was considered to be sufficient to keep men occupied in { } such a way that further discipline would not be necessary. it can readily be understood that the crowds that flocked to hear abelard in paris, and who were sufficiently interested to follow him out to the desert of the paraclete when he was no longer allowed to continue his lectures in connection with the school at paris, would have quite enough of ruling from the internal forum of their supreme interest, not to need any discipline in the external forum. in the course of time, however, with the coming of even greater numbers to the university of paris, and especially when the attendance ran up into many thousands, some form of school discipline became an absolute necessity. this developed of itself and in a very practical way. the masters seem to have had very little to do with it at the beginning since they occupied themselves entirely with their teaching and preparation for lectures. what was to become later one of the principal instruments of discipline was at first scarcely more than a social organization among the students. those who came from different countries were naturally attracted to one another, and were more ready to help each other. when students first came they were welcomed by their compatriots who took care to keep them from being imposed upon, enabled them to secure suitable quarters and introduced them to university customs generally, so that they might be able to take advantage, as soon as possible, of the educational opportunities. the friendships thus fostered gradually grew into formal organizations, the so-called "nations." these began to take form just before the beginning of the thirteenth century. they made it their duty to find lodgings for their student compatriots, and evidently also to supply food on some cooperative plan for at least the poorer students. whenever students of a particular nationality were injured in any way, their "nation" as a formal organization took up their cause and maintained their rights, even to the extent of an appeal to formal process of law before the magistrates, if necessary. the nations were organized before the faculties in the universities were formally recognized as independent divisions of the institution, and they acted as intermediaries between the university head and the students, making themselves responsible for discipline to no slight { } degree. at the beginning of the thirteenth century in paris all the students belonged to one or other of four nations, the picard, the norman, the french, which embraced italians, spaniards, greeks and orientals, and the english which embraced the english, irish, germans, poles (heterogeneous collection we would consider it in these modern days) and in addition all other students from the north of europe. professor laurie, of the university of edinburgh, in his rise and early constitution of universities in the international educational series [footnote ] says: [footnote : the rise and early constitution of universities, with a survey of medieval education, by s. s. laurie, ll.d., professor of the institutes and history of education in the university of edinburgh. new york, d. appleton & company, .] "the subdivisions of the nations were determined by the localities from which the students and masters came. each subdivision elected its own dean and kept its own matriculation-book and money-chest. the whole "nation" was represented, it is true, by the elected procurators; but the deans of the subdivisions were regarded as important officials, and were frequently, if not always, assessors of the procurators. the procurators, four in number, were elected, not by the students as in bologna and padua, but by the students and masters. each nation with its procurator and deans was an independent body, passing its own statutes and rules, and exercising supervision over the lodging-houses of the students. they had each a seal as distinguished from the university seal, and each procurator stood to his "nation" in the same relation as the rector did to the whole university. the rector, again, was elected by the procurators, who sat as his assessors, and together they constituted the governing body; but this for purposes of discipline, protection and defense of privileges chiefly, the _consortium magistrorum_ regulating the schools. but so independent were the nations that the question whether each had power to make statutes that overrode those of the _universitas_, was still a question so late as the beginning of the seventeenth century." it is typical of the times that the governing system should thus have grown up of itself and from amongst the students, rather than that it should have been organized by the teachers { } and imposed upon the university. the nations represented the rise of that democratic spirit, which was to make itself felt in the claims for the recognition of rights for all the people in most of the countries during the thirteenth century, and undoubtedly the character of the government of the student body at the universities fostered this spirit and is therefore to a noteworthy degree, responsible for the advances in the direction of liberty which are chronicled during this great century. this was a form of unconscious education but none the less significant for that, and eminently practical in its results. at this time in europe there was no place where the members of the community who flocked in largest numbers to the universities, the sons of the middle classes, could have any opportunities to share in government or learn the precious lessons of such participation, except at the universities. there gradually came an effort on the part of the faculties to lessen many of the rights of the nations of the universities, but the very struggle to maintain these on the part of the student body, was of itself a precious training against the usurpation of privileges that was to be of great service later in the larger arena of national politics, and the effects of which can be noted in every country in europe, nowhere more than in england, where the development of law and liberty was to give rise to a supreme heritage of democratic jurisprudence for the english speaking peoples of all succeeding generations. { } v post-graduate work at the universities. in modern times it has often been said that no university can be considered to be doing its proper work unless, besides teaching, it is also adding to the existing body of knowledge by original research. because of unfortunate educational traditions, probably the last thing in the world that would enter into the minds of most people to conceive as likely to be found in the history of the universities of the thirteenth century, would be original research in any form. in spite of this almost universal false impression, original work of the most valuable kind, for much of which workers would be considered as amply deserving of their doctorates in the various faculties of the post-graduate departments of the most up-to-date of modern universities, was constantly being accomplished during this wonderful century. it is, as a matter of fact, with this phase of university activity that the modern educator is sure to have more sympathy than with any other, once the significant details of the work become clear. all surprise that surpassing original work was accomplished will cease when it is recalled that, besides creating the universities themselves, this century gave us the great cathedrals--a well-spring of originality, and a literature in every civilized country of europe that has been an inspiration to many subsequent generations. at last men had the time to devote to the things of the mind. during what are called the dark ages, a term that must ever be used with the realization that there are many bright points of light in them, men had been occupied with wars and civic and political dissensions of all kinds, and had been gradually climbing back to the heights of interest in intellectual matters which had been theirs before the invasion of the barbarians and the migration of nations. with the rebirth of intellectual interests there came an intense curiosity to know everything and to investigate every manifestation. { } everything that men touched was novel, and the wonderful advances they made can only be realized from actual consultation of their works, while the reader puts himself as far as possible at the same mental point of view from which they surveyed the world and their relations to it. the modern university prides itself on the number of volumes written by its professors and makes it a special feature of its announcements to call attention to its at least supposed additions to knowledge in this mode. it must have been immensely more difficult to preserve the writings of the professors of the medieval universities for they had to be copied out laboriously by hand, yet we have an enormous number of large volumes of their works, on nearly every intellectual topic, that have been carefully preserved. there are some twenty closely printed large folio volumes of the writings of albertus magnus that have come down to us. for two centuries, until the time of printing, ardent students must have been satisfied to spend much time in preserving these. while mainly devoted to theology, they treat of nearly everything else, and at least one of the folio volumes is taken up almost exclusively with physical science. st. thomas aquinas has as many volumes to his credit and his work is even of more importance. duns scotus died at a very early age, scarcely more than forty, yet his writings are voluminously extensive and have been carefully preserved, for few men had as enthusiastic students as he. alas! that his name should be preserved for most people only in the familiar satiric appellation 'dunce.' the modern educator will most rejoice at the fact that the students of the time must have indeed been devoted to their masters to set themselves to the task of copying out their work so faithfully for, as cardinal newman has pointed out, it is the personal influence of the master, rather than the greatness of the institution, that makes education effective. first with regard to philosophy, the mistress of all studies, whose throne has been shaken but not shattered in these ultimate times. after all it must not be forgotten that this was the great century of the development of scholastic philosophy. while this scholastic philosophy is supposed by many students of modern philosophy to be a thing of the past, it still continues { } to be the basis of the philosophical teaching in the catholic seminaries and universities throughout the world. catholic philosophers are well known as conservative thinkers and writers, and yet are perfectly free to confess that they consider themselves the nearer to truth the nearer they are to the great scholastic thinkers of the thirteenth century. even in the circle of students of philosophy who are outside the influence of scholasticism, there is no doubt that in recent years an opinion much more favorable to the schoolmen has gradually arisen. this has been due to a study of scholastic sources. only those despise and talk slightingly of scholasticism who either do not know it at all or know it only at second hand. with regard to the system of thought, as such, ever is it true, that the more close the acquaintanceship the more respect there is for it. with regard to theology the case is even stronger than with regard to philosophy. practically all of the great authorities in theology belong to the thirteenth century. it is true that men like saint anselm lived before this time and were leaders in the great movement that culminated in our century. saint anselm's book, _cur deus homo_, is indeed one of the best examples of the combination of scholastic philosophy and theology that could well be cited. it is a triumph of logical reasoning, applied to religious belief. besides, it is a great classic and any one who can read it unmoved by admiration for the thinker who, so many centuries ago, could so trenchantly lay down his thesis and develop it, must be lacking in some of the qualities of human admiration. the writers of the thirteenth century in theology are beyond even anselm in their marvelous powers of systematizing thought. one need only mention such names as albertus magnus, thomas aquinas, bonaventure. duns scotus, and raymond lully to make those who are at all acquainted with the history of the time realize, that this is not an idle expression of the enthusiasm of a special votary of the thirteenth century. as we shall see in discussing the career of saint thomas aquinas, the catholic church still continues to teach scholastic theology on exactly the same lines as were laid down by this great doctor of the church in his teaching at the university of paris. amid the crumbling of many christian systems of { } thought, as upheld by the various protestant sects, there has been a very general realization that the catholic church has built up the only edifice of christian apologetics, which will stand the storms of time and the development of human knowledge. confessedly this edifice is founded on thirteenth century scholasticism. pope leo xiii., than whom, even in the estimation of those who are least sympathetic toward his high office, there was no man of more supremely practical intelligence in our generation, insisted that st. thomas aquinas must in general principle at least, be the groundwork of the teaching of philosophy and theology as they are to form the minds of future catholic apologists. the scholastic theology and philosophy of the thirteenth century have come to us in absolute purity. the huge tomes which represent the indefatigable labors of these ardent scholars were well preserved by the subsequent generation which thought so much of them, and in spite of the absence of printing have come down to us in perfectly clear texts. it is easy to neglect them and to say that a study of them is not worth while. they represent, however, the post-graduate work and the research in the department of philosophy and theology of these days, and any university of modern time would consider itself honored by having their authors among its professors and alumni. any one who does not think so need only turn to the volumes themselves and read them with understanding and sympathy, and there will be another convert to the ranks of that growing multitude of scholars, who have learned to appreciate the marvelous works of our university colleagues of the thirteenth century. with regard to law, not much need be said here, since it is well understood that the foundations of our modern jurisprudence (see chapters on legal origins), as well as the methods of teaching law, were laid in the thirteenth century and the universities were the most active factors, direct and indirect, in this work. the university of bologna developed from a law school. toward the end of the twelfth century irnerius revived the study of the old roman law and put the curriculum of modern civil law on a firm basis. a little later gratian made his famous collection of decretals, which are the basis of canon { } law. great popes, during the thirteenth century, beginning with innocent iii., and continuing through such worthy emulators as gregory ix. and boniface viii., made it the special glory of their pontificates to collect the decrees of their predecessors and arrange and publish them, so that they might be readily available for consultation. french law assumed its modern form, and the basis of french jurisprudence was laid, under louis ix., who called to his assistance, in this matter, the professors of law at the university of paris, with many of whom he was on the most intimate terms. his cousin, ferdinand of castile, laid the foundation of the spanish law about the same time under almost similar circumstances, and with corresponding help. the study of law in the english universities helped to the formulation of the principles of the english common law in such simple connected form as made them readily accessible for consultation. just before the beginning of the last quarter of the thirteenth century, bracton, of whose work much more will be said in a subsequent chapter, drew up the digest of the english common law, which has been the basis of english jurisprudence ever since. it took just about a century for these countries, previously without proper codification of the principles of their laws, to complete the fundamental work to such a degree, that it is still the firm substructure on which rests all our modern laws. legal origins, in our modern sense, came not long before the thirteenth century; at its end the work was finished, to all intents and purposes. of the influence of the universities and of the university law departments, in all this there can be no doubt. the incentive, undoubtedly, came from their teachings. the men who did so much for legal origins of such far-reaching importance, were mainly students of the universities of the time, whose enthusiasm for work had not subsided with the obtaining of their degrees. it is in medicine, however, much more than in law or theology, that the eminently practical character of university teaching during the thirteenth century can be seen, at least in the form in which it will appeal to a scientific generation. we are so accustomed to think that anything like real progress in medicine, and especially in surgery, has only come in very { } recent years, that it is a source of great surprise to find how much these earnest students of a long distant century anticipated the answers to problems, the solutions of which are usually supposed to be among the most modern advances. professor allbutt, the regius professor of physic in the university of cambridge, a position, the occupant of which is always a leader in english medical thought, the present professor being one of the world's best authorities in the history of medicine, recently pointed out some of these marvels of old-time medicine and surgery. in an address on the historical relations of medicine and surgery to the end of the sixteenth century, delivered at the congress of arts and sciences at the st. louis exposition in , he (prof. allbutt) spoke with regard to one of the great university medical teachers of the thirteenth century as follows: "both for his own great merits, as an original and independent observer, and as the master of lanfranc, william salicet (guglielmo salicetti of piacenza, in latin g. placentinus de saliceto--now cadeo), was eminent among the great italian physicians of the latter half of the thirteenth century. now these great italians were as distinguished in surgery as in medicine, and william was one of the protestants of the period against the division of surgery from inner medicine; a division which he regarded as a separation of medicine from intimate touch with nature. like lanfranc and the other great surgeons of the italian tradition, and unlike franco and ambroise paré, he had the advantage of the liberal university education of italy; but, like paré and wurtz, he had large practical experience in hospital and on the battlefield. he practised first at bologna, afterward in verona. william fully recognised that surgery cannot be learned from books only. his surgery contains many case histories, for he rightly opined that good notes of cases are the soundest foundation of good practice; and in this opinion and method lanfranc followed him. william discovered that dropsy may be due to a '_durities renum_'; he substituted the knife for the arabist abuse of the cautery; he investigated the causes of the failure of healing by first intention; he described the danger of wounds of the neck; he sutured divided nerves; he forwarded the diagnosis of { } suppurative disease of the hip, and he referred chancre and phagedaena to their real causes." this paragraph sets forth some almost incredible anticipations of what are usually considered among the most modern phases of medicine and surgery. perhaps the most surprising thing is the simple statement that salicet recognized that surgery cannot be learned from books alone. his case histories are instructive even to the modern surgeon who reads them. his insistence on his students making careful notes of their cases as the soundest foundation of progress in surgery, is a direct contradiction of nearly everything that has been said in recent years about medieval medicine and especially the teaching of medicine. (see appendix.) william's great pupil, lanfranc, followed him in this, and lanfranc encouraged the practise at the university of paris. there is a note-book of a student at the university of paris, made toward the end of the thirteenth century, carefully preserved in the museum of the university of berlin. this notebook was kept during lanfranc's teaching and contains some sketches of dissections, as well as some illustrations of operative procedures, as studied with that celebrated surgeon. the tradition of case histories continued at the university of paris down to the beginning of modern surgery. some of the doctrines in medicine that william of salicet stated so clearly, sound surprisingly modern. the connection, for instance, between dropsy and _durities renum_ (hardening of the kidneys) shows how wonderfully observant the old master was. at the present time we know very little more about the dropsical condition associated with chronic bright's disease than the fact that it constantly occurs where there is a sclerosis or contraction of the kidney. bright in his study of albuminuria and contracted kidney practically taught us no more than this, except that he added the further symptom of the presence of albumin in the urine. it must have been only as the result of many carefully studied cases, followed by autopsies, that any such doctrine could have come into existence. there is a dropsy that occurs with heart disease; there is also a dropsy in connection with certain affections of the liver, and yet the most frequent cause is just this hardening of the kidneys { } spoken of by this middle-of-the-thirteenth century italian professor of medicine, who, if we would believe so many of the historians of medicine, was not supposed to occupy himself at all with ante and post-mortem studies of patients, but with the old-time medical authorities. almost more surprising than the question of dropsy is the investigation as to the causes of the failure of healing by first intention. the modern surgeon is very apt to think that he is the only one who ever occupied himself with the thought, that wounds might be made to heal by first intention and without the occurrence of suppuration or granulation. certainly no one would suspect any interest in the matter as far back as the thirteenth century. william of salicet, however, and lanfranc, both of them occupied themselves much with this question and evidently looked at it from a very practical standpoint. many careful observations must have been made and many sources of observational error eliminated to enable these men to realize the possibilities of primary union, especially, knowing as they did, nothing at all about the external causes of suppuration and considering, as did surgeons for nearly seven centuries afterward, that it was because of something within the patient's tissues that the cases of suppuration had their rise. unfortunately, the pioneer work done by william and his great disciple did not have that effect upon succeeding generations which it should have had. there was a question in men's minds as to whether nature worked better by primary union or by means of the suppurative process. in the next century surgeons took the wrong horn of the dilemma and even so distinguished a surgeon as guy de chauliac, who has been called, not without good cause, the father of surgery, came to the conclusion that suppuration was practically a necessary process in the healing of large wounds at least, and that it must be encouraged rather than discouraged. this doctrine did not have its first set-back until the famous incident in ambroise paré's career, when one morning after a battle, coming to his patients expecting to find many of them very severely ill, he found them on the contrary in better condition than the others for whom he had no forebodings. in accord with old custom { } he poured boiling oil into the wounds of all patients, but the great surgeon's supply of oil had failed the day before and he used plain water to cleanse the wounds of a number, fearing the worst for them, however, because of the poison that must necessarily stay in their wounds and then had the agreeable disappointment of finding these patients in much better condition than those whom he had treated with all the rules of his art, as they then were. even this incident, however, did not serve to correct entirely the old idea as to the value of suppuration and down to lister's time, that is almost the last quarter of the nineteenth century, there is still question of the value of suppuration in expediting the healing of wounds, and we hear of laudable pus and of the proper inflammatory reaction that is expected to bring about wound repair. the danger of wounds of the neck is, of course, not a modern doctrine, and yet very few people would think for a moment that it could be traced back to the middle of the thirteenth century and to a practical teacher of surgery in a medieval italian university. here once more there is evidence of the work of a careful observer who has seen patients expire in a few minutes as the result of some serious incident during the course of operations upon the neck. he did not realize that the danger was due, in many cases, to the sucking in of air into the large veins, but even at the present time this question is not wholly settled and the problem as to the danger of the presence of air is still the subject of investigation. as to the suture of divided nerves, it would ordinarily and as a matter of course be claimed by most modern historians of surgery and by practically all surgeons, as an affair entirely of the last half century. william of salicet, however, neglected none of the ordinary surgical procedures that could be undertaken under the discouraging surgical circumstances in which he lived. the limitations of anesthesia, though there was much more of this aid than there has commonly been any idea of, and the frequent occurrence of suppuration must have been constant sources of disheartenment. his insistence on the use of the knife rather than on the cautery shows how much he appreciated the value of proper healing. it is from such a man that we might expect the advance by careful { } investigation as to just what tissues had been injured, with the idea of bringing them together in such juxtaposition as would prevent loss of function and encourage rapid and perfect union. {opp } [illustration] screen (hereford) [illustration] doorway of sacristy (bourges) perhaps to the ordinary individual william's reference of certain known venereal affections to their proper cause, will be the most astonishing in this marvelous list of anticipations of what is supposed to be very modern. the whole subject of venereal disease in anything like a scientific treatment of it is supposed to date from the early part of the sixteenth century. there is even question in certain minds as to whether the venereal diseases did not come into existence, or at least were not introduced from america or from some other distant country that the europeans had been exploring about this time. william's studies in this subject, however, serve to show that nothing escaped his watchful eye and that he was in the best sense of the word a careful observer and must have been an eminently suggestive and helpful teacher. what has thus been learned about him will serve of itself and without more ado, to stamp all that has been said about the unpractical character of the medical teaching of the medieval universities as utterly unfounded. because men have not taken the trouble to look up the teaching of these times, and because their works were until recent years buried in old folios, difficult to obtain and still more difficult to read when obtained, it has been easy to ignore their merit and even to impugn the value of their teaching completely. william of salicet was destined, moreover, to be surpassed in some ways by his most distinguished pupil, lanfranc, who taught at the university of paris at the end of the thirteenth century. of lanfranc, in the address already quoted from, professor allbutt has one very striking paragraph that shows how progressive was the work of this great french surgeon, and how fruitful had been the suggestive teaching of his great master. he says: "lanfranc's 'chirurgia magna' was a great work, written by a reverent but independent follower of salicet. he distinguished between venous and arterial hemorrhage, and used styptics (rabbit's fur, aloes, and white of egg was a popular styptic in elder surgery), digital compression for an hour, or in severe cases ligature. his chapter on injuries of the head { } is one of the classics of medieval surgery. clerk (cleric) as he was, lanfranc nevertheless saw but the more clearly the danger of separating surgery from medicine." certain assertions in this paragraph deserve, as in the case of lanfranc's master, to be discussed, because of their anticipations of what is sometimes thought to be very modern in surgery. the older surgeons are supposed to have feared hemorrhage very much. it is often asserted that they knew little or nothing about the ligature and that their control of hemorrhage was very inadequate. as a matter of fact, however, it was not primary hemorrhage that the old surgeons feared, but secondary hemorrhage. suppuration often led to the opening of an important artery, and this accident, as can well be understood, was very much dreaded. surgeons would lose their patients before they could come to their relief. how thoroughly lanfranc knew how to control primary hemorrhage can be appreciated from the quotation just made from dr. allbutt's address. the ligature is sometimes said to have been an invention of ambroise paré, but, as a matter of fact, it had been in use for at least three centuries before his time, and perhaps even longer. usually it is considered that the difficult chapter of head injuries, with all the problems that it involves in diagnosis and treatment, is a product of the nineteenth century. hence do we read, with all the more interest, allbutt's declaration that lanfranc wrote what is practically a classical monograph, on the subject. it is not so surprising, then, to find that the great french surgeon was far ahead of his generation in other matters, or that he should even have realized the danger of separating surgery from medicine. both the regius professors of medicine at the two great english universities, cambridge and oxford, have, since the beginning of the twentieth century, made public expression of their opinion that the physician should see more of the work of the surgeon, and should not depend on the autopsy room for his knowledge of the results of internal disease. professor osler, particularly, has emphasized his colleague, professor allbutt's opinion in this matter. that a surgical professor at the university of paris, in the thirteenth century, should have anticipated these two leaders { } of medical thought in the twentieth century, would not be so surprising, only that unfortunately the history of medieval teaching has, because of prejudice and a lamentable tradition, not been read aright. occasionally one finds a startling bit of anticipation of what is most modern, in medicine as well as in surgery. for instance, toward the end of the thirteenth century, a distinguished english professor of medicine, known as gilbert, the englishman, was teaching at montpelier, and among other things, was insisting that the rooms of patients suffering from smallpox should be hung entirely with red curtains, and that the doors and the windows should be covered with heavy red hangings. he claimed that this made the disease run a lighter course, with lessened mortality, and with very much less disfigurement. smallpox was an extremely common disease in the thirteenth century, and he probably had many chances for observation. it is interesting to realize that one of the most important observations made at the end of the nineteenth century by dr. finsen, the danish investigator whose studies in light and its employment in therapeutics, drew to him the attention of the world, and eventually the nobel prize of $ , for the greatest advance in medicine was, that the admission of only red light to the room of smallpox patients modified the disease very materially, shortened its course, often prevented the secondary fever, and almost did away completely with the subsequent disfigurement. it is evident that these men were searching and investigating for themselves, and not following blindly in the footsteps of any master. it has often been said that during the middle ages it was a heresy to depart, ever so little, from the teaching of galen. usually it is customary to add that the first writer to break away from galen, effectually, was vesalius, in his de fabrica corporis humani, published toward the end of the second quarter of the sixteenth century. it may be said, in passing, that, as a matter of fact, vesalius, though he accomplished much by original investigation, did not break so effectually with galen as would have been for the best in his own work, and, especially, for its influence on his successors. he certainly did not set an example of independent research { } and personal observation, any more fully, than did the medical teachers of the thirteenth century already mentioned, and some others, like mondaville and arnold of villanova, whose names well deserve to be associated with them. one reason why it is such a surprise to find how thoroughly practical was the teaching of the thirteenth century university medical schools, is because it has somehow come to be a very general impression that medicine was taught mainly by disputations, and by the consultation of authorities, and that it was always more important to have a passage of galen to support a medical notion, than, to have an original observation. this false impression is due to the fact that the writers of the history of medical education have, until recent years, drawn largely on their imaginations, and have not consulted the old-time medical books. in spite of the fact that printing was not discovered for more than two centuries later, there are many treatises on medicine that have come down to us from this early time, and the historians of medicine now have the opportunity, and are taking the trouble, to read them with a consequent alteration of old-time views, as to the lack of encouragement for original observation, in the later middle ages. these old tomes are not easy reading, but nothing daunts a german investigator bound to get to the bottom of his subject, and such men as pagel and puschmann have done much to rediscover for us medieval medicine. the french medical historians have not been behind their german colleagues and magnificent work has been accomplished, especially by the republication of old texts. william of salicet's surgery was republished by pifteau at toulouse in . mondaville's surgery was republished under the auspices of the society for the publication of old french texts in and . these republications have made the works of the old-time surgeons readily available for study by all interested in our great predecessors in medicine, all over the world. before this, it has always been necessary to get to some of the libraries in which the old texts were preserved, and this, of course, made it extremely difficult for the ordinary teacher of the history of medicine to know anything about them. besides, old texts are such difficult reading that few, except the most earnest of students, { } have patience for them, and they are so time-taking as to be practically impossible for modern, hurried students. unfortunately, writers of the history of medicine filled up this gap in their knowledge, only too frequently, either out of their imaginations, or out of their inadequate authorities, with the consequence of inveterating the old-time false impression with regard to the absence of anything of medical or surgical interest, even in the later middle ages. another and much more serious reason for the false impression with regard to the supposed blankness of the middle age in medical progress, was the notion, quite generally accepted, and even yet not entirely rejected, by many, that the church was opposed to scientific advance in the centuries before the reformation so-called, and that even the sciences allied to medicine, fell under her ban. for instance, there is not a history of medicine, so far as i know, published in the english language, which does not assert that pope boniface viii., by a bull promulgated at the end of the thirteenth century, forbade the practise of dissection. to most people, it will, at once, seem a natural conclusion, that if the feeling against the study of the human body by dissection had reached such a pass as to call forth a papal decree in the matter, at the end of the century, all during the previous hundred years, there must have been enough ecclesiastical hampering of anatomical work to prevent anything like true progress, and to preclude the idea of any genuinely progressive teaching of anatomy. there is not the slightest basis for this bit of false history except an unfortunate, it is to be hoped not intentional, misapprehension on the part of historical writers as to the meaning of a papal decree issued by boniface viii. in the year . he forbade, under pain of excommunication, the boiling of bodies and their dismemberment in order that thus piecemeal they might be transported to long distances for burial purposes. it is now well known that the bull was aimed at certain practises which had crept in, especially among the crusaders in the east. when a member of the nobility fell a victim to wounds or to disease, his companions not infrequently dismembered the body, boiled it so as to prevent putrefaction, or at least delay decay, and then transported it long distances to his home, in { } order that he might have christian burial in some favorite graveyard, and that his friends might have the consolation of knowing where his remains rested. the body of the emperor frederick barbarosa, who died in the east, is said to have been thus treated. boniface was one of the most broadly educated men of his time, who had been a great professor of canon and civil law at paris when younger, and realized the dangers involved in such a proceeding from a sanitary standpoint, and he forbade it, requiring that the bodies should be buried where the persons had died. he evidently considered that the ancient custom of consecrating a portion of earth for the purpose of burial in order that the full christian rites might be performed, was quite sufficient for noble as for common soldier. for this very commendable sanitary regulation boniface has been set down by historians of medicine as striking a death blow at the development of anatomy for the next two centuries. as a matter of fact, however, anatomy continued to be studied in the universities after this bull as it had been before, and it is evident that never by any misapprehension as to its meaning was the practise of dissection lessened. curiously enough the history of human dissection can only be traced with absolute certainty from the time immediately after this bull. it is during the next twenty-five years at the university of bologna, which was always closely in touch with the ecclesiastical authorities in italy and especially with the pope, that the foundations of dissection, as the most important practical department of medical teaching, were laid by mondino, whose book on dissection continued to be the text book used in most of the medical schools for the next two centuries. guy de chauliac who studied there during the first half of the fourteenth century says he saw many dissections made there. it was at montpellier, about the middle of the century, when the popes were at avignon not far away, that guy de chauliac himself made attendance at dissections obligatory for every student, and obtained permission to use the bodies of criminals for dissection purposes. at the time chauliac occupied the post of chamberlain to the popes. all during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries constant progress was making in anatomy, especially in italy, and some of it was accomplished at rome { } by distinguished teachers of anatomy who had been summoned by the popes to their capital in order to add distinction to the teaching staff at the famous papal school of science, the sapienza, to which were attached during the next two centuries many of the distinguished scientific professors of the time. this story with regard to the papal prohibition of dissection has no foundation in the history of the times. it has had not a little to do, however, with making these times very much misunderstood and one still continues to see printed references to the misfortune, which is more usually called a crime, that prevented the development of a great humanitarian science because of ecclesiastical prejudice. this story with regard to anatomy, however, is not a whit worse than that which is told of chemistry in almost the same terms. at the beginning of the fourteenth century pope john xxii. is said to have issued a bull forbidding chemistry under pain of excommunication, which according to some writers in the matter is said to have included the death penalty. it has been felt in the same way as with regard to anatomy, that this was only the culmination of a feeling in ecclesiastical circles against chemistry which must have hampered its progress all during the thirteenth century. an examination of the so-called bull with regard to chemistry, it is really only a decree, shows even less reason for the slander of pope john xxii. than of boniface viii. john had been scarcely a year on the papal throne when he issued this decree forbidding "alchemies" and inflicting a punishment upon those who practised them. the first sentence of the title of the document is: "alchemies are here prohibited and those who practise them or procure their being done are punished." this is evidently all of the decree that those who quoted it as a prohibition of chemistry seem ever to have read. under the name "alchemies," pope john, as is clear from the rest of the document, meant a particular kind of much-advertised chemical manipulations. he forbade the supposed manufacture of gold and silver. the first sentence of his decree shows how thoroughly he recognized the falsity of the pretensions of the alchemists in this matter. "poor themselves," he says, "the alchemists promise riches which are not forthcoming." he then forbids them further to impose upon the poor people { } whose confidence they abuse and whose good money they take to return them only base-metal or none at all. the only punishment inflicted for the doing of these "alchemies" on those who might transgress the decree was not death or imprisonment, but that the pretended makers of gold and silver should be required to turn into the public treasury as much gold and silver as had been paid them for their alchemies, the money thus paid in to go to the poor. as in the case of the bull with regard to anatomy, it is very clear that by no possible misunderstanding at the time was the development of the science of chemistry hindered by this papal document. chemistry had to a certain extent been cultivated at the university of paris, mainly by ecclesiastics. both aquinas and his master albertus wrote treatises on chemical subjects. roger bacon devoted much time to it as is well known, and for the next three centuries the history of chemistry has a number of names of men who were not only unhampered by the ecclesiastical authorities, but who were themselves usually either ecclesiastics, or high in favor with the churchmen of their time and place. this is true of hollandus, of arnold of villanova, of basil valentine, and finally of the many abbots and bishops to whom paracelsus in his time acknowledged his obligations for aid in his chemical studies. almost needless to say it has been impossible, in a brief sketch of this kind limited to a single chapter, to give anything like an adequate idea of what the enthusiastic graduate students and professors of the thirteenth century succeeded in accomplishing. it is probably this department of university life, however, that has been least understood, or rather we should say most persistently misunderstood. the education of the time is usually supposed to be eminently unpractical, and great advances in the departments of knowledge that had important bearings on human life and its relations were not therefore thought possible. it is just here, however, that sympathetic interpretation and the pointing out of the coordination of intellectual work often considered to be quite distinct from university influences were needed. it is hoped then that this short sketch will prove sufficient to call the attention of modern educators to a field that has been neglected, or at least has { } received very little cultivation compared to its importance, but which must be sedulously worked, if our generation is to understand with any degree of thoroughness the spirit manifested and the results attained by the medieval universities. [illustration] double flying buttress (rheims) { } vi the book of the arts and popular education. the most important portion of the history of the thirteenth century and beyond all doubt the most significant chapter in the book of its arts, is to be found in the great gothic cathedrals, so many of which were erected at this time and whose greatest perfection of finish in design and in detail came just at the beginning of this wonderful period. we are not concerned here with the gradual development of gothic out of the older romanesque architectural forms, nor with the oriental elements that may have helped this great evolution. all that especially concerns us is the fact that the generations of the thirteenth century took the gothic ideas in architecture and applied them so marvelously, that thereafter it could be felt that no problem of structural work had been left unsolved and no feature of ornament or decoration left untried or at least unsuggested. the great center of gothic influence was the north of france, but it spread from here to every country in europe, and owing to the intimate relations existing between england and france because of the presence of the normans in both countries, developed almost as rapidly and with as much beauty, and effectiveness as in the mother country. it is in fact in england just before the thirteenth century, that the spirit which gave rise to the cathedrals can be best observed at work and its purposes most thoroughly appreciated. the great cathedral at lincoln had some of its most important features before the beginning of the thirteenth century and this was doubtless due to the famous st. hugh of lincoln, who was a frenchman by birth and whose experience in normandy in early life enabled him successfully to set about the creation of a gothic cathedral in the country that had become his by adoption. {opp } [illustration] angel choir (lincoln) { } hugh himself was so great of soul, so deeply interested in his people and their welfare, so ready to make every sacrifice for them even to the extent of incurring the enmity of his king (even froude usually so unsympathetic to medieval men and things has included him among his short studies of great subjects), that one cannot help but think that when he devoted himself to the erection of the magnificent cathedral, he realized very well that it would become a center of influence, not only religious but eminently educational, in its effects upon the people of his diocese. the work was begun then with a consciousness of the results to be attained and the influence of the cathedral must not be looked upon as accidental. he must have appreciated that the creating of a work of beauty in which the people themselves shared, which they looked on as their own property, to which they came nearly every second day during the year for religious services, would be a telling book out of which they would receive more education than could come to them in any other way. of course we cannot hope in a short chapter or two to convey any adequate impression of the work that was done in and for the cathedrals, nor the even more important reactionary influence they had in educating the people. ferguson says: [footnote ] [footnote : ferguson--history of architecture. n. y., dodd, mead & co.] "the subject of the cathedrals, their architecture and decoration is, in fact, practicably inexhaustible. . . . priests and laymen worked with masons, painters, and sculptors, and all were bent on producing the best possible building, and improving every part and every detail, till the amount of thought and contrivance accumulated in any single structure is almost incomprehensible. if any one man were to devote a lifetime to the study of one of our great cathedrals--assuming it to be complete in all its medieval arrangements--it is questionable whether he would master all its details, and fathom all the reasonings and experiments which led to the glorious result before him. and when we consider that not in the great cities alone, but in every convent and in every parish, thoughtful professional men were trying to excel what had been done and was doing, by their predecessors and their fellows, we shall { } understand what an amount of thought is built into the walls of our churches, castles, colleges, and dwelling houses. if any one thinks he can master and reproduce all this, he can hardly fail to be mistaken. my own impression is that not one tenth part of it has been reproduced in all the works written on the subject up to this day, and much of it is probably lost and never again to be recovered for the instruction and delight of future ages." this profound significance and charming quality of the cathedrals is usually unrecognized by those who see them only once or twice, and who, though they are very much interested in them for the moment, have no idea of the wealth of artistic suggestion and of thoughtful design so solicitously yet happily put into them by their builders. people who have seen them many times, however, who have lived in close touch with them, who have been away from them for a time and have come back to them, find the wondrous charm that is in these buildings. architects and workmen put their very souls into them and they will always be of interest. it is for this reason, that the casual visitor at all times and in all moods finds them ever a source of constantly renewed pleasure, no matter how many times they may be seen. elizabeth robbins pennell has expressed this power of cathedrals to please at all times, even after they have been often seen and are very well known, in a recent number of the _century_, in describing the great cathedral of notre dame, "often as i have seen notre dame," she says, "the marvel of it never grows less. i go to paris with no thought of time for it, busy about many other things and then on my way over one of the bridges across the river perhaps, i see it again on its island, the beautiful towers high above the houses and palaces and the view now so familiar strikes me afresh with all the wonder of my first impression." this is we think the experience of everyone who has the opportunity to see much of notre dame. the present writer during the course of his medical studies spent many months in daily view of the cathedral and did a good deal of work at the old morgue, situated behind the cathedral. even at the end of his stay he was constantly finding new beauties in { } the grand old structure and learning to appreciate it more and more as the changing seasons of a paris fall and winter and spring, threw varying lights and shadows over it. it was like a work of nature, never growing old, but constantly displaying some new phase of beauty to the passers-by. mrs. pennell resents only the restorations that have been made. generations down even to our time have considered that they could rebuild as beautifully as the thirteenth century constructors; some of them even have thought that they could do better, doubtless, yet their work has in the opinion of good critics served only to spoil or at least to detract from the finer beauty of the original plan. no wonder that r. m. stevenson, who knew and loved the old cathedral so well, said: "notre dame is the only un-greek thing that unites majesty, elegance, and awfulness." inasmuch as it does so it is a typical product of this wonderful thirteenth century, the only serious rival the greeks have ever had. but of course it does not stand alone. there are other cathedrals built at the same time at least as handsome and as full of suggestions. indeed in the opinion of many critics it is inferior in certain respects to some three or four of the greatest gothic cathedrals. it cannot be possible that these generations builded so much better than they knew, that it is only by a sort of happy accident that their edifices still continue to be the subject of such profound admiration, and such endless sources of pleasure after seven centuries of experience. if so we would certainly be glad to have some such happy accident occur in our generation, for we are building nothing at the present time with regard to which we have any such high hopes. of course the generations of cathedral builders knew and appreciated their own work. the triumph of the thirteenth century is therefore all the more marked and must be considered as directly due to the environment and the education of its people. we have then in the study of their cathedrals the keynote for the modern appreciation of the character and the development of their builders. it will be readily understood, how inevitably fragmentary must be our consideration of the cathedrals, yet there is the consolation that they are the best known feature of thirteenth { } century achievement and that consequently all that will be necessary will be to point out the significance of their construction as the basis of the great movement of education and uplift in the century. perhaps first a word is needed with regard to the varieties of gothic in the different countries of europe and what they meant in the period. probably, the most interesting feature of the history of gothic architecture, at this period, is to be found in the circumstance that, while all of the countries erected gothic structures along the general lines which had been laid down by its great inventors in the north and center of france, none of the architects and builders of the century, in other countries, slavishly followed the french models. english gothic is quite distinct from its french ancestor, and while it has defects it has beauties, that are all its own, and a simplicity and grandeur, well suited to the more rugged character of the people among whom it developed. italian gothic has less merits, perhaps, than any of the other forms of the art that developed in the different nations. in italy, with its bright sunlight, there was less crying need for the window space, for the provision of which, in the darker northern countries, gothic was invented, but, even here the possibilities of decorated architecture along certain lines were exhausted more fully than anywhere else, as might have been expected from the esthetic spirit of the italians. german gothic has less refinement than any of the other national forms, yet it is not lacking in a certain straightforward strength and simplicity of appearance, which recommends it. the germans often violated the french canons of architecture, yet did not spoil the ultimate effect. st. stephen's in vienna has many defects, yet as a good architectural authority has declared it is the work of a poet, and looks it. a recent paragraph with regard to spanish gothic in an article on spain, by havelock ellis, illustrates the national qualities of this style very well. as much less is generally known about the special development of gothic architecture in the spanish peninsula, it has seemed worth while to quote it at some length: "moreover, there is no type of architecture which so { } admirably embodies the romantic spirit as spanish gothic. such a statement implies no heresy against the supremacy of french gothic. but the very qualities of harmony and balance of finely tempered reason, which make french gothic so exquisitely satisfying, softened the combination of mysteriously grandiose splendor with detailed realism, in which lies the essence of gothic as the manifestation of the romantic spirit. spanish gothic at once by its massiveness and extravagance and by its realistic naturalness, far more potently embodies the spirit of medieval life. it is less esthetically beautiful but it is more romantic. in leon cathedral, spain possesses one of the very noblest and purest examples of french gothic--a church which may almost be said to be the supreme type of the gothic ideal, of a delicate house of glass finely poised between buttresses; but there is nothing spanish about it. for the typical gothic of spain we must go to toledo and burgos, to tarragona and barcelona. here we find the elements of stupendous size, of mysterious gloom, of grotesque and yet realistic energy, which are the dominant characters, alike of spanish architecture and of medieval romance." those who think that the gothic architecture came to a perfection all its own by a sort of wonderful manifestation of genius in a single generation, and then stayed there, are sadly mistaken. there was a constant development to be noted all during the thirteenth century. this development was always in the line of true improvement, while just after the century closed degeneration began, decoration became too important a consideration, parts were over-loaded with ornament, and the decadence of taste in gothic architecture cannot escape the eye even of the most untutored. all during the thirteenth century the tendency was always to greater lightness and elegance. one is apt to think of these immense structures as manifestations of the power of man to overcome great engineering difficulties and to solve immense structural problems, rather than as representing opportunities for the expression of what was most beautiful and poetic in the intellectual aspirations of the generations. but this is what they were, and their architects were poets, for in the best sense of the { } etymology of the word they were creators. that their raw material was stone and mortar rather than words was only an accident of their environment. each of the architects succeeded in expressing himself with wonderful individuality in his own work in each cathedral. the improvements introduced by the thirteenth century people into the architecture that came to them, were all of a very practical kind, and were never suggested for the sake of merely adding to opportunities for ornamentation. in this matter, skillful combinations of line and form were thought out and executed with wonderful success. at the beginning of the century, delicate shafts of marble, highly polished, were employed rather freely, but as these seldom carried weight, and were mainly ornamental in character, they were gradually eliminated, yet, without sacrificing any of the beauty of structure since combinations of light and shade were secured by the composition of various forms, and the use of delicately rounded mouldings alternated with hollows, so as to produce forcible effects in high light and deep shadow. in a word, these architects and builders, of the thirteenth century, set themselves the problem of building effectively, making every portion count in the building itself, and yet, securing ornamental effects out of actual structure such as no other set of architects have ever been able to surpass, and, probably, only the greek architects of the periclean period ever equaled. needless to say, this is the very acme of success in architectural work, and it is for this reason that the generations of the after time have all gone back so lovingly to study the work of this period. it might be thought, that while gothic architecture was a great invention in its time and extremely suitable for ecclesiastical or even educational edifices of various kinds, its time of usefulness has passed and that men's widening experience in structural work, ever since, has carried him far away from it. as a matter of fact, most of our ecclesiastical buildings are still built on purely gothic lines, and a definite effort is made, as a rule, to have the completed religious edifice combine a number of the best features of thirteenth century gothic. with what { } success this has been accomplished can best be appreciated from the fact, that none of the modern structures attract anything like the attention of the old, and the cathedrals of this early time still continue to be the best asset of the towns in which they are situated, because of the number of visitors they attract. far from considering gothic architecture outlived, architects still apply themselves to it with devotion because of the practical suggestions which it contains, and there are those of wide experience, who still continue to think it the most wonderful example of architectural development that has ever come, and even do not hesitate to foretell a great future for it. reinach, in his story of art throughout the ages, [footnote ] has been so enthusiastic in this matter that a paragraph of his opinion must find a place here. reinach, it may be said, is an excellent authority, a member of the institute of france, who has made special studies in comparative architecture, and has written works that carry more weight than almost any others of our generation: [footnote : scribners, new york, .] "if the aim of architecture, considered as an art, should be to free itself as much as possible from subjection to its materials, it may be said that no buildings have more successfully realized this ideal than the gothic churches. and there is more to be said in this connection. its light and airy system of construction, the freedom and slenderness of its supporting skeleton, afford, as it were, a presage of an art that began to develop in the nineteenth century, that of metallic architecture. with the help of metal, and of cement reinforced by metal bars, the moderns might equal the most daring feats of the gothic architects. it would even be easy for them to surpass them, without endangering the solidity of the structure, as did the audacities of gothic art. in the conflicts that obtain between the two elements of construction, solidity and open space, everything seems to show that the principle of free spaces will prevail, that the palaces and houses of the future will be flooded with air and light, that the formula popularized by gothic architecture has a great future before it, and that following the revival of the graeco-roman style from { } the sixteenth century, to our own day, we shall see a yet more enduring renaissance of the gothic style applied to novel materials." it would be a mistake, however, to think that the gothic cathedrals were impressive only because of their grandeur and immense size. it would be still more a mistake to consider them only as examples of a great development in architecture. they are much more than this; they are the compendious expression of the art impulses of a glorious century. every single detail of the gothic cathedrals is not only worthy of study but deserving of admiration, if not for itself, then always for the inadequate means by which it was secured, and most of these details have been found worthy of imitation by subsequent generations. it is only by considering the separate details of the art work of these cathedrals that the full lesson of what these wonderful people accomplished can be learned. there have been many centuries since, in which they would be entirely unappreciated. fortunately, our own time has come back to a recognition of the greatness of the art impulse that was at work, perfecting even what might be considered trivial portions of the cathedrals, and the brightest hope for the future of our own accomplishment is founded on this belated appreciation of old-time work. it has been said that the medieval workman was a lively symbol of the creator himself, in the way in which he did his work. it mattered not how obscure the portion of the cathedral at which he was set, he decorated it as beautifully as he knew how, without a thought that his work would be appreciated only by the very few that might see it. trivial details were finished with the perfection of important parts. microscopic studies in recent years have revealed beautiful designs on pollen grains and diatoms which are far beneath the possibilities of human vision, and have only been discovered by lens combinations of very high powers of the compound microscope. always these beauties have been there though hidden away from any eye. it was as if the creator's hand could not touch anything without leaving it beautiful as well as useful. {opp } [illustration] cathedral (amiens) { } to as great extent as it is possible perhaps for man to secure such a desideratum, the thirteenth century workman succeeded in this same purpose. it is for this reason more than even for the magnificent grandeur of the design and the skilful execution with inadequate means, that makes the gothic cathedral such a source of admiration and wonder. to take first the example of sculpture. it is usually considered that the thirteenth century represented a time entirely too early in the history of plastic art for there to have been any fine examples of the sculptor's chisel left us from it. any such impression, however, will soon be corrected if one but examines carefully the specimens of this form of art in certain cathedrals. as we have said, probably no more charmingly dignified presentation of the human form divine in stone has ever been made than the figure of christ above the main door of the cathedral of amiens, which the amiennois so lovingly call their "beautiful god." there are some other examples of statuary in the same cathedral that are wonderful specimens of the sculptor's art, lending itself for decorative purposes to architecture. this is true for a number of the cathedrals. the statues in themselves are not so beautiful, but as portions of a definite piece of structural work such as a doorway or a facade, they are wonderful models of how all the different arts became subservient to the general effect to be produced. it was at rheims, however, that sculpture reached its acme of accomplishment, and architects have been always unstinted in their praise of this feature of what may be called the capitol church of france. those who have any doubts as to the place of gothic art itself in art history and who need an authority always to bolster up the opinion that they may hold, will find ample support in the enthusiastic opinion of an authority whom we have quoted already. the most interesting and significant feature of his ardent expression of enthusiasm is his comparison of romanesque with gothic art in this respect. the amount of ground covered from one artistic mode to the other is greater than any other advance in art that has ever been made. after all, the real value of the work of the period must be judged, rather by the amount of progress that has { } been made than by the stage of advance actually reached, since it is development rather than accomplishment that counts in the evolution of the race. on the other hand it will be found that reinach's opinion of the actual attainments of gothic art are far beyond anything that used to be thought on the subject a half century ago, and much higher than any but a few of the modern art critics hold in the matter. he says: "in contrast to this romanesque art, as yet in bondage to convention, ignorant or disdainful of nature, the mature gothic art of the thirteenth century appeared as a brilliant revival or realism. the great sculptors who adorned the cathedrals of paris, amiens, rheims, and chartres with their works, were realists in the highest sense of the word. they sought in nature not only their knowledge of human forms, and of the draperies that cover them, but also that of the principles of decoration. save in the gargoyles of cathedrals and in certain minor sculptures, we no longer find in the thirteenth century those unreal figures of animals, nor those ornaments, complicated as nightmares, which load the capitals of romanesque churches; the flora of the country, studied with loving attention, is the sole, or almost the sole source from which decorators take their motives. it is in this charming profusion of flowers and foliage that the genius of gothic architecture is most freely displayed. one of the most admirable of its creations is the famous capital of the vintage in notre dame at rheims, carved about the year . since the first century of the roman empire art had never imitated nature so perfectly, nor has it ever since done so with a like grace and sentiment." reinach defends gothic art from another and more serious objection which is constantly urged against it by those who know only certain examples of it, but have not had the advantage of the wide study of the whole field of artistic endeavor in the thirteenth century, which this distinguished member of the institute of france has succeeded in obtaining. it is curious what unfounded opinions have come to be prevalent in art circles because, only too often, writers with regard to the cathedrals have spent their time mainly in the large cities, or along the principal arteries of travel, and have not realized { } that some of the smaller towns contained work better fitted to illustrate gothic art principles than those on which they depended for their information. if only particular phases of the art of any one time, no matter how important, were to be considered in forming a judgment of it, that judgment would almost surely be unfavorable in many ways because of the lack of completeness of view. this is what has happened unfortunately with regard to gothic art, but a better spirit is coming in this matter, with the more careful study of periods of art and the return of reverence for the grand old middle ages. {opp } [illustration] cathedral (rheims) reinach says: "there are certain prejudices against this admirable, though incomplete, art which it is difficult to combat. it is often said, for instance, that all gothic figures are stiff and emaciated. to convince ourselves of the contrary we need only study the marvelous sculpture of the meeting between abraham and melchisedech, in rheims cathedral; or again in the same cathedral, the visitation, the seated prophet, and the standing angel, or the exquisite magdalen of bordeaux cathedral. what can we see in these that is stiff, sickly, and puny? the art that has most affinity with perfect gothic is neither romanesque nor byzantine, but the greek art of from to b. c. by a strange coincidence, the gothic artists even reproduce the somewhat stereotyped smile of their forerunners." usually it is said that the renaissance brought the supreme qualities of greek plastic art back to life, but here is a thoroughly competent critic who finds them exhibited long before the fifteenth century, as a manifestation of what the self-sufficient generations of the renaissance would have called gothic, meaning thereby, barbarous art. what has been said of sculpture, however, can be repeated with even more force perhaps with regard to every detail of construction and decoration. builders and architects did make mistakes at times, but, even their mistakes always reveal an artist's soul struggling for expression through inadequate media. many things had to be done experimentally, most things were being done for the first time. everything had an originality of its own that made its execution something more than merely a secure accomplishment after previous careful { } tests. in spite of this state of affairs, which might be expected sadly to interfere with artistic execution, the cathedrals, in the main, are full of admirable details not only worthy of imitation, but that our designers are actually imitating or at least finding eminently suggestive at the present time. to begin with a well known example of decorative effect which is found in the earliest of the english cathedrals, that of lincoln. the nave and choir of this was finished just at the beginning of the thirteenth century. the choir is so beautiful in its conception, so wonderful in its construction, so charming in its finish, so satisfactory in all its detail, though there is very little of what would be called striving after effect in it, that it is still called the angel choir. the name was originally given it because it was considered to be so beautiful even during the thirteenth century, that visitors could scarcely believe that it was constructed by human hands and so the legend became current that it was the work of angels. if the critics of the thirteenth century, who had the opportunity to see work of nearly the same kind being constructed in many parts of england, judged thus highly of it, it is not surprising that modern visitors should be unstinted in their praise. it is interesting to note as representative of the feeling of a cultured modern scientific mind that dr. osler said not long ago, in one of his medical addresses, that probably nothing more beautiful had ever come from the hands of man than this angel choir at lincoln. as to who were the designers, who conceived it, or the workmen who executed it, we have no records. it is not unlikely that the famous hugh of lincoln, the great bishop to whom the cathedral owes its foundation and much of its splendor, was responsible to no little extent for this beautiful feature of his cathedral church. the workmen who made it were artist-artisans in the best sense of the word and it is not surprising that other beautiful architectural features should have flourished in a country where such workmen could be found. almost as impressive as the angel choir was the stained glass work at lincoln. the rose windows are among the most beautiful ever made and one of them is indeed considered a gem of its kind. the beautiful colors and wonderful { } effectiveness of the stained glass of these old time cathedrals cannot be appreciated unless the windows themselves are actually seen. at lincoln there is a very impressive contrast that one can scarcely help calling to attention and that has been very frequently the subject of comment by visitors. during the parliamentary time, unfortunately, the stained glass at lincoln fell under the ban of the puritans. the lower windows were almost completely destroyed by the soldiers of cromwell's army. only the rose windows owing to their height were preserved from the destroyer. there was an old sexton at the cathedral, however, for whom the stained glass had become as the apple of his eye. as boy and man he had lived in its beautiful colors as they broke the light of the rising and the setting sun and they were too precious to be neglected even when lying upon the pavement of the cathedral in fragments. he gathered the shattered pieces into bags and hid them away in a dark corner of the crypt, saving them at least from the desecration of being trampled to dust. long afterwards, indeed almost in our own time, they were found here and were seen to be so beautiful that regardless of the fact that they could not be fitted together in anything like their former places, they were pieced into windows and made to serve their original purpose once more. it so happened that new stained glass windows for the cathedral of lincoln were ordered during the nineteenth century. these were made at an unfortunate time in stained glass making and are as nearly absolutely unattractive, to say nothing worse, as it is possible to make stained glass. the contrast with the antique windows, fragmentary as they are, made up of the broken pieces of thirteenth century glass is most striking. the old time colors are so rich that when the sun shines directly on them they look like jewels. no one pays the slightest attention, unless perhaps the doubtful compliment of a smile be given, to the modern windows which were, however, very costly and the best that could be obtained at that time. more of the stained glass of the thirteenth century is preserved at york where, because of the friendship of general ireton, the town and the cathedral were spared the worst ravages of the parliamentarians. as a consequence york still { } possesses some of the best of its old time windows. it is probable that there is nothing more beautiful or wonderful in its effectiveness than the glass in the five sisters window at york. this is only an ordinary lancet window of five compartments--hence the name--in the west front of the cathedral. there are no figures on the window, it is only a mass of beautiful greyish green tints which marvelously subdues the western setting sun at the vesper hour and produces the most beautiful effects in the interior of the cathedral. here if anywhere one can realize the meaning of the expression dim religious light. in recent years, however, it has become the custom for so many people to rave over the five sisters that we are spared the necessity of more than mentioning it. its tints far from being injured by time have probably been enriched. there can be no doubt at all, however, of the artistic tastes and esthetic genius of the man who designed it. the other windows of the cathedral were not unworthy of this triumph of art. how truly the cathedral was a technical school can be appreciated from the fact that it was able to inspire such workmen to produce these wondrous effects. experts in stained glass work have often called attention to the fact that the windows constructed in the thirteenth century were not only of greater artistic value but were also more solidly put together. many of the windows made in the century still maintain their places, in spite of the passage of time, though later windows are sometimes dropping to pieces. it might be thought that this was due to the fact that later stained glass workers were more delicate in the construction of their windows in order not to injure the effect of the stained glass. to some extent this is true, but the stained glass workers of the thirteenth century preserve the effectiveness of their artistic pictures in glass, though making the frame work very substantial. this is only another example of their ability to combine the useful with the beautiful so characteristic of the century, stamping practically every phase of its accomplishment and making their work more admirable because its usefulness does not suffer on account of any strained efforts after supposed beauties. though it is somewhat out of place here we cannot refrain { } from pointing out the educational value of this stained glass work. some of the stories on these windows gave details of many passages from the bible, that must have impressed them upon the people much more than any sermon or reading of the text could possibly have accomplished. they were literally sermons in glass that he who walked by had to read whether he would or not. when we remember that the common people in the middle ages had no papers to distract them, and no books to turn to for information, such illustrations as were provided by the stained glass windows, by the painting and the statuary decorations of the cathedrals, must have been studied with fondest devotion even apart from religious sentiment and out of mere inquisitiveness. the famous "prodigal" window at chartres is a good example of this. every detail of the story is here pictorially displayed in colors, from the time when the young man demands his patrimony through all the various temptations he met with in being helped to spend it, there being a naive richness of detail in the matter of the temptations that is quite medieval, from the boon companions who first led him astray to the depths of degradation which he finally reached before he returned to his father,--even the picture of the fatted calf is not lacking. on others of these windows there are the stories of the patron saints of certain crafts. the life of st. crispin the shoemaker is given in rather full detail. the same is true of st. romain the hunter who was the patron of the furriers. the most ordinary experiences of life are pictured and the methods by which these were turned to account in making the craftsman a saint, must have been in many ways an ideally uplifting example for fellow craftsmen whenever they viewed the window. this sort of teaching could not be without its effect upon the poor. it taught them that there was something else in life besides money getting and that happiness and contentment might be theirs in a chosen occupation and the reward of heaven at the end of it all, for at the top of these windows the hand of the almighty is introduced reaching down from heaven to reward his faithful servants. it is just by such presentation of ideals even to the poor, that { } the thirteenth century differs from the modern time in which even the teaching in the schools seems only to emphasize the fact that men must get money, honestly if they can, but must get money, if they would have what is called success in life. another very interesting feature of these windows is the fact that they were usually the gifts of the various guilds and so represented much more of interest, for the members. it is true that in france, particularly, the monarchs frequently presented stained glass windows and in st. louis time this was so common that scarcely a french cathedral was without one or more testimonials of this kind to his generosity; but most of the windows were given by various societies among the people themselves. how much the construction of such a window when it was well done, would make for the education in taste of those who contributed to the expense of its erection, can scarcely be over-estimated. there was besides a friendly rivalry in this matter in the thirteenth century, which served to bring out the talents of local artists and by the inevitably suggested comparisons eventually served to educate the taste of the people. it must not be thought, however, that it was only in stained glass and painting and sculpture--the major arts--that these workmen attained their triumphs. practically every detail of cathedral construction is a monument to the artistic genius of the century, to the wonderful inspiration afforded the workmen and to the education provided by the guilds which really maintained, as we shall see, a kind of technical school with the approbation and the fostering care of the ecclesiastics connected with the cathedrals. an excellent example of a very different class of work may be noted in the hinges of the cloister door of the cathedral at york. personally i have seen three art designers sketching these at the same time only one of whom was an englishman, another coming from the continent and the third from america. the hinge still swings the heavy oak door of the thirteenth century. the arborization of the metal as it spreads out from the main shaft of the hinge is beautifully decorative in effect. {opp } [illustration] cloister of st. paul's (without the walls, rome) a little study of the hinge seems to show that these branching portions were so arranged as to make the mechanical { } moment of the swinging door less of a dead weight than it would have been if the hinge were a solid bar of iron. besides the spreading of the branches over a wide surface serves to hold the woodwork of the door thoroughly in place. while the hinge was beautiful, then it was eminently useful from a good many standpoints, and trivial though it might be considered to be, it was in reality a type of all the work accomplished in connection with these thirteenth century cathedrals. according to the old latin proverb "_omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci_," he scores every point who mingles the useful with the beautiful, and certainly the thirteenth century workman succeeded in accomplishing the desideratum to an eminent degree. this mingling of the useful and the beautiful is of itself a supreme difference between the thirteenth century generations and our own. mr. yeats, the well known irish poet, in bidding farewell to america some years ago said to a party of friends, that no country could consider itself to be making real progress in culture until the very utensils in the kitchen were beautiful as well as useful. anything that is merely useful is hideous, and anyone who can handle such things with impunity has not true culture. in the thirteenth century they never by any chance made anything that was merely useful, especially not if it was to be associated with their beloved cathedral. an excellent example of this can be found in their chalices and other ceremonial utensils which were meant for divine service. as we have said elsewhere the craftsman, the journal of the arts and crafts movement in this country not long since compared a chalice of the thirteenth century with the prize cups which are offered for yacht races and other competitions in this country. we may say at once that the form which the chalice received during the thirteenth century is that which constitutes to a great extent the model for this sacred vessel ever since and the comparison with the modern design is therefore all the more interesting. in spite of the fact that money is no object as a rule in the construction of many of the modern prize cups, they compare unfavorably according to the writer in the craftsman with the old time chalices. there is a tendency to over ornamentation which { } spoils the effectiveness of the lines of the metal work in many cases and there is also only too often, an attempt to introduce forms of plastic art which do not lend themselves well to this class of work. it is in design particularly that the older workman excels his modern colleague though usually there are suggestions from several sources for present day work. in a word the thirteenth century chalice was much more admirable than the modern piece of metal work, because the lines were simpler, the combination of beauty with utility more readily recognizable and the obtrusiveness of the ornamentation much less marked. this same thing is true for other even coarser forms of metal work in connection with the cathedrals, and anyone who has seen some of the beautiful iron screens built for cathedral choirs in the olden times will realize that even the worker in iron must have been an artist as well as a blacksmith. the effect produced, especially in the dim light of the cathedral, is often that of delicate lace work. to appreciate the strength of the screen one must actually test it with the hands. this of itself represents a very charming adaptation of what might be expected to be rough work meant for protective purposes into a suitable ornament. some of the gates of the old churchyards are very beautiful in their designs and have often been imitated in quite recent years, for the gates of country places, for our modern millionaires. the reverend augustus jessopp who has written much with regard to the times before the reformation, says that he has found in his investigations, that not infrequently such gates were made by the village blacksmiths. most of the old parish records are lost because of the suppression of the parishes as well as the monasteries in henry the eighth's time. some of the original documents are, however, preserved and among them are receipts from the village blacksmith, for what we now admire as specimens of artistic ironwork and corresponding receipts from the village carpenter, for woodwork that we now consider of equally high order. there were carved bench ends and choir stalls which seem to have been produced in this way. just how these generations of the thirteenth century, in little towns of less than ten thousand inhabitants, { } succeeded in raising up artisans in numbers, capable of doing such fine work, and yet content to make their living at such ordinary occupations, is indeed hard to understand. it must not be forgotten, moreover, that though there was not much furniture during the thirteenth century what little there was, was as a rule very carefully and artistically made. thirteenth century benches and tables are famous. cathedrals and castles worked together in inspiring and giving occupation to these wonderful workmen. it was not only the workmen engaged in the construction of the edifices proper who made the beautiful things and created marvelously artistic treasures during this century. all the adornments of the cathedrals and especially everything associated in any intimate way with the religious service was sure to be executed with the most delicate taste. the vestments of the time are some of the most beautiful that have ever been made. the historians of needlework tell us that this period represents the most flourishing era of artistic accomplishment with the needle of all modern history. one example of this has secured a large share of notoriety in quite recent years. an american millionaire bought the famous piece of needlework known as the cope of ascoli. this is an example of the large garment worn over the shoulders in religious processions and at benediction. the price paid for the garment is said to have been $ , . this was not considered extortionate or enforced, as the cope was declared by experts to be one of the finest pieces of needlework in the world. the jewels which originally adorned it had been removed so that the money was paid for the needlework itself. after a time it became clear that the cope had been stolen before being sold, and accordingly it was returned to the italian government who presented the american millionaire with a medal for his honesty. we have spoken of the cathedrals as great stone books, in which he who ran, might read, even though he were not able to read in the technical sense of the term. this has been an old-time expression with regard to the cathedrals, but not even its inventor perhaps, and certainly not most of those who have repeated it have realized how literally true was the saying. i { } have elsewhere quoted from reinach's story of art throughout the ages as an authority on the subject. his re-statement of the intellectual significance for the people of the cathedrals of their towns, in which it must be remembered that they had a personal interest because in a sense they were really theirs, and they felt their ownership quite as much as a modern member of a parish feels with regard to his church, emphasizes and illuminates this subject to a wonderful degree. the realization that the information of the time was deliberately woven into these great stone structures, mainly of course for decorative purposes, but partly also with the idea of educating the people, is a startling confirmation of the idea that education was the most important and significant work of this great century. "the gothic cathedral is a perfect encyclopedia of human knowledge. it contains scenes from the scriptures and the legends of saints; motives from the animal and vegetable kingdom; representations of the seasons of agricultural labor, of' the arts and sciences and crafts, and finally moral allegories, as, for instance, ingenious personifications of the virtues and the vices. in the thirteenth century a learned dominican, vincent of beauvais, was employed by st. louis to write a great work which was to be an epitome of all the knowledge of his times. this compilation, called the mirror of the world, is divided into four parts: the mirror of nature, the mirror of science, the moral mirror, and the historical mirror. a contemporary archaeologist, m. e. male, has shown that the works of art of our great cathedrals are a translation into stone of the mirror of vincent of beauvais, setting aside the episodes from greek and roman history, which would have been out of place. it was not that the imagers had read vincent's work; but that, like him, they sought to epitomise all the knowledge of their contemporaries. the first aim of their art is not to please, but to teach; they offer an encyclopedia for the use of those who cannot read, translated by sculptor or glass-painter into a clear and precise language, under the lofty direction of the church which left nothing to chance. it was present always and everywhere, advising and superintending the artist, leaving him to his own devices only when he { } modelled the fantastic animals of the gargoyles, or borrowed decorative motives from the vegetable kingdom." [footnote ] [footnote : reinach--the story of art throughout the ages. scribner's, .] [illustration] cathedral (bourges) [illustration: ] cathedral (chartres) as to how much the cathedrals held of meaning for those who built them and worshiped in them, only a careful study of the symbolism of the time will enable the present-day admirer to understand. modern generations have lost most of their appreciation of the significance of symbolism. the occupation of mind with the trivial things that are usually read in our day, leaves little or no room for the study of the profounder thought an artist may care to put into his work, and so the modern artist tells his story as far as possible without any of this deeper significance, since it would only be lost. in the thirteenth century, however, everything artistic had a secondary meaning. literature was full of allegories, even the arthur legends were considered to be the expression of the battle of a soul with worldly influences as well as a poetic presentation of the story of the old time british king. the gothic cathedrals were a mass of symbolism. this will perhaps be best understood from the following explanation of cathedral symbolism, which we take from the translation of durandus's work on the meaning of the divine offices, a further account of which will be found in the chapter on the prose of the century. "far away and long ere we can catch the first view of the city itself, the three spires of its cathedral, rising high above its din and turmoil, preach to us of the most high and undivided trinity. as we approach, the transepts, striking out crosswise, tell of the atonement. the communion of saints is set forth by the chapels clustering around choir and nave: the mystical weathercock bids us to watch and pray and endure hardness; the hideous forms that are seen hurrying from the eaves speak the misery of those who are cast out of the church; spire, pinnacle, and finial, the upward curl of the sculptured foliage, the upward spring of the flying buttress, the sharp rise of the window arch, the high thrown pitch of the roof, all these, overpowering the horizontal tendency of string course and parapet, teach us, that vanquishing earthly desires, we also should ascend in heart and mind. lessons of holy { } wisdom are written in the delicate tracery of the windows; the unity of many members is shadowed forth by the multiplex arcade; the duty of letting our light shine before men, by the pierced and flowered parapet that crowns the whole. "we enter. the triple breadth of nave and aisles, the triple height of pier arch, triforium, and clerestory, the triple length of choir, transepts, and nave, again set forth the holy trinity. and what besides is there that does not tell of our blessed saviour? that does not point out "him first" in the two-fold western door; "him last" in the distant altar; "him midst," in the great rood; "him without end," in the monogram carved on boss and corbel, in the holy lamb, in the lion of the tribe of judah, in the mystic fish? close by us is the font; for by regeneration we enter the church; it is deep and capacious; for we are buried in baptism with christ; it is of stone, for he is the rock; and its spiry cover teaches us, if we be indeed risen from its waters with him, to seek those things which are above. before us in long-drawn vista are the massy piers, which are the apostles and prophets--they are each of many members, for many are the graces in every saint, there is beautifully delicate foliage round the head of all; for all were plentiful in good works. beneath our feet are the badges of worldly pomp and glory, the graves of kings and nobles and knights; all in the presence of god as dross and worthlessness. over us swells the vast valley of the high pitched roof; from the crossing and interlacing of its curious rafters hang fadeless flowers and fruits which are not of earth; from its hammer-beams project wreaths and stars such as adorn heavenly beings; in its center stands the lamb as it has been slain; from around him the celestial host, cherubim and seraphim, thrones, principalities, and powers, look down peacefully on the worshipers below. harpers there are among them harping with their harps; for one is the song of the church in earth and in heaven. through the walls wind the narrow cloister galleries; emblems of the path by which holy hermits and anchorets whose conflicts were known only to their god, have reached their home. and we are compassed about with a mighty cloud of witnesses; the rich deep glass of the windows teems { } with saintly forms, each in its own fair niche, all invested with the same holy repose; there is the glorious company of the apostles; the goodly fellowship of the prophets; the noble army of martyrs; the shining band of confessors; the jubilant chorus of the virgins; there are kings, who have long since changed an earthly for an heavenly crown; and bishops who have given in a glad account to the shepherd and bishop of souls. but on none of these things do we rest; piers, arch behind arch, windows, light behind light, arcades, shaft behind shaft, the roof, bay behind bay, the saints around us, the heavenly hierarchy above with dignity of preeminence still increasing eastward, each and all, lead on eye and soul and thought to the image of the crucified saviour as displayed on the great east window. gazing steadfastly on that we pass up the nave, that is through the church militant, till we reach the rood screen, the barrier between it and the church triumphant, and therein shadowing forth the death of the faithful. high above it hangs on his triumphant cross the image of him who by his death hath overcome death; on it are portrayed saints and martyrs, his warriors who, fighting under their lord have entered into rest and inherit a tearless eternity. they are to be our examples, and the seven lamps above them typify those graces of the spirit, by whom alone we can tread in their steps. the screen itself glows with gold and crimson; with gold, for they have on their heads golden crowns; with crimson, for they passed the red sea of martyrdom, to obtain them. and through the delicate network, and the unfolding holy doors, we catch faint glimpses of the chancel beyond. there are the massy stalls; for in heaven is everlasting rest; there are the sedilia, emblems of the seats of' the elders round the throne; there is the piscina; for they have washed their robes and made them white; and there heart and soul and life of all, the altar with its unquenched lights, and golden carvings, and mystic steps, and sparkling jewels; even christ himself, by whose only merits we find admission to our heavenly inheritance. verily, as we think on the oneness of its design, we may say: jerusalem edificatur ut civitas cujus participatio ejus in idipsum." { } it is because of all this wealth of meaning embodied in them, that the cathedrals of this old time continue to be so interesting and so unfailingly attractive even to our distant and so differently constituted generation. [footnote ] [footnote : those who care to realize to some degree all the wonderful symbolic meaning of the ornamentation of some of these cathedrals, should read m. huysman's book la cathedrale, which has, we believe, been translated into english. needless to say it has been often in our hands in compiling this chapter, and the death of its author as this chapter is going through the press poignantly recalls all the beauty of his work.] we cannot close this chapter on the book of the arts leaving the impression that only the church architecture of the time deserves to be considered in the category of, great art influences. there were many municipal buildings, some stately castles, and a large number of impressively magnificent abbeys and monasteries, besides educational and charitable institutions built at this same time. the town halls of some of the great hansa towns, that is, the german free cities that were members of the hanseatic league, present some very striking examples of the civil architecture of the period. it has the same characteristics that we have discussed in treating of the cathedrals. while wonderfully impressive, it was eminently suitable for the purpose for which it was intended and the decorations always forming integral parts of the structure, sounded the note of the combination of beauty with utility which is so characteristic of every phase of the art accomplishment of the century. some of the castles would deserve special description by themselves but unfortunately space forbids more than a passing mention. certain castellated fortresses still standing in england and ireland come from the time of king john, and are excellent examples of the stability and forceful character of this form of architecture in the thirteenth century. it is interesting to find that when we come to build in the twentieth century in america, the armories which are to be used for the training of our militia and the storage of arms and ammunition, many of the ideas used in their construction are borrowed from this olden time. {opp } [illustration] durham castle and cathedral [illustration] king john's castle (limerick) there is a famous castle in limerick, ireland, built in john's time which constituted an { } excellent example of this and which has doubtlessly often been studied and more or less imitated. one portion of kenilworth castle in england dates from the thirteenth century and has been often the subject of careful study by modern architects. the same thing might be said of many others. with regard to the english abbeys too much cannot be said in praise of their architecture and it has been the model for large educational and municipal buildings ever since. st. mary's abbey at york, though only a few scattered fragments of its beauties are to be seen and very little, of its walls still stand, is almost as interesting as yorkminster, the great cathedral itself. there were many such abbeys as this built in england during the thirteenth century--more than a dozen of them at least and probably a full score. all of them are as distinguished in the history of architecture as the english cathedrals. it will be remembered that what is now called westminster abbey was not a cathedral church, but only a monastery church attached to the abbey of westminster and this, the only well preserved example of its class furnishes an excellent idea of what these religious institutions signify in the thirteenth century. they meant as much for the art impulse as the cathedrals themselves. one feature of these monastic establishments deserves special mention. the cloisters were usually constructed so beautifully as to make them veritable gems of the art of the period. these cloisters were the porticos usually surrounding a garden of the monastery within which the monks could walk, shaded from the sun, and protected from the rain and the snow. they might very easily have been hideously useful porches, especially as they were quite concealed from the outer world as a rule, and those not belonging to the order were not admitted to them except on very special occasions. the name cloister signifies an enclosed place and lay persons were not ordinarily admitted to them. those who know anything about them will recall what beautiful constructive work was put into them. certain examples as that of st. john lateran in rome and the cloister of st. paul's without the walls some five miles from rome, constructed during the { } thirteenth century and under the influence of the same great art movement as gave the cathedrals, are the most beautiful specimens that now remain. the only thing that they can be compared with is the famous angel choir at lincoln which indeed they recall in many ways. the pictures of these two cloisters which we present will give some idea of their beauty. to be thoroughly appreciated, however, they must be seen, for there is a delicacy of finish about every detail that makes them an unending source of admiration and brings people back again and again to see them, yet always to find something new and apparently unnoticed before. it might be thought that the studied variety in the columns so that no two are of exactly the same form, would produce a bizarre effect. the lack of symmetry that might result, from this same feature could be expected to spoil their essential beauty. neither of these effects has been produced, however. the cloisters were, moreover, not purple patches on monasteries, but ever worthy portions of very beautiful buildings. all of these buildings were furnished as regards their metal work, their wood work, and the portions that lent themselves to decoration, in the same spirit as the cathedrals themselves. the magnificent tables and benches of the thirteenth century are still considered to be the best models of simplicity of line with beauty of form and eminent durability in the history of furniture making. the fashion for colonial furniture in our own time has brought us nearer to such thirteenth century furniture making than has been true at any other time in history. here once more there was one of these delightful combinations of beauty and utility which is so characteristic of the century. even the kitchen utensils were beautiful as well as useful and the irish poet might have been satisfied to his heart's content. {opp } [illustration] palazzo vecchio (arnulfo, florence) campanile (giotto) [illustration] giotto's tower (florence) certain other architectural forms were wonderfully developed during the thirteenth century and the opening years of the fourteenth century while men trained during the former period were still at work. giotto's tower, for instance, must be considered a thirteenth century product since its architect was well past thirty-five years of age before the thirteenth { } century closed and all his artistic character had been formed under its precious inspiration. it is a curious reflection on modern architecture, that some of the modern high business buildings are saved from being hideous just in as much as they approach the character of some of these tower-like structures of the thirteenth century. the first of new york's skyscrapers which is said to have escaped the stigma of being utterly ugly, as most of them are, because of their appeal to mere utility, was the new york times building which is just giotto's tower on a large scale set down on broadway at the beginning of the twentieth century. seen from a mile away the effect is exactly that of the great florentine architect's beautiful structure and this was of course the deliberate intention of the modern architect. anyone who would think, however, that our modern business building with its plain walls recalls in any adequate sense its great pattern, should read what mr. ruskin has said with regard to the wealth of meaning that is to be found in giotto's tower. into such structures just as into the cathedrals, the architects and builders of the time succeeded in putting a whole burden of suggestion, which to the generations of the time in which they were built, accustomed to the symbolism of every art feature in life around them, had a precious wealth of significance that we can only appreciate after deep study and long contemplation. we have felt that only the quotation from mr. ruskin himself can fully illustrate what we wish to convey in this matter. "of these representations of human art under heavenly guidance, the series of basreliefs which stud the base of this tower of giotto's must be held certainly the chief in europe. at first you may be surprised at the smallness of their scale in proportion to their masonry; but this smallness of scale enabled the master workmen of the tower to execute them with their own hands; and for the rest, in the very finest architecture, the decoration of most precious kind is usually thought of as a jewel, and set with space round it--as the jewels of a crown, or the clasp of a girdle." { } vii arts and crafts--great technical schools the most interesting social movement in our time is undoubtedly that of the arts and crafts. its central idea is to lift the workmen up above the mere machine that he is likely to become, as the result of the monotonous occupation at some trade, that requires him only to do a constantly repeated series of acts, or direct, one little portion of machinery and so kills the soul in him. of course, the other idea that a generation of workmen shall be created, who will be able to make beautiful things, for the use of the household as well as the adornment of the house is another principal purpose. too many people have mistaken this entirely secondary aim of the movement for its primary end. it is because of the effect upon the workman himself of the effort to use his intellect in the designing, his taste in the arrangement, and his artisan skill for the execution of beautiful things, that the arts and crafts movement has its appeal to the generality of mankind. the success of the movement promises, to do more, to solve social problems than all the socialistic agitation that is at present causing so much dismay in some quarters and raising so many hopes that are destined to be disappointed in the hearts of the laboring classes. the solution of the problem of social unrest is to be found, not in creating new wants for people and giving them additional wages that will still further stimulate their desire to have many things that will continue to be in spite of increased wages beyond their means, but rather to give them such an interest in their life work that their principal source of pleasure is to be found in their occupation. unfortunately work has come to be looked upon as a drudgery and as men must spend the greater portion of their lives, at least the vast majority of them must, in doing something that will enable them to make a living, it is clear that unhappiness { } and discontent will still continue. blessed is the man who has found his work, blessed is the man to whom his work appeals with so much interest that he goes from it with a longing to be able to finish what he has been at, and comes back to it with a prospect that now he shall be able to accomplish what time and perhaps fatigue would not allow him to proceed with the day before. this is the best feature of the promises held out by the arts and crafts movement, that men shall be interested in the work they do. this may seem to some people an unrealizable idea and a poetic aspiration rather than a possible actuality. a little study of what was accomplished in this line during the thirteenth century, will surely prove even to the most skeptical how much of success is capable of being realized in this matter. the men who worked around the cathedrals were given opportunities to express themselves and the best that was in them as no class of workmen before or since have ever had the opportunity. every single portion of the cathedral was to be made as beautiful as the mind of man could conceive, his taste could plan and his hands could achieve. as a consequence the carpenter had the chance to express himself in the woodwork, the village blacksmith the opportunity to display his skill in such small ironwork as the hinges or the latch for the door and every workman felt called upon to do the best that was in him. it is easy to understand under these circumstances with what interest the men must have applied themselves to their tasks. they were, as a rule, the designers as well as the executors of the work assigned them. they planned and executed in the rough and tried, then modified and adapted, until finally as we know of most of the cathedrals, their finished product was as nearly perfect in most particulars as it is ordinarily given to man to achieve. their aim above all was to make such a combination of utility with beauty of line yet simplicity of finish, as would make their work worthy counterparts of all the other portions of the cathedral. the sense of competition must have stirred men to the very depths of their souls and yet it was not the heartless rivalry that crushes when it succeeds, but the inspiring emulation that makes one do as well as or better than others, though not necessarily in such a way as to { } belittle others' efforts by contrast or humble them by triumph. {opp } [illustration] fountain (perugia) [town pump] [illustration] lavatoio (todi) [public wash-house] in these old medieval days england used to be called merrie england and it is easy to understand that workmen would be profoundly merry at heart, when they had the consciousness of accomplishing such good work. men must have almost tardily quitted their labor in the evening while they hoped and strove to accomplish something that would be worthy of the magnificent building in which so many of their fellow workmen were achieving triumphs of handicraftsmanship. each went home to rest for the night, but also to dream over what he might be able to do and awoke in the morning with the thought that possibly to-day would see some noteworthy result. this represents the ideal of the workman's life. he has an interest quite apart from the mere making of money. the picture of the modern workman by contrast looks vain and sordid. the vast majority of our workmen labor merely because they must make enough money to-day, in order that they may be able to buy food enough so as to get strength to work to-morrow. of interest there is very little. day after day there is the task of providing for self and others. only this and nothing more. is it any wonder that there should be social unrest and discontentment? how can workmen be merry unless with the artificial stimulus of strong drink, when there is nothing for them to look forward to except days and weeks and years of labor succeeding one another remorselessly, and with no surcease until nature puts in her effective demand for rest, or the inevitable end comes. it would be idle to say that these men who knew how to make the beautiful things for these cathedrals were not conscious of the perfection of the work that they were accomplishing. the very fact that each in his own line was achieving such beautiful results must have stamped him as thoroughly capable of appreciating the work of others. the source of pleasure that there must have been therefore, in some twenty towns in england alone, to see their cathedral approaching completion, must have been of itself a joy far beyond anything we can imagine as possible for the workmen of the present day. the interest in it was supreme and was only heightened by the fact that it was being done by relatives and friends and brother workmen, even { } though they might be rivals, and that whatever was done was redounding first to the glory of the lord to whom they turned with so much confidence in these ages of faith, and secondly, and there was scarcely less satisfaction in the thought, to the reputation of their native town and their fellow-townsmen. this is the feature of the life of the lower classes in the thirteenth century which most deserves to be studied in our time. we hear much of people being kept in ignorance and in servitude. men who talk this way know nothing at all of the lives of the towns of the middle ages and are able to appreciate not even in the slightest degree the wonderful system of education, that made life so much fuller of possibilities for intellectual development for all classes and for happiness in life, than any other period of which we know. this phase of the thirteenth century is at once the most interesting, the most significant for future generations, and the most important in its lessons for all time. we have been following up thus far the exemplification in the thirteenth century of john ruskin's saying, that if you wish to get at the real significance of the achievements of a period in history, you must read the book of its deeds, the book of its arts and the book of its words. we have been turning over a few of the pages of the book of the deeds of the thirteenth century in studying the history of the establishment of the universities and of the method and content of university teaching. after all the only deeds that ought to count in the history of mankind are those that are done for men--that have accomplished something for the uplift of mankind. history is unfortunately occupied with deeds of many other kinds, and it is perhaps the saddest blot on our modern education, that it is mainly the history of deeds that have been destructive of man, of human happiness and in only too many cases of human rights and human liberties, that are supposed to be most worthy of the study of the rising generation. history as written for schools is to a great extent a satire on efforts for social progress. we shall continue the study of the book of the deeds of the thirteenth century and its most interesting and important chapter, that of the education of the masses. we shall find in what was accomplished in educating the people of the { } thirteenth century, the model of the form of education which in spite of our self-complacency does not exist, but must come in our time, if our education is to fulfill its real purpose. perhaps the most interesting phase of this question of the education of the masses will be the fact that in studying this book of the deeds, we shall have also to study once more the book of the arts of the thirteenth century. all their best accomplishment was linked with achievement and progress in art. yet it was from the masses that the large number of artist-artisans of workmen with the true artistic spirit came, who in this time in nearly every part of europe, created masterpieces of art in every department which have since been the admiration of the world. we may say at once that the opportunity for the education of the masses was furnished in connection with the cathedrals. in the light of what we read in these great stone books, it is a constant source of surprise that the church should be said to have been opposed to education. reinach in his story of art throughout the ages says: "the church was not only rich and powerful in the middle ages; it dominated and directed all the manifestations of human activity. there was practically no art but the art it encouraged, the art it needed to construct and adorn its buildings, carve its ivories and its reliquaries, and paint its glass and its missals. foremost among the arts it fostered was architecture, which never played so important a part in any other society. even now, when we enter a romanesque or gothic church, we are impressed by the might of that vast force of which it is the manifestation, a force which shaped the destinies of europe for a thousand years." it was as the result of this demand for art that the technical schools naturally developed around the cathedrals. to take the example of england alone, during the thirteenth century some twenty cathedrals were erected in various parts of the country. most of these were built in what we would now call small towns, indeed some of them would be considered scarcely more than villages. there were no large cities, in praise be it spoken, during the thirteenth century, and it must not be forgotten that the whole population of england at the beginning { } of the century was scarcely more than two millions of people and did not reach three millions even at the end of it. every rood of ground did not perhaps maintain its man, but every part of england had its quota of population so that there could not be many crowded centers. even london probably at no time during the century had more than twenty-five thousand inhabitants and oxford during the palmiest days of the university was perhaps the most populous place in the land. there was a rivalry in the building of cathedrals, and as the main portion of the buildings were erected in the short space of a single century, a feeling of intense competition was rife so that there was very little possibility of procuring workmen from other towns. each town had to create not only its cathedral but the workmen who would finish it in all its details. when we consider that a cathedral like salisbury was practically completed in the short space of about twenty-five years, it becomes extremely difficult to understand just how this little town succeeded in apparently accomplishing the impossible. it has often been said that artists cannot be obtained merely because of a demand for them and that they are the slow creation of rather capricious nature. it is only another way of saying that the artist is born, not made. nature then must have been in a particularly fruitful mood and tense during the thirteenth century, for there is no doubt at all of the wonderful artistic beauty of the details of these gothic cathedrals. while nature's beneficence meant much, however, the training of the century probably meant even more and the special form of popular education which developed well deserves the attention of all other generations. it may be said at once that education in our sense of teaching everybody to read and write there was none. there were more students at the universities to the number of the population than in the twentieth century as we have seen, but people who were not to devote themselves in after life to book learning, were not burdened with acquisitions of doubtful benefit, which might provide stores of useless information for them, or enable them to while away hours of precious time reading trash, or make them conceited with the thought that because they had absorbed some of the opinions of others on things in general, { } they had a right to judge of most things under the sun and a few other things besides. the circulation of our newspapers and the records of the books in demand at our libraries, show how much a knowledge of reading means for most of our population. popular education of this kind may, and does benefit a few, but it works harm to a great many. of education in the sense of training the faculties so that the individual might express whatever was in him and especially that he might bring out what was best in him, there was much. take again the example of england. there was considerably less in population than there is in greater new york at the present time, yet there was some twenty places altogether in which they were building cathedrals during this century, that would be monuments of artistic impulse and accomplishment for all future time. any city in this country would be proud to have any one of these english cathedrals of the thirteenth century as the expression of its taste and power to execute. we have tried to imitate them more or less in many places. in order to accomplish our purpose in this matter, though, we deliberately did everything on a much smaller and less ambitious scale than the people of the small english towns of seven centuries ago, and our results do not bear comparison for a moment with theirs, we had to appeal to other parts of the country and even to europe for architects and designers, and even had to secure the finished products of art from distant places. this too, in spite of the fact that we are seven centuries later and that our education is supposed to be developed to a high extent. if there were twenty places of instruction in greater new york where architects and artist workers in iron and glass, and metal of all kinds, and wood and stone, were being trained to become such finished artisans as were to be found in twenty different little towns of england in the thirteenth century, we should be sure that our manual training schools and our architectural departments of universities and schools of design were wonderfully successful. when we find this to be true of the england of the thirteenth century we can conclude that somehow better opportunities for art education must have been supplied in those times than in our own, and though we do not find the mention or { } records of formal schools, we must look patiently for the methods of instruction that enabled these generations to accomplish so much. needless to say such attainments do not come spontaneously in a large number of people, but must be carefully fostered and are the result of that greatest factor in education, environment. it will not be hard to find where the ambitious youth of england even of the workman class found opportunities for technical education of the highest character in these little towns. this was never merely theoretic, though, it was sufficiently grounded in principle to enable men to solve problems in architecture and engineering, in decoration and artistic arrangement, such as are still sources of anxiety for modern students of these questions. to take but a single example, it will be readily appreciated that the consideration of the guilds of builders of the cathedrals as constituting a great technical school, is marvelously emphasized by certain recent observations with regard to architects' and builders' methods in the cathedrals. there is a passage in evelyn's diary in which he describes certain corrections that were introduced into old st. paul's cathedral, london (the gothic edifice predecessor of the present classical structure), in order to remove appearances of dissymmetry and certain seeming mistakes of construction. this passage was always so misunderstood that editors usually considered it to be defective in some way and as the classical critics always fall back on an imperfect text for insoluble difficulties, so somehow evelyn was considered as either not having understood what he intended to say, or else the printer failed to put in all the words that he wrote. it was the modern readers, however, not evelyn nor his printer who were mistaken. mr. goodyear of the brooklyn institute of arts and sciences has proved by a series of photographs and carefully made observations, that many of the old gothic cathedrals have incorporated into them by their builders, optical corrections which correspond to those made by the greeks in their building in the classical period, which have been the subject of so much admiration to the moderns. the medieval architects and builders knew nothing of these classical architectural refinements. they learned for themselves by actual experience the necessity for making such optical { } corrections and then introduced them so carefully, that it is not until the last decade or so that their presence has been realized. it is only by an educational tradition of the greatest value that the use of such a refinement could become as general as professor goodyear has found it to be. besides the practical work then, and the actual exercise of craftsmanship and of design which the apprentices obtained from the guild, there was evidently a body of very definite technical information conveyed to them, or at least to certain chosen spirits among them, which carried on precious traditions from place to place. this same state of affairs must of course have existed with regard to stained glass work, the making of bells and especially the finer work in the precious metals. practical metallurgy must have been studied quite as faithfully as in any modern technical school, at least so far as its practical purposes and application were concerned. here we have the secret of the technical schools revealed. it is extremely interesting to study the details of the very practical organization by which this great educational movement in the arts and crafts was brought about. it was due entirely to the trades' and merchants' guilds of the time. in the cathedral towns the trades' guilds preponderated in influence. there gathered around each of these cathedrals during the years when work was most active, numbers of workmen engaged at various occupations requiring mechanical skill and long practice at their trade. these workmen were all affiliated with one another and they were gradually organized into trades' unions that had a certain independent existence. there was the guild of the stone workers; the guild of the metal workers--in some places divided into a guild of iron workers and a guild of gold workers, or workers in precious metals; there was the guild of the wood workers and then of the various other forms of occupation connected with the supplying of finished or unfinished materials for the cathedral. in association with these were established guilds of tailors, bakers, butchers, all affiliated in a merchants' guild which maintained the rights of its members as well as the artisans' guilds. some idea of the number and variety of these can be obtained from the list given in the chapter on the origin of the drama. {opp } [illustration] reliquary (limoges museo, florence) [illustration] crucifix (duomo, siena) { } these were the workmen who not only accomplished such brilliant results in art work, but also succeeded in training other workmen so admirably for every line of artistic endeavor. it is somewhat difficult to understand just how a village carpenter did wood-carving of so exquisite a design and such artistic finish of detail that it has remained a subject of admiration for centuries. it is quite as difficult to understand how one of the village blacksmiths of the time made a handsome gate, that has been the constant admiration of posterity ever since, or designed huge hinges for doors that artists delight to copy, or locks and latches and bolts that are transported to our museums to be looked at with interest, not only because they are antiques, but for the wonderful combination of the beautiful and the useful which they illustrate. we are assured, however, by the rev. augustus jessopp, that he has seen in the archives of the old english parishes, some of the receipts for the bills of these village workmen as we would term them, for the making of these beautiful specimens of arts and crafts. the surprise grows greater when we realize that these beautiful objects were made not alone in one place or even in a few places, but in nearly every town of any size in england and france and italy and germany and spain at various times during the thirteenth century, and that at any time a town of considerably less than ten thousand inhabitants seemed to be able to obtain among its own inhabitants, men who could make such works of art not as copies nor in servile imitation of others, but with original ideas of their own, and make them in such perfection that in many cases they have remained the models for future workmen for many centuries. even the bells for the cathedrals seem to have been cast in practically all cases in the little town in which they were to be used. it may be added that these bells of the thirteenth century represent the highest advances in bell making that have ever been attained and that their form and composition have simply been imitated over and over again since that time. even the finer precious metal work such as chalices and the various sacred vessels and objects used in the church services, were not obtained from a distance but were made at home. an article that appeared a few years ago in the craftsman { } (syracuse, n. y.), a magazine published in the interests of the arts and crafts movement, called attention to how much more beautifully the thirteenth century workman in the precious metals accomplished his artistic purpose than does the corresponding workman of the present day. a definite comparison, was made between some typical chalices of the thirteenth century and some prize cups which were made without regard to cost, as rewards for yachting and other competitions in the twentieth century. the artist workman of the olden time knew how to combine the beautiful with the useful, to use decoration just enough not to offend good taste, to make the lines of his work eminently artistic and in general to turn out a fine work of art. the modern prize cup is usually made by one of the large firms engaged in such work who employ special designers for the purpose, such designs ordinarily passing through the trained hands of a series of critics before being accepted, and only after this are turned over to the modern skilled workmen to be executed in metal. all this ought to assure the more artistic results; that they do not according to the writer in the craftsman, demonstrates how much such success is a matter of men and of individual taste rather than of method. we have already called attention to the fact that in needlework and in other arts connected with the provision of church ornaments and garments, the success of the thirteenth century workers was quite as great. the cope of ascoli considered by experts to be one of the most beautiful bits of needlework ever made is an example of this. many other examples are to be found in the treasuries of churches and monasteries, in spite of the ravages of time and only too often of intolerant and unfortunate destruction by so-called reformers, who could see no beauty in even the most beautiful things if they ran counter to certain of their religious prejudices. the training necessary for the production of such beautiful objects of handicraftsmanship was obtained through the guilds themselves. the boy in the small town who thought that he had a liking for a certain trade or craft was received as an apprentice in it. if during the course of a year or more he demonstrated his aptness for his chosen craft, he was allowed to { } continue his labor of assisting the workmen in various ways, and indeed very early in the history of the guilds was bound over to some particular workman, who usually supplied him with board and clothing, though with no other remuneration during his years of apprenticeship. after four or five years, always, however, with the understanding that he had shown a definite talent for his chosen trade, he was accepted among the workmen of the lowest grade, the journeymen, who usually went traveling in order to perfect their knowledge of the various methods by which their craft maintained itself and the standard of its workmanship in the different parts of the country. during these three years of "journeying" a striking development was likely to take place in the mind of the ambitious young workman. his _wanderjahre_ came just at the most susceptible period, sometime between and , they continued for three years or more, and the young workman if at all ambitious was likely to see many men and methods and know much of the cities and towns of his country before he returned to his native place. sometimes these craft-wanderings took him even into france, where he learned methods and secrets so different to those at home. after these years if he wished to settle down in his native town or in some other, having brought evidence of the accomplishment of his apprenticeship and then of his years as a journeyman, he became an applicant for full membership in the guild to which his years of training had been devoted. he was not admitted, however, until he had presented to the officials of the organization a piece of work showing his skill. this might be only a hinge, or a lock for a door, but on the other hand it might be a design for an important window or a delicate piece of wood or stone-carving. if it was considered worthy of the standard of workmanship of the guild it was declared to be a masterpiece. this is where the fine old english word masterpiece comes from. the workman was then admitted as a master workman and became a full member of the guild. this membership carried with it a number of other rights besides that of permission to work as a master-workman at full wages whenever the guild was employed. guilds had certain privileges conferred on them by the towns in which they lived, { } by the nobles for whom they worked and the ecclesiastical authorities on whose various church structures they were employed. at the beginning of the thirteenth century at least, feudal ideas prevailed to such an extent that no one was supposed to enjoy any rights or privileges except those which had been conferred on him by some authority. besides the workmen of the same guild were bound together by ties, so that any injury inflicted on one of them was considered to be done to the whole body. when human rights were much less recognized than has come to be the case since, this constituted an important source of protection against many forms of injury and infringement of rights. besides the privileges, however, the guild possessed certain other decided advantages which made membership desirable, even though it involved the fulfilment of certain duties. in the various towns in england, after the introduction during the thirteenth century of the practice of having mystery plays in the various towns, the guild claimed and obtained the privilege of giving these at various times during the year. the guild of the goldsmiths would give the performance of one portion of the old testament; the guild of the tailors another; the guild of the butchers and so on for each of the trades and crafts still another, so that during the year a whole cycle of the mysteries of the christian religion in type and in reality were exhibited to the people of each region. almost needless to say, on such festive occasions, for the plays were given on important feast days, the people from the countryside flocked in to see them and the influence was widespread. what was most important, however, was the influence on those who took part in the plays, of such intimate contact for a prolonged period with the simplicity of style, the sublimity of thought, the concentration of purpose and the effectiveness of expression of the scriptures and the scripture narratives even in their dramatized form. the fact of actually taking part in these performances meant ever so much more than merely viewing them as an outsider. it is doubtless to this intimate relationship with the great truths of christianity that the profound devotion so characteristic of the accomplishments of the arts and crafts, during the thirteenth century, must be to no little extent attributed. {opp } [illustration ] madonna, cimabue (rucellai chapel, santa maria novella, florence) { } their beautiful work could only have come from men of profoundest faith, but also it could not have come from those who were ignorant of the basis of what they accepted on faith. in other words, there was a mental training with regard to some of the sublimest truths of life and its significance, the creation of a christian philosophy of life, that made the workman see clearly the great truths of religion and so be able to illustrate them by his handiwork. education of a higher order than this has never been conceived of, and the very lack of tedious formality in it only made it all the more effectual in action. other duties were involved in membership in the guild. all the members were bound to attend church services regularly and to perform what is known as their religious duties at periodic intervals, that is, the rule of the guild required them to go to mass on sundays and holy days, to abstain from manual labor on such days unless there was absolute necessity for it, and to go to confession and communion several times a year. besides they were bound to contribute to the support of such of their fellow-members as were sick and unable to work or as had been injured. a very interesting phase of this duty toward sick members existed at least in some parts of the country. a workman was supposed to pass one night at certain intervals on his turn, in helping to nurse a fellow-workman who was seriously hurt or who was very ill. it was considered that the family were quite worn out enough with the care of the sick man during the day, and so one of his brother guildsmen came to relieve them of this duty at night. it is a custom that is still maintained in certain country places but which of course has passed out of use entirely in our unsympathetic city life. in a word, there was a thorough education not only in the life work that made for wages and family support, but also in those precious social duties that make for happiness and contentment in life. { } viii great origins in painting. [footnote ] [footnote : most of this chapter is taken from the work on italian painting (la peinture italienne depuis les origines jusqu'a la fin du xv siecle, par georges lafenestre, paris ancienne maison quantin libraries-imprimeries reunies, may & motteroz, directeurs, rue saint-benoit. nouvelle edition), which forms one of the series of text books for instruction in art at l'ecole des beaux-arts--the famous french government art school in paris. it may be said that this collection of art manuals is recognized as an authority on all matters treated of, having been crowned by the academie des beaux-arts with the prize bordin. there is no better source of information with regard to the development of the arts and none which can be more readily consulted nor with more assurance as to the facts and opinions exposed.] at the commencement of the thirteenth century the movement of emancipation in every phase of thought and life in italy went on apace with an extraordinary ardor. after a very serious struggle the italian republics were on the point of forcing the german empire to recognize them. everywhere in the first enthusiasm of their independence which had been achieved by valiant deeds and aspirations after liberty as lofty as any in modern times, the cities, though united in confederations they were acting as independent rivals, brought to all enterprises, lay or religious foundations, commercial or educational institutions, a wonderful youthful activity and enterprise. the papacy allied with them favored this movement in its political as well as its educational aspects and strengthened the art movement of the time. christianity under their guidance, by the powerful religious exaltation which it inspired in the hearts of all men, became a potent factor in all forms of art. from pope innocent iii to boniface viii probably no other series of popes have been so misunderstood and so misrepresented by subsequent generations, as certainly the popes of no other century did so much to awaken the enthusiasm of christians for all modes of religious development, and be it said though credit for this is { } only too often refused them, also for educational, charitable and social betterment. the two great church institutions of the time that were destined to act upon the people more than any others were the franciscan and dominican orders--the preachers and the friars minor, who were within a short time after their formation to have such deep and widespread influence on all strata of society. both of these orders from their very birth showed themselves not only ready but anxious to employ the arts as a means of religious education and for the encouragement of piety. their position in this matter had an enormous influence on art and on the painters of the time. the dominicans, as became their more ambitious intellectual training and their purpose as preachers of the word, demanded encyclopedic and learned compositions; the franciscans asked for loving familiar scenes such as would touch the hearts of the common people. both aided greatly in helping the artist to break away from the old fashioned formalism which was no longer sufficient to satisfy the new ardors of men's souls. in this way they prepared the italian imagination for the double revolution which was to come. it was the great body of legends which grew up about st. francis particularly, all of them bound up with supreme charity for one's neighbor, with love for all living creatures even the lowliest, with the tenderest feelings for every aspect of external nature, which appealed to the painters as a veritable light in the darkness of the times. it was especially in the churches founded by the disciples of "the poor little man of assisi," that the world saw burst forth before the end of the century, the first grand flowers of that renewal of art which was to prove the beginning of modern art history. it is hard to understand what would have happened to the painters of the time without the spirit that was brought into the world by st. francis' beautifully simple love for all and every phase of nature around him. this it was above all that encouraged the return to nature that soon supplanted oriental formalism. it was but due compensation that the greatest works of the early modern painters should have been done in st. francis' honor. besides this the most important factor in art was the revival of the thirst for knowledge, which arose among the more intellectual portions of the { } communities and developed an enthusiasm for antiquity which was only a little later to become a veritable passion. the most important phase of italian art during the thirteenth century is that which developed at florence. it is with this that the world is most familiar. it began with cimabue, who commenced painter, in the quaint old english phrase, not long before the middle of the century and whose great work occupies the second half of it. there are not wanting some interesting traditions of certain other florentine painters before his time as marchisello, of the early part of the century, lapo who painted, in , the facade of the cathedral at pistoia, and fino di tibaldi who painted a vast picture on the walls of the municipal palace about the middle of the century, but they are so much in the shadow of the later masters' work as to be scarcely known. everywhere nature began to reassert herself. the workers in mosaic even, who were occupied in the famous baptistry at florence about the middle of the century, though they followed the byzantine rules of their art, introduced certain innovations which brought the composition and the subjects closer to nature. these are enough to show that there was a school of painting and decoration at florence quite sufficient to account for cimabue's development, without the necessity of appealing to the influence over him of wandering greek artists as has sometimes been done. though he was not the absolute inventor of all the new art modes as he is sometimes supposed to be, cimabue was undoubtedly a great original genius. like so many others who have been acclaimed as the very first in a particular line of thought or effort, his was only the culminating intelligence which grasped all that had been done before, assimilated it and made it his own. as a distinct exception to the usual history of such great initiators, this father of italian painting was rich, born of a noble family, but of a character that was eager for work and with ambition to succeed in his chosen art as the mainspring of life. at his death, as the result of his influence, artists had acquired a much better social position than had been theirs before, and one that it was comparatively easy for his successors to maintain. his famous madonna which was subsequently borne in triumph from his studio to the church of { } santa maria novella, placed the seal of popular approval on the new art, and the enthusiasm it evoked raised the artist for all time from the plane of a mere worker in colors to that of a member of a liberal profession. even before this triumph his great picture had been deemed worthy of a visit by charles of anjou, the french king, who was on a visit to florence and according to tradition ever afterwards the portion of the city in which it had been painted and through which it was carried in procession, bore by reason of these happy events the name borgo allegri--ward of joy. this picture is still in its place in the rucellai chapel and is of course the subject of devoted attention on the part of visitors. lafenestre says of it, that this monument of florentine art quite justifies the enthusiasm of contemporaries if we compare it with the expressionless madonnas that preceded it. there is an air of beneficent dignity on the features quite unlike the rigidity of preceding art, and there is besides an attractive suppleness about the attitude of the body which is far better proportioned than those of its predecessors. above all there is a certain roseate freshness about the colors of the flesh which are pleasant substitutes for the pale and greenish tints of the byzantines. it did not require more than this to exalt the imaginations of the people delivered from their old-time conventional painting. it was only a ray of the dawn after a dark night, but it announced a glorious sunrise of art and the confident anticipations of the wondrous day to come, aroused the depths of feeling in the peoples' hearts. life and nature went back into art once more; no wonder their re-apparition was saluted with so much delight. two other madonnas painted by him, one at florence in the academy, the other in paris in the louvre, besides his great mosaic in the apse of the cathedral at pisa, serve to show with what prudence cimabue introduced naturalistic qualities into art, while always respecting the tradition of the older art and preserving the solemn graces and the majestic style of monumental painting. the old frescoes of the upper church at assisi which represent episodes in the life of st. francis have also been attributed to cimabue, but evidently were done by a number of artists probably under his direction. it is easy to { } see from them what an important role the florentine artist played in directing the gropings of his assistant artists. after cimabue the most important name at florentine in the thirteenth century is that of his friend, gaddo gaddi, whose years of life correspond almost exactly with those of his great contemporary. his famous coronation of the virgin at santa maria de fiore in florence shows that he was greatly influenced by the new ideas that had come into art. greater than either of these well-known predecessors however, was giotto the friend of dante, whose work is still considered worthy of study by artists because of certain qualities in which it never has been surpassed nor quite outgrown. from giotto, however, we shall turn aside for a moment to say something of the development of art in other cities of italy, for it must not be thought that florence was the only one to take up the new art methods which developed so marvelously during the thirteenth century. even before the phenomenal rise of modern art in florence, at pisa, at lucca and especially at siena, the new wind of the spirit was felt blowing and some fine inspirations were realized in spite of hampering difficulties of all kinds. the madonna of guido in the church of st. dominic at siena is the proof of his emancipation. besides him ugolino, segna and duccio make up the siena school and enable this other tuscan city to dispute even with florence the priority of the new influence in art. at lucca bonaventure berlinghieri flourished and there is a famous st. francis by him only recently found, which proves his right to a place among the great founders of modern art. giunta of pisa was one of those called to assisi to paint some of the frescoes in the upper church. he is noted as having striven to make his figures more exact and his colors more natural. he did much to help his generation away from the conventional expressions of the preceding time and he must for this reason be counted among the great original geniuses in the history of art. the greatest name in the art of the thirteenth century is of course that of giotto. what dante did for poetry and villani for history, their compatriot and friend did for painting. ambrogio de bondone familiarly called ambrogiotto (and with the abbreviating habit that the italians have always had for the names of all those of whom they thought much shortened to { } giotto, as indeed dante's name had been shortened from durante) was born just at the beginning of the last quarter of the thirteenth century. according to a well-known legend he was guarding the sheep of his father one day and passing his time sketching a lamb upon a smooth stone with a soft pebble when cimabue happened to be passing. the painter struck by the signs of genius in the work took the boy with him to florence, where he made rapid progress in art and soon surpassed even his master. the wonderful precocity of his genius may be best realized from the fact that at the age of twenty he was given the commission of finishing the decorations of the upper church at assisi, and in fulfilling it broke so completely with the byzantine formalism of the preceding millennium, that he must be considered the liberator of art and its deliverer from the chains of conventionalism into the freedom of nature. it is no wonder that critics and literary men have been so unstinted in his praise. here is an example: "in the decamerone it is said of him 'that he was so great a genius that there was nothing in nature he had not so reproduced that it was not only like the thing, but seemed to be the thing itself.' eulogies of this tenor on works of art are, it is quite true, common to all periods alike, to the most accomplished of classical antiquity as well as to the most primitive of the middle age; and they must only be accepted relatively, according to the notion entertained by each period of what constitutes truth and naturalness. and from the point of view of his age, giotto's advance towards nature, considered relatively to his predecessors, was in truth enormous. what he sought was not merely the external truth of sense, but also the inward truth of the spirit. instead of solemn images of devotion, he painted pictures in which the spectator beheld the likeness of human beings in the exercise of activity and intelligence. his merit lies, as has been well said, in 'an entirely new conception of character and facts.'" [footnote ] [footnote : history of ancient, early christian and medieval painting from the german of the late dr. alfred woltmann, professor at the imperial university of strasburg, and karl woertmann, professor at the royal academy of arts, dusselford. edited by sidney colvin, m. a., dodd, mead & co., n. y., .] { } lafenestre, in his history of italian painting for the beaux-arts of paris already referred to, says that what has survived of giotto's work justifies the enthusiasm of his contemporaries. none of his predecessors accomplished anything like the revolution that he worked. he fixed the destinies of art in italy at the moment when dante fixed those of literature. the stiff, confused figures of the mosaics and manuscripts grew supple under his fingers and the confusion disappeared. he simplified the gestures, varied the expression, rectified the proportions. perhaps the best example of his work is that of the upper church of assisi, all accomplished before he was thirty. what he had to represent were scenes of life almost contemporary yet already raised to the realm of poetry by popular admiration. he interpreted the beautiful legend of the life of the saint preserved by st. bonaventure, and like the subject of his sketches turned to nature at every step of his work. if his figures are compared with those of the artists of the preceding generations, their truth to life and natural expressions easily explain the surprise and the rapture of his contemporaries. beautiful as are the pictures of the upper church, however, ten years after their completion giotto's genius can be seen to have taken a still higher flight by the study of the pictures on the vast ceilings of the lower church. the four compartments contain the triumph of chastity, the triumph of poverty, the triumph of obedience, and the glorification of st. francis. the ideal and the real figures in these compositions are mingled and grouped with admirable clearness and inventive force. to be appreciated properly they must be seen and studied _in situ_. many an artist has made the pilgrimage to assisi and none has come away disappointed. never before had an artist dared to introduce so many and such numerous figures, yet all were done with a variety and an ease of movement that is eminently pleasing and even now are thoroughly satisfying to the artistic mind. after his work at assisi some of the best of giotto's pictures are to be found in the chapel of the arena at padua. here there was a magnificent opportunity and giotto took full advantage of it. the whole story of christ's life is told in the fourteen episodes of the life of his mother which were painted here by giotto. for their sake padua as well as { } assisi has been a favorite place of pilgrimage for artists ever since and never more so than in our own time. {opp } [illustration] st. francis' marriage with poverty (giotto, assisi) no greater tribute to the century in which he lived could possibly be given than to say that his genius was recognized at once, and he was sought from one end of italy to another by popes and kings, republics and princes, convents and municipalities, all of which competed for the privilege of having this genius work for them with ever increasing enthusiasm. it is easy to think and to say that it is no wonder that such a transcendent genius was recognized and appreciated and received his due reward. such has not usually been the case in history, however. on the contrary, the more imposing the genius of an artist, or a scientist, or any other great innovator in things human, the more surely has he been the subject of neglect and even of misunderstanding and persecution. the very fact that giotto lifted art out of the routine of formalism in which it was sunk might seem to be enough to assure failure of appreciation. men do not suddenly turn round to like even great innovations, when they have long been satisfied with something less and when their principles of criticism have been formed by their experience with the old. we need not go farther back than our own supposedly illuminated nineteenth century to find some striking examples of this. turner, the great english landscapist, failed of appreciation for long years and had to wait till the end of his life to obtain even a small meed of reward. the famous barbizon school of french painters is a still more striking example. they went back to nature from the classic formalism of the early nineteenth century painters just as giotto went back to nature from byzantine conventionalism. the immediate rewards in the two cases were very different and the attitude of contemporaries strikingly contrasted. poor millet did his magnificent work in spite of the fact that his family nearly starved. only that madame millet was satisfied to take more than a fair share of hardships for herself and the family in order that her husband might have the opportunity to develop his genius after his own way, we might not have had the magnificent pictures which millet sold for a few paltry francs that barely kept { } the wolf from the door, and for which the next generation has been paying almost fabulous sums. all through the thirteenth century this characteristic will be found that genius did not as a rule lack appreciation. the greater the revolution a genuinely progressive thinker and worker tried to accomplish in human progress, the more sure was he to obtain not only a ready audience, but an enthusiastic and encouraging following. this is the greatest compliment that could be paid to the enlightenment of the age. men's minds were open and they were ready and willing to see things differently from what they had been accustomed to before. this constitutes after all the best possible guarantee of progress. it is, however, very probably the last thing that we would think of attributing to these generations of the thirteenth century, who are usually said very frankly to have been wrapped up in their own notions, to have been only too ready to accept things on authority rather than by their own powers of observation and judgment, and to have been clingers to the past rather than lookers to the present and the future. giotto's life shows better than any other how much this prejudiced view of the thirteenth century and perforce of the middle age needs to be corrected. during forty years giotto responded to every demand, and made himself suffice for every call, worked in nearly every important city of italy, enkindling everywhere he went the new light of art. before the end of the century he completed a cartoon for the famous picture of the boat of peter which was to adorn the facade of st. peter's. he was in rome in , the first jubilee year, arranging the decorations at st. john lateran. the next year he was at florence, working in the palace of the podesta. and so it went for full two score years. he was at pisa, at lucca, at arezzo, at padua, at milan, then he went south to urbino, to rome and then even to naples. unfortunately the strain of all this work proved too much for him and he was carried away at the comparatively early age of sixty in the midst of his artistic vigor and glory. {opp } [illustration] espousal of st. catherine (gaddi, xiii. century pupil, perugia) the art of the middle ages and especially at the time of the beginnings of modern art in the thirteenth century, is commonly supposed to be inextricably bound up with certain { } influences which place it beyond the pale of imitation for modern life. it has frequently been said, that this art besides being too deeply mystical and pietistic, is so remote from ordinary human feelings as to preclude a proper understanding of it by the men of our time and certainly prevent any deep sympathy. the pagan element in art which entered at the time of the renaissance and which emphasized the joy of life itself and the pleasure of mere living for its own sake, is supposed to have modified this sadder aspect of things in the earlier art, so that now no one would care to go back to the pre-renaissance day. there has been so much writing of this kind that has carried weight, that it is no wonder that the impression has been deeply made. it is founded almost entirely on a misunderstanding, however. reinach whom we have quoted before completely overturns this false notion in some paragraphs which bring out better than any others that we know something of the true significance of the thirteenth century art in this particular. those who think that gothic art was mainly gloomy in character, or if not absolutely sad at heart that it always expressed the sadder portion of religious feelings, who consider that the ascetic side of life was always in the ascendant and the brighter side of things seldom chosen, for pictorial purposes, should recall that the gothic cathedrals themselves are the most cheery and lightsome buildings, that indeed they owe their character as creations of a new idea in architecture to the determined purpose of their builders to get admission for all possible light in the dreary northern climates. the contradiction of the idea that gothic art in its essence was gloomy will at once be manifest from this. quite apart from this, however, if gothic art be studied for itself and in its subjects, that of the thirteenth century particularly will be found far distant from, anything that would justify the criticism of over sadness. reinach (in his story of art throughout the middle ages) has stated this so clearly that we prefer simply to quote the passage which is at once authoritative and informing: "it has also been said that gothic art bears the impress of ardent piety and emotional mysticism, that it dwells on the suffering of jesus, of the virgin, and of the martyrs with harrowing persistency. those who believe this have never studied { } gothic art. it is so far from the truth that, as a fact, the gothic art of the best period, the thirteenth century, never represented any sufferings save those of the damned. the virgins are smiling and gracious, never grief stricken. there is not a single gothic rendering of the virgin weeping at the foot of the cross. the words and music of the stabat mater, which are sometimes instanced as the highest expression of the religion of the middle ages, date from the end of the thirteenth century at the very earliest, and did not become popular till the fifteenth century. jesus himself is not represented as suffering, but with a serene and majestic expression. the famous statue known as the beau dieu d'amiens may be instanced as typical." [illustration] group from visitation (rheims) { } ix libraries and bookmen. as the thirteenth century begins some years before the art of printing was introduced, it would seem idle to talk of libraries and especially of circulating libraries during this period and quite as futile to talk of bookmen and book collectors. any such false impression, however, is founded entirely upon a lack of knowledge of the true state of affairs during this wonderful period. a diocesan council held in paris in the year , with other words of advice to religious, recalled to them the duty that they had to lend such books as they might possess, with proper guarantee for their return, of course, to those who might make good use of them. the council, indeed, formally declared that the lending of books was one of the works of mercy. the cathedral chapter of notre dame at paris was one of the leaders in this matter and there are records of their having lent many books during the thirteenth century. at most of the abbeys around paris there were considerable libraries and in them also the lending custom obtained. this is especially true of the abbey of st. victor of which the rule and records are extant. of course it will be realized that the number of books was not large, but on the other hand it must not be forgotten that many of them were works of art in every particular, and some of them that have come down to us continue to be even to the present day among the most precious bibliophilic treasures of great state and city libraries. their value depends not alone on their antiquity but on their perfection as works of art. in general it may be said that the missals and office books, and the prayer books made for royal personages and the nobility at this time, are yet counted among the best examples of bookmaking the world has ever seen. it is not surprising that such should be the case since these books were mainly meant for use in the cathedrals and the chapels, and these edifices were so beautiful in every detail that the generations that erected them { } could not think of making books for use in them, that would be unworthy of the artistic environment for which they were intended. with the candlesticks, the vessels, and implements used in the ceremonial surpassing works of art, with every form of decoration so nearly perfect as to be a source of unending admiration, with the vestments and altar linens specimens of the most exquisite handiwork of their kind that had ever been made, the books associated with them had to be excellent in execution, expressive of the most refined taste and finished with an attention utterly careless of the time and labor that might be required, since the sole object was to make everything as absolutely beautiful as possible. hence there is no dearth of wonderful examples of the beautiful bookmaking of this century in all the great libraries of the world. the libraries themselves, moreover, are of surpassing interest because of their rules and management, for little as it might be expected this wonderful century anticipated in these matters most of our very modern library regulations. the bookmen of the time not only made beautiful books, but they made every provision to secure their free circulation and to make them available to as many people as was consonant with proper care of the books and the true purposes of libraries. this is a chapter of thirteenth century history more ignored perhaps than any other, but which deserves to be known and will appeal to our century more perhaps than to any intervening period. the constitutions of the abbey st. victor of paris give us an excellent idea at once of the solicitude with which the books were guarded, yet also of the careful effort that was made to render them useful to as many persons as possible. one of the most important rules at st. victor was that the librarian should know the contents of every volume in the library, in order to be able to direct those who might wish to consult the books in their selection, and while thus sparing the books unnecessary handling also save the readers precious time. we are apt to think that it is only in very modern times that this training of librarians to know their books so as to be of help to the readers was insisted on. here, however, we find it in full force seven centuries ago. it would be much more difficult in the present day to know all the books confided to his care, but some of the { } librarians at st. victor were noted for the perfection of their knowledge in this regard and were often consulted by those who were interested in various subjects. in his book on the thirteenth century [footnote ] m. a. lecoy de la marche says that in france, at least, circulating libraries were quite common. as might be expected of the people of so practical a century, it was they who first established the rule that a book might be taken out provided its value were deposited by the borrower. such lending libraries were to be found at the sorbonne, at st. germain des prés, as well as at notre dame. there was also a famous library at this time at corbie but practically every one of the large abbeys had a library from which books could be obtained. certain of the castles of the nobility, as for instance that of la ferte en ponthieu, had libraries, with regard to which there is a record, that the librarian had the custom of lending certain volumes, provided the person was known to him and assumed responsibility for the book. [footnote : le treizieme siecle litteraire et scientifique, lille, .] some of the regulations of the libraries of the century have an interest all their own from the exact care that was required with regard to the books. the sorbonne for instance by rule inflicted a fine upon anyone who neglected to close large volumes after he had been making use of them. many a librarian of the modern times would be glad to put into effect such a regulation as this. a severe fine was inflicted upon any library assistant who allowed a stranger to go into the library alone, and another for anyone who did not take care to close the doors. it seems not unlikely that these regulations, as m. lecoy de la marche says, were in vigor in many of the ecclesiastical and secular libraries of the time. some of the regulations of st. victor are quite as interesting and show the liberal spirit of the time as well as indicate how completely what is most modern in library management was anticipated. the librarian had the charge of all the books of the community, was required to have a detailed list of them and each year to have them in his possession at least three times. on him was placed the obligation to see that the books were not destroyed in any way, either by parasites of any kind or by { } dampness. the librarian was required to arrange the books in such a manner as to make the finding of them prompt and easy. no book was allowed to be borrowed unless some pledge for its safe return were left with the librarian. this was emphasized particularly for strangers who must give a pledge equal to the value of the book. in all cases, however, the name of the borrower had to be taken, also the title of the book borrowed, and the kind of pledge left. the larger and more precious books could not be borrowed without the special permission of the superior. the origin of the various libraries in paris is very interesting as proof that the mode of accumulating books was nearly the same as that which enriches university and other such libraries at the present time. the library of la st. chapelle was founded by louis ix, and being continuously enriched by the deposit therein of the archives of the kingdom soon became of first importance. many precious volumes that were given as presents to st. louis found their way into this library and made it during his lifetime the most valuable collection of books in paris. louis, moreover, devoted much time and money to adding to the library. he made it a point whenever on his journeys he stopped, at abbeys or other ecclesiastical institutions, to find out what books were in their library that were not at la saint chapelle and had copies of these made. his intimate friendship with robert of sorbonne, with st. thomas of aquin, with saint bonaventure, and above all with vincent of beauvais, the famous encyclopedist of the century, widened his interest in books and must have made him an excellent judge of what he ought to procure to complete the library. it was, as we shall see, louis' munificent patronage that enabled vincent to accumulate that precious store of medieval knowledge, which was to prove a mine of information for so many subsequent generations. from the earliest times certain books, mainly on medicine, were collected at the hotel dieu, the great hospital of paris, and this collection was added to from time to time by the bequests of physicians in attendance there. this was doubtless the first regular hospital library, though probably medical books had also been collected at salernum. the principal colleges of the universities also made collections of books, some of them { } very valuable, though as a rule, it would seem as if no attempt was made to procure any other books than those which were absolutely needed for consultation by the students. the best working library at paris was undoubtedly that of the sorbonne, of which indeed its books were for a long time its only treasures. for at first the sorbonne was nothing but a teaching institution which only required rooms for its lectures, and usually obtained these either from the university authorities or from the canons of the cathedral and possessed no property except its library. from the very beginning the professors bequeathed whatever books they had collected to its library and this became a custom. it is easy to understand that within a very short time the library became one of the very best in europe. while most of the other libraries were devoted mainly to sacred literature, the sorbonne came to possess a large number of works of profane literature. interesting details with regard to this library of the sorbonne and its precious treasures have been given by m. leopold delisle, in the second volume of le cabinet des manuserits, describing the mss. of the bibliothèque nationale at paris. according to m. lecoy de la marche, this gives an excellent idea of the persevering efforts which must have been required, to bring together so many bibliographic treasures at a time when books were such a rarity, and consequently enables us better almost than anything else, to appreciate the enthusiasm of the scholars of these early times and their wonderful efforts to make the acquisition of knowledge easier, not only for their own but for succeeding generations. when we recall that the library of the sorbonne was, during the thirteenth century, open not only to the professors and students of the sorbonne itself, but also to those interested in books and in literature who might come from elsewhere, provided they were properly accredited, we can realize to the full the thorough liberality of spirit of these early scholars. usually we are prone to consider that this liberality of spirit, even in educational matters, came much later into the world. in spite of the regulations demanding the greatest care, it is easy to understand that after a time even books written on vellum or parchment would become disfigured and worn under the ardent fingers of enthusiastic students, when comparatively so { } few copies were available for general use. in order to replace these worn-out copies every abbey had its own scriptorium or writing room, where especially the younger monks who were gifted with plain handwriting were required to devote certain hours every day to the copying of manuscripts. manuscripts were borrowed from neighboring libraries and copied, or as in our modern day exchanges of duplicate copies were made, so as to avoid the risk that precious manuscripts might be subject to on the journeys from one abbey to another. how much the duty of transcription was valued may be appreciated from the fact, that in some abbeys every novice was expected to bring on the day of his profession as a religious, a volume of considerable size which had been carefully copied by his own hands. besides these methods of increasing the number of books in the library, a special sum of money was set aside in most of the abbeys for the procuring of additional volumes for the library by purchase. usually this took the form of an ecclesiastical regulation requiring that a certain percentage of the revenues should be spent on the libraries. scholars closely associated with monasteries frequently bequeathed their books and besides left money or incomes to be especially devoted to the improvement of the library. it is easy to understand that with all these sources of enrichment many abbeys possessed noteworthy libraries. to quote only those of france, important collections of books were to be found at cluny, luxeuil, fleury, saint-martial, moissac, mortemer, savigny, fourcarmont, saint père de chartres, saint denis, saint-maur-des-fossés, saint corneille de compiègne, corbie, saint-amand, saint-martin de tournai, where vincent de beauvais said that he found the greatest collections of manuscripts that existed in his time, and then especially the great parisian abbeys already referred to, saint-germain-des-prés, saint victor, saint-martin-des-champs, the precious treasures of which are well known to all those who are familiar with the bibliothèque nationale of paris, of whose manuscript department their relics constitute the most valuable nucleus. some of the bequests of books that were made to libraries at this time are interesting, because they show the spirit of the { } testators and at the same time furnish valuable hints as to the consideration in which books were held and the reverent care of their possessors for them. peter of nemours, the bishop of paris, when setting out on the crusades with louis ix. bequeathed to the famous abbey of st. victor, his bible in volumes, which was considered one of the finest copies of the scriptures at that time in existence. to the abbey of olivet he gave his psalter with glosses, besides the epistles of st. paul and his book of sentences, by which is evidently intended the well-known work with that title by the famous peter lombard. finally he gave to the cathedral of paris all the rest of his books. besides these he had very little to leave. it is typical of the reputation of paris in that century and the devotion of her churchmen to learning and culture, that practically all of the revenues that he considered due him for his personal services had been invested in books, which he then disposed of in such a way as would secure their doing the greatest possible good to the largest number of people. his bible was evidently given to the abbey of st. victor because it was the sort of work that should be kept for the occasional reference of the learned rather than the frequent consultation of students, who might very well find all that they desired in other and less valuable copies. his practical intention with regard to his books can be best judged from his gift to notre dame, which, as we have noted already possessed a very valuable library that was allowed to circulate among properly accredited scholars in paris. according to the will of peter ameil, archbishop of narbonne, which is dated , he gave his books for the use of the scholars whom he had supported at the university of paris and they were to be deposited in the library at notre dame, but on condition that they were not to be scattered for any reason nor any of them sold or abused. the effort of the booklover to keep his books together is characteristic of all the centuries since, only most people will be surprised to find it manifesting itself so early in bibliophilic history. the archbishop reserved from his books, however, his bible for his own church. before his death he had given the dominicans in his diocese many books from his library. this churchman of the first half of the { } thirteenth century seems evidently to deserve a prominent place among the bookmen of all times. there are records of many others who bequeathed libraries and gave books during their lifetime to various institutions, as may be found in the literary history of france, [footnote ] already mentioned, as well as in the various histories of the university of paris. many of these gifts were made on condition that they should not be sold and the constantly recurring condition made by these booklovers is that their collections should be kept together. the libraries of paris were also in the market for books, however, and there is proof that the sorbonne purchased a number of volumes because the cost price of them was noted inside the cover quite as libraries do in our own days. when we realize the forbidding cost of them, it is surprising that there should be so much to say about them and so many of them constantly changing hands. an ordinary folio volume probably cost from to francs in our values, that is between $ and $ . [footnote : histoire litteraire de la france, by the benedictines of st. maur.] while the older abbeys of the benedictines and other earlier religious orders possessed magnificent collections of books, the newer orders of the thirteenth century, the mendicants, though as their name indicates they were bound to live by alms given them by the faithful, within a short time after their foundation began to take a prominent part in the library movement. it was in the southern part of france that the dominicans were strongest and so there is record of regulations for libraries made at toulouse in the early part of the thirteenth century. in paris, in , considerable time and discussion was devoted in one of the chapters of the order to the question of how books should be kept, and how the library should be increased. with regard to the franciscans, though their poverty was, if possible, stricter, the same thing is known before the end of the century. in both orders arrangements were made for the copying of important works and it is, of course, to the zeal and enthusiasm of the younger members of these orders for this copying work, that we owe the preservation by means of a large number of manuscript copies, of the { } voluminous writings of such men as albertus magnus, st. thomas, duns scotus and others. {opp } [illustration] monument of cardinal de bray (arnolfo) while the existence of libraries of various kinds, and even circulating libraries, in the thirteenth century may seem definitely settled, it will appear to most people that to speak of book collecting at this time must be out of place. that fad is usually presumed to be of much later origin and indeed to be comparatively recent in its manifestations. we have said enough already, however, of the various collections of books in libraries especially in france to show that the book collector was abroad, but there is much more direct evidence of this available from an english writer. richard de bury's philobiblon is very well known to all who are interested in books for their own sake, but few people realize that this book practically had its origin in the thirteenth century. the writer was born about the beginning of the last quarter of that century, had completed his education before its close, and it is only reasonable to attribute to the formative influences at work in his intellectual development as a young man, the germs of thought from which were to come in later life the interesting book on bibliophily, the first of its kind, which was to be a treasure for book-lovers ever afterwards. philobiblon tells us, among other things, of richard's visits to the continent on an embassy to the holy see and on subsequent occasions to the court of france, and the delight which he experienced in handling many books which he had never seen before, in buying such of them as his purse would allow, or his enthusiasm could tempt from their owners and in conversing with those who could tell him about books and their contents. such men were the chosen comrades of his journeys, sat with him at table, as mr. henry morley tells us in his english writers (volume iv, page ), and were in almost constant fellowship with him. it was at paris particularly that richard's heart was satisfied for a time because of the great treasures he found in the magnificent libraries of that city. he was interested, of course, in the university and the opportunity for intellectual employment afforded by academic proceedings, but above all he found delight in books, which monks and monarchs and professors and churchmen of all kinds and scholars { } and students had gathered into this great intellectual capital of europe at that time. anyone who thinks the books were not valued quite as highly in the thirteenth century as at the present time should read the philobiblon. he is apt to rise from the reading of it with the thought that it is the modern generations who do not properly appreciate books. one of the early chapters of philobiblon argues that books ought always to be bought whatever they cost, provided there are means to pay for them, except in two cases, "when they are knavishly overcharged, or when a better time for buying is expected." "that sun of men, solomon," richard says, "bids us buy books readily and sell them unwillingly, for one of his proverbs runs, 'buy the truth and sell it not, also wisdom and instruction and understanding.'" richard in his own quaint way thought that most other interests in life were only temptations to-draw men away from books. in one famous paragraph he has naively personified books as complaining with regard to the lack of attention men now display for them and the unworthy objects, in richard's eyes at least, upon which they fasten their affections instead, and which take them away from the only great life interest that is really worth while--books. "yet," complain books, "in these evil times we are cast out of our place in the inner chamber, turned out of doors, and our place taken by dogs, birds, and the two-legged beast called woman. but that beast has always been our rival, and when she spies us in a corner, with no better protection than the web of a dead spider, she drags us out with a frown and violent speech, laughing us to scorn as useless, and soon counsels us to be changed into costly head-gear, fine linen, silk and scarlet double dyed, dresses and divers trimmings, linens and woolens. and so," complain the books still, "we are turned out of our homes, our coats are torn from our backs, our backs and sides ache, we lie about disabled, our natural whiteness turns to yellow--without doubt we have the jaundice. some of us are gouty, witness our twisted extremities. our bellies are griped and wrenched and are consumed by worms; on each side the dirt cleaves to us, nobody binds up our wounds, we lie ragged and weep in dark corners, or meet with job upon a dunghill, or, as seems hardly fit to be said, we are hidden in abysses of the { } sewers. we are sold also like slaves, and lie as unredeemed pledges in taverns. we are thrust into cruel butteries, to be cut up like sheep and cattle; committed to jews, saracens, heretics and pagans, whom we always dread as the plague, and by whom some of our forefathers are known to have been poisoned." richard de bury must not be thought to have been some mere wandering scholar of the beginning of the fourteenth century, however, for he was, perhaps, the most important historical personage, not even excepting royalty or nobility, of this era and one of the striking examples of how high a mere scholar might rise in this period quite apart from any achievement in arms, though this is usually supposed to be almost the only basis of distinguished reputation and the reason for advancement at this time. while he was only the son of a norman knight, aungervyle by name, born at bury st. edmund's, he became the steward of the palace and treasurer of the royal wardrobe, then lord treasurer of england and finally lord keeper of the privy seal. while on a mission to the pope he so commended himself to the holy see that it was resolved to make him the next english bishop. accordingly he was made bishop of durham shortly after and on the occasion of his installation there was a great banquet at which the young king and queen, the queen mother isabelle, the king of scotland, two archbishops, five bishops, and most of the great english lords were present. at this time the scots and the english were actually engaged in war with one another and a special truce was declared, in order to allow them to join in the celebration of the consecration of so distinguished an individual to the see of durham near the frontier. before he was consecrated bishop, richard de bury had been for some time the treasurer of the kingdom. before the end of the year in which he was consecrated he became lord chancellor, at a time when the affairs of the kingdom needed a master hand and when the french and the scots were seriously disturbing english peace and prosperity. he resigned his office of chancellor, as henry morley states, only to go abroad in the royal service as ambassador that he might exercise his own trusted sagacity in carrying out the peaceful policy he had { } advised. during this diplomatic mission to the continent he visited the courts of paris, of flanders, of hainault and of germany. he succeeded in making terms of peace between the english king and the counts of hainault and namur, the marquis of juliers and the dukes of brabant and guelders. this would seem to indicate that he must be considered as one of the most prominent men of europe at this time. his attitude toward books is then all the more noteworthy. many people were surprised that a great statesman like gladstone in the nineteenth century, should have been interested in so many phases of thought and of literature and should himself have been able to find the time to contribute important works to english letters. richard de bury was at least as important a man in his time as gladstone in ours, and occupied himself as much with books as the great english commoner. this is what will be the greatest source of surprise to those who in our time have been accustomed to think, that the great scholars deeply interested in books who were yet men of practical worth in helping their generation in its great problems, are limited to modern times and are least of all likely to be found in the heart of the middle ages. in spite of his occupations as a politician and a bookman, richard de bury was noted for his faithfulness in the fulfilment of his duties as a churchman and a bishop. it is worthy of note that many of the important clergymen of england, who were to find the highest church preferment afterwards, were among the members of his household at various times and that the post of secretary to the bishop, particularly, was filled at various times by some of the best scholars of the period, men who were devoted friends to the bishop, who dedicated their works to him and generally added to the reputation that stamped him as the greatest scholar of england and one of the leading lights of european culture of his time. this is not so surprising when we realize that to be a member of richard's household was to have access to the best library in england, and that many scholars were naturally ambitious to have such an opportunity, and as the results showed many took advantage of it. among richard of durham's chaplains were thomas bradwardine who afterwards became archbishop of canterbury, richard fitzraufe, subsequently archbishop of { } armagh, walter seagrave, afterwards bishop of chichester, and richard bentworth, who afterwards became bishop of london among the distinguished scholars who occupied the post were robert holcot, john manduit, the astronomer of the fourteenth century, richard kilmington, a distinguished english theologian, and walter burley, a great commentator on aristotle, who dedicated to the bishop, who had provided him with so many opportunities for study, his commentaries upon the politics and ethics of the ancient greek philosopher. that richard's love for books and the time he had necessarily devoted to politics did not dry up the fountains of charity in his heart, nor cause him to neglect his important duties as the pastor of the people and especially of the poor, we know very well from certain traditions with regard to his charitable donations. according to a standing rule in his household eight quarters of wheat were regularly every week made into bread and given to the poor. in his alms giving richard was as careful and as discriminating as in his collection of books, and he used a number of the regularly organized channels in his diocese to make sure that his bounty should be really helpful and should not encourage lack of thrift. this is a feature of charitable work that is supposed to be modern, but the personal service of the charitably inclined in the thirteenth century, far surpassed in securing this even the elaborate organization of charity in modern times. whenever the bishop traveled generous alms were distributed to the poor people along the way. whenever he made the journey between durham and new castle eight pounds sterling were set aside for this purpose; five pounds for each journey between durham and stockton or middleham, and five marks between durham and auckland. money had at that time at least ten times the purchasing power which it has at present, so that it will be easy to appreciate the good bishop's eminent liberality. that richard was justified in his admiration of the books of the time we know from those that remain, for it must not be thought for a moment that because the making of books was such a time-taking task in the thirteenth century, they were not therefore made beautiful. on the contrary, as we shall see { } shortly, no more beautiful books have ever been made than at this time. this of itself would show how precious in the eyes of the collectors of the time their books were, since they wanted to have them so beautifully made and were satisfied to pay the high prices that had to be demanded for such works of art. very few books of any size cost less than the equivalent of $ in our time and illuminated books cost much higher than this, yet seem never to have been a drug on the market. indeed, considering the number of them that are still in existence to this day, in spite of the accidents of fire, and water, and war, and neglect, and carelessness, and ignorance, there must have been an immense number of very handsome books made by the generations of the thirteenth century. while illumination was not an invention of the thirteenth century, as indeed were very few of the great art features of the century, during this time book decoration was carried to great perfection and reached that development which artists of the next century were to improve on in certain extrinsic features, though the intrinsic qualities were to remain those which had been determined as the essential characteristics of this branch of art in the earlier time. the thirteenth century, for instance, saw the introduction of the miniature as a principal feature and also the drawing out of initials in such a way as to make an illuminated border for the whole side of the page. after the development thus given to the art in the thirteenth century further evolution could only come in certain less important details. in this the thirteenth century generations were accomplishing what they had done in practically everything else that they touched, laying foundations broad and deep and giving the superstructure the commanding form which future generations were only able to modify to slight degree and not always with absolute good grace. humphreys in his magnificent volume on the illuminated books of the middle ages, which according to its title contains an account of the development and progress of the art of illumination as a distinct branch of pictorial ornamentation from the fourth to the seventeenth centuries, [footnote ] has some very striking words of praise for thirteenth century illuminations and the artists who made them. he says: [footnote : the illuminated books of the middle ages, by henry noel humphreys longman. green, brown and longmans, london, .] { } "different epochs of the art of illumination present widely different and distinct styles; the most showy and the best known, though the least pure and inventive in design, being that of the middle and end of the fifteenth century; whilst the period perhaps the least generally known, that of the thirteenth century, may be considered as the most interesting and original, many of the best works of that period displaying an astonishing variety and profusion of invention. the manuscript, of which two pages form the opposite plate, may be ranked among the most elaborate and profusely ornamented of the fine books of that era; every page being sufficient to make the fortune of the modern decorator by the quaint and unexpected novelties of inventions which it displays at every turn of its intricate design." the illuminations of the century then are worthy of the time and also typical of the general work of the century. it is known by experts for its originality and for the wealth of invention displayed in the designs. men did not fear that they might exhaust their inventive faculty, nor display their originality sparingly, in order that they might have enough to complete other work. as the workmen of the cathedrals, the artist illuminators devoted their very best efforts to each piece of work that came to their hands, and the results are masterpieces of art in this as in every other department of the period. the details are beautifully wrought, showing the power of the artist to accomplish such a work and yet his designs are never overloaded, at least in the best examples of the century, with details of ornamentation that obscure and minimize the effect of the original design. this fault was to be the error of his most sophisticated successors two centuries later. nor must it be thought the high opinion of the century is derived from the fact that only a very few examples of its illumination and bookmaking are now extant, and that these being the chosen specimens give the illumination of the century a higher place than it might otherwise have. many examples { } have been preserved and some of them are the most beautiful books that were made. paris was particularly the home of this form of art in the thirteenth century, and indeed the school established there influenced all the modes of illumination everywhere, so much so that dante speaks of the art with the epithet "parisian," as if it were exclusively done there. the incentive to the development of this form of art came from st. louis who, as we have said, was very much interested in books. his taste as exhibited in la sainte chapelle was such as to demand artistic excellence of high grade in this department of art, which has many more relations with the architecture of the period, and especially with the stained glass, than might possibly be thought at the present time, for most of the decoration of books partook of the character of the architectural types of the moment. among the most precious treasures from the century are three books which belonged to st. louis himself. one of these is the hours or office book; a second, is his psalter, which contains some extremely beautiful initials; a third, which is in the library of the arsenal at paris, is sometimes known as the prayer book of st. louis himself, though a better name for it would be the prayer book of queen blanche, for it was made at louis' orders for his mother, the famous blanche of castile, and is a worthy testimonial of the affectionate relations which existed between mother and son. outside of paris there are preserved many books of great value that come from this century. one of them, a bestiarum or book of beasts, is in the ashmoleam museum at oxford. this is said to be a very beautiful example of the illumination of the thirteenth century, but it is even more interesting because it shows the efforts of the artists of the time to copy nature in the pictures of animals as they are presented. there is said to be an acuity of observation and a vigor of representation displayed in the book which is highly complimentary to the powers of the thirteenth century artists. even these brief notes of the books and libraries of the thirteenth century, will serve to make clear how enthusiastic was the interest of the generations of this time in beautiful books and in collections of them that were meant for show as { } well as for practical usefulness. there is perhaps nothing more amusing in the attitude of modern generations with regard to the middle ages, than the assumption that all the methods of education and of the distribution of knowledge worth while talking about, are the inventions of comparatively modern times. the fact that libraries were also a creation of that time and that most of the regulations which are supposed to be the first fruit of quite recent science in the circulation of books had been adopted by these earlier generations, is commonly ignored utterly, though it is a precious bit of knowledge that cannot help but increase our sympathy with those bookmen of the olden times, who thought so much of their books, yet wished to share the privilege of their use with all those who would employ them properly, and who, in their great practical way succeeded in working out the scheme by which many people could have the opportunity of consulting the treasures they thought so much of, without risk of their loss or destruction, even though use might bring some deterioration of their value. [illustration] decoration (xiii. cent. psalter mss.) { } x the cid, the holy grail, the nibelungen. anyone who has studied even perfunctorily the books of the arts and of the deeds of the thirteenth century, who has realized its accomplishments in enduring artistic creations, sublime and exemplary models and inspirations for all after time, who has appreciated what it succeeded in doing for the education of the classes and of the masses, the higher education being provided for at least as large a proportion of the people as in our present century, while the creation of what were practically great technical schools that culled out of the masses the latent geniuses who could accomplish supreme artistic results in the arts and crafts and did more and better for the masses than any subsequent generation, can scarcely help but turn with interest to read the book of the words of the period and to find out what forms of literature interested this surprising people. one is almost sure to think at the first moment of consideration that the literature will not be found worthy of the other achievements of the times. in most men's minds the thirteenth century does not readily call up the idea of a series of great works in literature, whose influence has been at all as profound and enduring as that of the universities in the educational order, or of the cathedrals in the artistic order. this false impression, however, is due only to the fact that the literary creations of the thirteenth century are so diverse in subject and in origin, that they are very seldom associated with each other, unless there has been actual recognition of their contemporaneousness from deliberate calling to mind of the dates at which certain basic works in our modern literatures were composed. it is not the least surprise that comes to the student of the thirteenth century, to find that the great origins of what well deserves the name of classic modern literature, comprising a series of immortal works in prose and poetry, were initiated by the contemporaries of the makers of the { } universities and the builders of the cathedrals. if we stop to think for a moment it must be realized, that generations who succeeded in expressing themselves so effectively in other departments of esthetics could scarcely be expected to fail in literature alone, and they did not. from the cid in spain, through the arthur legends in england, the nibelungen in germany, the minnesingers and the meistersingers in the southern part of what is now the german empire, the trouvères in north france, the troubadours in south france and in italy, down to dante, who was before the century closed, there has never been such a mass of undying literature written within a little more than a single hundred years, as came during the period from shortly before down to . great as was the fifth century before christ in this matter it did not surpass the thirteenth century after christ in its influence on subsequent generations. we have already pointed out in discussing the cathedrals that one of the most characteristic features of the gothic architecture was the marvelous ease with which it lent itself to the expression of national peculiarities. norman gothic is something quite distinct from german gothic which arose in almost contiguous provinces, but so it is also from english gothic; these two were very closely related in origin and undoubtedly the english cathedrals owe much to the norman influence so prevalent in england at the end of the twelfth century, and the beginning of the thirteenth century. italian gothic has the principal characteristic peculiarities of the architectural style which passes under the name developed to a remarkable degree, and yet its finished product is far distant from any of the three other national forms that have been mentioned, yet is not lacking in a similar interest. spanish gothic has an identity of its own that has always had a special appeal for the traveler. any one who has ever visited the shores of the baltic sea and has seen what was accomplished in such places as stralsund, greifswald, lübeck, and others of the old hansa towns, will appreciate still more the power of gothic to lend itself to the feelings of the people and to the materials that they had at hand. here in the distant north they were far away from any sources of the stone that would ordinarily be deemed absolutely { } necessary for gothic construction. how effectively they used brick for ecclesiastical edifices can only be realized by those who have seen the remains of the gothic monuments of this portion of europe. the distinguishing mark of all these different styles is the eminent opportunity for the expression of nationality which, they afford. it might be expected that since they were all gothic, most of them would be little better than servile copies, or at best scarce more than good imitations of the great originals of the north of france. as a matter of fact, the assertion of national characteristics, far from destroying the effectiveness of gothic, rather added new beauties to this style of architecture. this was true even occasionally when mistakes were made by architects and designers. as ferguson has said in his history of architecture, st. stephen's at vienna is full of architectural errors and yet the attractiveness of the cathedral remains. it was a poet who designed it and something of his poetic soul gleams out of the material structure after the lapse of centuries. in nearly this same way the literatures of the different countries during the thirteenth century are eminently national and mirror with quite wonderful appropriateness the characteristics of the various people. this is true even when similar subjects, as for instance the graal stories, are treated from nearly the same standpoint by the two teutonic nations, the germans and the english. parsifal and galahad are national as well as poetic heroes with a distinction of character all their own. as we shall see, practically every nation finds in this century some fundamental expression of its national feeling that has been among its most cherished classics ever since. {opp } [illustration] santa maria sopra minerva (rome's gothic cathedral) the first of these in time is the cid, which was written in spain during the latter half of the twelfth century, but probably took its definite form just about the beginning of the thirteenth. it might well be considered that this old-fashioned spanish ballad would have very little of interest for modern readers, and yet there are very few scholars of the past century who have not been interested in this literary treasure. critics of all nations have been unstinted in their praise of it. since the schlegels recalled world attention to spanish { } literature, it has been considered almost as unpardonable for anyone who pretended to literary culture not to have read the cid, as it would be not to have read don quixote. as is true of all the national epics founded upon a series of ballads which had been collecting in the mouth of the people for several centuries before a great poetic genius came to give them their supreme expression, there has been some doubt expressed as to the single authorship of cid. we shall find the same problem to be considered when we come to discuss the nibelungen lied. a half a century ago or more the fashion of the critics for insisting on the divided authorship of such poems was much more prevalent than it is at present. at that time a great many scholars, following the initiative of wolf and the german separatist critics, declared even that the homeric poems were due to more than one mind. there are still some who cling to this idea with regard to many of these primal national epics, but at the present time most literary men are quite content to accept the idea of a single authorship. with regard to the cid in this matter mr. fitzmaurice kelly, in his short history of spanish literature in the literatures of the world series, says very simply: "there is a unity of conception and of language which forbids our accepting the poema (del cid) as the work of several hands; and the division of the poem into several cantares is managed with a discretion which argues a single artistic intelligence. the first part closes with the marriage of the hero's daughters; the second with the shame of the infantes de carrion, and the proud announcement that the kings of spain are sprung from the cid's loins. in both the singer rises to the level of his subject, but his chiefest gust is in the recital of some brilliant deed of arms." the spanish ballad epic is a characteristic example of the epics formed by the earliest poetic genius of a country, on the basis of the patriotic stories of national origin that had been accumulating for centuries. of course the cid had to be the christian hero who did most in his time against the moslem in spain. so interesting has his story been made, and so glorious have been his deeds as recorded by the poets, that there has been even some doubt of his existence expressed, but that he { } was a genuine historical character seems to be clear. many people will recall the canons' argument in the forty-ninth chapter of don quixote in which cervantes, evidently speaking for himself, says: "that there was a cid no one will deny and likewise a bernardo del carpio, but that they performed all the exploits ascribed to them, i believe there is good reason to doubt." the cid derives his name from the arabic seid which means lord and owes his usual epithet. el campeador (champion), to the fact that he was the actual champion of the christians against the moors at the end of the eleventh century. how gloriously his warlike exploits have been described may be best appreciated from the following description of his charge at alcocer: "with bucklers braced before their breasts, with lances pointing low. with stooping crests and heads bent down above the saddle-bow. all firm of hand and high of heart they roll upon the foe. and he that in good hour was born, his clarion voice rings out, and clear above the clang of arms is heard his battle-shout, 'among them, gentlemen! strike home for the love of charity! the champion of bivar is here--ruy diaz--i am he!' then bearing where bermuez still maintains unequal fight. three hundred lances down they come, their pennons flickering white; down go three hundred moors to earth, a man to every blow; and, when they wheel, three hundred more, as charging back they go. it was a sight to see the lances rise and fall that day; the shivered shields and riven mail, to see how thick they lay; the pennons that went in snow-white come out a gory red; the horses running riderless, the riders lying dead; while moors call on muhamed, and 'st. james!' the christians cry." while the martial interest of such early poems would be generally conceded, it would usually be considered that they would be little likely to have significant domestic, and even { } what might be called romantic, interests. the cid's marriage is the result of not what would exactly be called a romance nowadays, though in ruder times there may have been a certain sense of sentimental reparation in it at least. he had killed in fair fight the father of a young woman, who being thus left without a protector appealed to the king to appoint one for her. in the troublous middle ages an heiress was as likely to be snapped up by some unsuitable suitor, more literally but with quite as much haste, as in a more cultured epoch. the king knew no one whom he could trust so well with the guardianship of the rich and fair young orphan than the cid, of whose bravery and honor he had had many proofs. accordingly he suggested him as a protector and the cid himself generously realizing how much the fair jimena had lost by the death of her father consented, and in a famous passage of the poem, a little shocking to modern ideas, it must be confessed, frankly states his feelings in the matter: "and now before the altar the bride and bridegroom stand, and when to fair jimena the cid stretched forth his hand, he spake in great confusion: 'thy father have i slain not treacherously, but face to face, my just revenge to gain for cruel wrong; a man i slew, a man i give to thee; in place of thy dead father, a husband find in me.' and all who heard well liked the man, approving what he said; thus rodrigo the castilian his stately bride did wed." there are tender domestic scenes between the cid and his wife and his daughters, which serve to show how sincere was his affection and with what sympathetic humanity a great poet knew how to depict the tender natural relations which have an interest for all times. some of these domestic scenes are not unworthy to be placed beside homer's picture of the parting of hector and andromache, though there is more naive self-consciousness in the work of the spanish bard, than in that of his more artistic colleague of the grecian olden times. there is particularly a famous picture of the duties of noble ladies in spain of this time and of the tender solicitude of a father for his daughters' innocence, that is quite beyond expectation at { } the hands of a poet whose forte was evidently war and its alarms, rather than the expression of the ethical qualities of home life. the following passage, descriptive of the cid's parting from his wife, will give some idea of these qualities better than could be conveyed in any other way: "thou knowest well, señora, he said before he went, to parting from each other our love doth not consent; but love and joyance never may stand in duty's way, and when the king commandeth the noble must obey. now let discretion guide thee, thou art of worthy name; while i am parted from thee, let none in thee find blame. employ thy hours full wisely, and tend thy household well, be never slothful, woe and death with idleness do dwell. lay by thy costly dresses until i come again. for in the husband's absence let wives in dress be plain; and look well to thy daughters, nor let them be aware. _lest they comprehend the danger because they see thy care, and lose unconscious innocence. at home they must abide, for the safety of the daughter is at the mother's side_. be serious with thy servants, with strangers on thy guard, with friends be kind and friendly, and well thy household ward, to no one show my letters, thy best friends may not see. lest reading them they also may guess of thine to me. and if good news they bring thee, and woman-like dost seek the sympathy of others, with thy daughters only speak. * * * farewell, farewell, jimena, the trumpet's call i hear! one last embrace, and then he mounts the steed without a peer." the touch of paternal solicitude and prudence in the passage we have put in italics is so apparently modern, that it can scarcely fail to be a source of surprise, coming as it does from that crude period at the end of the twelfth century when such minute psychological observation as to young folks' ways would be little expected, and least of all in the rough warrior { } hero or his poet creator, whose notions of right and wrong are, to judge from many passages of the poem, so much coarser than those of our time. after the cid in point of time, the next enduring poetic work that was destined to have an influence on all succeeding generations, was the series of the arthur legends as completed in england. as in the case of the cid these stories of king arthur's court, his knights and his round table, had been for a long time the favorite subject of ballad poets among the english people. just where they originated is not very clear, though it seems most likely that the original inspiration came from celtic sources. these old ballads, however, had very little of literary form and it was not until the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century that they were cast in their present mold, after having passed through the alembic of the mind of a great poetic and literary genius, which refined away the dross and left only the pure gold of supremely sympathetic human stories. to whom we owe this transformation is not known with absolute certainty, though the literary and historical criticism of the last quarter of a century seems to have made it clear that the work must be attributed to walter map or mapes, an english clergyman who died during the first decade of the thirteenth century. his claims to the authorship of the graal legend in its artistic completeness and to the invention of the character of lancelot, which is one of the great triumphs of the arthur legends as they were told at this time, have been much discussed by french and english critics. this discussion has perhaps been best summarized by mr. henry morley, the late professor of literature at the university of london, whose third volume of english writers contains an immense amount of valuable information with regard to the literary history, not alone of england at this time but practically of all the countries of europe. mr. morley's plan was conceived with a breath of view that makes his work a very interesting and authoritative guide in the literary matters of the time. his summation of the position of critical opinion with regard to the authorship of the arthur legends deserves to be quoted in its entirety: "the arthurian romances were, according to this opinion. { } all perfectly detached tales, till in the twelfth century robert de borron (let us add, at map's suggestion) translated the first romance of the st. graal as an introduction to the series, and shortly afterwards walter map added his quest of the graal, lancelot, and mort artus. the way for such work had been prepared by geoffrey of monmouth's bold setting forward of king arthur as a personage of history, in a book that was much sought and discussed, and that made the arthurian romances a fresh subject of interest to educated men. "but m. paulin paris, whose opinions, founded upon a wide acquaintance with the contents of old mss. i am now sketching, and in part adopting, looked upon walter map as the soul of this work of christian spiritualisation. was the romance of the st. graal latin, before it was french? he does not doubt that it was. he sees in it the mysticism of the subtlest theologian. it was not a knight or a jongleur who was so well read in the apocryphal gospels, the legends of the first christian centuries, rabbinical fancies, and old greek mythology; and there is all this in the st. graal. there is a theory, too, of the sacrifice of the mass, an explanation of the saviour's presence in the eucharist, that is the work, he says, of the loftiest and the most brilliant imagination. these were not matters that a knight of the twelfth century would dare to touch. they came from an ecclesiastic and a man of genius. but if so, why should we refuse credit to the assertion, repeated in every ms. that they were first written in latin? the earliest mss. are of a date not long subsequent to the death of walter map, latinist, theologian, wit, and chaplain to king henry ii., who himself took the liveliest interest in breton legends. king henry, m. paris supposes, wished them to be collected, but how? some would prefer one method, some another; map reconciled all. he satisfied the clergy, pleased the scholar, filled the chasms in the popular tales, reconciled contradictions, or rejected inconsistencies, and by him also the introductory tale of the graal was first written in latin for robert de borron to translate into french." the best literary appreciation of map's genius, apart, of course, from the fact that all generations ever since have acknowledged the supreme human interest and eminently { } sympathetic quality of his work, is perhaps to be found in certain remarks of the modern critics who have made special studies in these earlier literary periods. prof. george saintsbury, of the university of edinburgh, for instance, in the second volume of periods of english literature, [footnote ] has been quite unstinted in his praise of this early english writer. he has not hesitated even to say in a striking passage that map, or at least the original author of the launcelot story, was one of the greatest of literary men and deserves a place only next to dante in this century so preciously full of artistic initiative. [footnote : the flourishing of romance and the rise of allegory, by george saintsbury, professor of rhetoric and english literature in the university of edinburgh (new york, charles scribner & sons, ).] "whether it was walter map, or chrestien de troyes, or both, or neither to whom the glory of at once completing and exalting the story is due, i at least have no pretension to decide. whoever did it, if he did it by himself, was a great man indeed--a man second to dante among the men of the middle age. even if it was done by an irregular company of men, each patching and piecing the other's efforts, the result shows a marvelous 'wind of the spirit' abroad and blowing on that company." prof. saintsbury then proceeds to show how much even readers of mallory miss of the greatness and especially of the sympathetic humanity of the original poem, and in a further passage states his firm conviction that the man who created lancelot was one of the greatest literary inventors and sympathetic geniuses of all times, and that his work is destined, because the wellsprings of its action are so deep down in the human heart, to be of interest to generations of men for as long as our present form of civilization lasts. "perhaps the great artistic stroke in the whole legend, and one of the greatest in all literature, is the concoction of a hero who should be not only 'like paris handsome, and like hector brave,' but more heroic than paris and more interesting than hector--not only a 'greatest knight,' but at once the sinful lover of his queen and the champion who should himself all but achieve and in the person of his son actually achieve, the sacred { } adventure of the holy graal. if, as there seems no valid reason to disbelieve, the hitting upon this idea, and the invention or adoption of lancelot to carry it out, be the work of walter mapes (or map), then walter mapes is one of the great novelists of the world, and one of the greatest of them. if it was some unknown person (it could hardly be chrestien, for in chrestien's form the graal interest belongs to percevale, not to lancelot or galahad), then the same compliment must be paid to that person unknown. meanwhile the conception and execution of lancelot, to whomsoever they may be due, are things most happy. entirely free from the faultlessness which is the curse of the classical hero; his unequaled valor not seldom rewarded only by reverses; his merits redeemed from mawkishness by his one great fault, yet including all virtues that are themselves most amiable, and deformed by no vice that is actually loathsome; the soul of goodness in him always warring with his human frailty--sir lancelot fully deserves the noble funeral eulogy pronounced over his grave, felt by all the elect to be, in both senses, one of the first of all extant pieces of perfect english prose." to appreciate fully how much walter map accomplished by his series of stories with regard to king arthur's court, it should be remembered that poets and painters have in many generations ever since found subjects for their inspiration within the bounds of the work which he created. after all, the main interest of succeeding poets who have put the legends into later forms, has centered more in the depth of humanity that there is in the stories, than in the poetic details for which they themselves have been responsible. in succeeding generations poets have often felt that these stories were so beautiful that they deserved to be retold in terms readily comprehensible to their own generation. hence malory wrote his morte d'arthur for the fifteenth century, spenser used certain portions of the old myths for the sixteenth, and the late poet-laureate set himself once more to retell the idyls of the king for the nineteenth century. each of these was adding little but new literary form, to a work that genius had drawn from sources so close to the heart of human nature, that the stories were always to remain of enduring interest. { } for the treasure of poesy with which humanity was enriched when he conceived the idea of setting the old ballads of king arthur into literary form, more must be considered as due to the literary original writer than to any of his great successors. this is precisely the merit of walter map. of some of his less ambitious literary work we have many examples that show us how thoroughly interested he was in all the details of human existence, even the most trivial. he had his likes and dislikes, he seems to have had some disappointed ambition that made him rather bitter towards ecclesiastics, he seems to have had some unfortunate experiences, especially with the cistercians, though how much of this is assumed rather than genuine, is hard to determine at this modern day. many of the extremely bitter things he says with regard to the cistercians might well be considered as examples of that exaggeration, which in certain minds constitutes one modality of humor, rather than as serious expressions of actual thought. it is hard, for instance, to take such an expression as the following as more than an example of this form of jesting by exaggeration. map heard that a cistercian had become a jew. his comment was: "if he wanted to get far from the cistercians why didn't he become a christian." from england the transition to germany is easy. exactly contemporary with the rise of the arthur legends in england to that standard of literary excellence that was to give them their enduring poetic value, there came also the definite arrangement and literary transformation of the old ballads of the german people, into that form in which they were to exert a lasting influence upon the german language and national feeling. the date of the nibelungen lied has been set down somewhat indefinitely as between and . most of the work was undoubtedly accomplished after the beginning of the thirteenth century and in the form in which we have it at present, there seems to be no doubt that much was done after the famous meeting of the meistersingers on the wartburg--the subject of song and story and music drama ever since, which took place very probably in the year . with regard to the nibelungen lied, as in the case of the other great literary arrangements of folk-ballads, there has been question as to the { } singleness of authorship. here, however, as with regard to homer and the cid, the trend of modern criticism has all been towards the attribution of the poem to one writer, and the internal evidence of similarity of expression constantly maintained, a certain simplicity of feeling and naïveté of repetition seems to leave no doubt in the matter. as regards the merits of the nibelungen lied as a great work of literature, there has been very little doubt in the english-speaking world at least, because of the enthusiastic recognition accorded it by german critics and the influence of german criticism in all branches of literature over the whole teutonic race during the nineteenth century. english admiration for the poem began after carlyle's introduction of it to the english reading public in his essays. since this time it has come to be very well known and yet, notwithstanding all that has been said about it no english critic has expressed more fully the place of the great german poem in world literature, than did this enthusiastic pro-german of the first half of the nineteenth century. for those for whom carlyle's essays are a sealed book because of loss of interest in him with the passage of time, the citation of some of his appreciative critical expressions may be necessary. "here in the old frankish (oberdeutsch) dialect of the nibelungen, we have a clear decisive utterance, and in a real system of verse, not without essential regularity, great liveliness and now and then even harmony of rhythm. doubtless we must often call it a diffuse diluted utterance; at the same time it is genuine, with a certain antique garrulous heartiness, and has a rhythm in the thoughts as well as the words. the simplicity is never silly; even in that perpetual recurrence of epithets, sometimes of rhymes, as where two words, for instance lip (body), lif (leib) and wip (woman), weib (wife) are indissolubly wedded together, and the one never shows itself without the other following--there is something which reminds us not so much of poverty, as of trustfulness and childlike innocence. indeed a strange charm lies in those old tones, where, in gay dancing melodies, the sternest tidings are sung to us; and deep floods of sadness and strife play lightly in little { } purling billows, like seas in summer. it is as a meek smile, in whose still, thoughtful depths a whole infinitude of patience, and love, and heroic strength lie revealed. but in other cases too, we have seen this outward sport and inward earnestness offer grateful contrasts, and cunning excitement; for example, in tasso; of whom, though otherwise different enough, this old northern singer has more than once reminded us. there too, as here, we have a dark solemn meaning in light guise; deeds of high temper, harsh self-denial, daring and death, stand embodied in that soft, quick-flowing joyfully-modulated verse. nay farther, as if the implement, much more than we might fancy, had influenced the work done, these two poems, could we trust our individual feeling, have in one respect the same poetical result for us; in the nibelungen as in the gerusalemme, the persons and their story are indeed brought vividly before us, yet not near and palpably present; it is rather as if we looked on that scene through an inverted telescope, whereby the whole was carried far away into the distance, the life-large figures compressed into brilliant miniatures, so clear, so real, yet tiny, elf-like and beautiful as well as lessened, their colors being now closer and brighter, the shadows and trivial features no longer visible. this, as we partly apprehend, comes of singing epic poems; most part of which only pretend to be sung. tasso's rich melody still lives among the italian people; the nibelungen also is what it professes to be, a song." the story of the nibelungen would ordinarily be supposed to be so distant from the interests of modern life, as scarcely to hold the attention of a reader unless he were interested in it from a scholarly or more or less antiquarian standpoint. for those who think thus, however, there is only one thing that will correct such a false impression and that is to read the nibelungen itself. it has a depth of simplicity and a sympathetic human interest all its own but that reminds one more of homer than of anything else in literature, and homer has faults but lack of interest is not one of them. from the very beginning the story of the young man who does not think he will marry, and whose mother does not think that any one is good enough for him, and of the young woman who is sure that no one will come that will attract enough of her attention so as to compel { } her to subject herself to the yoke of marriage, are types of what is so permanent in humanity, that the readers' attention is at once caught. after this the fighting parts of the story become the center of interest and hold the attention in spite of the refining influences that later centuries are supposed to have brought to humanity. hence it is that prof. saintsbury in the second volume of his periods of european literature, already quoted from, is able to say much of the modern interest in the story. "there may be," as he says, "too many episodic personages--deitrich of bern, for instance, has extremely little to do in this galley. but the strength, thoroughness, and in its own savage way, charm of kriemhild's character, and the incomparable series of battles between the burgundian princes and etzel's men in the later cantos--cantos which contain the very best poetical fighting in the history of the world--far more than redeem this. the nibelungen lied is a very great poem; and with beowulf (the oldest but the least interesting on the whole), roland (the most artistically finished in form), and the poem of the cid (the cheerfullest and perhaps the fullest of character), composes a quartette of epics with which the literary story of the great european literary nations most appropriately begins. in bulk, dramatic completeness, and a certain furia, the nibelungen lied, though the youngest and probably the least original is the greatest of the four." less need be said of the nibelungen than of the cid or walter map's work because it is much more familiar, and even ordinary readers of literature have been brought more closely in touch with it because of its relation to the wagnerian operas. even those who know the fine old german poems only passingly, will yet realize the supreme genius of their author, and those who need to have the opinions of distinguished critics to back them before they form an estimate for themselves, will not need to seek far in our modern literature to find lofty praises of the old german epic. with even this brief treatment no reader will doubt that there is in these three epics, typical products of the literary spirit of three great european nations whose literatures rising high above these deep firm substructures, were to be of the greatest { } influence in the development of the human mind, and yet were to remain practically always within the limits of thought and feeling that had been traced by these old founders of literature of the early thirteenth century, whose work, like that of their contemporaries in every other form of artistic expression, was to be the model and the source of inspiration for future generations. [illustration] crozier (obverse and reverse) { } xi meistersingers, minnesingers, trouv�res, troubadours. it would be a supreme mistake to think because the idea of literature in the thirteenth century is usually associated with the arthur legends, the nibelungen and dante, that all of the literary content of the century was inevitably serious in character or always epical in form. as a matter of fact the soul of wit and humor had entered into the body social, as we shall see in subsequent chapters, and the spirit of gaiety and the light-hearted admiration for nature found as frequent expression as at any time in history. with these as always in literary history there came outbursts of love in lyric strains that were not destined to die. while the poets of south germany and of italy sang of love that was of the loftiest description, never mingled with anything of the merely sensual, their tuneful trifles are quite as satisfying to the modern ear in both sense and sound as any of the more elaborate _vers de societé_ of the modern times. the german poets particularly did not hesitate to emphasize the fact that sensuality had no part in minne--their pretty term for love--and yet they sang with all the natural grace and fervid rapture of the grecian poets of the old pagan times, worshiping at the shrines of fleshly goddesses, or singing to the frail beauties of an unmoral period. nothing in the history of literature is better proof that ideal love can, unmixed with anything sensual, inspire lyric outbursts of supreme and enduring beauty, than the poems of the minnesingers and of some of the french and italian troubadours of this period. it is easier to understand dante's position in this matter after reading the poems of his predecessors in the thirteenth century. for this feeling of the lofty character of the love they sang was not, in spite of what is sometimes said, confined only to the germans, though as is well known from time immemorial the { } teutonic feeling towards woman was by racial influence of higher character than that of the southern nations. as mr. h. j. chaytor says in the introduction to his troubadours of dante, there came a gradual change over the mind of the troubadour about the beginning of the thirteenth century and "seeing that love was the inspiring force to good deeds," the later troubadours gradually dissociated their love from the object which had aroused it. among them, "as among the minnesingers, love is no longer sexual passion, it is rather the motive to great works, to self-surrender, to the winning an honorable name as courtier and poet." mr. chaytor then quotes the well known lines from bernart de ventadorn, one of the troubadours to whom dante refers, and whose works dante seems to have read with special attention since their poems contain similar errors of mythology. "for indeed i know of no more subtle passion under heaven than is the maiden passion for a maid. not only to keep down the base in man. but teach high thought and amiable words. and courtliness and the desire of fame. and love of truth and all that makes a man." a sentiment surely that will be considered as true now as it ever was, be the time the thirteenth century or earlier or later, and that represents the best solution of social problems that has ever been put forward--nature's own panacea for ills that other remedies at best only palliate. in the early nineteenth century carlyle said of this period what we may well repeat here: "we shall suppose that this literary period is partially known to all readers. let each recall whatever he has learned or figures regarding it; represent to himself that brave young heyday of chivalry and minstrelsy when a stern barbarossa, a stern lion-heart, sang sirventes, and with the hand that could wield the sword and sceptre twanged the melodious strings, when knights-errant tilted, and ladies' eyes rained bright influences; and suddenly, as at sunrise, the whole earth had grown { } vocal and musical. then truly was the time of singing come; for princes and prelates, emperors and squires, the wise and the simple, men, women and children, all sang and rhymed, or delighted in hearing it done. it was a universal noise of song; as if the spring of manhood had arrived, and warblings from every spray, not, indeed, without infinite twitterings also, which, except their gladness, had no music, were bidding it welcome." this is the keynote of the century--song, blithesome and gay as the birds, solemn and harmonious as the organ tones that accord so well with the great latin hymns--everywhere song. "believers," says tieck, the great collector of thirteenth century poetry, "sang of faith; lovers of love; knights described knightly actions and battles; and loving, believing knights were their chief audience. the spring, beauty, gaiety, were objects that could never tire; great duels and deeds of arms carried away every hearer, the more surely the stronger they were painted; and as the pillars and dome of the church encircled the flock, so did religion, as the highest, encircle poetry and reality; and every heart, in equal love, humbled itself before her." the names of the meistersingers are well-known to musical lovers at least, because of the music drama of that name and the famous war of the wartburg. the most familiar of all of them is doubtless walter von der vogelweide who, when he was asked where he found the tuneful melodies for his songs, said that he learned them from the birds. those who recall longfellow's pretty ballad with regard to walter and his leaving all his substance to feed the birds over his grave near nuremberg's minster towers, will not find it surprising that this meistersinger's poetry breathes the deepest love of nature, and that there is in it a lyric quality of joy in the things of nature that we are apt to think of as modern, until we find over and over again in these bards, that the spirit of the woods and of the fields and of the spring time, meant as much for them as for any follower of the wordsworth school of poetry in the more conscious after-time. this from walter with regard to the may will serve to illustrate very well this phase of his work. { } gentle may, thou showerest fairly gifts afar and near; clothest all the woods so rarely, and the meadows here; o'er the heath new colors glow; flowers and clover on the plain. merry rivals, strive amain which can fastest grow. lady! part me from my sadness. love me while 'tis may; mine is but a borrowed gladness if thou frown alway; look around and smile anew! all the world is glad and free; let a little joy from thee fall to my lot too! walter could be on occasion, however, as serious as any of the meistersingers and is especially known for his religious poems. it is not surprising that any one who set woman on so high a pedestal as did walter, should have written beautiful poems to the blessed virgin. he was the first, so it is said, to express the sentiment: "woman, god bless her, by that name, for it is a far nobler name than lady." occasionally he can be seriously didactic and he has not hesitated even to express some sentiments with regard to methods of education. among other things he discusses the question as to whether children should be whipped or not in the process of education and curiously enough takes the very modern view that whipping is always a mistake. in this, of course, he disagrees with all the practical educators of his time, who considered the rod the most effective instrument for the education of children and strictly followed the scriptural injunction about sparing the rod and spoiling the child. walter's opinion is for that reason all the more interesting: "children with rod ruling-- 'tis the worst of schooling. who is honor made to know. him a word seems as a blow." { } the birds were always a favorite subject for poetic inspiration on the part of the minnesingers. bird music rapt poetic souls into ecstasies in which the passage of time was utterly unnoticed. it is from the thirteenth century that comes the beautiful legend with regard to the monk who, having wondered how time could be kept from dragging in heaven, was permitted to listen to the song of a bird one day in the forest and when he awoke from his rapture and went back to his convent found that a hundred years had passed, that all of the monks of his acquaintance were dead, and while his name was found on the rolls of the monastery, after it there was a note that he had disappeared one day and had never been heard of afterwards. almost in the same tenor as this is a pretty song from dietmar von eist, written at the beginning of the thirteenth century, and which was a type of the charming songs that were to be so characteristic of the times: there sat upon the linden-tree a bird, and sung its strain; so sweet it sung that as i heard my heart went back again. it went to one remember'd spot, it saw the rose-tree grow. and thought again the thoughts of love, there cherished long ago. a thousand years to me it seems since by my fair i sate; yet thus to be a stranger long is not my choice, but fate; since then i have not seen the flowers, nor heard the birds' sweet song; my joys have all too briefly past. my griefs been all too long. hartman von aue was a contemporary of walter's and is best known for his romantic stories. it is rather curiously interesting to find that one of the old chroniclers considers it a great mark of distinction that, though hartman was a knight, he was able to read and write whatever he found written in { } books. it must not be forgotten, however, that not all of these poets could read and write, and that indeed so distinguished a literary man as wolfram von eschenbach, the author of percival, the story on which wagner founded his opera of parsifal, could neither read nor write. he had developed a very wonderful memory and was able to store faithfully his poems in the course of their composition so that he was above the need of pen and paper. hartman is most famous for having written the story of poor henry, which longfellow has chosen so effectively for his golden legend. hartman's appreciation of women can be judged from the following lines, which accord her an equal share in her lord's glory because of her sufferings in prayer at home. glory be unto her whose word sends her dear lord to bitter fight; although he conquer by his sword. she to the praise has equal right; he with the sword in battle, she at home with prayer. both win the victory, and both the glory share. occasionally one finds, as we have said, among the little songs of the minnesingers of the time such tuneful trifles as could be included very appropriately in a modern collection of _vers de société_, or as might even serve as a love message on a modern valentine or a christmas card. the surprise of finding such things at such a time will justify the quotation of one of them from brother wernher, who owes his title of brother not to his membership in any religious order, very probably, but to the fact that he belonged to the brotherhood of the poets of the time. since creation i was thine; now forever thou art mine. i have shut thee fast in my heart at last. i have dropped the key in an unknown sea. forever must thou my prisoner be! { } wolfram von eschenbach was the chief of a group of poets who at the close of the twelfth and beginning of the thirteenth centuries gathered about the landgraf hermann of thuringen in his court on the wartburg, at the foot of which lies eisenach, in the present grand duchy of saxe-weimar. they shaped tales of knightly adventure, blended with reflection, spiritual suggestion, and a grace of verse that represented the best culture of the court, and did not address itself immediately to the people. wolfram was a younger son of one of the lower noble bavarian families settled at eschenbach, nine miles from ausbach, in middle franconia. he had a poor little home of his own, wildenberg, but went abroad to seek adventures as a knight, and tell adventures as a poet welcome to great lords, and most welcome to the lavish friend of poets, hermann of thuringen, at whose court on the wartburg he remained twenty years, from to , in which latter year his "parzival" was finished. from some passages in his poem it may safely be inferred that he was happily married, and had children. the landgraf hermann died in , and, was succeeded by ludwig, husband of st. elizabeth. we cannot ascribe to english writers alone the spiritualizing of the grail legends, when there is wolfram's "parzival" drawing from the same cycle of myths a noble poem of the striving to bind earthly knighthood to the ever-living god. while gawain, type of the earthly knight wins great praise in love and chivalry, parzival--percival--finds his way on from childhood up, through humble searchings of the spirit, till he is ruler in the kingdom of the soul, where he designs that lohengrin, his eldest son, shall be his successor, while kardeiss, his younger son, has rule over his earthly possessions. how beautifully the minnesingers could enter into the spirit of nature and at the same time how much the spirit of spring has always been prone to appeal to poetic sensibilities may be judged from the following song of conrad of kirchberg, which is translated very closely and in the same meter as the original old high german poem. it is very evident that none of the spirit of spring was lost on this poet of the olden time, nor on the other hand that any possibility of poetic expression was missed by him. there is a music in the lilt of the verselets, { } eminently suggestive of the lyric effect that the new birth of things had on the poet himself and that he wished to convey to his readers. of this, however, every one must judge for himself and so we give the poem as it may be found in roscoe's edition of sismondi's literature of the south of europe. may, sweet may, again is come; may, that frees the land from gloom. up, then, children, we will go where the blooming roses grow. in a joyful company we the bursting flowers will see; up! your festal dress prepare! where gay hearts are meeting, there may hath pleasures most inviting heart, and sight, and ear delighting: listen to the bird's sweet song. hark! how soft it floats along! courtly dames our pleasures share. never saw i may so fair; therefore, dancing will we go: youths rejoice, the flowrets blow; sing ye! join the chorus gay! hail this merry, merry may! at least as beautiful in their tributes to their lady loves and their lyric descriptions of the beauties of spring, were the troubadours whose tuneful trifles, sometimes deserving of much more serious consideration than the application of such a term to them would seem to demand, have come down to us though the centuries. one of the best known of these is arnaud de marveil, who was born in very humble circumstances but who succeeded in raising himself by his poetic genius to be the companion of ruling princes and the friend of the high nobility. among the provencals he has been called the great master of love, though this is a name which petrarch reserves especially for arnaud daniel, while he calls marveil the less famous of the arnauds. an example of his work as the poet of love, that is typical of what is usually considered to have { } been the favorite mode of the troubadour poets runs as follows: all i behold recalls the memory of her i love. the freshness of the hour th' enamell'd fields, the many coloured flower, speaking of her, move me to melody. had not the poets, with their courtly phrase, saluted many a fair of meaner worth, i could not now have render'd thee the praise so justly due, of "fairest of the earth." to name thee thus had been to speak thy name, and waken, o'er thy cheek, the blush of modest shame. an example of the love of nature which characterizes some of arnaud de marveil's work will serve to show how thoroughly he entered into the spirit of the spring-time and how much all the sights and sounds of nature found an echo in his poetic spirit. the translation of this as of the preceding specimen from arnaud is taken from the english edition of the historical view of the literature of the south of europe by sismondi, and this translation we owe to thomas roscoe, the well known author of the life of lorenzo the magnificent, who considering that sismondi does not furnish enough of specimens of this troubadour poet, inserts the following verses, for the translation of which he acknowledges himself indebted to the kindness of friends, a modest concealment doubtless of his own work: oh! how sweet the breeze of april, breathing soft as may draws near! while, through nights of tranquil beauty, songs of gladness meet the ear: every bird his well-known language uttering in the morning's pride, revelling in joy and gladness by his happy partner's side. when, around me, all is smiling, when to life the young birds spring, thoughts of love, i cannot hinder, come, my heart inspiriting-- nature, habit, both incline me in such joy to bear my part: with such sounds of bliss around me could i wear a sadden'd heart? { } his description of his lady love is another example of his worship of nature in a different strain, which serves to show that a lover's exaggeration of the qualities of his lady is not a modern development of _la belle passion_. fairer than the far-famed helen, lovelier than the flow'rets gay. snow-white teeth, and lips truth-telling, heart as open as the day; golden hair, and fresh bright roses-- heaven, who formed a thing so fair. knows that never yet another lived, who can with thee compare. a single stanza from a love-song by bertrand de born will show better than any amount of critical appreciation how beautifully he can treat the more serious side of love. while the troubadours are usually said to have sung their love strains in less serious vein than their german brother poets of the north, this has the ring of tenderness and truth about it and yet is not in these qualities very different from others of his songs that are well known. the translation we have chosen is that made by roscoe who has rendered a number of the songs of the troubadours into english verse that presents an excellent equivalent of the original. bertrand is insisting with his lady-love that she must not listen to the rumors she may hear from others with regard to his faithfulness. i cannot hide from thee how much i fear the whispers breathed by flatterers in thine ear against my faith. but turn not, oh, i pray! that heart so true, so faithful, so sincere. so humble and so frank, to me so dear. oh, lady! turn it not from me away. { } at times one is surprised to find pretty tributes to nature even in the midst of songs that are devoted to war. the two things that were nearest the hearts of these troubadour poets were war and their lady-loves, but the beauties of nature became mixed up not only with their love songs but also with their battle hymns, or at least with their ardent descriptions of military preparations and the glories of war. an excellent example of this is to be found in the following stanza written by william of saint gregory, a troubadour who is best known for his songs of war rather than of tenderness. the beautiful spring delights me well. when flowers and leaves are growing; and it pleases my heart to hear the swell of the birds' sweet chorus flowing in the echoing wood; and i love to see all scattered around pavilions and tents on martial ground; and my spirit finds it good to see on the level plains beyond gay knights and steeds caparison'd. occasionally the troubadours indulge in religious poetry though usually not of a mystical or profoundly devotional character. even the famous peyrols, who is so well known for his love songs, sometimes wandered into religious poetry that was not unworthy to be placed beside his lyric effusions on other topics. peyrols is best known perhaps for his lamentations over king richard the lion heart's fate, for he had been with that monarch on the crusade, and like most of the troubadours who went with the army, drank in deep admiration for the poetic king. after his visit to the holy land on this occasion one stanza of his song in memory of that visit runs as follows: [footnote : translated by roscoe.] { } i have seen the jordan river, i have seen the holy grave. lord! to thee my thanks i render for the joys thy goodness gave, showing to my raptured sight the spot whereon thou saw'st the light. vessel good and favoring breezes, pilot, trusty, soon shall we once more see the towers of marseilles rising o'er the briny sea. farewell, acre, farewell, all. of temple or of hospital: now, alas! the world's decaying. when shall we once more behold kings like lion-hearted richard, france's monarch, stout and bold? [illustration] tower of scaligers (verona) { } xii great latin hymns and church music. one of the most precious bequests of the thirteenth century to all the succeeding centuries is undoubtedly the great latin hymns. these sublime religious poems, comparable only to the hebrew psalms for their wondrous expression of the awe and devotion of religious feeling, present the beginnings of rhymed poetry, yet they have been acclaimed by competent modern critics as among the greatest poems that ever came from the mind of man. they come to us from this period and were composed, most of them at least, during the thirteenth century itself, a few, shortly before it, though all of them received during this century the stamp of ecclesiastical and popular approval, which made them for many centuries afterward the principal medium of the expression of congregational devotion and the exemplar and incentive for vernacular poetry. it is from these latter standpoints that they deserve the attention of all students of literature quite apart from their significance as great expressions of the mind of these wondrous generations. these latin hymns have sometimes been spoken of with perhaps a certain degree of contempt as "rhymed latin poetry," as if the use of rhyme in conjunction with latin somehow lowered the dignity of the grand old tongue in which cicero wrote his graceful periods and horace sang his tuneful odes. as a matter of fact, far from detracting from the beauties of latin expression, these hymns have added new laurels to the glory of the language and have shown the wonderful possibilities of the roman speech in the hands of generations long after the classical period. if they served no other purpose than to demonstrate beyond cavil how profoundly the scholars of this generation succeeded in possessing themselves of the genius of the latin language, they would serve to contradict the foolish critics who talk of the education of the period as superficial, or as negligent of everything but scholastic philosophy and theology. { } at least one distinguished philologist, professor f. a. march, who has now for the better part of half a century occupied the chair of comparative philology at lafayette college, does not hesitate to say that the latin hymns represent an expression of the genius of the latin people and language, more characteristic than the classical poetry even of the golden or silver ages. "these hymns," he says, "were the first original poetry of the people in the latin language, unless perhaps those latin critics may be right who think they find in livy a prose rendering of earlier ballads. the so-called classic poetry was an echo of greece, both in substance and in form. the matter and meters were both imitated and the poems were composed for the lovers of grecian art in the roman court. it did not spring from the people, but the christian hymns were proper folk poetry, the bible of the people--their homeric poems. their making was not so much speech as action. they were in substance festive prayers, the simplest rhythmic offering of thanks and praise to the giver of light and of rest both natural and spiritual, at morning and evening and at other seasons, suited to the remembrance and rhythmical rehearsal of the truths of the bible." prof. march's opinion has been echoed by many another enthusiastic student of these wonderful hymns. it is only those who do not know them who fail to grow enthusiastic about them. this of itself would stamp these great poems as worthy of careful study. there is, however, an additional reason for modern interest in them. these hymns were sung by the whole congregation at the many services that they attended in the medieval period. in this regard it seems well to recall, that it was the custom to go to church much oftener then than at present. besides the sundays there were many holy days of obligation, that is, religious festivals on which attendance at church was obligatory, and in addition a certain number of days of devotion on which, because of special reverence for some particular saint, or in celebration of some event in the life of the lord or his saints, the people of special parts of the country found themselves drawn to attendance on church services. it seems probable that instead of the sixty or so times a year that is now obligatory, people went to church during the thirteenth { } century more than a hundred times in the year. twice a week then, at least, there was the uplifting cultural influence of this congregational singing of wonderful hymns that are among the greatest poems ever written and that belong to literature of the very highest order. the educational value of such intimate contact with what is best in literary expression could scarcely fail to have a distinct effect upon the people. it is idle to say that the hymns being in latin they were not understood, since the language of them was close akin to the spoken tongues, the subjects were eminently familiar mysteries of religion and constant repetition and frequent explanation must have led to a very general comprehension even by the least educated classes. for anyone with any pretension to education they must have been easy to understand, since latin was practically a universal language. it is not always realized by the students whose interests have been mainly confined to modern literature, in what estimation these latin hymns have been held by those who are in the best position to be able to judge critically of their value as poetry. take for example the dies irae, confessedly the greatest of them, and it will be found that many of the great poets and literary men of the nineteenth century have counted it among their favorite poems. such men as goethe, friedrich and august schlegel, scott, milman and archbishop trench were enthusiastic in its praise. while such geniuses as dryden, johnson and jeremy taylor, and the musicians mozart and hayden, avowed supreme admiration for it. herder, fichte and august schlegel besides crashaw, drummond, roscommon, trench and macaulay gave the proof of their appreciation of the great thirteenth century hymn by devoting themselves to making translations of it, and goethe's use of it in faust and scott's in the lay of the last minstrel, show how much poets, whose sympathies were not involved in its religious aspects, were caught by its literary and esthetic merit. in very recent times the latin hymns have been coming more to their own again and such distinguished critics as prof. henry morley, and prof. george saintsbury, have not hesitated to express their critical appreciation of these hymns as great { } literature. prof. saintsbury says in his volume of the thirteenth century literature: [footnote ] [footnote : the flourishing of romance and the rise of allegory, volume ii. of periods of european literature, edited by george saintsbury, new york, scribners, .] {opp } [illustration] st. francis prophesies the death of celano (giotto, upper ch., assisi) "it will be more convenient to postpone to a later chapter of this volume a consideration of the exact way in which latin sacred poetry affected the prosody of the vernacular; but it is well here to point out that almost all the finest and most famous examples of the medieval hymns, with perhaps the sole exception of the veni sancte spiritus, date from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. ours (that is, from this period) are the stately rhythms of adam of st. victor, and the softer ones of st. bernard the greater. it was at this time that jacopone da todi, in the intervals of his eccentric vernacular exercises, was inspired to write the stabat mater. from this time comes that glorious descant of bernard of morlaix, in which, the more its famous and very elegant english paraphrase is read beside it (jerusalem the golden), the more does the greatness and the beauty of the original appear. "and from this time comes the greatest of all hymns, and one of the greatest of all poems, the dies irae. there have been attempts--more than one of them--to make out that the dies irae is no such wonderful thing after all; attempts which are, perhaps, the extreme examples of that cheap and despicable paradox which thinks to escape the charge of blind docility by the affectation of heterodox independence. the judgment of the greatest (and not always of the most pious) men of letters of modern times may confirm those who are uncomfortable without authority in a different opinion. fortunately there is not likely ever to be lack of those who, authority or no authority, in youth and in age, after much reading or without much, in all time of their tribulation and in all time of their wealth, will hold these wonderful triplets, be they thomas of celano's or another's, as nearly or quite the most perfect wedding of sound to sense that they know." this seems almost the limit of praise but prof. saintsbury can say even more than this: "it would be possible, indeed, to { } illustrate a complete dissertation on the methods of expression in serious poetry from the fifty-one lines of the dies irae. rhyme, alliteration, cadence, and adjustment of vowel and consonant values--all these things receive perfect expression in it, or, at least, in the first thirteen stanzas, for the last four are a little inferior. it is quite astonishing to reflect upon the careful art or the felicitous accident of such a line as: tuba mirum spargens sonum, with the thud of the trochee falling in each instance in a different vowel; and still more on the continuous sequence of five stanzas, from _judex ergo_ to _non sit cassus_, in which not a word could be displaced or replaced by another without loss. the climax of verbal harmony, corresponding to and expressing religious passion and religious awe, is reached in the last-- quaerens me sedisti lassus, redemisti crucem passus: tantus labor non sit cassus! where the sudden change from the dominant _e_ sounds (except in the rhyme foot) of the first two lines to the _a's_ of the last is simply miraculous and miraculously assisted by what may be called the internal sub-rhyme of _sedisti_ and _redemisti_. this latter effect can rarely be attempted without a jingle: there is no jingle here, only an ineffable melody. after the dies irae, no poet could say that any effect of poetry was, as far as sound goes, unattainable, though few could have hoped to equal it, and perhaps no one except dante and shakespeare has fully done so." higher praise than this could scarcely be given and it comes from an acknowledged authority, whose interests are moreover in secular rather than religious literature, and whose enthusiastic praise is therefore all the more striking. here in america, schaff, whose critical judgment in religious literature is unquestionable and whose sympathies with the old church and her hymns were not as deep as if he had been a roman catholic, has been quite as unstinted in laudation. "this marvelous hymn is the acknowledged masterpiece of latin poetry, and the most sublime of all uninspired hymns. { } ... the secret of its irresistible power lies in the awful grandeur of the theme, the intense earnestness and pathos of the poet, the simple majesty and solemn music of its language, the stately meter, the triple rhyme, and the vowel assonances, chosen in striking adaptation to the sense--all combining to produce an overwhelming effect, as if we heard the final crash of the universe, the commotion of the opening graves, the trumpet of the archangel summoning the quick and the dead, and saw the 'king of tremendous majesty' seated on the throne of justice and of mercy, and ready to dispense everlasting life and everlasting woe." neale says of thomas aquinas' great hymn the pange lingua: "this hymn contests the second place among those of the western church, with the 'vexilla regis,' the 'stabat mater,' the 'jesu dulcis memoria,' the 'ad regias agni dapes,' the 'ad supernam,' and one or two others, leaving the 'dies irae' in its unapproachable glory," thus furnishing another supreme testimony to the hymn we have been discussing, which indeed only needs to be read to be appreciated, since it will inevitably tempt to successive readings and these bring with them ever and ever increasing admiration, showing in this more than in any other way that it is a work of sublime genius. with regard to rhyme particularly the triumph of art and the influence of the latin hymns is undoubted. this latest beauty of poetry reached its perfection of expression in the latin hymns. it is rather curious to trace its gradual development. it constitutes the only feature of literature which apparently did not come to us from the east. the earlier specimens of poetry of which we know anything among the oriental nations other than the hebrews, are beautiful examples of the possibilities of rhythm and the beginnings of meter. as poetry goes westward meter becomes as important as rhythm in poetry and these two qualities differentiated it from prose. both of these literary modes, however, are eastern in origin. rhyme comes from the distant west and seems to have originated in the alliteration invented by the celtic bards. the vowel assonance was after a time completed by the addition of consonantal assonance and then the invention of rhyme was completed. the first fully rhymed hymns seem to have been written by the { } irish monks and carried over to the continent by them on their christianizing expeditions, after the irruption of the barbarians had obliterated the civilization of europe. during the tenth and eleventh centuries rhyme developed mainly in connection with ecclesiastical poetry. during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries it reached an acme of evolution which has never been surpassed during all the succeeding generations. it must not be thought that, because so much attention is given to the dies irae, this constitutes the only supremely great hymn of the thirteenth century. there are at least five or six others that well deserve to be mentioned in the same breath. one of them, the famous stabat mater of jacopone da todi, has been considered by some critics as quite as beautiful as the dies irae in poetic expression, though below it as poetry because of the lesser sublimity of its subject. certainly no more marvelously poetic expression of all that is saddest in human sorrow has ever been put into words, than that which is to be found in these stanzas of the franciscan monk who had himself known all the depths of human sorrow and trial. most people know the opening stanzas of it well enough to scarce need their presentation and yet it is from the poem itself, and not from any critical appreciation of it, that its greatness must be judged. {opp } [illustration] virgin and child (pisa, campo santo, giov. pisano) stabat mater dolorosa juxta crucem lacrymosa, dum pendebat filius, cuius animan gementem, contristantem at dolentem pertransivit gladius. o quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta mater unigeniti. quae moerebat et dolebat et tremebat, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti. quis est homo, qui non fleret, matrem christi si videret, in tanto supplicio? quis non posset contristari, piam matrem contemplari dolentem cum filio! { } as in the case of the dies irae there have been many translations of the stabat mater, most of them done by poets whose hearts were in their work and who were accomplishing their purpose as labors of love. while we realize how many beautiful translations there are, it is almost pitiful to think what poor english versions are sometimes used in the devotional exercises of the present day. one of the most beautiful translations is undoubtedly that by denis florence maccarthy, who has been hailed as probably the best translator into english of foreign poetry that our generation has known, and whose translations of calderon present the greatest of spanish poets, in a dress as worthy of the original as it is possible for a poet to have in a foreign tongue. maccarthy has succeeded in following the intricate rhyme plan of the stabat with a perfection that would be deemed almost impossible in our harsher english, which does not readily yield itself to double rhymes and which permits frequency of rhyme as a rule only at the sacrifice of vigor of expression. the first three stanzas, however, of the stabat mater will serve to show how well maccarthy accomplished his difficult task: by the cross, on which suspended. with his bleeding hands extended, hung that son she so adored, stood the mournful mother weeping. she whose heart, its silence keeping. grief had cleft as with a sword. o, that mother's sad affliction-- mother of all benediction-- of the sole-begotten one; oh, the grieving, sense-bereaving, of her heaving breast, perceiving the dread sufferings of her son. what man is there so unfeeling. who, his heart to pity steeling. could behold that sight unmoved? could christ's mother see there weeping, see the pious mother keeping vigil by the son she loved? { } a very beautiful translation in the meter of the original was also made by the distinguished irish poet, aubrey de vere. the last two stanzas of this translation have been considered as perhaps the most charmingly effective equivalent in english for jacopone's wonderfully devotional termination that has ever been written. may his wounds both wound and heal me; his blood enkindle, cleanse, anneal me; be his cross my hope and stay: virgin, when the mountains quiver, from that flame which burns for ever, shield me on the judgment-day. christ, when he that shaped me calls me, when advancing death appalls me. through her prayer the storm make calm: when to dust my dust returneth save a soul to thee that yearneth; grant it thou the crown and palm. even distinguished professors of philosophy and theology occasionally indulged themselves in the privilege of writing these latin hymns and, what is more surprising, succeeded in making poetry of a very high order. at least two of the most distinguished professors in these branches at the university of paris in the latter half of the thirteenth century, must be acknowledged as having written hymns that are confessedly immortal, not because of any canonical usage that keeps them alive, but because they express in very different ways, in wondrously beautiful language some of the sublimest religious thoughts of their time. these two are st. bonaventure, the franciscan, and st. thomas of aquin, the dominican. st. bonaventure's hymns on the passion and cross of christ represent what has been most beautifully sung on these subjects in all the ages. st. thomas' poetic work centers around the blessed sacrament in whose honor he was so ardent and so devoted { } that the composition of the office for its feast was confided to him by the pope. the hymns he wrote, far from being the series of prosy theological formulas that might have been expected perhaps under such circumstances, are great contributions to a form of literature which contains more gems of purest ray in its collection than almost any other. st. thomas' poetic jewels shine with no borrowed radiance, and their effulgence is not cast into shadow even by the greatest of their companion pieces among the latin hymns of a wonderfully productive century. neale's tribute to one of them has already been quoted in an earlier part of this chapter. it has indeed been considered almost miraculous, that this profoundest of thinkers should have been able to attain within the bounds of rhyme and rhythm, the accurate expression of some of the most intricate theological thoughts that have ever been expressed, and yet should have accomplished his purpose with a clarity of language, a simplicity and directness of words, a poetic sympathy of feeling, and an utter devotion, that make his hymns great literature in the best sense of the word. one of them at least, the pange lingua gloriosi, has been in constant use in the church ever since his time, and its two last stanzas beginning with tantum ergo sacramentum, are perhaps the most familiar of all the latin hymns. few of those most familiar with it realize its place in literature, the greatness of its author, or its own marvelous poetic merits. it must not be forgotten that at the very time when these hymns were most popular the modern languages were just assuming shape. even at the end of the thirteenth century none of them had reached anything like the form that it was to continue to hold, except perhaps the italian and to some extent the spanish. when dante wrote his divine comedy at the beginning of the fourteenth century, he was tempted to use the latin language, the common language of all the scholars of his day, and the language ordinarily used for any ambitious literary project for nearly a century later. it will not be forgotten that when petrarch in the fourteenth century wrote his epic, africa, on which he expected his fame as a poet to rest, he preferred to use the latin language. fortunately dante was large enough of mind to realize, that the vulgar { } tongue of the italians would prove the best instrument for the expression of the thoughts he wished to communicate, and so he cast the italian language into the mold in which it has practically ever since remained. his very hesitation, however, shows how incomplete as yet were these modern languages considered by the scholars who used them. it was at this very formative period, however, that the people on whose use of the nascent modern languages their future character depended, were having dinned into their ears in the numerous church services, the great latin hymns with their wonderful finish of expression. undoubtedly one of the most effective factors of whatever of sweetness there is in the modern tongues, must be attributed to this influence exerted all unconsciously upon the minds of the people. the rhythm and the expressiveness of these magnificent poems could scarcely fail to stamp itself to some degree upon the language, crude though it might be, of the people who had become so familiar with them. it is, then, to no small extent because of the influence of these latin hymns that our modern languages possess a rhythmic melodiousness that in time enabled them to become the instruments for poetic diction in such a way as to satisfy all the requirements of the modern ear in rhyme, and rhythm, and meter. a striking corresponding effect upon the exactness of expression in the modern languages, it will be noticed, is pointed out in the chapter on the prose of the century as representing, according to professor saintsbury, the greatest benefit that was derived from the exaggerated practise of dialectic disputation in the curriculum of the medieval universities. those who would think that the thirteenth century was happy in creative genius but lacking in the critical faculty that would enable it to select the best, not only of the hymns presented by its own generations but also of those which came from the preceding centuries, should make themselves acquainted with the history of these latin hymns. just before the thirteenth century the monks of the famous abbey of st. victor took up the writing of hymns with wonderful success and two of them, adam and hugh, became not only the favorites of their own but of succeeding generations. the thirteenth { } century received the work of these men and gave them a vogue which has continued down to our own time. some of the hymns that were thus acclaimed and made popular are among the greatest contributions to this form of literature, and while they have had periods of eclipse owing to bad taste in the times that followed, the reputation secured during the thirteenth century has always been sufficient to recall them to memory and bring men again to a realization of their beauty when a more esthetic generation came into existence. one of the hymns of the immediately preceding time, which attained great popularity during the thirteenth century--a popularity that reflects credit on those among whom it is noted as well as upon the great hymn itself--was bernard of cluny's or bernard of morlaix's hymn, concerning the contempt of the world, many of the ideas of which were to be used freely in the book bearing this title written by the first pope of the century, innocent iii, whose name is usually, though gratuitously associated with quite other ideas than those of contempt for worldly grandeur. the description of the new jerusalem to come, which is found at the beginning of this great poem, is the basis of all the modern religious poems on this subject. few hymns have been more praised. schaff, in his christ in song says: "this glowing description is the sweetest of all the new jerusalem hymns of heavenly homesickness which have taken their inspiration from the last two chapters of revelation." the extreme difficulty of the meter which its author selected and which would seem almost to preclude the possibility of expressing great connected thought, especially in so long a poem, became under the master hand of this poetic genius, whose command of the latin language is unrivaled, the source of new beauties for his poem. besides maintaining the meter of the old latin hexameters he added double rhymes in each line and yet had every alternate line also end in a rhyme. to appreciate the difficulty this must be read. { } hora novissima, tempora pessima sunt, vigilemus, ecce minaciter imminet arbiter ille supremus imminet, imminet ut mala terminet, aequa coronet. recta remuneret, anxia liberet, aethera donet, auferat aspera duraque pondera mentis onustae, sobria muniat, improba puniat, utraque juste. hic breve vivitur, hic breve plangitur, hic breve fletur; non breve vivere, non breve plangere retribuetur; o retributio! stat brevis actio, vita perennis; o retributio! coelica mansio stat lue plenis; quid datur et quibus? aether egentibus et cruce dignis, sidera vermibus, optima sontibus, astra malignis. there are many versions, but few translators have dared to attempt a close imitation of the original meter. its beauty is so great, however, that even the labor required for this has not deterred some enthusiastic admirers. our english tongue, however, does not lend itself readily to the production of hexameters, though in these lines the rhyme and rhythm has been caught to some extent: "these are the latter times, these are not better times; let us stand waiting; lo! how with, awfulness, he, first in lawfulness, comes arbitrating." even from this it may be realized that doctor neale is justified in his enthusiastic opinion that "it is the most lovely, in the same way that the dies irae is the most sublime, and the stabat mater the most pathetic, of medieval poems." while it scarcely has a place here properly, a word must be said with regard to the music of the thirteenth century. it might possibly be thought that these wondrous rhymes had been spoiled in their effectiveness by the crude music to which they were set. to harbor any such notion, however, would only be another exhibition of that intellectual snobbery which concludes that generations so distant could not have anything worth the consideration of our more developed time. the music of the thirteenth century is as great a triumph as any other feature of its accomplishment. it would be clearly absurd to suppose, that the people who created the cathedrals and made every element associated with the church ceremonial so beautiful as to attract the attention of all generations since, could have failed to develop a music suitable to these { } magnificent fanes. as a matter of fact no more suitable music for congregational singing than the gregorian chant, which reached the acme of its development in the thirteenth century, has been invented, and the fact that the catholic church, after having tried modern music, is now going back to this medieval musical mode for devotional expression, is only a further noteworthy tribute to the enduring character of another phase of thirteenth century accomplishment. rockstro, who wrote the article on plain chant for grove's dictionary of music and for the encyclopedia britannica, declared that no more wonderful succession of single notes, had even been strung into melodies so harmoniously adapted to the expression of the words with which they were to be sung, than some of these plain chants of the middle ages and especially of the thirteenth century. no more sublimely beautiful musical expression of all the depths there are in sadness has ever found its way into music, than what is so simply expressed in the lamentations as they are sung in the office called tenebrae during holy week. even more beautiful in its joyousness is the marvelous melody of the exultet which is sung in the office of holy saturday. this latter is said to be the sublimest expression of joyful sound that has ever come from the human heart and mind. in a word, in music as in every other artistic department, the men of the thirteenth century reached a standard that has never been excelled and that remains to the present day as a source of pleasure and admiration for intellectual men, and will continue to be so for numberless generations yet unborn. nor must it be thought that the thirteenth century men and women were satisfied with church music alone. about the middle of the century part singing came into use in the churches at the less formal ceremonials, and soon spread to secular uses. as the mystery plays gave rise to the modern drama, so church music gave birth to the popular music of the time. in england, particularly, about the middle of the century, various glee songs were sung, portions of which have come down to us, and a great movement of folk music was begun. before the end of the century the interaction of church and secular music had given rise to many of the modes of modern musical { } development, and the musical movement was as substantially begun as were any of the other great artistic and intellectual movements which this century so marvelously initiated. this subject, of course, is of the kind that needs to be studied in special works if any satisfactory amount of information is to be obtained, but even the passing hint of it which we have been able to give will enable the reader to realize the important place of the thirteenth century in the development of modern music. [illustration] entombment of blessed virgin (notre dame, paris) { } xiii three most read books of the century. three books were more read than any others during the thirteenth century, that is, of course, apart from holy scriptures, which contrary to the usually accepted notion in this matter, were frequently the subject of study and of almost daily contact in one way or another by all classes of people. these three books were, reynard the fox, that is the series of stories of the animals in which they are used as a cloak for a satire upon man and his ways, called often the animal epic; the golden legend, which impressed longfellow so much that he spent many years making what he hoped might prove for the modern world a bit of the self-revelation that this wonderful old medieval book has been for its own and subsequent generations; and, finally, the romance of the rose, probably the most read book during the thirteenth and fourteenth and most of the fifteenth centuries in all the countries of europe. its popularity can be well appreciated from the fact that, though chaucer was much read, there are more than three times as many manuscript copies of the romance of the rose in existence as of chaucer's canterbury tales, and it was one of the earliest books to see the light in print. [footnote ] [footnote : it was a favorite occupation some few years ago to pick out what were considered the ten best books. sir john lubbock first suggested, that it would be an interesting thing to pick out the ten books which, if one were to be confined for life, should be thought the most likely to be of enduring interest. if this favorite game were to be played with the selection limited to the authors of a single century, it is reasonably sure that most educated people would pick out the thirteenth century group of ten for their exclusive reading for the rest of life, rather than any other. an experimental list of ten books selected from the thirteenth century writers would include the cid, the legends of king arthur, the nibelungen lied, the romance of the rose, reynard the fox, the golden legend, the summa of st. thomas aquinas, parsifal or perceval by wolfram von eschenbach, durandus's symbolism and dante. as will readily be appreciated by anyone who knows literature well, these are eminently books of enduring interest. when it is considered that in making this list no call is made upon icelandic literature nor provençal literature, both of which are of supreme interest, and both reached their maturity at this time, the abounding literary wealth of the century will be understood.] { } it has become the fashion in recent years, to take the pains from time to time to find out which are the most read books. the criterion of worth thus set up is not very valuable, for unfortunately for the increase in readers, there has not come a corresponding demand for the best books nor for solid literature. the fact that a book has been the best seller, or the most read for a time, usually stamps it at once as trivial or at most as being of quite momentary interest and not at all likely to endure. it is all the more interesting to find then, that these three most read books of the thirteenth century, have not only more than merely academic interest at the present time, but that they are literature in the best sense of the word. they have always been not only a means of helping people to pass the time, the sad office to which the generality of books has been reduced in our time, but a source of inspiration for literary men in many generations since they first became popular. the story of reynard the fox is one of the most profoundly humorous books that was ever written. its satire was aimed at its own time yet it is never for a moment antiquated for the modern reader. at a time when, owing to the imperfect development of personal rights, it would have been extremely dangerous to satirize as the author does very freely, the rulers, the judges, the nobility, the ecclesiastical authorities and churchmen, and practically all classes of society, the writer, whose name has, unfortunately for the completeness of literary history, not come down to us, succeeded in painting all the foibles of men and pointing out all the differences there are between men's pretensions and their actual accomplishments. all the methods by which the cunning scoundrel could escape justice are exploited. the various modes of escaping punishment by direct and indirect bribery, by pretended repentance and reformation, by cunning appeal to the selfishness of judges, are revealed with the fidelity to detail of a modern muckraker; yet, all of it with a humanly humorous quality which, while it takes away nothing from the completeness of the exposure, removes most of the bitterness that probably would have made the satire fail of its purpose. while every class in the community of the time comes in for satirical allusions, that give us a better idea of how closely the men and the women { } of the time resembled those of our own, than is to be found in any other single literary work that has been preserved for us from this century, or, indeed, any other, the series of stories seemed to be scarcely more than a collection of fables for children, and probably was read quite unsuspectingly by those who are so unmercifully satirized in it, though doubtless, as is usually noted in such cases, each one may have applied the satire of the story as he saw it to his neighbor and not to himself. a recent editor has said very well of reynard the fox that it is one of the most universal of books in its interest for all classes. critics have at all times been ready to praise and few if any have found fault. it is one of the books that answers well to what cardinal newman declared to be at least the accidental definition of a classic; it pleases in childhood, in youth, in middle age and even in declining years. it is because of the eternal verity of the humanity in the book, that with so much truth froude writing of reynard can say: "it is not addressed to a passing mode of folly or of profligacy, but it touches the perennial nature of mankind, laying bare our own sympathies, and tastes, and weaknesses, with as keen and true an edge as when the living world of the old suabian poet winced under its earliest utterance." the writer who traced the portraits must be counted one of the great observers of all time. as is the case with so many creative artists of the thirteenth century, though this is truer elsewhere than in literature, the author is not known. perhaps he thought it safer to shroud his identity in friendly obscurity, rather than expose himself to the risks the finding of supposed keys to his satire might occasion. too much credit must not be given to this explanation, however, though some writers have made material out of it to exploit church intolerance, which the conditions do not justify. we are not sure who wrote the arthur legends, we do not know the author of the cid, even all-pervasive german scholarship has not settled the problem of the writer of the nibelungen, and the authorship of the dies irae is in doubt, though all of these would be sources of honor and praise rather than danger. authors had evidently not as yet become sophisticated to the extent of { } seeking immortality for their works. they even seem to have been indifferent as to whether their names were associated with them or not. enough for them apparently to have had the satisfaction of doing, all else seemed futile. the original of reynard the fox was probably written in the netherlands, though it may be somewhat difficult for the modern mind to associate so much of wit and humor with the dutchmen of the middle ages. it arose there about the time that the cid came into vogue in spain, the arthur legends were being put into shape in england, and the nibelungen reaching its ultimate form in germany. reynard thus fills up the geographical chart of contemporary literary effort for the thirteenth century, since france and italy come in for their share in other forms of literature, and no country is missing from the story of successful, enduring accomplishment in letters. it was written from so close to the heart of nature, that it makes a most interesting gift book even for the twentieth century child, and yet will be read with probably even more pleasure by the parents. with good reason another recent editor has thus summed up the catholicity of its appeal to all generations: "this book belongs to the rare class which is equally delightful to children and to their elders. in this regard it may be compared to 'gulliver's travels,' 'don quixote' and 'pilgrim's progress.' for wit and shrewd satire and for pure drollery both in situations and descriptions, it is unsurpassed. the animals are not men dressed up in the skin of beasts, but are throughout true to their characters, and are not only strongly realized but consistently drawn, albeit in so simple and captivating a way that the subtle art of the narrator is quite hidden, and one is aware only of reading an absorbingly interesting and witty tale." to have a place beside gulliver, the old spanish knight and christian, shows the estimation in which the book is held by those who are best acquainted with it. the work is probably best known through the version of it which has come to us from the greatest of german poets, goethe, whose reineke fuchs has perhaps had more sympathetic readers and a wider audience than any other of goethe's { } works. the very fact that so deeply intellectual a literary man should have considered it worth his while to devote his time to making a modern version of it, shows not only the estimation in which he held it, but also affords excellent testimony to its worth as literature, for goethe, unlike most poets, was a fine literary critic, and one who above all knew the reasons for the esthetic faith that was in him. animal stories in every age, however, have been imitations of it much more than is usually imagined. while the author probably obtained the hint for his work from some of the old-time fables as they came to him by tradition, though we have no reason to think that aesop was familiar to him and many for thinking the greek fabulist was not, he added so much to this simple literary mode, transformed it so thoroughly from child's literature to world literature, that the main merit of modern animal stories must be attributed to him. uncle remus and the many compilations of this kind that have been popular in our own generation, owe much more to the animal epic than might be thought possible by one not familiar with the original thirteenth century work. every language has a translation of the animal epic and most of the generations since have been interested and amused by the quaint conceits, which enable the author to picture so undisguisedly, men and women under animal garb. it discloses better than any other specimen of the literature of the time that men and women do not change even in the course of centuries, and that in the heart of the middle ages a wise observer could see the foibles of humanity just as they exist at the present time. any one who thinks that evolution after seven centuries should have changed men somewhat in their ethical aspects, at least, made their aspirations higher and their tendencies less commonplace, not to say less degenerative, should read one of the old versions of reynard the fox and be convinced that men and women in the thirteenth century were quite the same as we are familiar with them at the present moment. the second of the most read books of the century is the famous legenda aurea or, as it has been called in english, the golden legend, written by jacobus de voragine, the distinguished dominican preacher and writer (born during the first half of the thirteenth century, died just at its close), who, { } after rising to the higher grades in his own order, became the archbishop of genoa. his work at once sprang into popular favor and continued to be perhaps the most widely read book, with the exception of the holy scriptures, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. it was one of the earliest books printed in italy, the first edition appearing about , and it is evident that it was considered that its widespread popularity would not only reimburse the publisher, but would help the nascent art of printing by bringing it to the attention of a great many people. its subject is very different from that of the modern most read books; librarians do not often have to supply lives of saints nowadays, though some similarities of material with that of books now much in demand help to account for its vogue. jacobus de voragine's work consisted of the lives of the greater saints of the church since the time of christ, and detailed especially the wonderful things that happened in their lives, some of which of course were mythical and all of them containing marvelous stories. this gave prominence to many legends that have continued to maintain their hold upon the popular imagination ever since. with all this adventitious interest, however, the book contained a solid fund of information with regard to the lives of the saints, and besides it taught the precious lessons of unselfishness and the care for others of the men who had come to be greeted by the title of saint. the work must have done not a little to stir up the faith, enliven the charity, and build up the characters of the people of the time, and certainly has fewer objections than most popular reading at any period of the world's history. for young folks the wonderful legends afforded excellent and absolutely innocuous exercise of the functions of the imagination quite as well as our own modern wonder books or fairy tales, while the stories themselves presented many descriptive portions out of which subjects for decorative purposes could readily be obtained. it must be set down as another typical distinction of the thirteenth century and an addition to its greatness, that it should have made the golden legend popular and thus preserved it for future generations, who became { } deeply interested in it, as in most of the other precious heritages they received from this great original century. {opp } [illustration] madonna and child (giov. pisano, padua) [illustration] st. christopher (alto relievo, venice) the third of the most read books of the century, the romance of the rose, is not so well known except by scholars as is the animal epic or perhaps even the golden legend. anyone who wants to understand the burden of the time, however, and who wishes to put himself in the mood and the tense to comprehend not only the other literature of the era, and in this must be included even dante, but also the social, educational, and even scientific movements of the period, must become familiar with it. it has been well said that a knowledge and study of the three most read books of the century, those which we have named, will afford a far clearer insight into the daily life and the spirit working within the people for whom they were written, than the annals of the wars or political struggles that were waged during the same period between kings and nobles. for this clearer insight a knowledge of the romance of the rose is more important than of the others. it provides a better introduction to the customs and habits, the manners of thought and of action, the literary and educational interests of the people of the thirteenth century, than any mere history, however detailed, could. in this respect it resembles homer who, as froude declares, has given us a better idea of greek life than a whole encyclopedia of classified information would have done. the intimate life stories of no other periods in history are so well illustrated, nor so readily to be comprehended, as those of homer and the authors of the medieval romaunt. the romance of the rose continued to be for more than two centuries the most read book in europe. every one with any pretense to scholarship or to literary taste in any european country considered it necessary to be familiar with it, and without exaggeration what lowell once declared with regard to don quixote, that it would be considered a mark of lack of culture to miss a reference to it in any country in europe, might well have been repeated during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries of the romance of the rose. it has in recent years been put into very suitable english dress by mr. f. s. ellis and published among the temple classics, thus placing it { } within easy reach of english readers. mr. ellis must certainly be considered a suitable judge of the interest there is in the work. he spent several years in translating its two and twenty thousand six hundred and eight lines and yet considers that few books deserve as much attention as this typical thirteenth century allegory. he says: "the charge of dulness once made against this highly imaginative and brilliant book, successive english writers, until quite recent times have been content to accept the verdict, though professor morley and others have of late ably repelled the charge. if further testimony were necessary as to the falsity of the accusation, and the opinion of one who has found a grateful pastime in translating it might be considered of any weight, he would not hesitate to traverse the attribution of dulness, and to assert that it is a poem of extreme interest, written as to the first part with delicate fancy, sweet appreciation of natural beauty, clear insight, and skilful invention, while j. de meun's continuation is distinguished by vigor, brilliant invention, and close observation of human nature. the thirteenth century lives before us." the rose is written on a lofty plane of literary value, and the fact that it was so popular, speaks well for the taste of the times and for the enthusiasm of the people for the more serious forms of literature. not that the romance of the rose is a very serious book itself, but if we compare it with the popular publications which barely touch the realities of life in the modern time, it will seem eminently serious. in spite of the years that have elapsed since its original publication it has not lost all its interest, even for a casual reader, and especially for one whose principal study is mankind in its varying environment down the ages, for it presents a very interesting picture of men and their ways in this wonderful century. here, as in the stories of reynard the fox, one is brought face to face with the fact that men and women have not changed and that the peccadillos of our own generation have their history in the middle ages also. take, for instance, the question of the too great love of money which is now the subject of so much writing and sermonizing. one might think that at least this was { } modern. here, however, is what the author of the romance of the rose has to say about it: three cruel vengeances pursue these miserable wretches who hoard up their worthless wealth: great toil is theirs to win it; then their spoil they fear to lose; and lastly, grieve most bitterly that they must leave their hoards behind them. cursed they die who living, lived but wretchedly; for no man, if he lack of love. hath peace below or joy above. if those who heap up wealth would show fair love to others, they would go through life beloved, and thus would reign sweet happy days. if they were fain, who hold so much of good to shower around their bounty unto those they found in need thereof, and nobly lent their money, free from measurement of usury (yet gave it not to idle gangrel men), i wot that then throughout the land were seen no pauper carl or starveling quean. but lust of wealth doth so abase man's heart, that even love's sweet grace bows down before it; men but love their neighbors that their love may prove a profit, and both bought and sold are friendships at the price of gold. nay, shameless women set to hire their bodies, heedless of hell-fire; it is after reading a passage like this in a book written in the thirteenth century that one feels the full truth of that expression of the greatest of american critics, james russell lowell, which so often comes back to mind with regard to the works of this century, that to read a classic is like reading a commentary on the morning paper. when this principle is { } applied the other way, i suppose it may be said, that when a book written in the long ago sounds as if it were the utterance of some one aroused by the evils round him in our modern life, then it springs from so close to the heart of nature that it is destined to live and have an influence far beyond its own time. the romance of the rose, written seven centuries ago, now promises to have renewed youth in the awakening of interest in our gothic ancestors and their accomplishments, before the over-praised renaissance came to trouble the stream of thought and writing. other passages serve to show how completely the old-time poet realized all the abuses of the desire for wealth, and how much it makes men waste their lives over unessentials, instead of trying to make existence worth while for themselves and others. here is an arraignment of the strenuous life of business every line of which is as true for us as it was for the poet's generation: 'tis truth (though some 'twill little please) to hear the trader knows no ease; for ever in his soul a prey to anxious care of how he may amass more wealth: this mad desire doth all his thought and actions fire. devising means whereby to stuff his barns and coffers, for 'enough' he ne'er can have, but hungreth yet his neighbors' goods and gold to get. it is as though for thirst he fain would quaff the volume of the seine at one full draught, and yet should fail to find its waters of avail to quench his longing. what distress, what anguish, wrath, and bitterness devour the wretch! fell rage and spite possess his spirit day and night. and tear his heart; the fear of want pursues him like a spectre gaunt. the more he hath, a wider mouth he opes, no draught can quench his drouth. { } the old poet pictures the happiness of the poor man by contrast, and can in conclusion depict even more pitilessly the real poverty of spirit of the man who "having, struggleth still to get" and never stops to enjoy life itself by helping his fellows: light-heart and gay goes many a beggar by the way, but little heeding though his back be bent beneath a charcoal sack. they labor patiently and sing. and dance, and laugh at whatso thing befalls, for havings care they nought. but feed on scraps and chitlings bought beside st. marcel's, and dispend their gains for wassail, then, straight wend once more to work, not grumblingly. but light of heart as bird on tree winning their bread without desire to fleece their neighbors. nought they tire of this their round, but week by week in mirth and work contentment seek; returning when their work is done once more to swill the jovial tun. and he who what he holds esteems enough, is rich beyond the dreams of many a dreary usurer, and lives his life-days happier far; for nought it signifies what gains the wretched usurer makes, the pains of poverty afflict him yet who having, struggleth still to get. the pictures are as true to life at the beginning of the twentieth century as they were in the latter half of the thirteenth. there are little touches of realism in both the pictures, which show at once how acute an observer, how full of humor his appreciation, and yet how sympathetic a writer the author of the romance was, and at the same time reveal something of the sociological value of his work. it discloses what is so easily concealed under the mask of formal historical writing and { } tells us of the people rather than of the few great ones among them, or those whom time and chance had made leaders of men. it seems long to read but as a recent translator has said, it represents only the file of a newspaper for eighteen months, and while it talks of quite as trivial things as the modern newspaper, the information is of a kind that is likely to do more good, and prove of more satisfaction, than the passing crimes and scandals that now occupy over-anxious readers. [illustration] central tower (lincoln) { } xiv some thirteenth century prose. it would be unpardonable to allow the notion to be entertained that it was only in poetry that the writers of the thirteenth century succeeded in creating works of enduring influence. some of the prose writings of the time are deeply interesting for many reasons. modern prose was in its formative period, and the evolution of style, as of other things in the making, is proverbially worthy of more serious study than even the developed result. the prose writings of the thirteenth century were mainly done in latin, but that was not for lack of command over the vernacular tongues, as we shall see, but because this was practically a universal language. this century had among other advantages that subsequent ages have striven for unsuccessfully, our own most of all, a common medium of expression for all scholars at least. there are, however, the beginnings of prose in all the modern languages and it is easy to understand that the latin of the time had a great influence on the vernacular and that the modes of expression which had become familiar in the learned tongue, were naturally transferred to the vulgar speech, as it was called, whenever accuracy of thought and nicety of expression invited such transmutation. with regard to the latin of the period it is the custom of many presumably well-educated men to sniff a little and say deprecatingly, that after all much cannot be expected from the writers of the time, since they were dependent on medieval or scholastic latin for the expression of their ideas. this criticism is supposed to do away with any idea of the possibility of there having been a praiseworthy prose style, at this time in the middle ages. in the chapter on the latin hymns, we call attention to the fact that this same mode of criticism was supposed to preclude all possibility of rhymed latin, as worthy to occupy a prominent place in literature. the widespread { } encouragement of this false impression has, as a matter of fact, led to a neglect of these wonderful poems, though they may in the opinion of competent critics, even be considered as representing the true genius of the latin language and its powers of poetic expression better than the greek poetic modes, which were adopted by the romans, but which, with the possible exception of their two greatest poets, never seem to have acquired that spontaneity that would characterize a native outburst of lingual vitality. as for the philosophic writers of the century that great period holds in this, as in other departments, the position of the palmiest time of the middle ages. to it belongs alexander hales, the doctor irrefragabilis who disputes with aquinas the prize for the best example of the summa theologiae; bonaventure the mystic, and writer of beautiful hymns; roger bacon, the natural philosopher; vincent of beauvais, the encyclopedist. while of the four, greatest of all, albertus magnus, the "dumb ox of cologne," was born seven years before its opening, his life lasted over four-fifths of it; that of aquinas covered its second and third quarters; occam himself, though his main exertions lie beyond this century, was probably born before aquinas died; while john duns scotus hardly outlived the century's close by a decade. raymond lully, one of the most characteristic figures of scholasticism and of the medieval period (with his "great art" of automatic philosophy), who died in , was born as early as . peter the spaniard, pope and author of the summulae logicales, the grammar of formal logic for ages as well of several medieval treatises that have attracted renewed attention in our day, died in . with regard to what was accomplished in philosophic and theologic prose, examples will be found in the chapter on st. thomas aquinas, which prove beyond all doubt the utter simplicity, the directness, and the power of the prose of the thirteenth century. in the medical works of the time there was less directness, but always a simplicity that made them commendable. in general, university writers were influenced by the scholastic methods and we find it reflected constantly in their works. in the minds of many people this would be { } enough at once to condemn it. it will usually be found, however, as we have noted before, that those who are readiest to condemn scholastic writing know nothing about it, or so little that their opinion is not worth considering. usually they have whatever knowledge they think they possess, at second hand. sometimes all that they have read of scholastic philosophy are some particularly obscure passages on abstruse subjects, selected by some prejudiced historian, in order to show how impossible was the philosophic writing of these centuries of the later middle ages. there are other opinions, however, that are of quite different significance and value. we shall quote but one of them, written by professor saintsbury of the university of edinburgh, who in his volume on the flourishing of romance and the rise of allegory (the twelfth and thirteenth centuries) of his periods of european literature, has shown how sympathetically the prose writing of the thirteenth century may appeal even to a scholarly modern, whose main interests have been all his life in literature. far from thinking that prose was spoiled by scholasticism. prof. saintsbury considers that scholasticism was the fortunate training school in which all the possibilities of modern prose were brought out and naturally introduced into the budding languages of the time. he says: "however this may be" (whether the science of the nineteenth century after an equal interval will be of any more positive value, whether it will not have even less comparative interest than that which appertains to the scholasticism of the thirteenth century) "the claim modest, and even meager as it may seem to some, which has been here once more put forward for this scholasticism--the claim of a far-reaching educative influence in mere language, in mere system of arrangement and expression, will remain valid. if at the outset of the career of modern languages, men had thought with the looseness of modern thought, had indulged in the haphazard slovenliness of modern logic, had popularized theology and vulgarized rhetoric, as we have seen both popularized and vulgarized since, we should indeed have been in evil case. it used to be thought clever to moralize and to felicitate mankind over the rejection of the stays, the fetters, the prison in which its { } thought was medievally kept. the justice or the injustice, the taste or the vulgarity of these moralizings, of these felicitations, may not concern us here. but in expression, as distinguished from thought, the value of the discipline to which these youthful languages was subjected is not likely now to be denied by any scholar who has paid attention to the subject. it would have been perhaps a pity if thought had not gone through other phases; it would certainly have been a pity if the tongues had been subjected to the fullest influence of latin constraint. but that the more lawless of them benefited by that constraint there can be no doubt whatever. the influence of form which the best latin hymns of the middle ages exercised in poetry, the influence in vocabulary and in logical arrangement which scholasticism exercised in prose are beyond dispute: and even those who will not pardon literature, whatever its historic and educative importance be, for being something less than masterly in itself, will find it difficult to maintain the exclusion of the cur deus homo, and impossible to refuse admission to the dies irae." besides this philosophic and scientific prose, there were two forms of writing of which this century presents a copious number of examples. these are the chronicles and biographies of the time and the stories of travelers and explorers. these latter we have treated in a separate chapter. the chronicles of the time deserve to be studied with patient attention by anyone who wishes to know the prose writers of the century and the character of the men of that time and their outlook on life. it is usually considered that chroniclers are rather tiresome old fogies who talk much and say very little, who accept all sorts of legends on insufficient authority and who like to fill up their pages with wonderful things regardless of their truth. in this regard it must not be forgotten that in times almost within the memory of men still alive, herodotus now looked upon deservedly as the father of history and one of the great historical writers of all time, was considered to have a place among these chroniclers, and his works were ranked scarcely higher, except for the purity of their greek style. the first of the great chroniclers in a modern tongue was the famous geoffrey de villehardouin, who was not only a writer { } of, but an actor in the scenes which he describes. he was enrolled among the elite of french chivalry, in that crusade at the beginning of the thirteenth century, which resulted in the foundation of the greco-latin empire. his book entitled "the conquest of constantinople," includes the story of the expedition during the years from to . modern war correspondents have seldom succeeded in giving a more vivid picture of the events of which they were witnesses than this first french chronicler of the thirteenth century. it is evident that the work was composed with the idea that it should be recited, as had been the old poetic chansons de geste, in the castles of the nobles and before assemblages of the people, perhaps on fair days and other times when they were gathered together. the consequence is that it is written in a lively straightforward style with direct appeals to its auditors. it contains not a few passages of highly poetic description which show that the chronicler was himself a literary man of no mean order and probably well versed in the effusions of the old poets of this country. his description of the fleet of the crusaders as it was about to set sail for the east and then his description of its arrival before the imposing walls of the imperial city, are the best examples of this, and have not been surpassed even by modern writers on similar topics. though the french writer was beyond all doubt not familiar with the grecian writers and knew nothing of xenophon, there is a constant reminder of the greek historian in his work. xenophon's simple directness, his thorough-going sincerity, the impression he produces of absolute good faith and confidence in the completeness of the picture, so that one feels that one has been present almost at many of the scenes described, are all to be encountered in his medieval successor. villehardouin went far ahead of his predecessors, the chroniclers of foregoing centuries, in his careful devotion to truth. a french writer has declared that to villehardouin must be ascribed the foundation of historical probity. none of his facts, stated as such, has ever been impugned, and though his long speeches must necessarily have been his own composition, there seems no doubt that they contain the ideas which had been expressed on various occasions, and besides were composed with due reference to { } the character of the speaker and convey something of his special style of expression. prof. saintsbury in his article in the encyclopedia britannica on villehardouin, sums up very strikingly the place that this first great vernacular historian's book must occupy. he says: "it is not impertinent, and at the same time an excuse for what has been already said, to repeat that villehardouin's book, brief as it is, is in reality one of the capital books of literature, not merely for its merit, but because it is the most authentic and the most striking embodiment in the contemporary literature of the sentiments which determined the action of a great and important period of history. there are but very few books which hold this position, and villehardouin's is one of them. if every other contemporary record of the crusades perished, we should still be able by aid of this to understand and realize what the mental attitude of crusaders, of teutonic knights, and the rest was, and without this we should lack the earliest, the most undoubtedly genuine, and the most characteristic of all such records. the very inconsistency with which villehardouin is chargeable, the absence of compunction with which he relates the changing of a sacred religious pilgrimage into something by no means unlike a mere filibustering raid on a great scale, add a charm to the book. for, religious as it is, it is entirely free from the very slightest touch of hypocrisy or, indeed, of self-consciousness of any kind. the famous description of the crusades, _gesta dei per francos_, was evidently to villehardouin a plain matter-of-fact description and it no more occurred to him to doubt the divine favor being extended to the expeditions against alexius or theodore than to doubt that it was shown to expeditions against saracens and turks." {opp } [illustration] ponte alle grazie (florence, lapo) [illustration] porta romana gate, (florence, n. pisano) it was especially in the exploitation of biographical material that the thirteenth century chroniclers were at their best. any one who recalls carlyle's unstinted admiration of jocelyn of brakelonds' life of abbot sampson in his essays past and present, will be sure that at least one writer in england had succeeded in pleasing so difficult a critic in this rather thorny mode of literary expression. it is easy to say too much or too little about the virtues and the vices of a man whose biography one has chosen to write. jocelyn's simple, straightforward story { } would seem to fulfill the best canons of modern criticism in this respect. probably no more vivid picture of a man and his ways was ever given until boswell's johnson. nor was the english chronicler alone in this respect. the sieur de joinville's biographical studies of the life of louis ix. furnish another example of this literary mode at its best, and modern writers of biography could not do better than go back to read these intimate pictures of the life of a great king, which are not flattered nor overdrawn but give us the man as he actually was. the english biographic chronicler of the olden time could picture exciting scenes without any waste of words. a specimen of his work will serve to show the merit of his style. after reading it one is not likely to be surprised that carlyle should have so taken the chronicler to heart nor been so enthusiastic in his praise. it is the very type of that impressionism in style that has once more in the course of time become the fad of our own day. "the abbot was informed that the church of woolpit was vacant, walter of coutances being chosen to the bishopric of lincoln. he presently convened the prior and great part of the convent, and taking up his story thus began: 'you well know what trouble i had in respect of the church of woolpit; and in order that it should be obtained for your exclusive use i journeyed to rome at your instance, in the time of the schism between pope alexander and octavian. i passed through italy at that time when all clerks bearing letters of our lord the pope alexander were taken. some were imprisoned, some hanged, and some, with nose and lips cut off, sent forward to the pope, to his shame and confusion. i, however, pretended to be scotch; and putting on the garb of a scotchman, and the gesture of one, i often brandished my staff, in the way they use that weapon called, a gaveloc, at those who mocked me, using threatening language, after the manner of the scotch. to those that met and questioned me as to who i was, i answered nothing, but, "ride ride rome, turne cantwereberei." this did i to conceal myself and my errand, and that i should get to rome safer in the guise of a scotchman. "'having obtained letters from the pope, even as i wished, on my return i passed by a certain castle, as my way led me { } from the city; and behold the officers thereof came about me, laying hold upon me, and saying, "this vagabond who makes himself out to be a scotchman is either a spy or bears letters from the false pope alexander." and while they examined my ragged clothes, and my boots, and my breeches, and even the old shoes which i carried over my shoulders, after the fashion of the scotch, i thrust my hand into the little wallet which i carried, wherein was contained the letter of our lord the pope, placed under a little cup i had for drinking. the lord god and st. edmund so permitting, i drew out both the letter and the cup together, so that, extending my arm aloft, i held the letter underneath the cup. they could see the cup plain enough, but they did not see the letter; and so i got clear out of their hands, in the name of the lord. whatever money i had about me they took away; therefore i had to beg from door to door, without any payment, until i arrived in england.'" another excellent example of the biographic prose of the century, though this is the vernacular, is joinville's life of st. louis, without doubt one of the precious biographical treasures of all times. it contains a vivid portrait of louis ix., made by a man who knew him well personally, took part with him in some of the important actions of the book, and in general was an active personage in the affairs of the time. those who think that rapid picturesque description such as vividly recalls deeds of battle was reserved for the modern war correspondent, should read certain portions of joinville's book. as an example we have ventured to quote the page on which the seneschal historian himself recounts the role which he played in the famous battle of mansourah, at which, with the count de soissons and pierre de neuville, he defended a small bridge against the enemy under a hail of arrows. he says: "before us there were two sergeants of the king, one of whom was named william de boon and the other john of gamaches. against these the turks who had placed themselves between the river and the little tributary, led a whole mob of villains on foot, who hurled at them clods of turf or whatever came to hand. never could they make them recoil upon us, however. as a last resort the turks sent forward a foot soldier { } who three times launched greek fire at them. once william de boon received the pot of green fire upon his buckler. if the fire had touched anything on him he would have been entirely burned up. we at the rear were all covered by arrows which had missed the sergeants. it happened that i found a waistcoat which had been stuffed by one of the saracens. i turned the open side of it towards me and made a shield out of the vest which rendered me great service, for i was wounded by their arrows in only five places though my horse was wounded in fifteen. one of my own men brought me a banner with my arms and a lance. every time then that we saw that they were pressing the royal sergeants we charged upon them and they fled. the good count soissons, from the point at which we were, joked with me and said 'senechal, let us hoot out this rabble, for by the headdress of god (this was his favorite oath) we shall talk over this day you and i many a time in our ladies' halls.'" we have said that the writing of the thirteenth century must have been done to a great extent for the sake of the women of the time, and that its very existence was a proof that the women possessed a degree of culture, that might not be realized from the few details that have been preserved to us of their education and habits of life. in this last passage of joinville we have the proof of this, since evidently the telling of the stories of these days of battle was done mainly in order that the women folks might have their share in the excitement of the campaign, and might be enabled vividly to appreciate what the dangers had been and how gloriously their lords had triumphed. at every period of the world's history it was true that literature was mainly made for women and that some of the best portions of it always concerned them very closely. we have purposely left till last, the greatest of the chroniclers of the thirteenth century, matthew paris, the author of the historia major, who owes his surname doubtless to the fact that he was educated at the university of paris. instead of trying to tell anything about him from our own slight personal knowledge, we prefer to quote the passage from green's history of the english people, in which one of the greatest of our modern english historians pays such a magnificent tribute to his colleague of the earlier times: { } "the story of this period of misrule has been preserved for us by an annalist whose pages glow with the new outburst of patriotic feeling which this common expression of the people and the clergy had produced. matthew paris is the greatest, as he is in reality the last of our monastic historians. the school of st. albans survived indeed till a far later time, but the writers dwindle into mere annalists whose view is bounded by the abbey precincts, and whose work is as colorless as it is jejune. in matthew the breadth and precision of the narrative, the copiousness of his information on topics whether national or european, the general fairness and justice of his comments, are only surpassed by the patriotic fire and enthusiasm of the whole. he had succeeded roger of wendover as chronicler of st. albans; and the greater chronicle, with the abridgement of it which has long passed under the name of matthew of westminster, a "history of the english," and the "lives of the earlier abbots," were only a few among the voluminous works which attest his prodigious industry. he was an eminent artist as well as a historian, and many of the manuscripts which are preserved are illustrated by his own hand. a large circle of correspondents--bishops like grosseteste, ministers like hubert de burgh, officials like alexander de swinford--furnished him with minute accounts of political and ecclesiastical proceedings. pilgrims from the east and papal agents brought news of foreign events to his scriptorium at st. albans. he had access to and quotes largely from state documents, charters, and exchequer rolls. the frequency of the royal visits to the abbey brought him a store of political intelligence and henry himself contributed to the great chronicle which has preserved with so terrible a faithfulness the memory of his weakness and misgovernment. on one solemn feast-day the king recognized matthew, and bidding him sit on the middle step between the floor and the throne, begged him to write the story of the day's proceedings. while on a visit to st. albans he invited him to his table and chamber, and enumerated by name two hundred and fifty of the english barons for his information. but all this royal patronage has left little mark on his work. "_the case,_" as he says, "_of historical writers is hard, for if they tell the truth they provoke men, and if they write what is false they offend god._" { } with all the fullness of the school of court historians, such as benedict or hoveden, matthew paris combines an independence and patriotism which is strange to their pages. he denounces with the same unsparing energy the oppression of the papacy and the king. his point of view is neither that of a courtier nor of a churchman, but of an englishman, and the new national tone of his chronicle is but an echo of the national sentiment which at last bound nobles and yeomen and churchmen together into an english people." we of the twentieth century are a people of information and encyclopedias rather than of literature, so that we shall surely appreciate one important specimen of the prose writing of the thirteenth century since it comprises the first modern encyclopedia. its author was the famous vincent of beauvais. vincent consulted all the authors, sacred and profane, that he could possibly lay hands on, and the number of them was indeed prodigious. it has often been said by men supposed to be authorities in history, that the historians of the middle ages had at their disposition only a small number of books, and that above all they were not familiar with the older historians. while this was true as regards the greek, it was not for the latin historical writers. vincent of beauvais has quotations from caesar's de bello gallico, from sallust's catiline and jugurtha, from quintus curtius, from suetonius and from valerius maximus and finally from justin's abridgement of trogus pompeius. vincent had the advantage of having at his disposition the numerous libraries of the monasteries throughout france, the extent of which, usually unrealized in modern times, will be appreciated from our special chapter on the subject. besides he consulted the documents in the chapter houses of the cathedrals especially those of paris, of rouen, of laon, of beauvais and of bayeux, which were particularly rich in collections of documents. it might be thought that these libraries and archives would be closely guarded. far from being closed to writers from the outer world they were accessible to all to such an extent, indeed, that a number of them are mentioned by vincent as public institutions. { } his method of collecting his information is interesting, because it shows the system employed by him is practically that which has obtained down to our own day. he made use for his immense investigation of a whole army of young assistants, most of whom were furnished him by his own order, the dominicans. he makes special mention in a number of places of quotations due to their collaboration. the costliness of maintaining such a system would have made the completion of the work absolutely impossible were it not for the liberality of king louis ix., who generously offered to defray the expenses of the composition. vincent has acknowledged this by declaring in his prefatorial letter to the king that, "you have always liberally given assistance even to the work of gathering the materials." {opp } [illustration] st. catherine's (l�beck) [illustration] church and cloisters, san antonio (padua) vincent's method of writing is quite as interesting as his method of compilation of facts. the great dominican was not satisfied with being merely a source of information. the philosophy of history has received its greatest christian contribution from st. augustine's city of god. in this an attempt was made to trace the meaning and causal sequence of events as well as their mere external connection and place in time. in a lesser medieval way vincent tried deliberately to imitate this and besides writing history attempted to trace the philosophy of it. for him, as for the great french philosophic historian bossuet in his universal history five centuries later, everything runs its provided race from the creation to the redemption and then on toward the consummation of the world. he describes at first the commencements of the church from the time of abel, through its progress under the patriarchs, the prophets, judges, kings, and leaders of the people, down to the birth of christ. he traces the history of the apostles and of the first disciples, though he makes it a point to find place for the famous deeds of the great men of pagan antiquity. he notes the commencement of empires and kingdoms, their glory, their decadence, their ruin, and the sovereigns who made them illustrious in peace and war. there was much that was defective in the details of history as they were traced by vincent, much that was lacking in completeness, but the intention was evidently the best, and patience and labor were devoted to the { } sources of history at his command. perhaps never more than at the present moment have we been in a position to realize that history at its best can be so full of defects even after further centuries of consultation of documents and printed materials, that we are not likely to be in the mood to blame this first modern historian very much. as for the other portions of his encyclopedia, biographic, literary and scientific, they were not only freely consulted by his contemporaries and successors, but we find traces of their influence in the writings and also in the decorative work of the next two centuries. we have already spoken of the use of his book in the provision of subjects for the ornamentation of cathedrals and the same thing might be said of edifices of other kinds. nor must it be thought that vincent has only a historic or ecclesiastical interest. dr. julius pagel, in his chapter on medicine in the middle ages in puschmann's hand-book of the history of medicine, [footnote ] says, "that there were three writers whose works were even more popular than those of albertus magnus. these three were bartholomew, the englishman; thomas, of cantimprato, and vincent, of beauvais, the last of whom must be considered as one of the most important contributors to the generalization of scientific knowledge, not alone in the thirteenth but in the immediately succeeding centuries. his most important work was really an encyclopedia of the knowledge of his time. it was called the greater triple mirror and there is no doubt that it reflected the knowledge of his period. he had the true scientific spirit and constantly cites the authorities from whom his information was derived. he cites hundreds of authors and there is scarcely a subject that he does not touch on. one book of his work is concerned with human anatomy, and the concluding portion of it is an abbreviation of history carried down to the year ." [footnote : puschmann. hand-buch der geschichte der medizin, jena, fischer, .] it might be considered that such a compend of information would be very dry-as-dust reading and that it would be fragmentary in character and little likely to be attractive except to a serious student. dr. pagel's opinion does not agree with this _a priori_ impression. he says with regard to it: { } "the language is clear, readily intelligible, and the information is conveyed usually in an excellent, simple style. through the introduction of interesting similes the contents do not lack a certain taking quality, so that the reading of the work easily becomes absorbing." this is, i suppose, almost the last thing that might be expected of a scientific teacher in the thirteenth century, because, after all, vincent of beauvais must be considered as one of the schoolmen, and they are supposed to be eminently arid, but evidently, if we are to trust this testimony of a modern german physician, only by those who have not taken the trouble to read them. one of the most important works of thirteenth century prose is the well-known rationale divinorum officiorum (significance of the divine offices) written by william durandus, the bishop of mende, in france, whose tomb and its inscription in the handsome old gothic cathedral of santa maria sopra minerva, in rome, shares with the body of st. catherine of sienna the honor of attracting so many visitors. the book has been translated into english under the title. the symbolism of churches and church ornaments, and has been very widely read. it was very popular in the thirteenth century, and the best possible idea of its subsequent reputation can be gathered from the fact, that the rationale was the first work from the pen of an uninspired writer to be accorded the privilege of being printed. the editio princeps, a real first edition of supreme value, appeared from the press of john fust in . the only other books that had been printed at that time were the psalters of and . this edition is, of course, of the most extreme rarity. according to the english translators of durandus the beauty of the typography has seldom been exceeded. the style of durandus has been praised very much by the critics of succeeding centuries for its straightforwardness, simplicity and brevity. most of these qualities it evidently owes to the hours spent by its author in the reading of holy scriptures. durandus fashioned his style so much on the sacred writings that most of his book possesses something of the impressive character of the bible itself. the impression derived from it is that of reading a book on a religious subject written { } in an eminently suitable tone and spirit. most of this impression must be attributed without doubt to the fact, that durandus has not only formed his style on the scriptures, but has actually incorporated scriptural expressions in his writings to such an extent as to make them mostly a scriptural composition. this, far from being a fault, appears quite appropriate in his book because of its subject and the method of treatment. a quotation from the proeme (as it is in the quaint spelling of the english translation) will give the best idea of this. "all things, as pertain to offices and matters ecclesiastical, be full of divine significations and mysterious, and overflow with celestial sweetness; if so be that a man be diligent in his study of them, and know how to draw honey from the rock, and oil from the hardest stone. but who knoweth the ordinances of heaven, or can fix the reasons thereof upon the earth? for he that prieth into their majesty, is overwhelmed by the glory of them. of a truth the well is deep, and i have nothing to draw with: unless he giveth it unto me who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not: so that while i journey through the mountains i may draw water with joy out of the wells of salvation. wherefore albeit of the things handed down from our forefathers, capable we are not to explain all, yet if among them there be any thing which is done without reason it should be forthwith put away. wherefore, i, william, by the alone tender mercy of god, bishop of the holy church which is in mende, will knock diligently at the door, if so be that the key of david will open unto me: that the king may bring me into his treasure? and shew unto me the heavenly pattern which was shewed unto moses in the mount: so that i may learn those things which pertain to rites ecclesiastical whereof they teach and what they signify: and that i may be able plainly to reveal and make manifest the reasons of them, by his help, who hath ordained strength out of the mouth of babes and sucklings: whose spirits bloweth where it { } listeth: dividing to each severally as it will to the praise and glory of the trinity." this passage alone of durandus would serve as an excellent refutation of the old-time protestant tradition, fortunately now dying out though not as yet entirely eradicated, which stated so emphatically that the bible was not allowed to be read before luther's time. those who wish to obtain a good idea of durandus' style and the way he presents his material, can obtain it very well from his chapter on bells, the first two paragraphs of which we venture to quote. they will be found quite as full of interesting information in their way as any modern writer might have brought together, and have the dignity and simplicity of the best modern prose. "bells are brazen vessels, and were first invented in nola, a city of campania. wherefore the larger bells are called campanae, from campania the district, and the smaller nolae, from nola the town. "you must know that bells, by the sound of which the people assembleth together to the church to hear, and the clergy to preach, in the morning the mercy of god and his power by night do signify the silver trumpets, by which under the old law the people was called together unto sacrifice. (of these trumpets we shall speak in our sixth book.) for just as the watchmen in a camp rouse one another by trumpets, so do the ministers of the church excite each other by the sound of bells to watch the livelong night against the plots of the devil. wherefore our brazen bells are more sonorous than the trumpets of the old law, because then god was known in judea only, but now in the whole earth. they be also more durable: for they signify that the teaching of the new testament will be more lasting than the trumpets and sacrifices of the old law, namely, even unto the end of the world. "again bells do signify preachers, who ought after the likeness of a bell to exhort the faithful unto faith: the which was typified in that the lord commanded moses to make a vestment for the high priest who entered into the holy of holies. also the cavity of the bell denoteth the mouth of the preacher, { } according to the saying of the apostle, i am become as sounding brass on a tinkling cymbal." of course there are what we would be apt to consider exaggerations of symbolic meanings and far-fetched explanations and references, but this was of the taste of the time and has not in subsequent centuries been so beyond the canons of good taste as at present. durandus goes on to tell that the hardness of the metal of the bell signifies fortitude in the mind of the preacher, that the wood of the frame on which the bell hangeth doth signify the wood of our lord's cross, that the rope by which the bell is strung is humility and also showeth the measure of life, that the ring in the length of the rope is the crown of reward for perseverance unto the end, and then proceeds to show why and how often the bells are rung and what the significance of each ringing is. he explains why the bells are silent for three days before easter and also during times of interdict, and gives as the justification for this last the quotation from the prophet "i will make thy tongue cleave to the roof of thy mouth for they are a rebellious house." even these few specimens of the prose of the thirteenth century, will serve to show that the writers of the period could express themselves with a vigor and directness which have made their books interesting reading for generations long after their time, and which stamp their authors as worthy of a period that found enduring and adequate modes of expression for every form of thought and feeling. [illustration] stone carving (paris) { } xv origin of the drama. the last place in the world, perhaps, that one would look for a great impulse to the development of the modern drama, which is entirely a new invention, an outgrowth of christian culture and has practically no connection with the classic drama, would be in the life of st. francis of assisi. his utter simplicity, his thorough-going and cordial poverty, his sincere endeavor all during his life to make little of himself, might seem quite enough to forbid any thought of him as the father of a literary movement of this kind. "the poor little man of god," however, as he liked to call himself, in his supreme effort to get back to nature and out of the ways of the conventional world, succeeded in accomplishing a number of utterly unexpected results. his love for nature led to his wonderful expression of his feelings in his favorite hymn, one of the first great lyrical outbursts in modern poetry, a religious poem which as we shall see in the chapter on the father of the renaissance, renan declares can only be appreciated properly by comparing it with the old hebrew psalms, beside which it is worthy to be placed. those who know the life of st. francis best will easily appreciate how dramatic, though unconsciously so, were all the actions of his life. after all, his utter renunciation of all things, his taking of holy poverty to be his bride, his address to the birds, his sisters, his famous question of the butcher as to why he killed his brothers, the sheep, his personification of the sun and the moon and even of the death of the body as his brothers and sisters, are all eminently dramatic moments. his life is full of incidents that lent themselves, because of their dramatic quality, to the painters of succeeding centuries as the subjects of their striking pictures. before the end of the century giotto had picked out some of the most interesting of these for the decorative illustration of the upper church at { } assisi. during the succeeding century, the author of the little flowers of st. francis, embodied many of these beautiful scenes in his little work, where they have been the favorite reading of poets for many centuries since. it should not be such a surprise as it might otherwise be, then, to find that st. francis may be considered in one sense as the father of the modern drama. the story is a very pretty one and has an additional value because it has been illustrated by no less a brush than that of giotto. one christmas eve just at the beginning of the thirteenth century, st. francis gathered round him some of the poor people living outside of the town of assisi, in order to recall vividly to them the great event which had taken place on that night so many centuries before. a little figure of a child, dressed in swaddling clothes, was laid on some straw in a manger with the breath of the nearby animals to warm it. to this manger throne of the child king of bethlehem, there came in adoration, after the hymns that recalled the angels' visit, first some of the shepherds from the surrounding country and then some of the country people who represented the kings from the east with their retinues, bringing with them their royal gifts. after this little scene, probably one of the first nativity plays that had ever been given, st. francis, according to the old legend, took the little image in his arms and in an excess of devotion pressed it to his heart. according to the old-time story, the infant came to life in his embrace and putting its little arms around his neck embraced him in return. of course our modern generation is entirely too devoted to "common sense" to accept any such pretty, pious story as this as more than a beautiful poetic legend. the legend has provided a subject for poet and painter many a time in subsequent centuries. perhaps never has it been used with better effect than by giotto, whose representation is one of the favorite pictures on the wall of the upper church of assisi. whether the little baby figure of the play actually came to life in his arms or not we do not know, but one thing is certain, that infant modern dramatic literature did come to life at the moment and that before the end of the thirteenth century it was to have a vigor and an influence that made it { } one of the great factors in the social life of the period. the franciscans were soon spread over the world. with filial reverence they took with them all the customs of their loved father of assisi, and especially such as appealed to the masses and brought home to them in a vivid way the great truths of religion. by the middle of the century many of the towns had cycles of mystery plays given at various times during the year, associated with the different feasts and illustrating and enforcing the lessons of the liturgy for the people in a manner so effective that it has probably never been equaled before or since. while the most potent factor in the dissemination of the early religious drama can be traced to francis and the franciscans, they were but promoters of a movement already well begun. mystery plays were attempted before the thirteenth century in england and in north france. there is a well-known story from matthew paris, who wrote about the middle of the thirteenth century, of one geoffrey who afterwards became abbot of st. albans. while yet a secular he borrowed certain precious religious vestments to be used in some sort of a miracle play in honor of st. catherine. during the performance of the play, these vestments were destroyed by fire and geogory was so much afflicted by the misfortune that in a spirit of reparation he became a religious in the abbey of st. albans. this must have been about the beginning of the twelfth century. towards the end of this century mystery plays were not infrequent, though not in anything like the developed form nor popular character which they acquired during the thirteenth century. fitz stephen, writing the life of st. thomas a becket, towards the end of the twelfth century, contrasts the holier plays of london in his days with the theatrical spectacles of ancient rome. the plays he mentioned were, however, scarcely more than slight developments of church ceremonial with almost literal employment of scripture and liturgical language. {opp } [illustration] st. francis' nativity play (giotto) the first cycle of mystery plays of which there is definite mention is that of chester. according to the proclamation of the chester plays, the representation of this cycle dates in some form from the mayoralty of john arneway, who was the { } mayor of chester, between and . of the series of plays as given in the thirteenth century there are few remains. it is probable, even, that at this early date they were not acted in english but in french. english plays were probably first given in some of the cathedral towns along the east coast of england, and perhaps york should have the credit of this innovation. it is easy to understand how the simpler dramatic additions to the ritual of the church would inevitably develop in the earnest and very full religious life of the people which came with the building of the cathedrals, the evolution of church ceremonial and the social life fostered by the trade-guilds of the time. while we have none of the remains of the actual plays of the thirteenth century, there is no doubt that an excellent idea of their form and content can be gathered from the english mystery plays, that have recently been edited in modern form and which serve to show the characteristics of the various cycles. it might perhaps be thought that these mystery plays would not furnish any great amount of entertainment for the populace, especially after they had seen them a certain number of times. the yearly repetition might naturally be expected to bring with it before long a satiety that would lead to inattention. as is well known, however, there is an enduring interest about these old religious stories that makes them of much greater attractiveness than most ordinary historical traditions. many a faithful reader of the bible finds constantly renewed interest in the old biblical stories in spite of frequent repetition. their significance to the eye of faith in the middle ages gave them, beyond any doubt, that quality which in any literary work will exemplify and fulfill horace's dictum, _decies repetita placebit_. besides, it must not be forgotten that the men and women of the thirteenth century had not the superficial facilities of the printing press to cloy their intellectual curiosity, and by trivial titillation make them constantly crave novelty. it must not be thought, in spite of the fact that these were religious plays, that they were always so serious as to be merely instructive without being amusing. a large fund of amusement was injected into the old biblical stories by the { } writers of the different cycles and undoubtedly the actors themselves added certain personal elements in this matter, which still further enhanced some of the comical aspects of the solemn stories. nearly always the incidents of the scriptural narrative though followed more or less literally, were treated with a large humanity that could scarcely fail to introduce elements of humor into the dramatic performances. such liberties, however, were taken only with characters not mentioned by the bible--the inventions of the writers. a series of quotations from the chester cycle of plays will best illustrate this. we give them in the quaint spelling of the oldest version extant. the scene we quote is from the play dealing with noah's flood and pictures noah's wife as a veritable shrew. noye-- wyffe, in this vessel we shall be kepte: my children and thou, i woulde in ye lepte. noye's wiffe-- in fayth, noye, i hade as leffe thou slepte! for all thy frynishe fare, i will not doe after thy reade. noye-- good wyffe, doe nowe as i thee bydde. noye's wiffe-- be christe! not or i see more neede, though thou stande all the daye and stare. noye-- lorde, that wemen be crabbed aye, and non are meke, i dare well saye. this is well seene by me to daye, in witnesse of you ichone (each one). goodwiffe, lett be all this beare, that thou maiste in this place heare; for all the wene that thou arte maister, and so thou arte, by sante john! all noah's artful concession of his wife's mastery in the household does not avail to move her and so he tries objurgation. noye-- wiffe, come in: why standes thou their? thou arte ever frowarde, i dare well sweare; come in, one godes halfe! tyme yt were, for feare leste that we drowne. { } noye's wiffe-- yes, sir, sette up youer saile, and rowe fourth with evill haile, for withouten (anye) fayle i will not oute of this towne; but i have my gossippes everyechone, one foote further i will not gone: the shall not drowne, by sainte john! and i may save ther life. the loven me full well, by christe! but thou lett them into thy cheiste, (ark) elles rowe nowe wher thee leiste, and gette thee a newe wiffe. it is evident that he will not succeed so noah, wise doubtless with the wisdom of experience, forbears to urge but appeals to her sons to bring her. noye-- seme, sonne, loe! thy mother is wrawe: forsooth, such another i doe not knowe. sem-- father, i shall fetch her in, i trowe, withoutten anye fayle.-- mother, my father after thee sends. and byddes thee into yeinder shippe wende. loke up and see the wynde. for we bene readye to sayle. noye's wiffe-- seme, goe againe to hym, i saie; i will not come theirin to daye. noye-- come in, wiffe, in twentye devilles waye! or elles stand there without. ham-- shall we all feche her in? noye-- yea, sonnes, in christe blessinge and myne! i woulde you hied you be-tyme. for of this flude i am in doubte. jeffatte-- mother, we praye you all together. for we are heare, youer owne childer. come into the shippe for feare of the weither, for his love that you boughte! { } noye's wiffe-- that will not i, for all youer call, but i have my gossippes all. sem-- in faith, mother, yett you shalle, wheither thou wylte or (nought). _(her sons bring her in; as she steps aboard she is greeted by noah.)_ noye-- welckome, wiffe, into this botte. noye's wiffe-- have thou that for thy note! (_giving her husband a cuff on the head_). noye-- ha, ha! marye, this is hotte! it is good for to be still. ha! children, me thinkes my botte remeves, our tarryinge heare highlye me greves, over the lande the watter spreades; god doe as he will. this quotation will give a good idea of the human interest of these mystery plays and serve to show that they did not fail in dramatic power for any lack of humor or acute observation. it would be easy to illustrate this much more amply. the opportunities to enjoy these plays were abundant. we have said that the chester cycle is the one of which there is earliest mention. the method of its presentation has been described by mr. henry morley in the fourth volume of his english writers. he says: "there were scaffolds erected for spectators in those places to which the successive pageants would be drawn; and a citizen who on the first day saw in any place the first pageant (that of the fall of lucifer), if he kept his place and returned to it in good time on each successive morning, would see the scripture story, as thus told, pass in its right order before him. each pageant was drawn on four or six wheels, and had a room in which the actors and properties were concealed, under the upper room or stage on which they played." mr. morley then describes the action of the various parts of the cycle, showing how clearly the lessons of the old testament history and its symbolic and typical meaning were pointed out so that the spectators could not miss them. { } how completely the story of the bible was told may be judged from the order of the pageants of the play of corpus christi, in the time of the mayoralty of william alne, in the third year of the reign of king henry v., compiled by roger burton, town clerk. . tanners. god the father almighty creating and forming the heavens, angels and archangels, lucifer and the angels that fell with him to hell. . plasterers. god the father, in his own substance, creating the earth and all which is therein, in the space of five days. . cardmakers. god the father creating adam of the clay of the earth and making eve of adam's rib, and inspiring them with the breath of life. . fullers. god forbidding adam and eve to eat of the tree of life. . coopers. adam and eve and a tree betwixt them; the serpent deceiving them with apples; god speaking to them and cursing the serpent, and with a sword driving them out of paradise. . armourers. adam and eve, an angel with a spade and distaff assigning them work. . gaunters (glovers). abel and cain offering victims in sacrifice. . shipwrights. god warning noah to make an ark of floatable wood, . pessoners (fishmongers) and mariners. noah in the ark, with his wife; the three sons of noah with their wives; with divers animals. . parchment-makers, bookbinders. abraham sacrificing his son, isaac, on an altar, a boy with wood and an angel. . hosiers. moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness; king pharaoh; eight jews wondering and expecting. . spicers. a doctor declaring the sayings of the prophets of the future birth of christ. mary; an angel saluting her; mary saluting elizabeth. . pewterers, founders. mary, joseph wishing to put her away; an angel speaking to them that they go to bethlehem. { } . tylers. mary, joseph, a midwife; the child born, lying in a manger betwixt an ox and an ass, and an angel speaking to the shepherds, and to the players in the next pageant. . chandlers. the shepherds talking together, the star in the east; an angel giving the shepherds the good tidings of the child's birth. , . orfevers (goldsmiths), goldbeaters, moneymakers. the three kings coming from the east, herod asking them about the child jesus; the son of herod, two counsellors, and a messenger. mary with the child, a star above, and the three kings offering gifts. how completely the people of each town were engaged in the presentation of the plays, can be judged from the following supplementary list of the other trade guilds that took parts. many of them bear quaint names, which are now obsolete. they included the girdellers, makers of girdles; nailers, sawyers, lorymers (bridle makers), the spurriers (makers of spurs), the fevers or smiths, the curriers, the plumbers, the pattern-makers, the bottlers, the cap-makers, the skinners, the bladesmiths, the scalers, the buckle-makers, the cordwainers, the bowyers (makers of bows), the fletchers (arrow-featherers), the tilemakers, the hayresters (workers in horse hair), the boilers (bowl-makers), the tunners, the sellers or saddlers; the fuystours (makers of saddle tree), the verrours (glaziers), the broggours (brokers), the dubbers (refurbishers of clothes), the luminers or illuminators, the scriveners, the drapers, the potters, the weavers, the hostlers and mercers. the men of no occupation, however menial it may seem to us, were barred. each of these companies had a special pageant with a portion of the old or new testament to represent and in each succeeding year spent much of their spare time in preparing for their dramatic performance, studying and practising their parts and making everything ready for competition with their brother craftsmen in the other pageants. only those who know the supreme educative value of dramatic representations for those actively interested in them, will appreciate all that these plays meant for popular education in the best sense of the word, but all can readily understand how much they stood for in popular occupation of mind with high thoughts and how { } much they must have acted as a preventive of debasing dissipations. it is extremely interesting to follow out some of the details of the management of these mystery plays. we shall find in even the meagre accounts that we have of them, sufficient to show us that men were not expected to work for nothing, nor even to be satisfied with what compensation there might be in the honor of being chosen for certain parts, nor in the special banquets that were provided for the actors after the performances. a definite salary was paid to each of the actors according to the importance of the part he took. not only this, but the loans of garments for costume purposes, or of furniture or other material for stage properties, was repaid by definite sums of money. these are not large, but, considering the buying power of money at that time and the wages paid workmen, which enabled them to live at least as well, comparatively, as modern workmen, the compensation is ample. mr. morley, in the fourth volume of his "english writers," has given us some of these details and as they have a special social interest and the old documents rejoice in a comic literalness of statement, they deserve citation. when about to set up a play, each guild chose for itself a competent manager, to whom it gave the rule of the pageant, and voted a fixed sum for its expenses. the play-book and the standing wardrobe and other properties were handed over to him, and he was accountable, of course, for their return after the close of the performances. the manager had to appoint his actors, to give them their several parts written out for them (perhaps by the prompter, who was a regular official), and to see to the rehearsals, of which there would be two for an old play and at least five for a new one. at rehearsal time, as well as during the great performance the actors ate and drank at the cost of the guild, ending all with a supper, at which they had roast beef and roast goose, with wine for the chiefs, and beer for the rest. the actors were paid, of course, according to the length of their parts and quantity of business in them, not their dignity. thus in a play setting forth the trial and crucifixion of our lord, the actors of herod and caiaphas received each s. d.; { } the representative of annas, s. d.; and of christ s.; which was also the sum paid to each actor in the parts of his executioners, and d. more than was paid for acting the devil or judas. in the united plays of the "descent into hell" and the "ascension," the payment was to the actor who represented christ, s. d.; and s. d. to him who played the devil. in one play we find this gradation of the scale of payment to performers:--"paid, for playing of peter, xvid.; to two damsels, xiid.; to the demon, vid.; to fawston for hanging judas, ivd.; paid to fawston for cock-crowing, ivd." {opp } [illustration] palazzo buondelmonte (florence) [illustration] palazzo tolomei (siena) of the costume of the actors, and of the stage furniture a tolerably clear notion is also to be drawn from the coventry account-books, of which mr. sharp printed all that bears upon such questions. they record, of course, chiefly repairs and renewals of stage properties and wardrobe. "in one year pilate has a new green cloak, in another a new hat. pilate's wife was dame procula, and we have such entries as, 'for mending of dame procula's garments, viid.' 'to reward to mrs. grimsby for lending of her gear for pilate's wife, xiid.' 'for a quart of wine for hiring porcula's gown, iid.' no actor had naked hands. those not in masks had their faces prepared by a painter. the costume of each part was traditional, varied little in the course of years, and much of it was originally designed after the pictures and painted sculpture in the churches. as in those medieval decorations, gilding was used freely; the performer of christ wore a gilt peruke and beard, so did peter, and probably all the apostles or saints who would be represented on church walls with a gilt nimbus." christ's coat was of white sheep-skin, painted and gilded, with a girdle and red sandals. the part of the high priests caiaphas and annas were often played in ecclesiastical robes hired from a church, a practice (one sad result of which because of fire has already been noted) that was eventually condemned as likely to lead to disrespect for sacred objects. herod, who wore a mask, was set up as a sceptred royal warrior in a gilt and silvered helmet, in armour and gown of blue satin, with such saracen details of dress as the crusaders connected with the worship of mahomet, including the crooked faulchion, which was gilt. the tormentors of christ wore jackets of black { } buckram with nails and dice upon them. the virgin mary was crowned, as in her images. the angels wore white surplices and wings. the devil also had wings, and was played in an appropriate mask and leather dress trimmed with feathers and hair. he was, as the prologue to the chester plays describes him, "the devil in his feathers all ragged and rent," or, as the coventry account-books show, carried three pounds of hair upon his hose. there was probably no greater impulse for social uplift and for real education of the masses than these mystery and morality plays, in which the people took part themselves and in which, as a consequence of the presence of friends in the various roles, the spectators had a livelier interest than would have been otherwise the case under even the most favorable circumstances, or with elaborate presentation. in recent years there has come the realization that the drama may thus be made a real educational influence. unfortunately at the present time, whatever of influence it has is exerted almost exclusively upon the better-to-do classes, who have so many other opportunities for educational uplift. these plays during the thirteenth century brought the people intimately into contact with the great characters of old testament and new testament history, and besides giving them precious religious information, which of itself, however, might mean very little for true education, helped them to an insight into character and to a right appreciation of human actions and a sympathy with what was right even though it entailed suffering, such as could not have otherwise been obtained. of course it is easy to say that such dramas constantly repeated, the subjects always the same and only the cast varying from year to year, would become intolerably familiar and might after a time degenerate into the merely contemptible. as a matter of fact, however, they did not. these old stories of religious heroes were written so close to the heart of nature, involved so intimately all the problems of life that they are of undying interest. their repetition was only from year to year and this did not give the opportunity for the familiarity which breeds contempt. besides, though the plays in the various cycles existed in definite forms there seems no doubt that { } certain changes were made by the players themselves and by the managers of the plays from time to time, and indeed such changes of the text of a play as we know from present-day experience, are almost inevitable. it might be urged, too, that the people themselves would scarcely be possessed of the histrionic talent necessary to make the plays effective. ordinarily, however, as we know from our modern city life, much less of the actor's art is needed than of interest in the action, to secure the attention of the gallery. it must not be assumed too readily, however, that the guilds which were able to supply men for the great artistic decoration of the cathedrals of the thirteenth century, could not supply actors who would so enter into the artistic expression of a part as to represent it to the life. the actor is more born than made, in spite of the number of schools of acting that are supposed to be turning out successful rivals of roscius, on recurring graduation days. it must not be forgotten that the only example of these mystery plays which is still left to us is the passion play at oberammergau, and that is one of the world's greatest spectacles. on the last occasion when it was given about half a million of people from all over the world, many of them even from distant america and australia, found their way into the tyrolese mountains in order to be present at it. it is only the old, old, old story of the passion and death of the lord. it is represented by villagers chosen from among the inhabitants of a little village of fourteen hundred inhabitants, who while they have a distinct taste for the artistic and produce some of the best wood-carving done anywhere in europe, thus approximating very interestingly the thirteenth century peoples, are not particularly noted for their education, nor for their dramatic ability. no one who went up to see the passion play came away dissatisfied either with the interest of the play or with its manner of representation. it is distinctly an example of how well men and women do things when they are thoroughly interested in them, and when they are under the influence of an old-time tradition according to which they must have the ability to accomplish what is expected of them. such a tradition actually existed during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, leading to a gradual development of { } dramatic power both in writers and actors, that eventually was to result in the magnificent outburst of dramatic genius during the elizabethan period. for it must not be forgotten, that mystery and morality plays continued to hold the stage down almost, if not quite, to the time of shakespeare's early manhood, and he probably saw the coventry cycle of plays acted. while we have a certain number of these old-time plays, most of them, of course, have disappeared by time's attrition during the centuries before the invention of printing, when they were handed round only in manuscript form. of some of these plays we shall have something to say after a moment, stopping only to call attention to the fact that in this literary mode of the mystery and morality plays, dramatic literature in english reached a height of development which has been equaled only by our greatest dramatic geniuses. within the last few years most of the large cities of the english-speaking world, besides the more important universities, have been given the opportunity to hear one of the great products of this form of literary activity. "everyman" is probably as great a play as there is in english and comparable with the best work of shakespeare, marlowe and jonson. its author only took the four last things to be remembered--death, judgment, heaven and hell--the things which must come to every man, and wrote his story around them, yet he did it with such artistic effectiveness as to make his drama a triumph of literary execution. the mystery plays were as interesting in their way to the medieval generations as "everyman" to us. as may be seen from the list quoted from mr. morley, practically all the significant parts of the bible story were acted by these craftsmen. too much can scarcely be said of the educational value of such dramatic exercises; the bible itself with its deep religious teachings, with its simple but sublime style, with its beautiful poetry, entered for a time into the very lives of these people. no wonder that our english speech during these centuries became saturated with biblical thoughts and words. anyone who has ever had any experience with amateur theatricals when a really great play was given, will be able to realize how much more thoroughly every quality, dramatic, literary, poetic, even lyric { } and historical, that there might be in the drama, entered into the hearts and minds of those who took part. it is this feature that is especially deserving of attention with regard to these mystery plays which began in the thirteenth century. the people's interest in them, lifted them out of themselves and their trivial round of life into the higher life of this great religious poetry. on the other hand the teachings of the bible came down from the distant plane on which they might otherwise have been set and entered into the very life of the people. their familiarity with scripture made it a something not to be discussed merely, but to be applied in their everyday affairs. besides this, the organization of the company to give the play and the necessity for the display and exercise of taste in the costumes and of ingenuity in the stage settings, were of themselves of great educative value. the rivalry that naturally existed between the various companies chosen from the different guilds only added to the zest with which rehearsals were taken up, and made the play more fully occupy the minds of those actively engaged in its preparation. for several dull winter months before easter time there was an intense preoccupation of mind with great thoughts and beautiful words, instead of with the paltry round of daily duties, which would otherwise form the burden of conversation. gossip and scandal mongering had fewer opportunities since people's minds were taken up by so much worthier affairs. the towns in which the plays were given never had more than a few thousand inhabitants and most of them must have been personally interested in some way in the play. the jesuits, whose acumen for managing students is proverbial, have always considered it of great importance to have their students prepare plays several times a year. their reason is the occupation of mind which it affords as well as the intellectual and elocutionary training that comes with the work. what they do with premeditation, the old guilds did unconsciously but even more effectively, and their success must be considered as one of the social triumphs of this wonderful thirteenth century. only in recent years has the idea succeeded in making way in government circles on the continent, that the giving of free dramatic entertainments for the poor would form an excellent { } addition to other educational procedures. such performances have new been given for nearly a score of years in berlin. after all, the subvention allowed by government to the great theaters and opera houses in europe is part of this same policy, though unfortunately they are calculated to affect only the upper classes, who need the help and the stimulus of great dramatic art and great music less than the lower classes, who have so little of variety or of anything that makes for uplift in their lives. in the thirteenth century this very modern notion was anticipated in such a way as to benefit the very poorest of the population, and that not only passively, that is by the hearing of dramatic performances, but also actively, by taking parts in them and so having all the details of the action and the words impressed upon them. [illustration] capital (lincoln) { } xvi francis the saint--the father of the renaissance. the renaissance is often thought of as a movement which originated about the middle of the fifteenth century. careful students sometimes trace its origin back somewhat further. in recent years it has come to be realized, however, that the great intellectual development which came during the century after the fall of constantinople in italy, and gradually spread to all the civilized countries of europe, had been preparing for at least two centuries and a half. while the period from the middle of the fifteenth to the end of the sixteenth centuries well deserves the name of renaissance, because one of the most important fructifying principles of the movement was the rebirth of greek ideas into the modern world after the dispersion of greek scholars by the turkish advance into the byzantine empire, the term must not be allowed to carry with it the mistaken notion which only too often has been plausibly accepted, that there was a new birth of poetic, literary and esthetic ideas at this time, just as if there had been nothing worth considering in these lines before. any such notion as this would be the height of absurdity in the light of the history of the previous centuries in italy. it was a cherished notion of the people of the renaissance themselves that they were the first to do artistic and literary work, hence they invented the term gothic, meaning thereby barbarous, for the art of the preceding time, but in this they were only exercising that amusing, self-complacency which each generation deems its right. succeeding generations adopting their depreciative term have turned it into one of glory so that gothic art is now in highest honor. fortunately in recent years there has come, as we have said, a growing recognition of the fact that the real beginning of modern art lies much farther back in history, and that the real { } father of the italian renaissance is a man whom very few people in the last three centuries have appreciated at his true worth. undoubtedly the leader in that great return to nature, which constitutes the true basis of modern poetic and artistic ideas of all kinds, was st. francis of assisi. "the poor little man of god," as in his humility he loved to call himself, would surely be the last one to suspect that he should ever come to be thought of as the initiator of a great movement in literature and art. such he was, however, in the highest sense of the term and because of the modern appreciation of him in this regard, publications concerning him have been more frequent during the last ten years than with regard to almost any other single individual. we have under our hand at the present moment what by no means claims to be a complete bibliography of st. francis' life and work, yet we can count no less than thirty different works in various languages (not reckoning translations separate from the originals) which have issued from the press during the last ten years alone. this gives some idea of present day interest in st. francis. it must not be thought, however, that it is only in our time that these significant tributes have been paid him. much of his influence in literature and art, as well as in life, was recognized by the southern nations all during the centuries since his death. that it is only during the last century that other nations have come to appreciate him better, and especially have realized his literary significance, has been their loss and that of their literatures. at the beginning of the nineteenth century görres, the german historian who was so sympathetic towards the middle ages, wrote of st. francis as one of the troubadours, and even did not hesitate to add that without st. francis at the beginning of the thirteenth century there would have been no dante at the end. renan, the well-known french rationalist historian and literateur, did not hesitate to proclaim st. francis one of the great religious poets of all time and his famous canticle of the sun as the greatest religious poem since the hebrew psalms were written. it was from renan that matthew arnold received his introduction to st. francis as a literary man, and his own studies led him to write the famous passages in the essays in criticism, which are usually so much a source of { } surprise to those who think of mr. arnold as the rationalizing critic, rather than the sympathetic admirer of a medieval saint. "in the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the clouds and storms had come, when the gay sensuous pagan life was gone, when men were not living by the senses and understanding, when they were looking for the speedy coming of antichrist, there appeared in italy, to the north of rome, in the beautiful umbrian country at the foot of the appennines, a figure of the most magical power and charm, st. francis. his century is, i think, the most interesting in the history of christianity after its primitive age; more interesting than even the century of the reformation; and one of the chief figures, perhaps the very chief, to which this interest attaches itself, is st. francis. and why? because of the profound popular instinct which enabled him, more than any man since the primitive age, to fit religion for popular use. he brought religion to the people. he founded the most popular body of ministers of religion that has ever existed in the church. he transformed monachism by uprooting the stationary monk, delivering him from the bondage of property, and sending him, as a mendicant friar, to be a stranger and sojourner, not in the wilderness, but in the most crowded haunts of men, to console them and to do them good. this popular instinct of his is at the bottom of his famous marriage with poverty. poverty and suffering are the condition of the people, the multitude, the immense majority of mankind; and it was towards this people that his soul yearned. "he listens," it was said of him, "to those to whom god himself will not listen." matthew arnold has thus surprisingly summed up francis' age and his work. with a sympathy that could scarcely be expected from the man for whom the deity had become merely "a stream of tendency that makes for righteousness," he realized the influence that this supreme lover of a personal god had over his generation, and his brother poet soul flew to its affinity in spite of the apparently insurmountable obstacle of' extreme aloofness of spiritual temperament. {opp } [illustration: ] the glorification of st. francis (giotto, lower church of assisi) matthew arnold proceeds: "so in return, as no other man, st. francis was listened to. when an umbrian town or village heard of his approach, the { } whole population went out in joyful procession to meet him, with green boughs, flags, music, and songs of gladness. the master, who began with two disciples, could in his own lifetime (and he died at forty-five) collect to keep whitsuntide with him, in presence of an immense multitude, five thousand of his minorites. he found fulfilment to his prophetic cry: "i hear in my ears the sound of the tongues of all the nations who shall come unto us; frenchmen, spaniards, germans, englishmen. the lord will make of us a great people, even unto the ends of the earth." when we reach the next paragraph the secret of this surprising paradoxical sympathy is out. it is the literary and esthetic side of st. francis that has appealed to him, and like renan he does not hesitate to give "the poor little man of god" a place among the great original geniuses of all time, associating his name with that of dante. "prose could not satisfy this ardent soul, and he made poetry. latin was too learned for this simple, popular nature, and he composed in his mother tongue, in italian. the beginnings of the mundane poetry of the italians are in sicily, at the court of kings; the beginnings of their religious poetry are in umbria, with st. francis. his are the humble upper waters of a mighty stream: at the beginning of the thirteenth century, it is st. francis, at the end, dante. now it happens that st. francis, too, like the alexandrian songstress, has his hymn for the sun, for adonis; canticle of the sun, canticle of the creatures, the poem goes by both names. like the alexandrian hymn, it is designed for popular use, but not for use by king ptolemy's people; artless in language, irregular in rhythm, it matches with the childlike genius that produced it, and the simple natures that loved and repeated it." probably the most satisfactory translation for those who may not be able to appreciate the original of this sublime hymn that has evoked so many tributes, is the following literal rendering into english in which a quite successful attempt to give the naif rhythm of the original italian, which necessarily disappears in any formal rhymed translation, has been made by father paschal robinson of the order of st. francis for his recent edition of the writings of st. francis. [footnote ] [footnote : philadelphia, the dolphin press, .] { } "here begin the praises of the creatures which the blessed francis made to the praise and honor of god while he was ill at st. damian's: most high, omnipotent, good lord, praise, glory and honor and benediction all, are thine. to thee alone do they belong, most high, and there is no man fit to mention thee. praise be to thee, my lord, with all thy creatures. especially to my worshipful brother sun, the which lights up the day, and through him dost thou brightness give; and beautiful is he and radiant with splendor great; of thee, most high, signification gives. praised be my lord, for sister moon and for the stars, in heaven thou hast formed them clear and precious and fair. praised be my lord for brother wind and for the air and clouds and fair and every kind of weather. by the which thou givest to thy creatures nourishment. praised be my lord for sister water, the which is greatly helpful and humble and precious and pure. praised be my lord for brother fire, by the which thou lightest up the dark. and fair is he and gay and mighty and strong. praised be my lord for our sister, mother earth. the which sustains and keeps us and brings forth diverse fruits with grass and flowers bright. praised be my lord for those who for thy love forgive and weakness bear and tribulation. blessed those who shall in peace endure, for by thee, most high, shall they be crowned. praised be my lord for our sister, the bodily death. from the which no living man can flee. { } woe to them who die in mortal sin; blessed those who shall find themselves in thy most holy will, for the second death shall do them no ill. praise ye and bless ye my lord, and give him thanks, and be subject unto him with great humility." except for his place in literature and art, the lives of few men would seem to be of so little interest to the modern time as that of st. francis of assisi, yet it is for the man himself that so many now turn to him. his spirit is entirely opposed to the sordid principles that have been accepted as the basis of success in modern life. his idea was that happiness consisted in being free from unsatisfied desires rather than seeking to secure the satisfaction of his wishes. duty was self-denial, not self-seeking under any pretext. he stripped himself literally of everything and his mystic marriage to the lady poverty was, so far as he was concerned, as absolute a reality, as if the union had been actual instead of imaginary. the commonplace details of his early years seem all the more interesting from these later developments, and have been the subject of much sympathetic study in recent years. st. francis' father was a cloth merchant and st. francis had been brought up and educated as became the son of a man whose commercial journeys often took him to france. it was indeed while his father was absent on one of these business expeditions that francis was born and on his father's return received from him the name of francisco--the frenchman--in joyful commemoration of his birth. as he grew up he did not differ from the ordinary young man of his time, but seems to have taken the world and its pleasures quite as he found them and after the fashion of those around him. at the age of twenty-five he fell seriously ill and then, for the first time, there came to him the realization of the true significance of life. as dean stanley said shortly before his death, "life seemed different when viewed from the horizontal position." life lived for its own sake was not worth while. to francis there came the realization that when god himself became man he lived his life for others. francis { } set about literally imitating him. enthusiastic students of his life consider him the great type of genuine christian, the most real disciple of christ who ever lived. some money and goods that came into his hands having been disposed of for the poor, francis' father made serious objection and francis was brought before the ecclesiastical authorities. it was at this moment that he stripped himself of everything that he had, the bishop even having to provide a cloak to cover his nakedness, and became the wonderful apostle to the poor that he remained during all the rest of his life. curious as it must ever seem, it was not long before he had many who wished to imitate him and who insisted on becoming his disciples and followers. st. francis had had no idea how infectious his example was to prove. before his death his disciples could be numbered by the thousands and the great order of the franciscans, that for centuries was to do so much work, had come into existence not by any conscious planning, but by the mere force of the great christian principles that were the guiding factors in st. francis' own life. ruskin in his mornings in florence in discussing giotto's famous picture of st. francis' renunciation of his inheritance, and his incurrence thereby of his father's anger, has a characteristic passage that sounds the very keynote of the saint's life and goes to the heart of things. in it he explains the meaning of this apparently contradictory incident in st. francis' life, since francis' great virtue was obedience, yet here, apparently as a beginning of his more perfect christian life, is an act of disobedience. after ruskin's explanation, however, it is all the more difficult to understand the present generation's revival of interest in francis unless it be attributed to a liking for contrast. "that is the meaning of st. francis' renouncing his inheritance; and it is the beginning of giotto's gospel of works. unless this hardest of deeds be done first--this inheritance of mammon and the world cast away,--all other deeds are useless. you cannot serve, cannot obey, god and mammon. no charities, no obedience, no self-denials, are of any use while you are still at heart in conformity with the world. you go to church, because the world goes. you keep sunday, because your { } neighbor keeps it. but you dress ridiculously because your neighbors ask it; and you dare not do a rough piece of work, because your neighbors despise it. you must renounce your neighbor, in his riches and pride, and remember him in his distress. that is st. francis' 'disobedience.'" {opp } [illustration] st. francis (church of the frari, venice, nic. pisano) in spite of ruskin's charming explanation of st. francis' place in history, and his elucidation of the hard passages in his life, most people will only find it more difficult, after these explanations, to understand the modern acute reawakening of interest in st. francis. our generation in its ardent devotion to the things of this world does not seem a promising field for the evangel, "give up all thou hast and follow me." the mystery of st. francis' attraction only deepens the more we know of him. an american franciscan has tried to solve the problem and his words are worth quoting. father paschal robinson, o. s. m., in his "the true st. francis" says:-- "what is the cause of the present widespread homage to st. francis? it is, of course, far too wide a question to allow the present writer to do more than make a few suggestions. first and foremost, we must ever reckon with the perennial charm of the saint's personality, which seems to wield an ineffable influence over the hearts of men--drawing and holding those of the most different habits of mind, with a sense of personal sympathy. perhaps no other man, unless it be st. paul, ever had such wide reaching, all-embracing sympathy: and it may have been wider than st. paul's, for we find no evidence in the great apostle of a love for nature and of animals. this exquisite franciscan spirit, as it is called, which is the very perfume of religion--this spirit at once so humble, so tender, so devout, so akin to 'the good odor of christ'--passed out into the whole world and has become a permanent source of inspiration. a character at once so exhalted and so purified as st. francis was sure to keep alive an ideal; and so he does. from this one can easily understand st. francis' dominance among a small but earnest band of enthusiasts now pointing the world back to the reign of the spirit. it was this same gentle idealism of st. francis which inspired the art of the umbrian people; it was this which was translated into the paintings of the greatest artists. no school of painting has ever been penetrated with { } such pure idealism as the umbrian; and this inspiration, at once religious and artistic, came from the tomb of the _poverello_ above which giotto had painted his mystical frescoes. the earnest quasi-religious study of the medieval beginnings of western art has therefore rightly been set down as another cause for some of the latter-day pilgrimages to assisi. in like manner, the scientific treatment of the romance literature leads naturally to st. francis as to the humble upper waters of a mighty stream; at the beginning of the thirteenth century is st. francis, at the end is dante. it was matthew arnold, we believe, who first held up the poor man of assisi as a literary type--a type as distinct and formal as the author of the _divine comedy_. 'prose,' he says, 'could not easily satisfy the saint's ardent soul, and so he made poetry.' 'it was,' writes ozanam, 'the first cry of a nascent poetry which has grown and made itself heard through the world.'" considering how thoroughly impractical francis seemed to be in his life, it can scarcely help but be a source of ever increasing wonder that he succeeded in influencing, his generation so widely and so thoroughly. it is evident that there were many men of the time tired of the more or less strenuous life, which chained them either to the cares of business or tempted them for the sake of the bubble reputation into a military career. to these st. francis' method of life came with an especially strong appeal. the example of his neglect of worldly things and of his so thoroughly maintained resolve not to be harassed by the ordinary cares of life, and especially not to take too much thought of the future, penetrated into all classes. while it made the rich realize how much of their lives they were living merely for the sake of others, it helped the poor to be satisfied, since here was a sublime and complete recognition of the fact that an existence without cares was better than one with many cares, such as were sure to come to those who wrought ever and anon increase of the goods of this world. such ideas may seen to be essentially modern, but anyone who will turn to the chapter on the three most read books of the century and read the passages from the "romance of the rose" on wealth and poverty, will know better than to think them anything but perennial. { } men gathered around st. francis then and pleaded to be allowed to follow his mode of life. some of the men who thus came to him were the choice spirits of the times. thomas of celano, who was to be one of the master's favorite disciples and subsequently to be his most authoritative biographer, was one of the great literary geniuses of all times, the author of the sublime dies irae. while most of his first companions were men of such extreme simplicity of mind that the world has been rather in an amused than admiring attitude with regard to them, there can be no doubt that this simplicity was of itself an index not only of their genuine sincerity of heart, but of a greatness of mind that set them above the ordinary run of mankind and made them live poetry when they did not write it. the institute established by st. francis was destined, in the course of the century, to attract to it some of the great men of every country. besides thomas of celano there was, in italy, anthony of padua, almost as famous as his master for the beauty of his saintly life; jacopone da todi, the well-known author of the stabat mater, a hymn that rivals in poetic genius, the dies irae; bonaventure, the great teacher of philosophy and theology at the university of paris, and the writer of some of the sublimest treatises of mystical theology that were to be text books for the members of the franciscan order, and of many other religious bodies for centuries after his death, indeed down to even our own times. there was roger bacon, in england, the famous teacher of science at paris and at oxford; and that subtle doctor, duns scotus, whose influence in philosophical speculation was destined never quite to disappear, and many others, the pick of the generations in which they lived, all proud to look up to francis of assisi as their father; all glad of the opportunity that the order gave them, to pass their lives in peace, far from the madding crowd with its strifes and competition, providing them constantly with opportunities to live their own lives, to find their own souls, to cultivate their own individualities untrammelled by worldly cares. francis' success in this matter and the propaganda of his influence will not be so surprising to americans of this generation, if they will only recall what is still a precious memory in { } the minds of men who are yet alive, that efforts to found a community not unlike that of the franciscans in certain ways, attracted widespread attention even in our own country half a century ago. after all, the men who gathered at brook farm had ideas and ideals not so distant from those cherished by st. francis and the early members of the franciscan order. their main effort was also to get away from worldly cares and have the opportunity to work out their philosophy of life far from the disturbing influence of city life, in the peaceful pursuit of only such agricultural efforts as might be necessary to ensure them simple sustenance, yet at the same time enforce from them such exercise in the open air as would guarantee the preservation of health. the men of brook farm were, in the eyes of their generation, quite as far from practical ideas as were the early franciscans. it must not be forgotten, however, that these men who thus attempted in the nineteenth century what st. francis succeeded in accomplishing in the thirteenth, in their subsequent careers succeeded in impressing themselves very strongly upon the life of the american people. much of what is best in our nineteenth century life would be lost if the brook farmers and what they accomplished were to be removed from it. men of ideals are usually also men of working ideas, as these two experiences in history would seem to show. {opp } [illustration] st. elizabeth--three franciscans (giotto) [illustration] st. louis--three franciscans (giotto) [illustration] st. clare--three franciscans (giotto) it was not alone for the men of his generation, however, that francis was destined to furnish a refuge from worldly care and a place of peace and thoughtful life. we have already said that it was by chance, certainly without any conscious intention on francis' part that the franciscan order for men which is usually spoken of as the first order came into existence. the last thing in the world very probably that would ever have entered into the mind of francis when he began to lead the simple life of a poor little man of god, was the founding of a religious order for women. we tell elsewhere the story, of st. clare's interest in st. francis' mode of life and of the trials that she underwent in order to obtain permission and opportunity to fashion her own life in the same way. the problem was even more serious for women than for men. st. francis considered that they should not be { } allowed to follow the franciscan custom of going out to seek alms and yet required that they should live in absolute poverty, possessing nothing and supporting themselves only by the contributions of the faithful and the work of their hands. st. clare attempted the apparently impossible and solved the problem of a new career for the women of her time. it was not very long before st. clare's example proved as infective as that of st. francis himself. while in the beginning the members of her family had been the most strenuous objectors against her taking up such an unwonted mode of existence it was not long before she was joined in the monastery of st. damian where her little community was living, by her sister who was to become almost as famous as herself under the name of st. agnes, and by her mother and other near relatives, from assisi and the neighborhood. this second order of st. francis to which only women were admitted proved to have in it the germ of as active life as that of the first order. before the end of the thirteenth century there were women franciscans in every country in europe. these convents furnished for women a refuge from the worried, hurried, over-busy life around them that proved quite as attractive as the similar opportunity for the men. for many hundreds of years down even to our own time, women were to find in the quiet obscurity of such franciscan convents a peaceful, happy life in which they occupied themselves with simple conventual duties, with manual labor in their monastery gardens, with the making of needle work in which they became the most expert in the world, with the illuminating of missals and office books of such artistic beauty that they have become the most precious treasures of our great libraries, and with the long hours of prayer by which they hoped to accomplish as much in making the world better as if they devoted themselves to ardent efforts of reform which, of course, the circumstances of the time would not have permitted. finally there was the third order of st. francis, which was to gather to itself so many of the distinguished people of the century whose occupations and obligations would not permit them to live the conventual life, but who yet felt that they must be attached by some bond to this beautiful sanctity that was { } entering into all the better life of the century. the third order was established so as to permit all the world to become franciscans to whatever degree it considered possible, and to share in the sublime christianity of the founder whom they all admired so much, even if they were not able to imitate his sublimer virtues. into this third order of st. francis most of the finer spirits of the time entered with enthusiasm. we need only recall that louis ix. of france, the greatest monarch of the century, considered it a special privilege to be a follower of the humble francis, and that st. elizabeth of hungary, the daughter of a king, the wife and mother of a ruling prince, gave another example of the far-reachingness of francis' work. dante was another of the great members of the third order and was buried in the habit of st. francis, glorying in the thought of the brotherhood this gave him with the saint he loved so much. all down the centuries since, other distinguished men in many countries of europe were proud to claim the same distinction. modern science is supposed to be unorthodox in its tendencies and electricity is the most recent of the sciences in development. three of the great founders in electricity, volta, galvani and ampere, were members of the third order of st. francis and at least one of them, galvani, insisted on being buried in the habit of the order six centuries after the death of his father francis in order to show how much he appreciated the privilege. there is no man who lived in the thirteenth century who influenced the better side of men more in all the succeeding ages down to and including our own time, than the poor little man of god of assisi. he is just coming into a further precious heritage of uplift for the men of our time, that is surprising for those who are so buried in the merely material that they fail to realize how much the ideal still rules the minds of thinking men, but that seems only natural and inevitable to those who appreciate all the attractiveness there is in a simple life lived without the bootless hurry, the unattaining bustle and the over-strained excitement of the strenuous existence. what st. francis and his order accomplished in italy another great saint, dominic, was achieving in the west. the { } fact that another order similar to that of st. francis in many respects, yet differing from it in a number of essential particulars, should have arisen almost at the same time shows how profoundly the spirit of organization of effort had penetrated into the minds of these generations of the thirteenth century. while poverty was to be the badge of st. dominic's followers as well as those of st. francis, learning was to replace the simplicity which st. francis desired for his sons. the order of preachers began at once to give many eminent scholars to the church, and for three centuries there was not a single generation that did not see as dominicans some of the most intellectual men of europe. leaders they were in philosophy, in the development of thought, in education, and in every phase of ecclesiastical life. the watch dogs of the lord, (domini canes) they were called, punning on their name because everwhere, they were in the van of defense against the enemies of christianity. that the thirteenth century should have given rise to two such great religious orders stamps it as a wonderfully fruitful period for religion as well as for every other phrase of human development. in order to understand what these great founders tried to do, the work of these two orders must be considered together. they have never ceased, during all the intervening seven centuries, to be the source of great influence in the religious world. they have proven refuges for many gentle spirits at all times and have been the homes of learning, as well as of piety. while occasionally their privileges have been abused, and men have taken advantage of the opportunities to be idle and luxurious, this has happened much seldomer than the world imagines. not a single century has failed to show men among them whom the world honors as saints, and whose lives have been examples of what can be accomplished by human nature at its best. they have been literally schools of unselfishness, and men have learned to think less of themselves and more of their labor by the contemplation of the lives of these begging friars. what they did for england, the rev. augustus jessopp, a non-conformist clergyman in england, has recently told very well, and the more one studies their history, the higher the estimation of them; and the more one knows of { } them, the less does one talk of their vices. green in his "history of the english people" has paid them a tribute that it is well to remember:-- "to bring the world back again within the pale of the church was the aim of two religious orders which sprang suddenly to life at the opening of the thirteenth century. the zeal of the spaniard dominic was aroused at the sight of the lordly prelates who sought by fire and sword to win the albigensian heretics to the faith. 'zeal,' he cried, 'must be met by zeal, lowliness by lowliness, false sanctity by real sanctity, preaching lies by preaching truth.' his fiery ardor and rigid orthodoxy were seconded by the mystical piety, the imaginative enthusiasm of francis of assisi. the life of francis falls like a stream of tender light across the darkness of the time. in the frescoes of giotto or the verse of dante we see him take poverty for his bride. he strips himself of all: he flings his very clothes at his father's feet, that he may be one with nature and god. his passionate verse claims the moon for his sister and the sun for his brother; he calls on his brother the wind, and his sister the water. his last faint cry was a 'welcome, sister death.' strangely as the two men differed from each other, their aim was the same, to convert the heathen, to extirpate heresy, to reconcile knowledge with orthodoxy, to carry the gospel to the poor. the work was to be done by the entire reversal of the older monasticism, by seeking personal salvation in effort for the salvation of their fellow-men, by exchanging the solitary of the cloister for the preacher, the monk for a friar. to force the new 'brethren' into entire dependence on those among whom they labored the vow of poverty was turned into a stern reality; the 'begging friars' were to subsist on the alms of the poor, they might possess neither money nor lands, the very houses in which they lived were to be held in trust for them by others. the tide of popular enthusiasm which welcomed their appearance swept before it the reluctance of rome, the jealousy of the older orders, the opposition of the parochial priesthood. thousands of brethren gathered in a few years around francis and dominic, and the begging preachers, clad in their coarse frock of serge, with the girdle of rope around their waist, wandered barefooted as { } missionaries over asia, battled with heresy in italy and gaul, lectured in the universities, and preached and toiled among the poor." [illustration] side capital (lincoln) { } xvii aquinas the scholar. no one of all the sons of the thirteenth century, not even dante himself, so typifies the greatness of the mentality of the period as does thomas, called from his birthplace aquinas, or of aquin, on whom his own and immediately succeeding generations because of what they considered his almost more than human intellectual acumen, bestowed the title of angelical doctor, while the church for the supremely unselfish character of his life, formally conferred the title of saint. the life of aquinas is of special interest, because it serves to clarify many questions as to the education of the thirteenth century and to correct many false impressions that are only too prevalent with regard to the intellectual life of the period. though aquinas came of a noble family which was related to many of the royal houses of europe and was the son of the count of aquino, then one of the most important of the non-reigning noble houses of italy, his education was begun in his early years and was continued in the midst of such opportunities as even the modern student might well envy. it is often said that the nobility at this time, paid very little attention to the things of the intellect and indeed rather prided themselves on their ignorance of even such ordinary attainments as reading and writing. while this was doubtless true for not a few of them, aquinas's life stands in open contradiction with the impression that any such state of mind was at all general, or that there were not so many exceptions as to nullify any such supposed rule. evidently those who wished could and did take advantage of educational opportunities quite as in our day. aquinas's early education was received at the famous monastery of monte cassino in southern italy, where the benedictines for more than six centuries had been providing magnificent opportunities for the studious youth of italy and for serious-minded students from all over europe. { } when he was scarcely more than a boy he proceeded to the university of naples, which at that time, under the patronage of the emperor frederick ii., was being encouraged not only to take the place so long held by salernum in the educational world of europe, but also to rival the renowned universities of paris and bologna. here he remained until he was seventeen years of age when he resolved to enter the dominican order, which had been founded only a short time before by st. dominic, yet had already begun to make itself felt throughout the religious and educational world of the time. just as it is the custom to declare that as a rule, the nobility cared little for education, so it is more or less usual to proclaim that practically only the clergy had any opportunities for the higher education during the thirteenth century. thomas had evidently been given his early educational opportunities, however, without any thought of the possibility of his becoming a clergyman. his mother was very much opposed to his entrance among the dominicans, and every effort was made to picture to him the pleasures and advantages that would accrue to him because of his noble connections, in a life in the world. thomas insisted, however, and his firm purpose in the matter finally conquered even the serious obstacles that a noble family can place in the way of a boy of seventeen, as regards the disposition of his life in a way opposed to their wishes. the dominicans realized the surpassing intelligence of the youth whom they had received and accordingly he was sent to be trained under the greatest teacher of their order, the famous albert the great, who was then lecturing at cologne. thomas was not the most brilliant of scholars as a young man and seems even to have been the butt of his more successful fellow-students. they are said to have called him the dumb one, or sometimes because of his bulkiness even as a youth, the dumb ox. albert himself, however, was not deceived in his estimation of the intellectual capacity of his young student, and according to tradition declared, that the bellowings of this ox would yet be heard throughout all christendom. after a few years spent at cologne, thomas when he was in his early twenties, accompanied albert who had been called to { } paris. it was at paris that thomas received his bachelor's degree and also took out his license to teach--the doctor's degree of our time. after this some years further were spent at cologne and then the greatness of the man began to dawn on his generation. he was called back to paris and became one of the most popular of the professors at that great university in the height of her fame, at a time when no greater group of men has perhaps ever been gathered together, than shared with him the honors of the professors' chairs at that institution. "albert the great, roger bacon, st. bonaventure, and st. thomas aquinas, form among themselves, so to speak, a complete representation of all the intellectual powers: they are the four doctors who uphold the chair of philosophy in the temple of the middle ages. their mission was truly the reestablishment of the sciences, but not their final consummation. they were not exempt from the ignorances and erroneous opinions of their day, yet they did much to overcome them and succeeded better than is usually acknowledged in introducing the era of modern thought. often, the majesty, i may even say the grace of their conceptions, disappears under the veil of the expressions in which they are clothed; but these imperfections are amply atoned for by superabundant merits. those christian philosophers did not admit within themselves the divorce, since their day become so frequent, between the intellect and the will; their lives were uniformly a laborious application of their doctrines. they realized in its plenitude the practical wisdom so often dreamed of by the ancients--the abstinence of the disciples of pythagoras, the constancy of the stoics, together with humility and charity, virtues unknown to the antique world. albert the great and st. thomas left the castles of their noble ancestors to seek obscurity in the cloisters of st. dominic: the former abdicated, and the latter declined, the honors of the church. it was with the cord of st. francis that roger bacon and st. bonaventure girded their loins; when the last named was sought that the roman purple might be placed upon his shoulders, he begged the envoys to wait until he finished washing the dishes of the convent. thus they did not withdraw themselves { } within the exclusive mysteries of an esoteric teaching; they opened the doors of their schools to the sons of shepherds and artisans, and, like their master, christ, they said: "come all!" after having broken the bread of the word, they were seen distributing the bread of alms. the poor knew them and blessed their names. even yet, after the lapse of six hundred years, the dwellers in paris kneel round the altar of the angel of the school, and the workmen of lyons deem it an honor once a year to bear upon their brawny shoulders the triumphant remains of the 'seraphic doctor.'" for most modern students and even scholars educated in secular universities the name of aquinas is scarcely more than a type, the greatest of them, it is true, of the schoolmen who were so much occupied with distant, impractical and, to say the least, merely theoretic metaphysical problems, in the later middle ages. it is true that the renewed interest in dante in recent years in english speaking countries, has brought about a revival of attention in aquinas's work because to dante, the angelical doctor, as he was already called, meant so much, and because the divine comedy has been declared often and often, by competent critics, to be the summa theologiae of st. thomas of aquin in verse. even this adventitious literary interest, however, has not served to lift the obscurity in which aquinas is veiled for the great majority of scholarly people, whose education has been conducted according to modern methods and present-day ideas. as showing a hopeful tendency to recognize the greatness of these thinkers of the middle ages it is interesting to note that about five years ago one of st. thomas's great works--the summa contra gentiles--was placed on the list of subjects which a candidate may at his option offer in the final honor school of the _litterae humaniores_ at oxford. there has come a definite appreciation of the fact that this old time philosopher represents a phase of intellectual development that must not be neglected, and that stands for such educational influence as may well be taken advantage of even in our day of information rather than mental discipline. for the purposes of this course father rickaby, s. j., has prepared an annotated translation of the great philosophic work under the title, { } "of god and his creatures," which was published by burns and oates of london, . this will enable those for whom the latin of st. thomas was a stumbling block, to read the thoughts of the great scholastic, in translation at least, and it is to be hoped that we shall hear no more of the trifling judgments which have so disgraced our english philosophical literature. the fact that pope leo xiii., by a famous papal bull, insisted that st. thomas should be the standard of teaching in philosophy and theology in all the catholic institutions of learning throughout the world, aroused many thinkers to a realization of the fact that far from being a thing of the dead and distant past, thomas's voice was still a great living force in the world of thought. to most people leo xiii. appealed as an intensely practical and thoroughly modern ruler, whose judgment could be depended on even with regard to teaching problems in philosophy and theology. there was about him none of the qualities that would stamp him as a far-away mystic whose thoughts were still limited by medieval barriers. the fact that in making his declaration the pope was only formulating as a rule, what had spontaneously become the almost constant practice and tradition of catholic schools and universities, of itself served to show how great and how enduring was st. thomas's influence. in the drawing together of christian sects that has inevitably come as a result of the attacks made upon christianity by modern materialists, and then later by those who would in their ardor for the higher criticism do away with practically all that is divine in christianity, there has come a very general realization even on the part of those outside of her fold, that the roman catholic church occupies a position more solidly founded on consistent logical premises and conclusions than any of the denominations. without her aid christian apologetics would indeed be in sad case. pope leo's declaration only emphasizes the fact, then, that the foundation stone of christian apologetics was laid by the great work of st. thomas, and that to him more than any other is due that wonderful coordination of secular and religious knowledge, which appoints for each of these branches of knowledge its { } proper place, and satisfies the human mind better than any other system of philosophic thought. this is the real panegyric of st. thomas, and it only adds to the sublimity of it that it should come nearly six centuries and a half after his death. to only a bare handful of men in the history of the human race, is it given thus to influence the minds of subsequent generations for so long and to have laid down the principles of thought that are to satisfy men for so many generations. this is why, in any attempt at even inadequate treatment of the greatness of the thirteenth century, thomas aquinas, who was its greatest scholar, must have a prominent place. the present generation has had sufficient interest in him aroused, however, amply to justify such a giving of space. when leo xiii. made his recommendation of st. thomas it was not as one who had merely heard of the works of the great medieval thinker, or knew them only by tradition, or had slightly dipped into them as a dilettante, but as one who had been long familiar with them, who had studied the angelical doctor in youth, who had pondered his wisdom in middle age, and resorted again and again to him for guidance in the difficulties of doctrine in maturer years, and the difficulties of morals such as presented themselves in his practical life as a churchman. it was out of the depths of his knowledge of him, that the great pope, whom all the modern world came to honor so reverently before his death, drew his supreme admiration for st. thomas and his recognition of the fact that no safer guide in the thorny path of modern christian apologetics could be followed, than this wonderful genius who first systematized human thought as far as the relations of creator to creature are considered, in the heyday of medieval scholarship and university teaching. those who have their knowledge of scholastic philosophy at second hand, from men who proclaim this period of human development as occupied entirely with fruitless discussion of metaphysical theories, will surely think that they could find nothing of interest for them in st. thomas's writings. it is true the casual reader may not penetrate far enough into his writing to realize its significance and to appreciate its depth of knowledge, but the serious student finds constant { } details of supreme interest because of their applications to the most up-to-date problems. we venture to quote an example that will show this more or less perfectly according to the special philosophic interest of readers. it is st. thomas's discussion of the necessity there was for the revelation of the truth of the existence of god. his statement of the reasons why men, occupied with the ordinary affairs of life, would not ordinarily come to this truth unless it were revealed to them, though they actually have the mental capacity to reach it by reason alone, will show how sympathetically the saint appreciated human conditions as they are. "if a truth of this nature were left to the sole inquiry of reason, three disadvantages would follow. one is that the knowledge of god would be confined to few. the discovery of truth is the fruit of studious inquiry. from this very many are hindered. some are hindered by a constitutional unfitness, their natures being ill-disposed to the acquisition of knowledge. they could never arrive by study at the highest grade of human knowledge, which consists in the knowledge of god. others are hindered by the claims of business and the ties of the management of property. there must be in human society some men devoted to temporal affairs. these could not possibly spend time enough in the learned lessons of speculative inquiry to arrive at the highest point of human inquiry, the knowledge of god. some again are hindered by sloth. the knowledge of the truths that reason can investigate concerning god presupposes much previous knowledge; indeed almost the entire study of philosophy is directed to the knowledge of god. hence, of all parts of philosophy that part stands over to be learned last, which consists of metaphysics dealing with (divine things). thus only with great labour of study is it possible to arrive at the searching out of the aforesaid truth; and this labour few are willing to undergo for sheer love of knowledge. "another disadvantage is that such as did arrive at the knowledge or discovery of the aforesaid truth would take a long time over it on account of the profundity of such truth, and the many prerequisites to the study, and also because in youth and early manhood the soul, tossed to and fro on the { } waves of passion, is not fit for the study of such high truth; only in settled age does the soul become prudent and scientific, as the philosopher says. thus if the only way open to the knowledge of god were the way of reason, the human race would (remain) in thick darkness of ignorance: as the knowledge of god, the best instrument for making men perfect and good, would accrue only to a few after a considerable lapse of time. "a third disadvantage is that, owing to the infirmity of our judgment and the perturbing force of imagination, there is some admixture of error in most of the investigations of human reason. this would be a reason to many for continuing to doubt even of the most accurate demonstrations, not perceiving the force of the demonstration, and seeing the divers judgments, of divers persons who have the name of being wise men. besides, in the midst of much demonstrated truth there is sometimes an element of error, not demonstrated but asserted on the strength of some plausible and sophistic reasoning that is taken for a demonstration. and therefore it was necessary for the real truth concerning divine things to be presented to men with fixed certainty by way of faith. wholesome, therefore, is the arrangement of divine clemency, whereby things even that reason can investigate are commanded to be held on faith, so that all might be easily partakers of the knowledge of god, and that without doubt and error (book i. cix)." a still more striking example of thomas's eminently sympathetic discussion of a most difficult problem, is to be found in his treatment of the question of the resurrection of the body. the doctrine that men will rise again on the last day with the same bodies that they had while here on earth, has been a stumbling block for the faith of a great many persons from the beginning of christianity. in recent times the discovery of the indestructibility of matter, far from lessening the skeptical elements in this problem as might have been anticipated, has rather emphasized them. while the material of which man's body was composed is never destroyed, it is broken up largely into its original elements and is used over and over again in many natural processes, and even enters into the composition of other men's bodies during the long succeeding generations. here is a problem upon which it would { } ordinarily be presumed at once, that a philosophic writer of the thirteenth century could throw no possible light. we venture to say, however, that the following passage which we quote from an article on st. thomas in a recent copy of the dublin _review_, represents the best possible solution of the problem, even in the face of all our modern advance in science. "what does not bar numerical unity in a man while he lives on uninterruptedly (writes st. thomas), clearly can be no bar to the identity of the arisen man with the man that was. in a man's body, while he lives, there are not always the same parts in respect of matter but only in respect of species. in respect of matter there is a flux and reflux of parts. still that fact does not bar the man's numerical unity from the beginning to the end of his life. the form and species of the several parts continue throughout life, but the matter of the parts is dissolved by the natural heat, and new matter accrues through nourishment. yet the man is not numerically different by the difference of his component parts at different ages, although it is true that the material composition of the man at one stage of his life is not his material composition at another. addition is made from without to the stature of a boy without prejudice to his identity, for the boy and the adult are numerically the same man." in a word, aquinas says that we recognize that the body of the boy and of the man are the same though they are composed of quite different material. with this in mind the problem of the resurrection takes on quite a new aspect from what it held before. what we would call attention to, however, is not so much the matter of the argument as the mode of it. it is essentially modern in every respect. not only does thomas know that the body changes completely during the course of years, but he knows that the agent by which the matter of the parts is dissolved is "the natural heat," while "new matter accrues through nourishment." the passage contains a marvelous anticipation of present-day physiology as well as a distinct contribution to christian apologetics. this coordination of science and theology, though usually thought to be lacking among scholastic philosophers, is constantly typical of their mode of thought and discussion, and this example, far from { } being exceptional, is genuinely representative of them, as all serious students of scholasticism know. perhaps the last thing for which the ordinary person would expect to find a great modern teacher recommending the reading of st. thomas would be to find therein the proper doctrine with regard to liberty and the remedies for our modern social evils. those who will recall, however, how well the generations of the thirteenth century faced social problems even more serious than ours--for the common people had no rights at all [at] the beginning of the century, yet secured them with such satisfaction as to lay the foundation of the modern history of liberty--will realize that the intellectual men of the time must have had a much better grasp of the principles underlying such problems, than would otherwise be imagined. as a matter of fact, st. thomas's treatment of society, its rights and duties, and the mutual relationship between it and the individual, is one of the triumphs of his wonderful work in ethics. it is no wonder, then, that the great pope of the end of the nineteenth century, whose encyclicals showed that he understood very thoroughly these social evils of our time, recognized their tendencies and appreciated their danger, recommended as a remedy for them the reading of st. thomas. pope leo said: "domestic and civil society, even, which, as all see, is exposed to great danger from the plague of perverse opinions, would certainly enjoy a far more peaceful and a securer existence if more wholesome doctrine were taught in the academies and schools--one more in conformity with the teaching of the church, such as is contained in the works of thomas aquinas. "for the teachings of thomas on the true meaning of liberty--which at this time is running into license--on the divine origin of all authority, on laws and their force, on the paternal and just rule of princes, on obedience to the higher powers, on mutual charity one towards another--on all of these and kindred subjects, have very great and invincible force to overturn those principles of the new order which are well known to be dangerous to the peaceful order of things and to public safety." { } for this great pope, however, there was no greater teacher of any of the serious philosophical, ethical and theological problems than this saint of the thirteenth century. his position in the matter would only seem exaggerated to those who do not appreciate pope leo's marvelous practical intelligence, and saint thomas's exhaustive treatment of most of the questions that have always been uppermost in the minds of men. while, with characteristic humility, he considered himself scarcely more than a commentator on aristotle, his natural genius was eminently original and he added much more of his own than what he took from his master. there can be no doubt that his was one of the most gifted minds in all humanity's history and that for profundity of intelligence he deserves to be classed with plato and aristotle, as his great disciple dante is placed between homer and shakespeare. those who know st. thomas the best, and have spent their lives in the study of him, not only cordially welcomed but ardently applauded pope leo's commendation of him, and considered that lofty as was his praise there was not a word they would have changed even in such a laudatory passage as the following: "while, therefore, we hold that every word of wisdom, every useful thing by whomsoever discovered or planned, ought to be received with a willing and grateful mind. we exhort you, venerable brethren, in all earnestness to restore the golden wisdom of st. thomas, and to spread it far and wide for the defense and beauty of the catholic faith, for the good of society, and for the advantage of all the sciences. the wisdom of st. thomas, we say--for if anything is taken up with too great subtlety by the scholastic doctors, or too carelessly stated--if there is anything that ill agrees with the discoveries of a later age, or, in a word, improbable in whatever way, it does not enter our mind, to propose that for imitation to our age. let carefully selected teachers endeavor to implant the doctrines of thomas aquinas in the minds of students, and set forth clearly his solidity and excellence over others. let the academies already founded or to be founded by you illustrate and defend this doctrine, and use it for refutation of prevailing errors. but, lest the false for the true or the corrupt for the pure be drunk in, be watchful that the doctrine of thomas { } be drawn from his own fountains, or at least from those rivulets which derived from the very fount, have thus far flowed, according to the established agreement of learned men, pure and clear; be careful to guard the minds of youth from those which are said to flow thence, but in reality are gathered from strange and unwholesome streams." tributes quite as laudatory are not lacking from modern secular writers and while there have been many derogatory remarks, these have always come from men who either knew aquinas only at second hand, or who confess that they had been unable to read him understandingly. the praise all comes from men who have spent years in the study of his writings. a recent writer in the dublin _review_ (january, ) sums up his appreciation of one of st. thomas's works, his masterly book in philosophy, as follows: "the _summa contra gentiles_ is an historical monument of the first importance for the history of philosophy. in the variety of its contents, it is a perfect encyclopedia of the learning of the day. by it we can fix the high-water mark of thirteenth century thought, for it contains the lectures of a doctor second to none in the great school of thought then flourishing--the university of paris. it is by the study of such books that one enters into the mental life of the period at which they were written; not by the hasty perusal of histories of philosophy. no student of the contra gentiles is likely to acquiesce in the statement that the middle ages were a time when mankind seemed to have lost the power of thinking for themselves. medieval people thought for themselves, thoughts curiously different from ours and profitable to study." here is a similar high tribute for aquinas's great work on theology from his modern biographer, father vaughan: "the 'summa theologica' is a mighty synthesis, thrown into technical and scientific form, of the catholic traditions of east and west, of the infallible dicta of the sacred page, and of the most enlightened conclusions of human reason, gathered from the soaring intuitions of the academy, and the rigid severity of the lyceum. "its author was a man endowed with the characteristic notes of the three great fathers of greek philosophy: he possessed { } the intellectual honesty and precision of socrates, the analytical keenness of aristotle, and that yearning after wisdom and light which was the distinguishing mark of 'plato the divine,' and which has ever been one of the essential conditions of the highest intuitions of religion." as a matter of fact it was the very greatness of thomas aquinas, and the great group of contemporaries who were so close to him, that produced an unfortunate effect on subsequent thinking and teaching in europe. these men were so surpassing in their grasp of the whole round of human thought, that their works came to be worshiped more or less as fetishes, and men did not think for themselves but appealed to them as authorities. it is a great but an unfortunate tribute to the scholastics of the thirteenth century that subsequent generations for many hundred years not only did not think that they could improve on them, but even hesitated to entertain the notion that they could equal them. turner in his history of philosophy has pointed out this fact clearly and has attributed to it, to a great extent, the decadence of scholastic philosophy. "the causes of the decay of scholastic philosophy were both internal and external. the internal causes are to be found in the condition of scholastic philosophy at the beginning of the fourteenth century. the great work of christian syncretism had been completed by the masters of the preceding period; revelation and science had been harmonized; contribution had been levied on the pagan philosophies of greece and arabia, and whatever truth these philosophies had possessed had been utilized to form the basis of a rational exposition of christian revelation. the efforts of roger bacon and of alfred the great to reform scientific method had failed; the sciences were not cultivated. there was, therefore, no source of development, and nothing was left for the later scholastics except to dispute as to the meaning of principles, to comment on the text of this master or of that, and to subtilize to such an extent that scholasticism soon became a synonym for captious quibbling. the great thomistic principle that in philosophy the argument from authority is the weakest of all arguments was forgotten; aristotle, st. thomas, or scotus became the criterion of truth, and as solomon, whose youthful wisdom had { } astonished the world, profaned his old age by the worship of idols, the philosophy of the schools, in the days of its decadence, turned from the service of truth to prostrate itself before the shrine of a master. dialectic, which in the thirteenth century had been regarded as the instrument of knowledge, now became an object of study for the sake of display; and to this fault of method was added a fault of style--an uncouthness and barbarity of terminology which bewilder the modern reader." the appreciation of st. thomas in his own time is the greatest tribute to the critical faculty of the century that could be made. "genius is praised but starves," in the words of the old roman poet. certainly most of the geniuses of the world have met with anything but their proper meed of appreciation in their own time. this is not true, however, during our thirteenth century. we have already shown how the artists, and especially giotto, (at the end of the thirteenth century giotto was only twenty-four years old) were appreciated, and how much attention dante began to attract from his contemporaries, and we may add that all the great scholars of the period had a following that insured the wide publication of their works, at a time when this had to be accomplished by slow and patient hand-labor. the appreciation for thomas, indeed, came near proving inimical to his completion of his important works in philosophy and theology. many places in europe wanted to have the opportunity to hear him. we have only reintroduced the practise of exchanging university professors in very recent years. this was quite a common practise in the thirteenth century, however, and so st. thomas, after having been professor at paris and later at rome, taught for a while at naples and then at a number of the italian universities. everywhere he went he was noted for the kindliness of his disposition and for his power to make friends. looked upon as the greatest thinker of his time it would be easy to expect that there should be some signs of consciousness of this, and as a consequence some of that unpleasant self-assertion which so often makes great intellectual geniuses unpopular. thomas, however, never seems to have had any over-appreciation of his own talents, but, realizing how little he knew compared to { } the whole round of knowledge, and how superficial his thinking was compared to the depth of the mysteries he was trying, not to solve but to treat satisfactorily, it must be admitted that there was no question of conceit having a place in his life. this must account for the universal friendship of all who came in contact with him. the popes insisted on having him as a professor at the roman university in which they were so much interested, and which they wished to make one of the greatest universities of the time. here thomas was brought in contact with ecclesiastics from all over the world and helped to form the mind of the time. those who think the popes of the middle ages opposed to education should study the records of this roman university. thomas became the great friend of successive popes, some of whom had been brought in contact with him during his years of studying and teaching at rome and paris. this gave him many privileges and abundant encouragement, but finally came near ruining his career as a philosophic writer and teacher, since his papal friends wished to raise him to high ecclesiastical dignities. urban iv. seems first to have thought of this but his successor clement iv., one of the noblest churchmen of the period, who had himself wished to decline the papacy, actually made out the bull, creating thomas archbishop of naples. when this document was in due course presented to aquinas, far from giving him any pleasure it proved a source of grief and pain. he saw the chance to do his life-work slipping from him. this was so evident to his friend the pope that he withdrew the bull and st. thomas was left in peace during the rest of his career, and allowed to prosecute that one great object to which he had dedicated his mighty intellect. this was the summing up of all human knowledge in a work that would show the relation of the creator to the creature, and apply the great principles of greek philosophy to the sublime truths of christianity. had thomas consented to accept the archbishopric of naples in all human probability, as thomas's great english biographer remarks, the summa theologica would never have been written. it seems not unlikely that the dignity was pressed upon him by the pope partly at the solicitation of powerful members of { } his family, who hoped in this to have some compensation for their relative's having abandoned his opportunities for military and worldly glory. it is fortunate that their efforts failed, and it is only one of the many examples in history of the short-sightedness there may be in considerations that seem founded on the highest human prudence. thomas was left free then to go on with his great work, and during the next five years he applied every spare moment to the completion of his summa. more students have pronounced this the greatest work ever written than is true for any other text-book that has ever been used in schools. that it should be the basis of modern theological teaching after seven centuries is of itself quite sufficient to proclaim its merit. the men who are most enthusiastic about it are those who have used it the longest and who know it the best. st. thomas's english biographer, the very rev. roger bede vaughan, who is a worthy member of that distinguished vaughan family who have given so many zealous ecclesiastics to the english church and so many scholars to support the cause of christianity, can scarcely say enough of this great work, nor of its place in the realm of theology. when it is recalled that father vaughan was not a member of st. thomas's own order, the dominicans, but of the benedictines, it will be seen that it was not because of any _esprit de corps_, but out of the depths of his great admiration for the saint, that his words of praise were written: "it has been shown abundantly that no writer before the angelical's day could have created a synthesis of all knowledge. the greatest of the classic fathers have been treated of, and the reasons of their inability are evident. as for the scholastics who more immediately preceded the angelical, their minds were not ripe for so great and complete a work: the fullness of time had not yet come. very possibly had not albert the great and alexander (of hales) preceded him, st. thomas would not have been prepared to write his master-work; just as, most probably, newton would never have discovered the law of gravitation had it not been for the previous labors of galileo and of kepler. but just as the english astronomer stands solitary in his greatness, though surrounded and { } succeeded by men of extraordinary eminence, so also the angelical stands by himself alone, although albertus magnus was a genius, alexander was a theological king, and bonaventure a seraphic doctor. just as the principia is a work unique, unreachable, so, too, is the 'summa theologica' of the great angelical. just as dante stands alone among the poets, so stands st. thomas in the schools." probably the most marvelous thing about the life of st. thomas is his capacity for work. his written books fill up some twenty folios in their most complete edition. this of itself would seem to be enough to occupy a lifetime without anything more. his written works, however, represent apparently only the products of his hours at leisure. he was only a little more than fifty when he died and he had been a university professor at cologne, at bologna, at paris, at rome, and at naples. in spite of the amount of work that he was thus asked to do, his order, the dominican, constantly called on him to busy himself with certain of its internal affairs. on one occasion at least he visited england in order to attend a dominican chapter at oxford, and the better part of several years at paris was occupied with his labors to secure for his brethren a proper place in the university, so that they might act as teachers and yet have suitable opportunities for the education and the discipline of the members of the order. verily it would seem as though his days must have been at least twice as long as those of the ordinary scholar and student to accomplish so much; yet he is only a type of the monks of the middle ages, of whom so many people seem to think that their principal traits were to be fat and lazy. thomas was fat, as we know from the picture of him which shows him before a desk from which a special segment has been removed to accommodate more conveniently a rather abnormal abdominal development, but as to laziness, surely the last thing that would occur to anyone who knows anything about him, would be to accuse him of it. clearly those who accept the ancient notion of monkish laziness will never understand the middle ages. the great educational progress of the thirteenth century was due almost entirely to monks. { } there is another extremely interesting side to the intellectual character of thomas aquinas which is usually not realized by the ordinary student of philosophy and theology, and still less perhaps by those who are interested in him from an educational standpoint. this is his poetical faculty. for thomas as for many of the great intellectual geniuses of the modern time, the sacrament of the holy eucharist was one of the most wondrously satisfying devotional mysteries of christianity and the subject of special devotion. in our own time the great cardinal newman manifested this same attitude of mind. thomas because of his well-known devotion to the blessed sacrament, was asked by the pope to write the office for the then recently established feast of corpus christi. there are always certain hymns incorporated in the offices of the different feast days. it might ordinarily have been expected that a scholar like aquinas would write the prose portions of the office, leaving the hymns for some other hand, or selecting hymns from some older sacred poetry. thomas, however, wrote both hymns and prose, and, surprising as it may be, his hymns are some of the most beautiful that have ever been composed and remain the admiration of posterity. it must not be forgotten in this regard that thomas's career occurred during the period when latin hymn writing was at its apogee. the dies irae and the stabat mater were both written during the thirteenth century, and the most precious latin hymns of all times were composed during the century and a half from to . aquinas's hymns do not fail to challenge comparison even with the greatest of these. while he had an eminently devotional subject, it must not be forgotten that certain supremely difficult theological problems were involved in the expression of devotion to the blessed sacrament. in spite of the difficulties, thomas succeeded in making not only good theology but great poetry. a portion of one of his hymns, the tantum ergo, has been perhaps more used in church services than any other, with the possible exception of the dies irae. another one of his beautiful hymns that especially deserves to be admired, is less well known and so i have ventured to quote three selected stanzas of it, as an illustration { } of thomas's command over rhyme and rhythm in the latin tongue. [footnote ] adoro te devote, latens deitas, quae sub his figuris vere latitas. tibi se cor meum totum subjicit, quia te contemplans totum deficit. visus, tactus, gustus, in te fallitur, sed auditu solo tute creditur: credo quidquid dixit dei filius nihil veritatis verbo verius. and the less musical but wonderfully significative fourth, stanza-- plagas sicut thomas non intueor, deum tamen meum te confiteor, fac me tibi semper magis credere, in te spem habere, te diligere. only the ardent study of many years will give anything like an adequate idea of the great schoolman's universal genius. i am content if i have conveyed a few hints that will help to a beginning of an acquaintance with one of the half dozen supreme minds of our race. [footnote : the following translation made by justice o'hagan renders sense and sound into english as adequately perhaps as is possible: hidden god, devoutly i adore thee, truly present underneath these veils: all my heart subdues itself before thee. since it all before thee faints and fails. not to sight, or taste, or touch be credit. hearing only do we trust secure; i believe, for god the son hath said it-- word of truth that ever shall endure. ... though i look not on thy wounds with thomas, thee, my lord, and thee, my god, i call: make me more and more believe thy promise, hope in thee, and love thee over all. ] { } xviii st. louis the monarch. if large numbers of men are to be ruled by one of their number, as seems more or less inevitable in the ordinary course of things, then, without doubt, the best model of what such a monarch's life should be, is to be found in that of louis ix., who for nearly half a century was the ruler of france during our period. of all the rulers of men of whom we have record in history he probably took his duties most seriously, with most regard for others, and least for himself and for his family. there is not a single relation of life in which he is not distinguished and in which his career is not worth studying, as an example of what can be done by a simple, earnest, self-forgetful man, to make life better and happier for all those who come in contact with him. his relations with his mother are those of an affectionate son in whom indeed, from his easy compliance with her wishes in his younger years one might suspect some weakness, but whose strength of character is displayed at every turn once he himself assumed the reins of government. after many years of ruling however, when his departure on the crusade compelled him to be absent from the kingdom it was to her he turned again to act as his representative and the wisdom of the choice no one can question. as a husband louis' life was a model, and though he could not accomplish the impossible, and was not able to keep the relations of his mother and his wife as cordial as he would have liked them to be, judging from human experience generally it is hard to think this constitutes any serious blot on his fair name. as a father, few men have ever thought less of material advantages for their children, or more of the necessity for having them realize that happiness in life does not consist in the possession of many things, but rather in the accomplishment of duty and in the recognition of the fact that the giving of happiness to others { } constitutes the best source of felicity for one's self. his letters and instructions to his children, as preserved for us by joinville and other contemporaries, give us perhaps the most taking picture of the man that we have, and round out a personality, which, while it has in the telling french phrase "the defects of its virtues," is surely one of the most beautiful characters that has ever been seen upon earth, in a man who took an active and extremely important part in the great events of the world of his time. the salient points of his character are his devotion to the three great needs of humanity as they present themselves in his time. he made it the aim of his life that men should have justice, and education, and when for any misfortune they needed it,--charity; and every portion of his career is taken up with successful achievement in these great departments of social action. it is well known that when he became conscious that the judges sometimes abused their power and gave sentences for partial reasons, the monarch himself took up the onerous duty of hearing appeals and succeeded in making the judges of his kingdom realize, that only the strictest justice would save them from the king's displeasure, and condign punishment. for an unjust judge there was short shrift. the old tree at versailles, under which he used to hear the causes of the poor who appealed to him, stood for many centuries as a reminder of louis' precious effort to make the dispensing of justice equal to all men. when the duty of hearing appeals took up too much of his time it was transferred to worthy shoulders, and so the important phase of jurisprudence in france relating to appeals, came to be thoroughly established as a part of the organic law of the kingdom. {opp } [illustration] notre dame (paris) as regards education, too much can not be said of louis' influence. it is to him more than to anybody else that the university of paris owes the success it achieved as a great institution of learning at the end of the thirteenth century. had the monarch been opposed to the spread of education with any idea that it might possibly undermine his authority, had he even been indifferent to it, paris would not have come to be the educational center of the world. as it was, louis not only encouraged it in every way, but also acted as the patron of great { } subsidiary institutions which were to add to its prestige and enhance its facilities. among the most noteworthy is the sorbonne. la sainte chapelle deserves to be mentioned, however, and the library attached to it, which owed its foundation and development to louis, were important factors in attracting students to paris and in furnishing them interestingly suggestive material for thought and the development of taste during their residence there. his patronage of vincent of beauvais, the encyclopedist, was but a further manifestation of his interest in everything educational. his benefactions to the hotel dieu must be considered rather under the head of charity, and yet they also serve to represent his encouragement of medical education and of the proper care for the poor in educated hands. voltaire, to whom louis' character as a supreme believer in revealed religion must have been so utterly unsympathetic, and whose position as the historical symbol of all that voltaire most held in antipathy in medievalism, might have been expected to make the french philosopher avoid mention of him since he could not condemn, has been forced into some striking utterances in praise of louis, one of which we quote: "louis ix appeared to be a prince destined to reform europe, if she could have been reformed, to render france triumphant and civilized, and to be in all things a pattern for men. his piety which was that of an anchorite, did not deprive him of any kingly virtue. a wise economy took nothing from his liberality. a profound policy was combined with strict justice and he is perhaps the only sovereign who is entitled to this praise; prudent and firm in counsel, intrepid without rashness in his wars, he was as compassionate as if he had always been unhappy. no man could have carried virtue further." guizot, the french statesman and historian, whose unbending calvinism made the men and institutions of the middle ages almost incomprehensible to him from their catholic aspects, has much of good to say of louis, though there is not wanting rather definite evidence of the reluctance of his admiration: "the world has seen more profound politicians on the throne, greater generals, men of more mighty and brilliant intellect, princes who have exercised a more powerful influence { } over later generations and events subsequent to their own times; but it has never seen such a king as this st. louis, never seen a man possessing sovereign power and yet not contracting the vices and passions which attend it, displaying upon the throne in such a high degree every human virtue purified and ennobled by christian faith. st. louis did not give any new or personal impulse to his age; he did not strongly influence the nature or the development of civilization in france; whilst he endeavored to reform the gravest abuses of the feudal system by the introduction of justice and public order, he did not endeavor to abolish it either by the substitution of a pure monarchy, or by setting class against class in order to raise the royal authority high above all. he was neither an egotist nor a scheming diplomatist; he was, in all sincerity, in harmony with his age and sympathetic alike with the faith, the institutions, the customs, and the tastes of france in the thirteenth century. and yet, both in the thirteenth century and in later times st. louis stands apart as a man of profoundly original character, an isolated figure without any peer among his contemporaries or his successors. as far as it was possible in the middle ages, he was an ideal man, king, and christian." guizot goes even further than this when he says, "it is reported that in the seventeenth century, during the brilliant reign of louis xiv., montecuculli, on learning of the death of his illustrious rival, turenne, said to his officers, 'a man has died to-day who did honor to mankind.' st. louis did honor to france, to royalty, to humanity, and to christianity. this was the feeling of his contemporaries, and after six centuries it is still confirmed by the judgment of the historian." of louis' wonderful influence for good as a ruler all historians are agreed in talking in the highest terms. his private life however, is even more admirable for our purpose of bringing out the greatness of the thirteenth century. of course many legends and myths have gathered around his name, but still enough remains of absolutely trustworthy tradition and even documentary evidence, to make it very clear that he was a man among men, a nobleman of nature's making, who in any position of life would have acquitted himself with a perfection sure to make his life worthy of admiration. one of the most { } striking traits of his character is his love of justice, his insatiable desire to render to all men what was rightly theirs. a biographer has told the story that gives the most telling proof of this in relating the solicitude with which he tried to right all the wrongs not only of his own reign, but of those of his predecessors, before he set out on the crusade. he wished to have the absolute satisfaction that he, nor his, owed any man any reparation, as the most precious treasure he could take with him on his perilous expedition. he wished even to undo any wrongs that might have been done in his name though he was entirely unconscious of them. "as he wished to be in a state of grace at the moment of departure, and to take with him to the holy land a quiet conscience by leaving the kingdom in as happy a condition as possible, he resolved to carry out one of the noblest measures ever undertaken by a king. by his order, inquisitors were sent into all the provinces annexed to the royal dominion since the accession of philip augustus. all those who had been maltreated or despoiled by the bailiffs, seneschals, provosts, sergeants, and other representatives of the royal authority, came to declare their wrongs to these newly appointed judges, and to demand the reparation which was due to them; the number was great, since for forty years there had been much suffering in the country districts and even in the towns .... the royal officers had too often acted as if they were in a conquered country; they believed themselves to be safe from observation, so that they might do as they pleased. the people had much to endure during these forty years, and it was a noble idea to make reparation freely and with elaborate care. no prince had been known, of his own accord and at his own cost, to redress the wrongs inflicted on the people during the reigns of his father and grandfather. this made an immense impression, which lasted for centuries. blanche's son was not merely a good king, he became the unrivalled sovereign, the impeccable judge, the friend and consoler of his subjects." it is no wonder that so inappeasable a lover of justice should commend that virtue above all others to his son. when we read his letters to that son who was to be his successor, in the light of louis' own career, we appreciate with what utter { } sincerity they were written. louis realized that simple justice between men would undo more of the world's wrongs than most of the vaunted cures for social ills, which are only too often the result of injustice. "dear son," he writes in his instruction, "if you come to reign, do that which befits a king, that is, be so just as to deviate in nothing from justice, whatever may befall you. if a poor man goes to law with one who is rich, support the poor rather than the rich man until you know the truth, and when the truth is known, do that which is just. and if it happen that any man has a dispute with yourself, maintain the cause of your adversary before the council so as not to appear partial to your own cause, until the truth is known. unless you do this, those who are of the council may fear to speak against you, and this ought not to be. . . . and if you find that you possess anything unjustly acquired, either in your time or in that of your predecessors, make restitution at once, however great its value, either in land, money, or any other thing. . . . if the matter is doubtful and you cannot find out the truth, follow the advice of trusty men, and make such an agreement as may fully deliver your soul and that of your predecessors. if you hear that your predecessors have made restitution of anything, take great trouble to discover if anything more should be restored, and if you find that this is the case, restore it at once so as to deliver your own soul and that of your predecessors." "the education of his children, their future position and well-being, engrossed the attention of the king as entirely, and were subjects of as keen an interest, as if he had been a father with no other task than the care of his children. after supper they followed him to his apartment, where he made them sit around him for a time whilst he instructed them in their duty; he then sent them to bed. he would direct their attention particularly to the good and bad actions of princes. he used to visit them in their own apartment when he had any leisure, inquire as to their progress, and like a second tobias, give them excellent instruction .... on maundy thursday, he and his children used to wash the feet of a dozen poor persons, give them large alms, and afterward wait upon them whilst they dined. the king together with his son-in-law { } king thibault, whom he loved and looked upon as his own son, carried the first poor man to the hospital of compiègne, and his two oldest sons, louis and philippe, carried the second. they were accustomed to act with him in all things, showing him great reverence, and he desired that they and thibault should also obey him implicitly in everything that he commanded." anyone who still retains any trace of the old-fashioned notion, which used to be unfortunately a commonplace among english speaking people, that the medieval monks were unworthy of their great calling, and that the monasteries were the homes of lazy, fat-witted men whose only object in taking up the life was to secure an easy means of livelihood, will be thoroughly undeceived, if he but read with some attention the stories of louis' relations to the monasteries. in all his journeys he stopped in them, he always asked to see their libraries, he insisted on not being treated better than the community and in every way he tried to show his esteem for them. there is a story which may or may not be true in the "little flowers of st. francis," which comes from almost a contemporary source, however, that once on his travels he called on brother giles, the famous simple-minded companion of st. francis, of whom so many delightfully humorous stories are told. brother giles received his affectionate greeting but said never a word in return. after the first words the king himself said nothing, but both sat and communed in silence for some time, and then the king departed apparently well-pleased with his visit. needless to say when brother giles told the story of the king of france having called on him there was a commotion in the community. but by this time the king was far distant on his way. indeed louis took so many opportunities to stop in monasteries and follow monastic regulations as to prayer and the taking of meals while there, that he quite disgusted some of the members of his retinue who were most with him. one of the ladies of the court in her impatience at him for this, is once said to have remarked under such indiscreet circumstances that it was reported to louis, that she wished they had a man and not a monk for king. louis is said to have asked her very { } gently if she would prefer that he spend most of his time in sport and in excesses of various kinds. even such remarks, however, had no effect in turning him from his purpose to live as simply and as beneficently for others as possible. his genuine appreciation of the monks must be recognized from his wishes with regard to his children. on the other hand his readiness to secure their happiness as far as possible in the way they wished for themselves shows the tenderness of his fatherly heart. a modern biographer has said of him:-- "he was very anxious that his three children born in the east during the crusade--jean tristan, pierre, and blanche--and even his eldest daughter isabella, should enter the monastic life, which he looked upon as the most likely to insure their salvation; he frequently exhorted them to take this step, writing letters of the greatest tenderness and piety, especially to his daughter isabella; but, as they did not show any taste for it, he did not attempt to force their inclinations. thenceforth, he busied himself in making suitable marriages for them, and establishing them according to their rank; at the same time he gave them the most judicious advice as to their conduct and actions in the world upon which they were entering. when he was before tunis and found that he was sick unto death, he gave the instructions which he had written out in french with his own hand to his eldest son, philip. they are models of virtue, wisdom and paternal tenderness, worthy of a king and a christian." perhaps the most interesting feature of st. louis' life was his treatment of the poor. he used literally to recall the fact that they must stand to him in the place of god. "whatever you do to the least of these you do even unto me" was a favorite expression frequently in his mouth. he waited on them personally and no matter how revolting their appearance would not be deterred from this personal service. it is easy to understand that his courtiers did not sympathize with this state of mind, though louis used to encourage them not only by his example but by personal persuasion. every holy thursday he used to wash the feet of twelve poor people at a public ceremonial, in honor of the washing of the feet of the apostles by christ. {opp } [illustration] apostle (la sainte chapelle, paris) it must not be thought moreover, that such a { } proceeding was perhaps less repugnant to the feelings of the men of that time than they are to the present generation. it might be considered that the general paucity of means for maintaining personal cleanliness in medieval times would make the procedure less disgusting. as a proof of the contrary of this we have the words of joinville who tells of the following conversation:-- "many a time," says joinville, "i have seen him cut their bread for them, and pour out their drink. one day he asked me if i washed the feet of the poor on maundy thursday. "sire," i answered, "what, the feet of those dirty wretches! no indeed, i shall never wash them." "truly," replied the king, "you have spoken ill, for you ought not to despise that which god intended for your instruction. i pray you, therefore, first of all for the love of god, and then by your love towards me, that you make a habit of washing their feet." even more striking than this however, was his attitude toward the lepers of the time. these poor creatures were compelled to live apart from the population and were not allowed to approach healthy individuals. they were of exceeding interest to louis however, who took every opportunity to mitigate the trials and hardships of their existence. whenever he met them on his journeys he insisted on abundant alms being given them, and gave orders that every possible provision for their welfare, consonant with the care that their affection should not be permitted to spread, be made for them. over and over again he greeted them as his brothers and when his retinue feared to approach them, would himself go to them, in order to console them by his words and his exhibition of personal interest. there is an incident told of his having on one occasion, when a muddy stream intervened between him and some lepers, forded the stream alone in order to get to them, and neither any personal fear of contagion nor any natural repugnance was permitted to deter him from this sublime work of charity. it is no wonder that his people proclaimed him a saint, that is "one who thinks first of others and only second of himself," even during his lifetime. the only supposed blot upon louis' character is the denunciation by certain modern writers of what they call the fanaticism, { } which prompted him to go on the crusades instead of remaining at home properly to care for his people. the opinion with regard to the place that must be assigned to the crusades as a factor in history and national as well as european development, has changed very much in recent years. formerly it was the custom almost entirely to condemn them and to look upon them as a serious mistake. such ideas however, are only entertained by those who do not realize the conditions under which they were undertaken or the important results which flowed from them. bishop stubbs in his lectures on medieval and modern history, delivered while he was professor of history at oxford, has been at some pains to correct this false notion, and his passage constitutes one of the best apologies for louis' interest in the crusades which could be written. he said:-- "the crusades are not, in my mind, either the popular delusions that our cheap literature has determined them to be, nor papal conspiracies against kings and peoples, as they appear to protestant controversialists; nor the savage outbreak of expiring barbarism, thirsting for blood and plunder, nor volcanic explosions of religious intolerance. i believe them to have been in their deep sources, and in the minds of their best champions, and in the main tendency of their results, capable of ample justification. they were the first great effort of medieval life to go beyond the pursuit of selfish and isolated ambitions; they were the trial-feat of the young world, essaying to use, to the glory of god and the benefit of man, the arms of its new knighthood. that they failed in their direct object is only what may be alleged against almost every great design which the great disposer of events has moulded to help the world's progress; for the world has grown wise from the experience of failure, rather than by the winning of high aims. that the good they did was largely leavened with evil may be said of every war that has ever been waged; that bad men rose by them while good men fell, is and must be true, wherever and whenever the race is to the swift and the battle to the strong. but that in the end they were a benefit to the world no one who reads can doubt; and that in their course they brought out a love for all that is heroic in human nature, the love of freedom, the honor of prowess, sympathy with sorrow, { } perseverance to the last, the chronicles of the age abundantly prove; proving, moreover, that it was by the experience of these times that the forms of those virtues were realized and presented to posterity." [footnote ] [footnote : stubbs, "seventeen lectures on medieval and modern history," p. .] with the stigma of supposed imprudence or foolhardiness for having gone on the crusade turned into a new cause for honor, louis must be considered as probably the greatest monarch who ever occupied an important throne. instead of being surprised that such a monarch should have come in the heart of the middle ages and during a century so distant as the thirteenth, readers must now be ready to appreciate to some degree at least the fact, that his environment instead of being a hindrance in any sense of the word to the development of louis' greatness, should rather be considered as one of the principal sources of it. louis' character was representative of the men of that time and exhibits in their most striking form the qualities that were set up as ideals in that period. if the century had produced nothing else but louis, it would have to be considered as a great epoch in history, for he was no mere accident but typically a son of his age. if this is but properly appreciated the true significance not only of louis' life but the period in which he lived will be better understood than would be possible by any other means. those who want to know the men of this wonderful century as they actually were should study louis' life in detail, for we have been only able to hint at its most striking characteristics. {opp } [illustration] decoration (queen mary's psalter, xiii. century ms.) { } xix dante the poet. it is only too often the custom to talk of dante as a solitary phenomenon in his time. even carlyle who knew well and properly appreciated many things in medieval life and letters and especially in the literary productions of the thirteenth century said, that in dante "ten silent centuries found a voice." anyone who has followed what we have had to say with regard to the thirteenth century will no longer think of dante as standing alone, but will readily appreciate that he is only the fitting culmination of a great literary era. after having gone over even as hurriedly as has been necessary in our brief space, what was accomplished in every country of europe in literature that was destined to live not only because of the greatness of the thoughts, but also for the ultimateness of its expression, we should expect some surpassing literary genius at the end of the period. it seems almost inevitable indeed that a supreme poet, whose name stands above all others but one or two at the most in the whole history of the race, should have lived in the thirteenth century, and should have summed up effectually in himself all the greatness of the century and enshrined its thoughts in undying verse for all future generations. {opp } [illustration] portrait of dante (giotto, in the bargello, florence) when dante himself dares to place his name with those of the men whom he considered the five greatest poets of all time, it seems sublimest egotism. at first thought many will at once conclude that his reason for so doing was, that in the unlettered times his critical faculty was not well developed and as he knew that his work far surpassed that of his contemporaries, he could scarcely help but conclude that his place must be among the great poets. any such thought however, is entirely due to lack of knowledge of the conditions of dante's life and education. he had been in the universities of italy, and in his exile had visited paris and probably also oxford. he knew the poets of his country well. he appreciated them { } highly. it was the consciousness of genius that made him place himself so high and not any faulty comparison with others. succeeding generations have set him even higher than the place chosen by himself and now we breathe his name only with those of homer and shakespeare, considering that these three sublime immortals are so far above all other poets that there is scarcely a second to them. dante is the most universal of poets. he has won recognition from all nations, and he has been the favorite reading of the most diverse times and conditions of men. from the very beginning he has been appreciated, and even before his death men had begun to realize something of the supremacy of his greatness. commentaries on his works that have been preserved down to our own day were written almost during his lifetime. only supreme interest could have tempted men to multiply these by the hard labor of patient handwriting. petrarch who as a young man, was his contemporary, recognized him as the prince of italian poets who had composed in their common tongue, and even was tempted to say that the subtle and profound conceptions of the commedia could not have been written without the special gift of the holy ghost. boccaccio was wont to speak of him as the divine poet, and tells us that he had learned that petrarch deliberately held aloof from the commedia, through fear of losing his originality if he came under the spell of so great a master. very few realize how great a poet dante must be considered even if only the effusions of his younger years were to be taken as the standard of his poetical ability. some of his sonnets are as beautiful of their kind as are to be found in this form of poetry. his description of his lady-love is famous among sonnets of lovers and may only be compared with some of the sonnets from the portuguese in our own day, or with one or two of camoens' original sonnets in the portuguese, for lofty praise of the beloved in worthy numbers. after reading dante's sonnets it is easy to understand how a half century later petrarch was able to raise the sonnet form to an excellence that was never to be surpassed. with a beginning like this it is no wonder that the sonnet became so popular in europe during the next three centuries, and that every young poet, { } down to shakespeare's time, had an attack of sonneteering just as he might have had an attack of the measles. the first one of a pair of sonnets that are considered supreme in their class deserves a place here as an example of dante's poetic faculty in this form, for which he is so much less known than he ought to be. he sees completely fullest bliss abound who among ladies sees my lady's face; those that with her do go are surely bound to give god thanks for such exceeding grace. and in her beauty such strange might is found. that envy finds in other hearts no place; so she makes them walk with her, clothed all round with love and faith and courteous gentleness. the sight of her makes all things lowly be; nor of herself alone she gives delight. but each through her receiveth honor due. and in her acts is such great courtesy, that none can recollect that wondrous sight. who sighs not for it in love's sweetness true. it will be noted that dante has nothing to say of the personal appearance of his beloved. this is true, however, of the whole series of poems to and about her. he never seems to have thought for a moment of her physical qualities. what he finds worthy to praise is her goodness which shines out from her features so that everyone rejoices in it, while a sweetness fills the heart as if a heavenly visitor had come. for him her supreme quality is that, with all her beauty, envy finds no place in others' hearts because she is so clothed around with love and faith and courteous gentleness. it has often been said that shakespeare did not describe the physical appearances of his heroines because he realized that this meant very little, but then shakespeare had to write for the stage and realized that blondes and brunettes, especially in the olden time, could not be made to order and that it was better to leave the heroine's physical appearance rather vague. it would be expected, however, that dante, with his southern temperament, would have dwelt on the physical perfections of his fair. the next { } sonnet, however, of the best known group emphasizes his abstraction of all physical influence in the matter and insists on her goodness and the womanly beauty of her character. it will be found in our chapter on women of the century. in his earlier years dante considered himself one of the troubadours, and there can be no doubt that if he had never written the divine comedy, he still would have been remembered as one of the great poets who wrote of love in this thirteenth century. not only does he deserve a place among the greatest of the minnesingers, the trouvères, and the troubadours, but he is perhaps the greatest of them. that he should have sung as he did at the end of the century only shows that he was in the stream of literary evolution and not being merely carried idly along, but helping to guide it into ever fairer channels. dante's minor poems would have made enduring fame for any poet of less genius than himself. his prose works deserve to be read by anyone who wishes to know the character of this greatest of poets, and also to appreciate what the educational environment of the thirteenth century succeeded in making out of good intellectual material when presented to it. dante's works are the real treasury of information of the most precious kind with regard to the century, since they provide the proper standpoint from which to view all that it accomplished. while dante was a supreme singer among the poets of a great song time, it was only natural, in the light of what we know about the literary product of the rest of this century, that he should have put into epic form the supreme product of his genius. with the great national epics in every country of europe--the cid, the arthur legends, and the nibelungen, at the beginning of this century, and the epical poems of the meistersingers during its first half, it is not surprising, but on the contrary rather what might have been confidently looked for, that there should have arisen a great national epic in italy before the end of the century. the gothic art movement spread through all these countries, and so did the wind of the spirit of esthetic accomplishment which blew the flame of national literature in each country into a mighty blaze, that not only was { } never to be extinguished, but was to be a beacon light in the realm of national literatures forever after. we have already said a word of the well-known contemporary admiration for the poet but it should be realized that due appreciation of dante continued in italy during all the time when italian art and literature was at its highest. it dwindled only at periods of decadence and lack of taste. cornelius' law with regard to dante's influence on art is very well known, italian art according to him, has been strong and vigorous just in proportion as it has worked under dante's influence, while it became weak and sensuous as that influence declined. this has held true from the very beginning and has been as true for literature as for art. when the italians became interested in trivialities and gave themselves up to weak imitations of the classics, or to pastoral poetry that was not a real expression of feeling but a passing fancy of literary folk, then dante was for a time in obscurity. even at the height of the renaissance, however, when greek was at the acme of its interest and the classics occupied so much attention that dante might be expected to be eclipsed, the great thinkers and critics of the time still worshipped at the shrine of their great master of italian verse. the best proof of this is to be found in michael angelo's famous sonnets in praise of dante, the second of which would seem to exhaust all that can be said in praise of a brother poet. into the dark abyss he made his way; both nether worlds he saw, and in the might of his great soul beheld god's splendour bright. and gave to us on earth true light of day: star of supremest worth with its clear ray. heaven's secrets he revealed to us through our dim sight. and had for guerdon what the base world's spite oft gives to souls that noblest grace display, full ill was dante's life-work understood, his purpose high, by that ungrateful state. that welcomed all with kindness but the good. would i were such, to bear like evil fate, to taste his exile, share his lofty mood. for this i'd gladly give all earth calls great. { } in the first of this pair of sonnets, however, michael angelo gave if possible even higher praise than this. it will be recalled that he himself, besides being the greatest of sculptors and one of the greatest of painters and architects in a wonderfully productive period, was also a very great poet. these sonnets to dante, the one to his crucifix, and one to vittoria colonna, are the best proof of this. he knew how to chisel thoughts into wonderfully suitable words quite as well as marble into the beautiful forms that grew under his hands. with all his greatness, and he must have been conscious of it, he thinks that he would be perfectly willing to give up all that earth calls great, simply to share dante's lofty mood even in his exile. no greater tribute has ever been paid by one poet to another than this, and michael angelo's genius was above all critical, never thoughtlessly laudatory. as emphasizing the highest enlightened taste of a great epoch this has seemed to deserve a place here also. what should be said of him speech may not tell; his splendor is too great for men's dim sight; and easier 'twere to blame his foes aright than for his poorest gifts to praise him well. he tracked the path that leads to depths of hell to teach us wisdom, scaled the eternal height. and heaven with open gates did him invite. who in his own loved city might not dwell. ungrateful country step-dame of his fate. to her own loss: full proof we have in this that souls most perfect bear the greatest woe. of thousand things suffice in this to state: no exile ever was unjust as his, nor did the world his equal ever know. in england, in spite of distance of country, race and language, the appreciation of dante began very early. readers of chaucer know the great italian as the favorite poet of the father of english poetry, and over and over again he has expressed the feeling of how much greater than anything he could hope to do was dante's accomplishment. readers will remember how chaucer feels unable to tell the story of { } ugolino and his starving sons in the hunger tower, and refers those interested in the conclusion of the tale to dante. after the religious revolt of the early sixteenth century dante was lost sight of to a great extent. his temper was too catholic to be appreciated by puritan england, and the elizabethans were too much occupied with their own creation of a great national literature, to have any time for appreciation of a foreigner so different in spirit from their times. with the coming of the oxford movement, however, dante at once sprang into favor, and a number of important critical appreciations of him reintroduced him to a wide reading public in england, most of whom were among the most cultured of the island. this renewed interest in dante gave rise to some of the best critical appreciations in any language. dean church's famous essay is the classic english monograph on dante, and its opening paragraph sounds the keynote of critical opinion among english speaking people. "the divina commedia is one of the landmarks of history. more than a magnificent poem, more than the beginning of a language and the opening of a national literature, more than the inspirer of art and the glory of a great people, it is one of those rare and solemn monuments of the mind's power which measure and test what it can reach to, which rise up ineffaceably and forever as time goes on, marking out its advance by grander divisions than its centuries, and adopted as epochs by the consent of all who come after. it stands with the iliad and shakespeare's plays, with the writings of aristotle and plato, with the novum organon and the principia, with justinian's code, with the parthenon and st. peter's. it is the first christian poem, and it opens european literature as the iliad did that of greece and rome. and, like the iliad, it has never become out of date; it accompanies in undiminished freshness the literature which it began." {opp } [illustration] torre del fame (dante, pisa) [illustration] palazzo pretorio (todi) no better introduction to dante could be obtained than this from dean church. those who have found it difficult to get interested in the great florentine poet, and who have been prone to think that perhaps the pretended liking for him on the part of many people was an affectation rather than a sincere expression of opinion, should read this essay and learn { } something of the wealth of sympathy there is in dante for even the man of these modern times. our thirteenth century poet is not easy to read but there is probably no reading in all the world that brings with it so much of intellectual satisfaction, so much of awakening of the best feelings in man, so many glimpses into the depths of his being, as some lines from dante pondered under favorable circumstances. like one of these gothic cathedrals of the olden times he never grows old, but, on the contrary, every favorite passage seems to have a new message for each mood of the reader. this is particularly true for the spiritual side of man's being as has been pointed out by dean church in a well-known passage toward the end of his essay. "those who know the divina commedia best will best know how hard it is to be the interpreter of such a mind; but they will sympathize with the wish to call attention to it. they know, and would wish others also to know, not by hearsay, but by experience, the power of that wonderful poem. they know its austere yet submitting beauty; they know what force there is in its free and earnest and solemn verse to strengthen, to tranquillize, to console. it is a small thing that it has the secret of nature and man; that a few keen words have opened their eyes to new sights in earth, and sea, and sky; have taught them new mysteries of sound; have made them recognize, in distinct image of thought, fugitive feelings, or their unheeded expression, by look, or gesture, or motion; that it has enriched the public and collective memory of society with new instances, never to be lost, of human feeling and fortune; has charmed mind and ear by the music of its stately march, and the variety and completeness of its plan. but besides this, they know how often its seriousness has put to shame their trifling, its magnanimity their faint-heartedness, its living energy their indolence, its stern and sad grandeur rebuked low thoughts, its thrilling tenderness overcome sullenness and assuaged distress, its strong faith quelled despair, and soothed perplexity, its vast grasp imparted the sense of harmony to the view of clashing truth. they know how often they have found in times of trouble, if not light, at least that deep sense of reality, permanent though unseen, which is more than light can { } always give--in the view which it has suggested to them of the judgments and love of god." as might have been expected from the fact of dante's english popularity paralleling the oxford movement, both the great english cardinals who were such prominent agents in that movement, looked upon him as a favorite author. both of them have given him precious tributes. newman's lofty compliment was the flattery of imitation when he wrote the dream of gerontius, that poem for poets which has told the men of our generation more about the immediate hereafter than anything written in these latter centuries. no poet of the intervening period, or of any other time, has so satisfactorily presented the after world as these writers so distant in time, so different in environment,--the one an italian of the thirteenth, the other an englishman of the nineteenth century. cardinal manning's tribute was much more formal though not less glorious. it occurs in the introduction to father bowden's english edition of the german critic hettinger's appreciation of dante, and deserves a place here because it shows how much a representative modern churchman thinks of the great florentine poet. "there are three works which always seem to me to form a triad of dogma, of poetry, and of devotion,--the summa of st. thomas, the divina commedia, and the paradisus animae (a manual of devotional exercises by horstius). all three contain the same outline of faith. st. thomas traces it on the intellect, dante upon the imagination, and the paradisus animae upon the heart. the poem unites the book of dogma and the book of devotion, clothed in conceptions of intensity and of beauty which have never been surpassed nor equalled. no uninspired hand has ever written thoughts so high in words, so resplendent as the last stanza of the divina commedia. it was said of st. thomas, _'post summan thomae nihil restat nisi lumen gloriae_'--after the summa of thomas nothing is left except the light of glory. it may be said of dante, _'post dantis paradisum nihil restat nisi visio dei_,'--after dante's paradise nothing is left except the vision of god." of course john ruskin had a thorough-going admiration for so great a spiritual thinker as dante and expressed it in no { } uncertain terms. with his wonderful power to point out the significance of unexpected manifestations of human genius, ruskin has even succeeded in minimizing one of the great objections urged against dante, better perhaps than could be done by anyone else, for english speaking people at least. for many readers dante is almost unbearable, because of certain grotesque elements they find in him. this has been the source and cause of more unfavorable criticism than anything else in the great florentine's writings. ruskin of course saw it but appreciated it at its proper significance, and has made clear in a passage that every dante reader needs to go over occasionally, in order to assure himself that certain unusual things in dante's attitude towards life are an expression rather of the highest human genius and its outlook on life, than some narrow limitation of medievalism. ruskin said:-- "i believe that there is no test of greatness in nations, periods, nor men more sure than the development, among them or in them, of a noble grotesque, and no test of comparative smallness or limitation, of one kind or another, more sure than the absence of grotesque invention or incapability of understanding it. i think that the central man of all the world, as representing in perfect balance the imaginative, moral and intellectual faculties, all at their highest is dante; and in him the grotesque reaches at once the most distinct and the most noble development to which it was ever brought in the human mind. of the grotesqueness in our own shakespeare i need hardly speak, nor of its intolerableness to his french critics; nor of that of aeschylus and homer, as opposed to the lower greek writers; and so i believe it will be found, at all periods, in all minds of the first order." great reverence for dante might have been expected in italy but the colder northern nations shared it. in germany modern admiration for dante began with that great wave of critical appreciation which entered into german literature with the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century. as might almost have been expected, frederick schlegel was one of the first modern german admirers of dante, though his brother august, whose translations of shakespeare began that series of german studies of { } shakespeare which has been so fruitful during the past century, was also an open admirer of the medieval poet. since then there has practically been no time when germany has not had some distinguished dante scholar, and when it has not been supplying the world with the products of profound study and deep scholarship with regard to him. the modern educational world has come to look so confidently toward germany for the note of its critical appreciation, that the dante devotion of the germans will be the best possible encouragement for those who need to have the feeling, that their own liking is shared by good authorities, before they are quite satisfied with their appreciation. dean plumptre has summed up the dante movement in germany in a compendious paragraph that must find a place here. "in the year , scartazzini, the great dante scholar of the nineteenth century, recognizes a new starting point. the period of neglect of supercilious criticism comes to an end, and one of reverence, admiration and exhaustive study begins. his account of the labors of german scholars during the sixty years that have followed fills a large part of his volume. translations of the commedia by kopisch, kannegiesser, witte, philalethes (the nom de plume of john, king of saxony), josefa von hoffinger, of the minor poems by witte and krafft, endless volumes and articles on all points connected with dante's life and character, the publications of the deutsche dante-gesellschaft from to , present a body of literature which has scarcely a parallel in history. it is no exaggeration to say that the germans have taught italians to understand and appreciate their own poet, just as they have at least helped to teach englishmen to understand shakespeare." nor must it be thought that only the literary lights of germany thoroughly appreciated the great florentine. the greater the genius of the man the more his admiration for dante if he but once becomes interested in him. a noteworthy example of this is alexander von humboldt the distinguished german scientist, who was generally looked upon as perhaps the greatest thinker in european science during the first quarter of the nineteenth century. he is said to have been very faithful in his study of dante and has expressed his admiration in no { } uncertain terms. curiously enough he found much to admire him for in matters scientific, for while it is not generally realized, dante was an acute observer of nature and has given expression in his works to many observations with regard to subjects that would now be considered within the scope of natural science, in a way to anticipate many supposedly modern bits of information. with regard to this humboldt said in his cosmos:-- "when the glory of the aramaic greek and roman dominion--or i might almost say, when the ancient world had passed away,--we find in the great and inspired founder of a new era, dante alighieri, occasional manifestations of the deepest sensibility to the charms of the terrestrial life of nature, whenever he abstracts himself from the passionate and subjective control of that despondent mysticism which constituted the general circle of his ideas." how little humboldt seems to have realized in his own absorption in external nature, that the qualities he blames in dante are of the very essence of his genius, rounding out his humanity to an interest in all man's relations, supernatural as well as natural, and that without them he would not be the world poet for all time that he is. in america dante came to his own almost as soon as literature obtained her proper place in our new country. the first generation of distinctly literary men comprise the group at cambridge including longfellow, emerson, oliver wendell holmes, charles eliot norton, james russell lowell, and others of minor importance. it soon became a favorite occupation among these men to give certain leisure hours to dante. the cambridge dante society added not a little to the world's knowledge of the poet. longfellow's translation and edition of dante's works was a monumental achievement, for which its author is likely to be remembered better by future generations than perhaps for any of his original work. future generations are likely to remember james russell lowell for his essays on dante and shakespeare better than for anything else. his dante monograph is as magnificently illuminating as that of dean church's and perhaps even more satisfying to critical readers. that these men should have been content to give so much of their time to the study of the thirteenth { } century poet shows in what appreciation he must be held by the rest of us if we would give him his due place in literature. there are many misunderstandings with regard to dante which apparently only some serious study of the poet serves to remove satisfactorily. most people consider that he was a distant, prophetic, religious genius, and that his poetry has in it very little of sympathy for humanity. while it is generally conceded that he saw man projected on the curtain of eternity, and realized all his relationships to the universe and to his creator better than perhaps any other poet of all time, it is usually thought that one must have something of the medieval frame of mind in order to read him with interest and admiration. such impressions are largely the result of reading only a few lines of dante, and, finding them difficult of thorough comprehension, allowing one's self to be forced to the conclusion that he is not of interest to the modern reader. the inferno being the first part of dante's great poem is the one oftenest read in this passing fashion and so many ideas with regard to dante are derived from this portion, which is not only not the masterpiece of the work but, if taken alone, sadly misrepresents the genius of the poet. his is no morbid sentimentality and does not need the adventitious interest of supreme suffering. as a matter of fact the purgatorio is a much better introduction to dante's real greatness, and is considered by the generality of dante scholars as the more humanly sympathetic if not really the supreme expression of his creative faculty. the ascent of the mount of expiation with its constant note of hope and the gradually increasing facility of the ascent as the summit is approached, touches condolent cords in the human heart and arouses feelings that are close to what is best in human aspiration in spite of its consciousness of defect. over and over again in the purgatorio one finds evidence of dante's wonderful powers of observation. the poet is first of all according to the etymology of the word a creator, one who gives life to the figments of his imagination so that we recognize them as vital manifestations of human genius, but is also the seer, the man who sees deeper into things and sees more of them than anyone else. ordinarily dante is considered by those who do not know him as not having been an observer of things human and around him in life. there are passages in his works, however, that entirely refute this. [illustration] angel (rheims) { } the story that he went about the cities of north italy during his exile, with countenance so gloomy and stare so fixed that men pointed to him and spoke of him as one who had visited hell, and the other tradition, however well it may be founded, that the women sometimes pointed him out to their children and then used the memory of him as a bogy man to scare them into doing unpleasant things afterwards, would seem to indicate that he had occupied himself very little with the things around him, and that above all he had paid very little attention to the ways of childhood. he has shown over and over again, especially in the purgatorio, that the simplest and most natural actions of child-life had been engraved upon his heart for he uses them with supreme truth in his figures. he knows how "an infant seeks his mother's breast when fear or anguish vex his troubled heart,"-- but he knows too, how the child who has done wrong, confesses its faults. "as little children, dumb with shame's keen smart. will listening stand with eyes upon the ground. owning their faults with penitential heart, so then stood i." there is a passage in the inferno in which he describes so vividly the rescue of a child from the flames by its mother that plumptre has even ventured to suggest that dante himself may have been the actual subject of the rescue. because it helps to an appreciation of dante's intensity of expression and poignancy of vision the passage itself, with plumptre's comment, seems deserving of quotation: "then suddenly my guide his arms did fling around me, as a mother, roused by cries, sees the fierce flames around her gathering and takes her boy, nor ever halts but flies. caring for him than for herself far more, though one scant shift her only robe supplies." { } it must not be thought, however, that dante's quality as an observer was limited to the actions of human beings. his capacity to see many other things is amply manifested in his great poem. even the smallest of living things, that would surely be thought beneath his notice, became the subject of similies that show how much everything in nature interested the spirit of genius. the passage with regard to the ants has often been quoted, and is indeed a surprising manifestation of nature study at an unexpected time and from an entirely unanticipated quarter. dante saw the souls of those who were so soon to enter into the realm of blessedness, and who were already in the last circle of purgatory, greeting each other with the kiss of peace and his picturesque simile for it is:-- "so oft, within their dusk brown host, proceed this ant and that, till muzzle muzzle meet; spying their way, or how affairs succeed." as for the birds his pages are full of references to them and all of his bird similies are couched in terms that show how sympathetically observant he was of their habits and ways. he knows their different methods of flying in groups and singly, he has observed them on their nests and knows their wonderful maternal anxiety for their young, and describes it with a vividness that would do credit to a naturalist of the modern time who had made his home in the woods. indeed some of his figures taken from birds constitute examples of the finest passages of poetic description of living nature that have ever been written. the domestic animals, moreover, especially the cat and the dog, come in for their share of this sympathetic observance, and he is able to add greatly to the vividness of the pictures he paints by his references to the well-known habits of these animals. it is no wonder that the tradition has grown up that he was fond of such pets and possessed several of them that were well-known to the early commentators on his poems, and the subject of no little erudition. nothing escaped the attention of this acute observer in the world around him, and over and over again one finds surprising bits of observation with regard to natural phenomena usually supposed to be quite out of the range of the interest of { } medieval students generally, and above all of literary men of this middle age. alexander von humboldt calls attention in a well-known passage in his cosmos to the wonderful description of the river of light in the thirtieth canto of the paradiso. "i saw a glory like a stream flow by. in brightness rushing and on either shore were banks that with spring's wondrous hues might vie. and from that river living sparks did soar, and sank on all sides in the flow'rets' bloom, like precious rubies set in golden ore. then, as if drunk with all the rich perfume, back to the wondrous torrent did they roll, and as one sank another filled its room." humboldt explains this as follows, with a suggestion that deserves to be remembered. "it would almost seem as if this picture had its origin in the poet's recollection of that peculiar and rare phosphorescent condition of the ocean in which luminous points appear to rise from the breaking waves, and, spreading themselves over the surface of the waters, convert the liquid plain into a moving sea of sparkling stars." probably the best way for a modern to realize how much of interest there may be for him in dante is to consider the great italian epic poet in comparison with our greatest of english epic poets, milton. while any such comparison in the expressive latin phrase is sure to walk lame, it serves to give an excellent idea of the methods of the two men in the illustration of their ideas. we venture therefore to quote a comparison between these two poets from a distinguished critic who knows both of them well, and whose modern training in english methods of thought, would seem to make him likely to be partial to the more modern poet though as a matter of fact he constantly leans toward the great medieval bard. "the poetry of milton differs from that of dante as the hieroglyphics of egypt differ from the picture-writing of mexico. the images which dante employs speak for themselves; they stand simply for what they are. those of milton have a { } signification which is often discernible only to the initiated. . . . however strange, however grotesque, he never shrinks from describing it. he gives us the shape, the color, the sound, the smell, the taste; he counts the numbers; he measures the size. his similies are the illustrations of a traveler. unlike those of other poets, and especially of milton, they are introduced in a plain business-like manner, not for the sake of any of the beauty in the objects from which they are drawn; not for the sake of any ornament they may impart to the poem; but simply in order to make the meaning of the writer as clear to the reader as it is to himself." "still more striking is the similarity between dante and milton. this may be said to lie rather in the kindred nature of their subjects, and in the parallel development of their minds, than in any mere external resemblance. in both the man was greater than the poet, the souls of both were 'like a star and dwelt apart.' both were academically trained in the deepest studies of their age; the labour which made dante lean made milton blind. the 'doricke sweetnesse' of the english poet is not absent from the tender pages of the vita nuova. the middle life of each was spent in active controversy; each lent his services to the state; each felt the quarrels of his age to be the 'business of posterity,' and left his warnings to ring in the ears of a later time. the lives of both were failures. 'on evil days though fallen, and evil tongues,' they gathered the concentrated experience of their lives into one immortal work, the quintessence of their hopes, their knowledge, and their sufferings. but dante is something more than this. milton's voice is grown faint to us--we have passed into other modes of expression and of thought." the comparison with vergil is still more striking and more favorable to the italian poet. "dante's reputation has passed through many vicissitudes, and much trouble has been spent by critics in comparing him with other poets of established fame. read and commented upon in the italian universities in the generation immediately succeeding his death, his name bcame obscured as the sun of the renaissance rose higher towards its meridian. in the seventeenth century he was less read than petrarch, tasso, or ariosto; in the eighteenth he was { } almost universally neglected. his fame is now fully vindicated. translations and commentaries issue from every press in europe and america. dante societies are formed to investigate the difficulties of his works. he occupies in the lecture-rooms of regenerated italy a place by the side of those great masters whose humble disciple he avowed himself to be. the divine comedy is indeed as true an epic as the aeneid, and dante is as real a classic as vergil. his metre is as pliable and flexible to every mood of emotion, his diction as plaintive and as sonorous. like him he can immortalize by a simple expression, a person, a place, or a phase of nature. dante is even truer in description than vergil, whether he paints the snow falling in the alps, or the homeward flight of birds, or the swelling of an angry torrent. but under this gorgeous pageantry of poetry there lies a unity of conception, a power of philosophic grasp, an earnestness of religion, which to the roman poet were entirely unknown." if we would have a very recent opinion as to the position of dante as a literary man and as a great intellectual force, perhaps no better can be obtained than from some recent expressions of mr. michael rossetti, whose italian descent, english training, and literary and artistic heredity, seem to place him in an ideal position for writing this generation's ultimate judgment with regard to the great poet of the thirteenth century. in his literature of italy he said:-- "one has to recur time after time, to that astounding protagonist, phenomenon and hero, dante alighieri. if one were to say that italian literature consists of dante, it would, no doubt, be an exaggeration, and a gross one, and yet it would contain a certain ultimate nucleus of truth." "dante fixed the italian language, and everyone had to tread in his vestiges. he embodied all the learning and thought of his age and transcended them. he went far ahead of all his predecessors, contemporaries, and successors; he wrote the first remarkable book in italian prose, la vita nuova; and a critical exposition of it in the convito; in latin, a linguistic treatise, the de vulgari eloquio, which upholds the vulgare illustre, or speech of the best cultivated classes, markedly in tuscany and bologna, against the common dialects; and a { } political study, de monarchia, of the most fundamental quality, which even to us moderns continues to be sane and convincing in its essence, though its direct line of argument has collapsed; and finally, and most important by far, he produced in la commedia divina the one poem of modern europe that counter-balances shakespeare and challenges antiquity. this is the sole book which makes it a real pity for anyone to be ignorant of italian. regarded singly, it is much the most astonishing poem in the world, dwarfing all others by its theme, pulverizing most of them by its majesty and sustainment, unique in the force of its paraded personality and the thunderous reverberation of its judgments on the living and the dead." { } xx the women of the century. in generations whose men proved so unending in initiative and so forceful in accomplishment, so commanding in intelligence, so persistent in their purposes, so acute in their searching, so successful in their endeavors, the women of the time could not have been unworthy of them. some hints of this have been already given, in what has been said about the making of furnishings for the church, especially in the matter of needlework and the handpainting of various forms of ornaments. there are further intimations in the histories of the time, though unfortunately not very definite information, with regard to even more ambitious accomplishments by the women of the period. there are, for instance, traditions that the designs for some of the cathedrals and certainly for portions of many of them came from women's hands. it is in the ethical sphere, however, that women accomplished great things during the thirteenth century. their influence stood for what was best and highest in the life of the time and their example encouraged not only their own generation, but many people in many subsequent generations "to look up, not down, to look within, not without" for happiness, and to trust that "god's in his heaven and all's well with the world." there are a number of women of the time whose names the race will not let die. while if the ordinary person were asked to enumerate the great women of the thirteenth century it would be rare to find one able properly to place them, as soon as their names are mentioned, it will be recognized that they succeeded in accomplishing work of such significance that the world is not likely to let the reputation of it perish. some of these names are household words. the bearers of them have been written of at length in quite recent years in english as well as in other languages. their work was of the kind that ordinarily stands quite apart from the course of history and { } so dates are usually not attached to it. it is thought of as a portion of the precious heritage of mankind rather than as belonging to any particular period. three names occur at once. they are st. clare of assisi, st. elizabeth of hungary, and queen blanche of castile, the mother of st. louis. to these should be added queen berengaria, the sister of blanche, and the mother of ferdinand of castile; mabel rich, the london tradesman's wife, the mother of st. edmund of canterbury; and isabella, the famous countess of arundel. the present day interest in st. francis of assisi, has brought st. clare under the lime-light of publicity. there is no doubt at all that her name is well worthy to be mentioned along with his and that she, like him, must be considered one of the strongest and most beautiful characters of all time. she was the daughter of a noble family at assisi, who, having heard st. francis preach, became impressed with the idea that she too should have the opportunity to live the simple life that st. francis pictured. of course her family opposed her in any such notion. that a daughter of theirs should take up with a wandering preacher, who at that time was looked on not a little askance by the regular religious authorities, and whose rags, and poverty made him anything but a proper associate for a young lady of noble birth, could not but seem an impossible idea. accordingly clare ran away from home and told francis that she would never go back and that he must help her to live her life in poverty just as he was doing himself. he sent her to a neighboring convent to be cared for, and also very probably so as to be assured of her vocation. after a time a special convent home for clare and some other young women, who had become enamored with the life of poverty and simplicity was established, and to this clare's sister agnes came as a postulant. by this time apparently the family had become reconciled to clare's absence from home, but they would not stand another daughter following such a foolish example. accordingly agnes was removed from the convent by force after a scene which caused the greatest excitement in the little town. it was not long, however, before agnes returned to the convent and within a few years their mother followed them, and became one of the most fervent members of the little community. {opp } [illustration] st. clare's farewell to the dead st. francis (giotto) { } the peace and happiness that came with this life of absolute poverty soon attracted many other women and clare was asked to establish houses at a distance. gradually the order of poor clares, the second order of st. francis, thus came into existence. when it was necessary to draw up constitutions for the order, clare showed not only the breadth of her intelligence, but the depth of her knowledge of human nature, and her appreciation of what was absolutely necessary in order to keep her order from degeneration. against the counsels of all the ecclesiastics of her time, including many cardinals and even a pope, she insisted on the most absolute poverty as the only basis for the preservation of the spirit of her second order of st. francis. her character was well manifested in this contest from which she came out victorious. her body has been miraculously preserved and may still be seen at assisi. anyone who has seen the strongly set lips and full firm chin of the body in the crypt of san damiano, can easily understand the strength of purpose and of character of this young woman who moulded a generation to her will. the story is told of her, that once when the saracens invaded italy and attacked the convent, she mounted the walls with a monstrance containing the blessed sacrament in her hands, and the marauders turned away in consternation from the stern brave figure that confronted them, and bothered the nuns no more. after st. francis' death she, more than anyone else, succeeded in maintaining the spirit of the franciscan order in the way in which st. francis would have it go. long after her death a copy of the original rules was found in the fold of her garments and did much to restore the franciscan life to its primitive simplicity and purpose, so that even after she was no more on earth, she was still the guardian and promoter of st. francis' work. if one wants to know how much of happiness there came to her in life one should read the famous passage which describes her visit to st. francis, and how she and he with sisters and brothers around them broke bread together, with a sweetness that was beyond human. the passage is to be found in the "little flowers of st. francis of assisi" which was written { } within a century after the occurrences described. it recalls nothing so much as the story of the disciples at emaus and is worthy to be thought of beside the scripture story. [footnote ] [footnote : when came the day ordained by francis, saint clare with one companion passed forth from out the convent and with the companions of saint francis to bear her company came unto saint mary of the angels, and devoutly saluted the virgin mary before her altar, where she had been shorn and veiled; so they conducted her to see the house, until such time as the hour for breaking bread was come. and in the meantime saint francis let make ready the table on the bare ground, as he was wont to do. and the hour of breaking bread being come, they set themselves down together. saint francis and saint clare, and one of the companions of saint francis with the companion of saint clare, and all the other companions took each his place at the table with all humility. and at the first dish, saint francis began to speak of god so sweetly, so sublimely and so wondrously, that the fulness of divine grace came down on them, and they all were wrapt in god. and as they were thus wrapt, with eyes and hands uplift to heaven, the folk of assisi and bettona and the country round about, saw that saint mary of the angels, and all the house, and the wood that was just hard by the house, were burning brightly, and it seemed as it were a great fire that filled the church and the house and the whole wood together: for the which cause the folk of assisi ran thither in great haste to quench the flames, believing of a truth that the whole place was all on fire. but coming closer up to the house and finding no fire at all, they entered within and found saint francis and saint clare and all their company in contemplation rapt in god and sitting around that humble board. whereby of a truth they understood that this had been a heavenly flame and no earthly one at all, which god had let appear miraculously, for to show and signify the fire of love divine wherewith the souls of those holy brothers and holy nuns were all aflame; wherefor they got them gone with great consolation in their hearts and with holy edifying. then after some long space. saint francis and saint clare, together with all the others, returning to themselves again and feeling of good comfort from the spiritual food took little heed of the food of the body.] {opp } [illustration] church (doberan, germany) [illustration] san damiano (assisi) what saint clare accomplished as her life work was the making of a new vocation for women. there are always a certain number of women who look for peace and quiet rather than the struggle for existence. for these the older monasteries did not supply a place unless they were of the wealthier class as a rule. among the poor clares women of all classes were received. in this way a great practical lesson in equality was { } taught. women did not have to marry, perhaps unsuitable, often even objectionable men, simply in order to have a mode of life. they could join one of these communities and though in absolute poverty, with many hours each day devoted to meditation and prayer, had time to give to beautiful needlework, to painting and book illumination, and to other feminine occupations; and might thus pass long, happy lives, apart from the bustle of the strenuous time. italy at this time, it must be recalled, was a seething cauldron of political and military strife. wars were waged, and struggles of all kinds engaged in for precedence and power. these women got away from this unfortunate state of affairs. occasionally in times of pestilence, when they were specially needed, as happened at least once in saint clare's life, they took care of the ailing and lent their convent as a hospital. above all they stood in the eyes of their generation for chosen people who saw things differently from others. they taught the great lesson of not caring too much for the things of this world and of not living one's life in order to get admiration though usually envy comes, nor idle praise for qualities they either do not possess or that are not worthy of notice. they showed people the real value of this life by its reflection upon the other. many a man turned aside from ambitious schemes that would have injured others, because of the kindly influence of these unselfish women and because of the memory of a sister, or an aunt whose sacrificing life was thus a rebuke to his foolish selfishness. other women learned something of the vanity of human things by learning to value the character of these poor clares and realizing how much of happiness came to them from the accomplishment of their simple duties. professor osler said, in his lecture on science and immortality, of these self-forgetting ones:--"the serene faith of socrates with the cup of hemlock at his lips, the heroic devotion of a st. francis or a st. teresa, but more often for each one of us the beautiful life of some good woman whose-- eyes are homes of silent prayer, . . . whose loves in higher love endure. { } do more to keep alive among the laodiceans a belief in immortality than all the preaching in the land." this is what st. clare accomplished for her own generation and her influence is still a great living force in the world. what especially should attract the attention of the modern time is the perfect basis of equality on which the franciscan and dominican orders of men and of women were organized. each community had the opportunity to elect its own superiors. the rules were practically the same for the first (for men) and the second (for women) order of st. francis, except that while the first order were supposed to live on alms collected by begging from door to door, this menial obligation was not imposed upon the women, who were expected to be supported by alms brought to their convents by the faithful, and by the labor of their own hands. this equality of men and women in the monastic establishments became widespread after the thirteenth century and made itself felt in the social order of the time as a factor for feminine uplift. undoubtedly saint clare's work in the foundation of the second order of st. francis must be held responsible to no small degree for this. before her death, there were half a dozen scions of royal families in various parts of europe who had become members of her order, and literally hundreds of the daughters of the nobility, many of them of high rank, had put off their dignity and position in the world, to become poor daughters of saint clare. they did so for the peace and the happiness of the vocation, and the opportunity to seek their souls and live their lives in their own quiet way, which her convents afforded them. {opp } [illustration] st. elizabeth's cathedral (marburg) after saint clare, the best known woman of the thirteenth century is undoubtedly saint elizabeth of hungary, of whom the world knows some pretty legends, while the serious historian recognizes that she was the first settlement worker of history. as a child she wandered down from the castle walls in which she lived and saw the poor in their suffering. she felt so much for them that she stripped herself of most of her garments and finally even of her shoes in order to clothe them. when she was taken to task for this, she said that she had suffered whatever inconvenience there was in it only for a few minutes while the poor had suffered all their lives. she became { } the wife of the duke of thuringia, and there were three years of ideal happiness with her husband and her children. when he went away on the crusade she gave herself up to the care of the poor. when he died, though she was only twenty, and according to tradition one of the handsomest women of her time, she devoted herself still more to her poor and even went to live among them. she tried to teach them, as do the settlement workers of the modern time, something of the true significance of life, to bring them to realize to some degree at least, that so many of the things they so vainly desire are not worth thinking about, but that happiness consists in lopping off one's desires rather than trying vainly, as it must ever be, to satisfy them. it is no wonder that throughout all germany she came to be called "the dear st. elizabeth." literally thousands of women since her time have turned to read the story of her beautiful devotion to charity, and have been incited by her example to do more and more for the poor around them. those who know it only through kingsley's, "the saint's tragedy," though this is disfigured by many failures to understand parts of her career and her environment, can scarcely fail to realize that hers was one of the world's sublimely beautiful characters. all she attempted in the thorny paths of charity was accomplished in such a practical way that the amount of good done was almost incalculable. the simple recital of what she did as it has often been told, is the story of a great individuality that impressed itself deeply upon its generation and left the example of a precious life to act as a leaven for good in the midst of the social fermentations of succeeding generations. yet elizabeth succeeded in accomplishing all this in spite of the fact that she was born the daughter of a king and married the reigning prince of one of the most important ducal houses in germany. one would expect to find that her life had been long, so many traditions have gathered around her name. she was twenty when her husband died, and she survived him only four years. literally she had accomplished a long space in a short time and her generation in raising in her honor the charming gothic cathedral at marburg, one of the most { } beautiful in germany, was honoring itself nobly as well as her. it is the greatest monument to a woman in all the world. the next great woman of the century also belonged to a reigning family and is for obvious historical reasons better known, perhaps, than her saint contemporaries. this was blanche, daughter of the king of castile, but intimately related to the english royal family. married to louis viii of france she is known principally as the mother of louis ix. she ruled france for many years while her boy was a minor and when he came to the age, when he might ordinarily assume the reins of government, he voluntarily permitted his mother to continue her regency for some time longer. france was probably happier under her than under any ruler that the country has ever had with the possible exception of her son louis. she succeeded in suppressing to a great extent the quarrels so common among the nobility, she strengthened and centralized the power of the crown, she began the correction of abuses in the administration of justice which her son was to complete so well, she organized charity in various ways, and the court was an example to the kingdom of simple dignified life, without any abuse of power, or wealth, or passion. no wonder that when louis went on the crusade, he left his mother to reign in his stead confident that all would go well. if one needed a demonstration that women can rule well there is an excellent example in the life of blanche. personally she seems to have had not only an amiable but a deeply intellectual character. she encouraged education and beautiful book-making and the gothic architecture which was developing in france so wonderfully during her period. of course she also worshipped her boy louis, but how much her motherly tenderness was tempered with the most beautiful christian feeling can be understood from the famous expression attributed to her on good authority, that she "would rather see her boy dead at her feet, than have him commit a mortal offense against his god or his neighbor." one might almost say that it is no wonder that louis became a saint. as a matter of fact he attributed to his mother whatever of goodness there was in himself. there is a touch of humanity in the picture, however, a trait that shows, that blanche was a woman, { } though it is a fault which draws our sympathy to her even more surely than if she were the type of perfection she might have been without it. she did not get on well with her daughter-in-law and one of the trials of louis' life, as we have said, was to keep the scales evenly balanced between his mother and his wife, both of whom he loved very dearly. after blanche's life there could be no doubt that a woman, when given the opportunity, can manage men and administer government quite as well as any masculine member of the race, and the thirteenth century had given another example of its power to bring out what was best in its fortunate children. one of the most interesting women of the thirteenth century was neither a saint nor a member of the nobility, but only the wife of a simple london merchant. this was mabel rich, the mother of saint edmund of canterbury. edmund is one of the striking men of a supreme century. he had been a student at paris, and later a professor at oxford. then, he became the treasurer of the cathedral at salisbury about the time when, not a little through his influence, that magnificent edifice was receiving the form which was to make it one of the world's great churches for all time. later he was the archbishop of canterbury and while defending the rights of his church and his people, came under the ban of henry iii, and spent most of the latter years of his life in exile on the continent. edmund insisted that he owed more to his mother than to any other single factor in life. with her two boys, aged ten and fourteen, mabel rich was left to care for the worldly concerns of the household as well as for their education. when they were twelve and sixteen, with many misgivings she sent them off to the university of paris to get their education. edmund tells how besides packing their linen very carefully she also packed a hairshirt for each of them, which they were to wear occasionally according to their promise to her, to remind them that they must not look for ease and comfort in life, above all must not yield to sensual pleasures, but must be ready to suffer many little troubles voluntarily, in order that they might be able to resist temptation when severer trials came. mabel rich believed in discipline, as a factor in education, and thought that character was formed by habits of fortitude in resisting { } petty annoyances until, finally, even serious troubles were easy to bear. both of her sons proved worthy of her maternal solicitude. edmund tells how the poor around her home in london blessed her for her charity. all during his life the thought of his mother was uppermost in his mind, and in the immortality that has been given his name, because of the utter forgetfulness of self which characterized his life, his mother has been associated. unfortunately details are lacking that would show us something of the manner of living of this strong woman of the people, but we know enough to make us realize that she was a fine type of the christian mother, memory of whose goodness means more not only for her children but for all those who come in contact with her, than all the sermons and pious exhortations that they hear, and often, such is the way of human nature, even than the divine commandments or the personal conscience of those whom she loves. there were noble women among the gentlewomen of england at this time too, and though space will not let us dwell on them, at least one must be mentioned. this is the famous isabella, countess of arundel, who with a dignity which, matthew paris says, was more than that of woman, reproached henry iii ( ), when he sought to browbeat her. she made bold to tell the king, "you govern neither us nor yourself well." on this the king, with a sneer and a grin, said with a loud voice, "ho, ho, my lady countess, have the noblemen of england granted you a charter and struck a bargain with you to become their spokeswoman because of your eloquence?" she answered, "my liege, the nobles have made no charter, but you and your father have made a charter, and you have sworn to observe it inviolably, and yet many times have you extorted money from your subjects and have not kept your word. where are the liberties of england, often reduced to writing, so often granted, so often again denied?" [footnote ] [footnote : medieval england, english feudal society, from the norman conquest to the middle of the fourteenth century, by mary bateson.] the question of womanly occupations apart from their household duties will be of great interest to our generation. {opp } [illustration] marriage of the blessed virgin (giotto, padua) a hint of one form of woman's occupation has already been { } given in discussing the needlework done for the cathedrals and especially the cope of ascoli. it must not be forgotten that this was the age not alone of cathedrals but also of monasteries and of convents. in all of these convents every effort was made to have whatever was associated with the religious ceremonial as beautiful as possible. hence it was that needlework rose to a height of accomplishment such as has never been reached since according to the best authorities, and many examples of it have come down to us to confirm such an opinion. this needlework was done not only for religious purposes, however, but also as presents for kings and queens and the nobility, and such presents proved to be exemplars of artistic beauty that must have helped to raise the taste of the time. this was essentially woman's work, and in their distant castles the women of the households of the nobility occupied themselves with it to much better effect than their sisters of the modern time with the grievous burden of their so-called social duties. miss bateson [footnote : ibidem.] has given a pretty, yet piquant picture of woman at these occupations. she says:--"there are not wanting thirteenth century satires to tell the usual story of female levities, and of female devotion to the needle, to german work and pierced work, saracen work and combed work, cutout work and wool-work, and a multitude of other "works" to which the clue seems to be now wholly lost. whilst the women are thus engaged, the one who knows most reads to them, the others listen attentively, and do not sleep as they do at mass, 'pur la prise de vanite dont ont grant leesce (joy).' the 'opus anglicum' consisted of chain-stitch in circles, with hollows, made by a heated iron rod, to represent shadows. a cope of this work was made by rose de burford at edward ii's order, and sent to rome. one, known as the syon cope, passed into the possession of the nuns of syon, isleworth, and can be seen at the victoria and albert museum." another form of woman's work that came to prominence during the century was the service in hospitals. while the records of the hospitals of the holy ghost, which under innocent third's fostering care spread so widely throughout europe in this century, are mainly occupied with the institutions of { } the brothers of the holy ghost, there were many hospitals under the care of women, and indeed there was an almost universally accepted idea, that women patients and obstetrical cases should be cared for by women rather than men. it is easy to make little of the hospitals of this time but any such thought will be the result of ignorance rather than of any serious attempt to know what was actually accomplished. the sisters' hospitals soon usurped the most prominent place in the life of the time and during succeeding centuries gradually replaced those which had been originally under the control of men. it was recognized that nursing was a much more suitable occupation for the gentler sex and that there were many less abuses than when men were employed. the success of these hospitals in gradually eradicating leprosy and in keeping down the death-rate from st. anthony's fire, or erysipelas, shows how capable they were of accomplishing great humanitarian work. perhaps the most interesting feature of the story of woman's position during the thirteenth century is that at the italian universities at least, co-education was not only admitted in principle but also in practice, and many women were in attendance at the universities. in the west of europe this feature did not exist. it is a startling comment on how comparatively trivial a thing may change the course of history, that the lamentable heloise and abelard incident at the university of paris during the twelfth century, precluded all subsequent possibility of the admission of women students to the university of paris. oxford, it will be remembered, was formed by the withdrawal of students from the university of paris, and the same tradition was maintained. cambridge was a grand-daughter of the university of paris and the french and spanish universities must all be considered as standing in the relation of its direct descendants. the unfortunate experience at paris shaped the policy as to the co-education of the sexes for all these. it would have been too much to expect that university authorities would take the risks which had been so clearly demonstrated even with regard to a distinguished professor, and so co-education was excluded. it is not easy to say what proportion of women there were { } in attendance at the university of bologna during the thirteenth century. apparently it should not be difficult to take the lists of the matriculates as far as they have been preserved and by a little calculation obtain rather exact figures. italy, like most of the latin countries, differs from the teutonic regions in not being quite so exact in the distribution of names to the different sexes, that the first name inevitably determines whether the individual is male or female. it is not an unusual thing even at the present day for a man to have as a first name in italy, or france, or spain, the equivalent of our name mary. on the other hand, not a few girls are called by men's names and without the feminine termination which is so distinctive among the english speaking peoples. in the olden times this was still more the case. until very recently at least, if not now, every child born in venice was given two names at its baptism--maria and giovanni--in honor of the two great patron saints of the city and then the parents might add further names if they so desired. a matriculation list of the university of bologna then, tells very little that is absolute with regard to the sex of the matriculates. all that we know for sure is that there were women students at the university of bologna apparently from the beginning of the thirteenth century, and that some of them secured the distinction of being made professors. of one of these there is a pretty legend told, which seems to illustrate the fact that charming young women of profound intellectual qualities did not lose the characteristic modesty and thoughtfulness for others of their sex, because of their elevation to university professorship. this young woman, maria di novella, when only twenty-five became the professor of mathematics at the university of bologna. according to tradition she was very pretty and as is usual in life was not unaware of that happy accident. she feared that her good looks might disturb the thoughts of her students during her lessons and accordingly she delivered her lectures from behind a curtain. the story may, of course, be only a myth. one of the best woman educators that i know once said to me, that if the tradition with regard to her beauty were true, then she doubted the rest of the story, but then women are not always the best judges of the { } actions of other women and especially is this true when there is question of a grave and learned elderly woman passing judgment on a young and handsome professor of mathematics. the italians became so much impressed with the advisability of permitting women to study at the universities, that a certain amount of co-education has existed all down the centuries in italy and not a century has passed since the thirteenth, which has not chronicled the presence of at least one distinguished woman professor at some italian university. indeed it was doubtless the traditional position of tolerance in this matter that made it seem quite natural for women, when the renaissance period came around, to take their places beside their brothers and their cousins in the schools where the new learning was being taught. it may be rather difficult for some to understand how with this opening wedge for the higher education of women well placed, the real opportunity for widespread feminine education should only have come in our own time. this last idea, however, which would represent ours as the only generation which has given women adequate opportunities for intellectual development, is one of those self-complacent bits of flattery of ourselves and our own period that is so irritatingly characteristic of recent times. there have been at least three times in the world's history before our own when as many women as wanted them, in the class most interested in educational matters, were given the opportunities for the higher education. as a matter of fact whenever there have been novelties introduced into educational systems, women have demanded and quite naturally--since, "what a good woman wants," said a modern saint, "is the will of god"--have obtained the privilege of sharing the educational opportunities of the time. this was true in charlemagne's time when the women of the court attended the lectures in the traveling palace school the great charles founded and fostered. it was true four centuries later, as we have seen, when a great change in educational methods was introduced with the foundation of the universities. it was exemplified again when the "new learning" came in and the study of the classics took the place of the long hours spent in scholastic disputation, that had previously occupied { } so much university attention. in our own time it was the introduction of the study of the social sciences particularly, with the consequent appearance of many novelties in the educational curriculum, that once more was the signal for women asking and quite naturally obtaining educational privileges. {opp } [illustration] mosaic (st. mark's, venice, ) each of the previous experiences in the matter of feminine education has been followed by a considerable period during which there was a distinct incuriousness on the part of women in educational matters. of course that is only an analogy and though history is worth studying, only because the lessons of the past are the warnings of the future, yet this does not foretell a lessening of feminine interest in educational matters, after a few generations of experience of its vanity to make up to them for the precious special privileges of their nature, the proper enjoyment and exercise of which it is so likely to hamper. it would be interesting to know just why feminine education, after a period of efflorescence during the thirteenth century, retrograded during the next century. there have been some ungallant explanations offered, which we mention merely because of their historical interest but without any hint of their having any real significance in the matter. a distinguished german educational authority has called attention to the fact that a well-known prepared food, for which bologna is famous, is first heard of about the time that the higher education for women came into vogue at the italian universities. towards the end of the same century a special kind of pudding, since bearing the name of its native city, bologna, which might very well have taken the place of an ordinary dessert, also began to come into prominence. this german writer suggests then, that possibly the serving of meals consisting of these forms of prepared food, which did not require much household drudgery and did not necessitate the bending over the kitchen range or whatever took its place in those days, may have led the men to grumble about the effects of the higher education. after all, he adds, though the women get whatever they want, when they ask for it seriously, if it proves after a time that the men do not want them to have it, then women lose interest and care for it no longer. this, of course, must be taken with the proverbial grain of salt, though it { } illustrates certain phases of the domestic life of the time as well as affording a possible glimpse into the inner circle of the family life. the real story of woman's intellectual position in the century is to be found in its literature. how deep was the general culture of the women of the thirteenth century, in italy at least, can be judged from the sonnets of dante and his friends to their loved ones at the end of this century. some of the most beautiful poetry that was ever written was inspired by these women and like the law of hydrostatics, it is one of the rules of the history of poetry, that inspiration never rises higher than its source and that poetry addressed to women is always the best index of the estimation in which they are held, the reflection of the highest qualities of the objects to which it is addressed. anyone who reads certain of the sonnets of dante, or of his friends guido cavalcanti or gino da pistoia or dante da maiano, will find ready assurance of the high state of culture and of intellectual refinement that must have existed among the women to whom they were dedicated. this same form of reasoning will apply also with regard to the women of the south of france to whom the troubadours addressed their poetry; to those of the north of france who were greeted by the trouvères; and those of the south of germany for whom the minnesingers tuned their lyres and invoked the muses to enable them to sing their praises properly. it would seem sometimes to be forgotten that poetry generally is written much more for women than for men. everyone realizes that for one man who has read tennyson's "idyls of the king" there are probably five women to whom they have been a source of delight. when we think of the thirteenth century as not affording opportunities of intellectual culture for its women, we should ask ourselves where then did the meistersingers and the poets of england, germany and france who told their romantic tales in verse find an audience, if it was not among the women. the stories selected by the meistersingers are just those which proved so popular to feminine readers of tennyson in the nineteenth century, and the chosen subjects of interest in the stories show that men and women have not changed much during the intervening centuries. the literature of any { } period reflects the interest of the women in it and, as interest is itself an index of intellectual development, thirteenth century literature must be taken as the vivid reflection of the cultural character of the women of the time, and this is of itself the highest possible tribute to their intelligence and education. on the other hand the best possible testimony to the estimation of women during the thirteenth century, is to be found in the attitude of the men of the generations towards them, as it is clearly to be seen in the literature of the time. in the holy graal, the cid, the minnesingers and the meistersingers, woman occupies the higher place in life and it is recognized that she is the highest incentive to good, unfortunately also sometimes to evil, but always the best reward that men can have for their exertions in a great cause. the supreme tribute to woman comes at the end of the century in dante's apotheosis of her in the divine comedy. in this it is a woman who inspires, a woman who leads, a woman who is the reward of man's aspirations, and though the symbolism may be traced to philosophy, the influence of an actual woman in it all is sure beyond all doubt. nor must it be thought that it was merely in this highest flight of his imagination that this greatest of poets expressed such lofty sentiments with regard to women. anyone who thinks this does not know dante's minor poems, which contain to women in the flesh and above all to one of them, the most wonderful tributes that have ever been paid to woman. take this one of his sonnets for instance. so gentle and so fair she seems to be. my lady, when she others doth salute, that every tongue becomes, all trembling, mute, and every eye is half afraid to see; she goes her way and hears men's praises free. clothed in a garb of kindness, meek and low. and seems as if from heaven she came, to show upon the earth a wondrous mystery: to one who looks on her she seems so kind, that through the eye a sweetness fills the heart, which only he can know who doth it try. { } and through her face there breatheth from her mind a spirit sweet and full of love's true art, which to the soul saith, as it cometh, "sigh." it will be noted that though this contains the highest possible praise of the woman whom he loved, it has not a single reference to any of her physical perfections, or indeed to any of those charms that poets usually sing. we have already called attention to this, that it is not the beauty of her face or her figure that has attracted him, but the charm of her character, which all others must admire--which even women do not envy, it is so beautiful--that constitutes the supreme reason for dante's admiration. nor must it be thought that this is a unique example of dante's attitude in this matter; on the contrary, it is the constant type of his expression of feeling. the succeeding sonnet in his collection is probably quite as beautiful as the first quoted, and yet is couched in similar terms. it will be found in the chapter on dante the poet. need we say more to prove that the women of the century were worthy of the men and of the supreme time in which they lived; that they were the fit intellectual companions of perhaps the greatest generation of men that ever lived? [illustration] stone carving (amiens) { } xxi city hospitals--organized charity. while the thirteenth century was engaged in solving the problems of the higher education and of technical education for the masses, and was occupied so successfully, as we have seen, with the questions of the rights of man and the development of law and of liberty, other and more directly social and humanitarian works were not neglected. there had been hospitals in existence from even before the christian era, but they had been intended rather for the chronic ailments and as the name implies, for the furnishing of hospitality to strangers and others who had for the time no habitation, than for the care of the acutely ill. in the country places there was a larger christian charity which led people to care even for the stranger, and there was a sense of human duty that was much more binding than in the modern world. the acutely ill were not infrequently taken into the houses of even those who did not know them, and cared for with a solicitude difficult to understand in this, colder time. this was not so much typical of the times, however, as of the social conditions, since we have many stories of such events in our colonial days. in the cities, however, which began more and more to be a feature of life in the thirteenth century, though they counted their inhabitants only by a few thousands where ours count them by hundreds of thousands, the need of some other method of caring for such cases made itself distinctly felt. at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth centuries this need became demandingly manifest, and the consequence was a movement that proved to be of great and far-reaching practical benevolence. it is to the first pope of the thirteenth century, innocent iii., that we owe the modern city hospital as we have it at the present time, with its main purpose to care for the acutely ill who may have no one to take care of them properly, as well as for those who have been injured or { } who have been picked up on the street and whose friends are not in a position to care for them. the deliberateness with which innocent iii. set about the establishment of the mother city hospital of the world, is a striking characteristic of the genius of the man and an excellent illustration of the practical character of the century of which he is so thoroughly representative. pope innocent recognized the necessity for the existence of a city hospital in rome and by inquiry determined that the model hospital for this purpose existed down at montpelier in connection with the famous medical school of the university there. montpelier had succeeded to the heritage of the distinguished reputation in medical matters which had been enjoyed by salernum, not far from naples, during the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries. the shores of the mediterranean have always been recognized as possessing a climate especially suitable for invalids and with the diminution of the influence of the salernitan school, a transfer of its prestige to montpelier, where the close relationship with spain had given the medical schools the advantage of intimate contact with the medicine of the arabs, is not a matter of surprise. at montpelier the hospital arrangements made by guy de montpelier were especially efficient. the hospital of which he had charge was under the care of the members of the order of the holy spirit. pope innocent summoned guy, or guido as he was known after this, to rome and founded for him the hospital of the holy spirit in the borgo, not far from st. peter's, where it still exists. this was the mother and model hospital for the world. visitors to rome saw it, and could not fail to admire its great humanitarian work. bishops from all over the world on their official visits to the head of the church, admired the policy under which the hospital was conducted, recognized the interest of the pope in it, and went back to their homes to organize institutions of the same kind. how many of these were established in various parts of europe is hard to determine. virchow in his history of the foundations of the german hospitals, has a list of over one hundred towns in germany in which hospitals of the holy spirit, or medical institutions modeled on this hospital at rome were founded. { } many of these towns were comparatively small. most of them contained at the time less than five thousand inhabitants, so that it can be said without hesitation, that practically every town of any importance, at least in germany, came under the influence of this great philanthropic hospital movement. with regard to other countries, it is more difficult to determine the number of places in which such institutions were established. as both france and italy were, however, much more closely in touch with the holy see at this time, it would be surprising if they had not been affected as much as germany by the pope's enthusiasm in the matter. we do know that in various large cities, as in florence, siena, paris and london, there was a development of existing hospitals and the establishment of new ones, that points to a distinct community of interest in the hospital movement. at paris, the hotel dieu was moved from the petit pont, where it had been, to its present situation and received large extensions in size and in usefulness. it was at this time, particularly, that it received donations for endowment purposes that would enable it to be self-supporting. a number of bequests of property, the rent of which was to be paid to the hospital, were made, and the details of some of these bequests have an interest of their own. houses were not numbered at this time but were distinguished by various signs, usually figures of different kinds that formed part of their facade. the hotel dieu acquired the houses with the image of st. louis, with the sign of the golden lion of flanders, with the image of the butterfly, with the group of the three monkeys, with the image of the wolf, with the image of the iron lion, with the cross of gold, with the chimneys, etc. the hotel dieu, indeed, seems to have become practically a fully endowed institution during the course of the thirteenth century, for there are apparently no records of special revenues voted by the city or the king, though there are such records with regard to other places. for instance the hospital of st. louis received the right to collect a special tax on all the salt that came into the city. in england the hospital movement during the thirteenth century is evidently quite as active as in germany, at least as far as the records go. these refer mainly to london and show { } that the influence of the work of innocent iii. and his enthusiasm was felt in the english capital. the famous st. bartholomew's hospital in london had been a priory founded at the beginning of the twelfth century, which took care of the poor and the ailing, but at the beginning of the thirteenth century it became more frankly a hospital in the modern sense of the word. st. thomas' hospital, which remains to the present day one of the great medical institutions of london, was founded by richard, prior of bermondsey, in . bethlehem or bedlam, which afterwards became a hospital for the insane, was founded about the middle of the thirteenth century. the name bedlam is a corruption of bethlehem, since adopted into the english language to express a place where fools do congregate. bridewell and christ's hospital, which were the other two of the institutions long known as the five royal hospitals of london, also seem either to have been founded, or to have received a great stimulus and reorganization in the thirteenth century, but both ceased after some time to be places for the reception, of the ailing and became, one of them a prison and the other a school. the names of some of these institutions became associated with that of edward vi. about the middle of the sixteenth century. for this, however, there was no proper justification, since, at most, all that was accomplished within the reign of the boy king, was the reestablishment of institutions formerly in existence which had been confiscated under the laws of henry viii., but the necessity for whose existence had been made very clear, because of the suffering entailed upon the many ailing poor by the fact, that in their absence there was nowhere for them to go to be cared for. as gairdner points out in his history of the english church in the sixteenth century, "edward has left a name in connection with charities and education which critical scholars find to be little justified by fact." the supposed foundation of st. thomas' hospital was only the reestablishment of this institution, and even when it was granted by him to the citizens of london, this was not, as gairdner says, "without their paying for it." how much all this hospital movement owes to innocent iii. will be best appreciated from virchow's account of the german { } hospitals, the great german scientist not being one of those at all likely to exaggerate, the beneficent influence of the popes, he says: "the main cause decisive in influencing and arousing interest of the people of the time in the hospitals of the holy ghost was the papal enthusiasm in the matter. the beginning of their history is connected with the name of that pope, who made the boldest and farthest-reaching attempt to gather the sum of human interest into the organization of the catholic church. the hospitals of the holy ghost were one of the many means by which innocent iii. thought to bind humanity to the holy see. and surely it was one of the most effective. was it not calculated to create the most profound impression, to see how the mighty pope who humbled emperors and deposed kings, who was the unrelenting adversary of the albigenses, turned his eyes sympathetically upon the poor and sick, sought the helpless and the neglected on the streets, and saved the illegitimate children from death in the waters. there is something conciliating and fascinating in the fact that at the very same time at which the fourth crusade was inaugurated through his influence, the thought of founding a great organization of an essentially humane character to extend throughout all christendom, was also taking form in his soul; and that in the same year ( ) in which the new latin empire was founded in constantinople, the newly erected hospital of the santo spirito, by the old bridge across the tiber, was blessed and dedicated as the future center of this universal humanitarian organization." {opp } [illustration] hospital of the holy ghost (l�beck) virchow, of course, considers innocent's action as due to the entirely interested motive of binding the catholic world to the holy see. others, however, who have studied innocent's life even more profoundly, have not considered his purpose as due to any such mean motive. hurter who wrote a history of pope innocent iii., the researches for which he began as a protestant with the idea that in the life of this pope better than anywhere else the pretensions of the papacy could be most effectively exposed, but who was so taken by the character of the man that before he completed his history he had become a catholic, looks at it in a very different way. even virchow himself quotes { } hurter's opinion, though not without taking some exceptions to it. hurter said with regard to charitable foundations in his history of pope innocent iii.: "all benevolent institutions which the human race still enjoys, all care for the deserted and needy through every stage of suffering from the first moment of birth to the return of the material part to earth, have had their origin in the church. some of them directly, some of them indirectly through the sentiments and feelings which she aroused, strengthened and vivified into action. the church supplied for them the model and sometimes even the resources; that these great humanitarian needs were not neglected and their remedies not lacking in any respect is essentially due to her influence upon human character." with regard to this virchow says that hospitals had existed among the arabs and among the buddhists in the distant east, "nevertheless," he adds, "it may be recognized and admitted, that it was reserved for the roman catholic church and above all for innocent iii., to establish institutions for the care of those suffering from diseases." a corresponding hospital movement that received considerable attention within the thirteenth century was the erection of leproseries or hospitals for the care of lepers. leprosy had become quite common in europe during the middle ages, and the contact of the west with the east during the crusades had brought about a notable increase of the disease. it is not definitely known how much of what was called leprosy at that time really belonged to the specific disease now known as lepra. there is no doubt that many affections which have since come to be considered as quite harmless and non-contagious, were included under the designation leprosy by the populace and even by physicians incapable as yet of making a proper differential diagnosis. probably severe cases of eczema and other chronic skin diseases, especially when complicated by the results of wrongly directed treatment or of lack of cleansing, were sometimes pronounced to be leprosy. certain of the severer forms of what is now known as psoriasis--a non-contagious skin disease--running a very slow course and sometimes extremely obstinate to treatment, were almost surely included under the diagnosis of leprosy. personally i have seen { } in the general hospital in vienna, a patient who had for many months been compelled by the villagers among whom he lived to confine himself to his dwelling, sustained by food that was thrown into him at the window by the neighbors who were fearful of the contagiousness of his skin disease, yet he was suffering from only a very neglected case of psoriasis. there is no doubt, however, of the existence of actual leprosy in many of the towns of the west from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries, and the erection of these special hospitals proved the best possible prophylactic against the further spread of the disease. leprosy is contagious, but only mildly so. years of association with lepers may and usually does bring about the communication of the disease to those around them, especially if they do not exercise rather carefully certain precise precautions as to cleanliness, after personal contact or after the handling of things which have previously been in the leper's possession. as the result of the existence of these houses of segregation, leprosy disappeared during the course of the next three centuries and thus a great hygienic triumph was obtained by sanitary regulation. this successful hygienic and sanitary work, which brought about practically the complete obliteration of leprosy in the middle ages, furnished the first example of the possibility of eradicating a disease that had become a scourge to mankind. that this should have been accomplished by a movement that had its greatest source in the thirteenth century, is all the more surprising, since we are usually accustomed to think of the people of those times, as sadly lacking in any interest in sanitary matters. the significance of the success of the segregation movement was lost upon men down almost to our own time. this was, however, because it was considered that most of the epidemic diseases were conveyed by the air. they were thought infectious and due to a climatic condition rather than to contagion, that is conveyed by actual contact with the person having the disease or something that had touched him, which is the view now held. with the beginning of the crusade against tuberculosis in the latter part of the nineteenth century, however, the most encouraging factor for those engaged in it, was the history of the success of segregation methods and careful { } prevention of the spread of the disease which had been pursued against leprosy. in a word the lessons in sanitation and prophylaxis of the thirteenth century are only now bearing fruit, because the intervening centuries did not have sufficient knowledge to realize their import and take advantage of them. pope innocent iii. was not the only occupant of the papal throne whose name deserves to be remembered with benedictions in connection with the hospital movement of the thirteenth century. his successors took up the work of encouragement where he had left it at his death and did much to bring about the successful accomplishment of his intentions in even wider spheres. honorius iii. is distinguished by having made into an order the antonine congregation of vienna, which was especially devoted to the care of patients suffering from the holy fire and from various mutilations. the disease known as the holy fire seems to have been what is called in modern times erysipelas. during the middle ages it received various titles such as st. anthony's fire, st. francis' fire, and the like, the latter part of the designation evidently being due to the intense redness which characterizes the disease, and which can be compared to nothing better than the erythema consequent upon a rather severe burn. this affection was a great deal commoner in the middle ages than in later times, though it must not be forgotten that its disappearance has come mainly in the last twenty-five years. it is now known to be a contagious disease and indeed, as oliver wendell holmes pointed out over half a century ago, may readily be carried from place to place by the physician in attendance. it does not always manifest itself as erysipelas when thus carried, however, and the merit of dr. holmes' work was in pointing out the fact that physicians who attended patients suffering from erysipelas and then waited on obstetrical cases, were especially likely to carry the infection which manifested itself as puerperal fever. a number of cases of this kind were reported and discussed by him, and there is no doubt that his warning served to save many precious lives. of course nothing was known of this in the thirteenth century, yet the encouragement given to this religious order, which devoted itself practically exclusively to the care in special { } hospitals of erysipelas, must have had not a little effect in bringing about a limitation of the spread of the disease. in such hospitals patients were not likely to come in contact with many persons and consequently the contagion-radius of the disease was limited. in our own time immediate segregation of cases when discovered has practically eradicated it, so that many a young physician, even though ten years in practise, has never seen a case of it. it was so common in america during the civil war and for half a century prior thereto, that there were frequent epidemics of it in hospitals and it was generally recognized that the disease was so contagious that when it once gained a foothold in a hospital, nearly every patient suffering from an open wound was likely to be affected by it. it is interesting then to learn that these people of the middle ages attempted to control the disease by erecting special hospitals for it, though unfortunately we are not in a position to know just how much was accomplished by these means. a congregation devoted to the special care of the disease had been organized, as we have said, early in the thirteenth century. at the end of this century this was given the full weight of his amplest approval by pope boniface viii., who conferred on it the privilege of having priests among its members. it will be remembered that pope boniface viii. is said to have issued the bull which forbade the practise of dissection. the decretal in question, however, which was not a bull, only regulated, as i have shown, the abuse which had sprung up of dismembering bodies and boiling them in order to be able to carry them to a distance for burial, and was in itself an excellent hygienic measure. many orders for the care of special needs of humanity were established during the thirteenth century. it is from this period that most of the religious habits worn by women originate. these used to be considered rather cumbersome for such a serious work as the nursing and care of the sick, but in recent years quite a different view has been taken. the covering of the head, for instance, and the shearing of the hair must have been of distinct value in preventing communication of certain diseases. there has been a curious assimilation in the last few years, of the dress required to be worn by nurses in operating { } rooms to that worn by most of the religious communities. the head must be completely covered, and the garments worn are of material that can be washed. it will be recalled that the headdresses of religious, being as a rule of spotless white, must be renewed frequently and therefore must be kept in a condition of what is practically surgical cleanliness. while this was not at all the intention of those who adopted the particular style of headdress worn by religious, yet their choice has proved, in what may well be considered a providential way, to be an excellent protective for the patients against certain dangers that would inevitably have been present, if their dress had been the ordinary one of the women of their class during these many centuries of hospital nursing by religious women. the organization of charity is supposed to be a feature of social life that was reserved for these modern times. a subsequent chapter on democracy, christian socialism and national patriotism, shows how false this notion is from one standpoint; a little additional interpretation will show that the generations which organized the hospitals, took care of the lepers in such a way as to prevent their becoming sources of infection for others, and segregated such severe contagious diseases as erysipelas, not only knew how to organize charitable efforts, but were able to accomplish their purposes in this matter in such a way, that the friction of the charity organization itself absorbed as little as possible of the beneficent energy put into it, and much less than is the case in our own time. besides the monasteries were really active centers of charity organization of the most practical character. they not only gave to the people when their necessities required it, but they were active employers of labor and in times of scarcity constantly made large sacrifices in order to keep their people employed, and even the community itself went on short rations in order that the suffering in the neighborhood might not be extreme. in times of prosperity there were, no doubt, abuses in monasteries, but no one ever accused them of neglecting the poor during times of famine. while the thirteenth century was so intent upon the relief of the social needs consequent upon illness and injury, it did not neglect other forms of social endeavor. one of the crying { } evils of the thirteenth century was the fact that mariners and merchants, as well as pilgrims to the holy land, were not infrequently captured by corsairs from the northern coast of africa, and sold into slavery. at times, if there was hope of a very large ransom, news of the condition of these poor victims might find its way to their homes. as a rule, however, they were as much lost to family and friends as if they had actually been swallowed up by the sea, which was usually concluded to have been their fate. the hardships thus endured and the utter helplessness of their conditions made them fitting subjects for special social effort. the institution which was to provide relief for this sad state of affairs had its rise in a typically thirteenth century way--what, doubtless, the modern world would be apt to think of as characteristically medieval--but the result achieved was as good an example of practical benevolence as has ever been effected in the most matter-of-fact of centuries. {opp } [illustration] charity (giotto) [illustration] fortitude (giotto) [illustration] hope (giotto) shortly after the beginning of the thirteenth century two very intelligent men, whose friends honored them very much for the saintliness of their lives--meaning by saintliness not only their piety but their thoughtfulness for others before themselves--had a dream in which they saw poor captives held in slavery and asking for some one out of christian charity to come and ransom them. one of these men was john of matha, a distinguished teacher of theology at the university of paris. the other was felix of valois, more distinguished for his piety than his learning, but by no means an ignorant man. on the same night, though living at a distance from one another, they had this identical dream. having told it next day to some friends, it happened that after a time it came to their mutual knowledge that the other had had a similar vision. the circumstance seemed so striking to them that they applied to the pope for an interpretation of it. the pope, who was innocent iii., the founder of city hospitals, saw in it a magnificent opportunity for the foundation of another great christian charity. accordingly in interpreting it, he directed their thoughts toward the redemption of christian captives taken by the saracens. he has as a consequence been regarded as the founder of the order of trinitarians (a. d. ), and did, in { } fact, draft its rule. it was called, from its object, ordo de redemptione captivorum, (order for the redemption of captives), but its members were more generally known as trinitarians. they wore a white habit, having a red and blue cross on the breast. they were well received in france, where they had originated, were the recipients of large sums of money to be devoted to the objects of the order, and had large accessions to their number, among whom were many distinguished by ability and profound learning. in the year the first company of ransomed captives arrived from morocco, and one may easily imagine their joy on again regaining their freedom and beholding once more their friends and native land. the members of this order were sometimes called mathurins, from the title of the first church occupied by them in paris. they spread rapidly in southern france, through spain, italy, england, saxony, and hungary, and foundations of a similar kind were also opened for women. cerfroid, in the diocese of meaux, where the first house of the order was opened, became the residence of the general (minister generalis). there was a fine field for their labors in spain, where the moors were constantly at war with the christians. the self-sacrificing spirit of these religious, which led them to incur almost any dangers in the accomplishment of their purpose, was only equaled by their zeal in arousing interest for the poor captives. they became the accredited agents for the ransoming of prisoners, and also for their exchange and even the mahometans learned to trust and eventually to reverence them. when they could not ransom at once they thus succeeded in ameliorating the conditions in which slave prisoners were kept, and proved a great source of consolation to them. another order, having the same object in view but differing somewhat in its constitution, was founded in , by peter of nolasco, a distinguished frenchman, and raymond of pennafort the famous authority on canon law. in this, too, medieval supernaturalism evolved the usual practical results. in consequence of a vision, the order was placed under the special protection of the blessed virgin, and called the order of the blessed virgin of mercy (ordo. b. mariae de mercede). its { } members bound themselves by vow to give their fortunes and to serve as soldiers in the cause. their devotion was so ardent that for the accomplishment of their purpose they vowed if necessary to make a sacrifice of their very persons, as peter actually did in africa, for the redemption of christian captives. hence their members were divided into knights who wore a white uniform, and brothers, who took orders and provided for the spiritual wants of the community. gregory ix., admiring the heroic devotion of these intrepid men, approved the order. many thousands of captive christians who would otherwise have dragged out a miserable existence as slaves among the mahometans of north africa, were thus rescued and restored to their families and a life of freedom and happiness in europe. this was a fine practical example of abolitionism worthy of study and admiration. [illustration] hospital interior { } xxii great origins in law. perhaps the most surprising phase of thirteenth century history is that much of what is most valued and most valuable in our modern laws, especially as they concern the fundamental rights of man, is to be found clearly expressed in the great lawmaking of the thirteenth century. it can scarcely fail to astonish those who look upon the middle ages as hopelessly barren in progress, to find that human liberty in its development reached such a pass before the end of the middle ages, or that any period so long before the renaissance and the reformation so-called, could be picked out as representing a distinctive epoch in supremely liberal legislation. after careful study, the surprise is apt to be rather that there should have been comparatively so little advance since that time, seeing how much the generations of this marvelous century were able to accomplish in definitely formulating principles of human rights. the first great document in the laws of the thirteenth century is, of course, magna charta, signed in , the foundation of all the liberties of english speaking people ever since. perhaps the highest possible tribute to the great charter is the fact that it has grown in the estimation of intelligent men, rather than lost significance. in quite recent years it has become somewhat the custom to belittle its import and its influence. but it must not be forgotten that over and over again in times of national crises in england, magna charta has been confidently appealed to as a fundamental law too sacred to be altered, as a talisman containing some magic spell capable of averting national calamity. bishop stubbs said of it, that "the great charter was the first supreme act of the nation after it had realized its own identity." perhaps in nothing does its supremacy as basic legislation for national purposes so shine forth, as from the fact that it is { } not a vague statement of great principles, not a mere declaration of human rights, not a documentary rehearsal of fundamental legalities, but a carefully collected series of practical declarations for the solution of the problems that were then disturbing the peace of the kingdom, and leading to charge and countercharge of infringement of right on the part of the king and his subjects. as might have been expected from the men of the thirteenth century--from the generations who more than any other in all human history succeeded in uniting the useful with the beautiful in everything from the decoration of their churches and other great architectural structures to the ordinary objects of everyday life--it was of eminently practical character. while it is the custom to talk much of magna charta and to praise its wonderful influence there are very few people who have ever actually read its provisions. the classics are said to be books that everyone praises but no one reads, and magna charta and the constitution of the united states are documents that are joined in the same fate. a little consideration of some of the chapters of the charter will give an excellent idea of its thoroughly straightforward practicalness, though it may serve also to undeceive those who would expect to find in this primal document a lofty statement of abstract human rights, such as the men of the thirteenth century were never conscious of, since their thoughts were always in the concrete and their efforts were bent to the solution of the problems lying just before them, and not to the lifting of all the burdens that human nature has to bear. before this, of course, there had been some development of legislation to furnish the basis for what was to come in the thirteenth century. the famous constitutions of clarendon under henry ii. and the assizes of clarendon (quite a different matter) and of north hampton and the forest under henry ii., gave assurances of rights that had only existed somewhat shadily before. according to the constitutions of clarendon sworn men gave their verdict in cases from their own knowledge. this was, of course, quite a different matter from the giving of a verdict from knowledge obtained through witnesses at a trial, but the germ of the jury trial can be seen. it was not, however, until the next reign that the men of england { } did not merely wait for the free gifts of legal rights but demanded and obtained them. there was a new hitherto undreamt-of spirit abroad in the thirteenth century, by which men dared to ask for the rights they considered should be theirs. the opening chapter of magna charta states especially the subjects of the rights that are guaranteed by the document. it is not surprising then, to find that the first subject is the church and that the most extensive guarantees are made that the english church liberties shall be inviolate. churchmen had been largely concerned in the movement which secured the signing of magna charta, and then after all, as must never be forgotten, the church at this time was distinctly felt by all to be the spiritual expression of the religious aspirations of the people. over the concluding sentence of this chapter, "the grant of the unwritten liberties to all freemen of our kingdom," there has been no little discussion. there are some who would consider that it applied to all englishmen above the condition of villeins or serfs, while there are others who would limit its application practically to those nobly born in the kingdom. posterity undoubtedly came to translate it in the broader sense, so that, whatever the original intention, the phrase became as a grant eventually to all free englishmen. chapter i.: "in the first place we have granted to god, and by this our present charter confirmed for us and our heirs for ever, that the english church shall be free, and shall have her rights entire, and her liberties inviolate; and we will that it be thus observed; which is apparent from this that the freedom of elections, which is reckoned most important and very essential to the english church, we of our pure and unconstrained will, did grant, and by our charter confirm and did obtain the ratification of the same from our lord, pope innocent iii. before the quarrel arose between us and our barons, and this we will observe, and our will is that it be observed in good faith by our heirs for ever. we have also granted to all freemen of our kingdom, for us and for our heirs for ever, all the underwritten liberties, to be had and held by them and their heirs, of us and our heirs for ever." perhaps the most interesting feature of magna charta is to { } be found in the fact, that it did actually in most cases come to be applied ever so much wider than had apparently been the original intention. it was in this sense a vital document as it were, since it had within itself the power of developing so as to suit the varying circumstances for which recourse was had to it. there is no doubt at all of the good faith of the men who appealed to it, nor of their firm persuasion that the document actually intended what they claimed to find in it. modern criticism has succeeded in stripping from the original expressions many of the added meanings that posterity attached to them, but in so doing has really not lessened the estimation in which magna charta must be held. the position is indeed noteworthily analagous to that of the original deposit of faith and the development of doctrine which has taken place. higher criticism has done much to show how little of certain modern ideas was apparently contained explicitly in the original formulas of christian faith, and yet by so doing has not lessened our beliefs, but has rather tended to make us realize the vitality of the original christian tenets. as everything living in god's creation, they have developed by a principle implanted within them to suit the evolutionary conditions of man's intelligence and the developing problems that they were supposed to offer solutions for. the comparison, of course, like all comparisons, must walk a little lame, since after all magna charta is a human document, and yet the very fact that it should have presented itself under so many varying conditions, ever with new significance to succeeding generations of thinking men, is the best evidence of how nearly man's work at its best may approach that of the creator. it is an exemplification, in a word, of the creative genius of the century, a worthy compeer of the other accomplishments which have proved so enduring and so capable of making their influence felt even upon distant generations. it is of the very essence of the practicality of magna charta that among the early chapters of the important document--chapter vii.--is one that concerns widows and their property rights immediately after the death of their husbands. previous chapters had discussed questions of guardianship and inheritance, since it was especially minors who in this rude period { } were likely to suffer from the injustice of the crown, of their over-lords in the nobility, and even from their guardians. while magna charta, then, begins with the principles for the regulation of matters of property as regards children, it proceeds at once to the next class most liable to injustice because of their inability to properly defend themselves by force of arms--the widows. chapter vii.: "a widow, after the death of her husband, shall forthwith and without difficulty have her marriage portion and inheritance; nor shall she give anything for her dower or for her marriage portion, or for the inheritance which she and her husband held on the day of the death of that husband; and she may remain in the house of her husband for forty days after his death, within which time her dower shall be assigned to her." chapter viii.: "let no widow be compelled to marry, so long as she prefers to live without a husband; provided always that she gives security not to marry without our consent, if she holds of us, or without the consent of the lord of whom she holds, if she holds of another." the first of these provisions serves to show very well how early in the history of english jurisprudence a thoroughgoing respect for woman's legal rights began to have a place. the beginning thirteenth century made an excellent start in their favor. for some reason the movement for justice thus initiated did not continue, but suffered a sad interruption down almost to our own times. the second of these provisions for widows, embodied in chapter viii., sounds a little queer to the modern ear. this protection of widows from compulsion to marry is apt to seem absolutely unnecessary in these modern days. some of the unmarried are indeed prone to think, perhaps, that widows have more than their due opportunity in this matter without any necessity for protecting them from compulsion. of course it is to be understood that it was not always so much the charms of the lady herself that must be protected from compulsion, as those of the property which she inherited and the political and martial influence that she might be expected to bring her husband. in these troublous times when disputes with { } appeals to arms were extremely frequent, it was important to have the regulation, that after the death of a husband there should be no sudden unbalancing of political power because of the compelled marriage of the widow of some powerful noble. in certain subsequent chapters up to the twelfth there is question mainly of the rights of the jews, as money-lenders, to collect their debts with interest after the death of the principal to whom it was loaned. for instance, according to chapter x., the debt shall not bear interest while the heir is under age and if the debt fell to the hands of the crown, nothing but the principal was to be taken. in chapter xi. if any one died indebted to the jews his wife should have her dower and pay nothing of that debt. for children under age the same principle held and they had a right to the provision of necessaries in keeping with the condition of their father. this last clause has been perpetuated in the practice of our courts, as some consider even to the extent of an abuse, so that debtors cannot collect from the income of a young man to whom money has been left, if by so doing the income should be impaired to such an extent as to make his method of living unsuitable to the condition in life to which he was born and brought up. chapter xii. has been the subject of more discussion perhaps than any other. mckechnie, the most recent commentator on magna charta, says of it: [footnote ] [footnote : magna carta, a commentary on the great charter of king john, with an historical introduction by william sharp mckechnie, m.d., ll.b., d. phil. glasgow, james maclehose and sons, publishers to the university, .] "this is a famous clause, greatly valued at the time it was framed because of its precise terms and narrow scope (which made evasion difficult), and even more highly valued in after days for exactly opposite reasons. it came indeed to be interpreted in a broad general sense by enthusiasts who, with the fully-developed british constitution before them, read the clause as enunciating the modern doctrine that the crown can impose no financial burden whatsoever on the people without consent of parliament." readers may judge for themselves from the tenor of the { } chapter, how wide a latitude in interpretation it not only permits, but invites. chapter xii.: "no scutage nor aid shall be imposed in our kingdom, unless by common counsel of our kingdom, except for ransoming our person, for making our eldest son a knight, and for once marrying our eldest daughter; and for these there shall not be levied more than a reasonable aid. in like manner it shall be done concerning aids from the citizens of london." there is no doubt that it is hard to read in this chapter all that has been found in it by enthusiastic appellants to magna charta at many times during the succeeding centuries. as a matter of fact, however, within half a century after it had been promulgated, it was appealed to confidently as one of the reasons why an english parliament should meet if the king required special levies of money for the purpose of carrying on war. it was during the sixth and seventh decades of the thirteenth century that the great principle of english legislation: "there shall be no taxation without representation"--which six centuries later was to be appealed to by the american colonies as the justification for their war for independence, gradually came to be considered as a fundamental principle of the relationship between the government and the people. that it had its origin in magna charta there seems no doubt, and it is only another example of that unconscious development of a vital principle which, as we know from history, took place so often with regard to chapters of the great charter. undoubtedly one of the most important chapters of magna charta is the very brief one, no. , which concerns itself with the holding of a court of common pleas. the whole of the chapter is, "common pleas shall not follow our court but shall be held in some fixed place." this represented a distinct step in advance in the dispensing of justice. it is a little bit hard for us to understand, but all departments of government were originally centered in the king and his household--the court--which attended to royal and national business of every kind. as pointed out by mr. mckechnie in his magna charta, the court united in itself the functions of the modern cabinet of the administrative department--the home office, the foreign office and the admiralty, and of the various legal tribunals. it { } was the parent of the court at st. james and the courts at westminster. almost needless to say, it is from the fact that the dispensing of justice was a function of royalty, that the places of holding trials are still called courts. according to this chapter of magna charta, thereafter ordinary trials, common pleas, did not have to follow the court, that is the royal household, in its wanderings through various parts of the kingdom, but they were held at an appointed place. in the days of henry ii. the entire machinery of royal justice had to follow the monarch as he passed, sometimes on the mere impulse of the moment, from one of his favorite hunting-seats to another. crowds thronged after him in hot pursuit, since it was difficult to transact business of moment before the court without being actually present. this entailed almost intolerable delay, extreme annoyance and great expense upon litigants, who brought their pleas for the king's decision. there is an account of the hardships which this system inflicted upon suitors told of one celebrated case. richard d'anesty gives a graphic record of his journeyings in search of justice throughout a period of five years, during which he visited in the king's wake most parts of england, normandy, aquitaine, and anjou. ultimately successful he paid dearly for his legal triumph. he had to borrow at a ruinous rate of interest in order to meet his enormous expenses, mostly for traveling, and was scarcely able to discharge his debts. all litigation then, that did not directly involve the crown or criminal procedures, could be tried thereafter by a set of judges who sat permanently in some fixed spot, which though not named was probably intended from the beginning to be westminster. hence it has been said by distinguished english jurists that magna charta gave england a capital. on the other hand chapter xxiv. insured justice in criminal cases by reserving these pleas to judges appointed by the crown. this short chapter reads: "no sheriff, constable, coroner, or others of our bailiffs shall hold pleas of our crown." this last expression did not necessarily mean matters concerned with royal business as might be thought, but had in king john's time come to signify criminal trials of all kinds. it is easy to understand that those accused of crime would look confidently for { } justice to the representative of the central government, while they dreaded the jurisdiction of the less responsible officials resident in the counties, who had a wide-spread reputation for cruelty and oppression, and for a venality that it was hard to suppress. it would seem as though these quotations would serve to make even the casual reader appreciate how thoroughly magna charta deserves the reputation which it has borne now for nearly seven centuries, of an extremely valuable fundamental document in the history of the liberties of the english speaking people. some of the subsequent chapters may be quoted without comment because they show with what careful attention to detail the rights of the people were guaranteed by the charter, and how many apparently trivial things were considered worthy of mention. we may call attention to the fact that in chapters forty-one and forty-two there are definite expressions of guarantee for the rights even of aliens, which represent a great advance over the feelings in this respect that had animated the people of a century or so before, and foreshadow the development of that international comity which is only now coming to be the distinguishing mark of our modern civilization. "a freeman shall not be amerced for a small offence, except in accordance with the degree of the offence; and for a grave offence he shall be amerced in accordance with the gravity of his offence, yet saving always his 'contentment'; and a merchant in the same way, saving his wares; and a villein shall be amerced in the same way, saving his wainage--if they have fallen into our mercy; and none of the aforesaid amercements shall be imposed except by the oath of honest men of the neighborhood. "if any freeman shall die intestate, his chattels shall be distributed by the hands of the nearest kinsfolk and friends, under the supervision of the church, saving to everyone the debts which the deceased owed to him. "no constable or other bailiff of ours shall take corn or other provisions from anyone without immediately tendering money therefor, unless he can have postponement thereof by permission of the seller. "no sheriff or bailiff of ours, or any other person shall take { } the horses or carts of any freeman for transport duty, against the will of the said freeman. "all kydells for the future shall be removed altogether from the thames and medway, and throughout all england, except upon the sea coast. "nothing in the future shall be taken or given for a writ of inquisition of life or limbs, but freely it shall be granted, and never denied. "no bailiff for the future shall put any man to his 'law' upon his own mere word of mouth, without credible witnesses brought for this purpose. "no freeman shall be arrested or detained in prison, or deprived of his freehold, or outlawed, or banished, or in any way molested, and we will not set forth against him, nor send against him, unless by the lawful judgment of his peers and by the law of the land. "to no one will we sell, to no one will we refuse or delay, right or justice. "all merchants shall have safe and secure exit from england, and entry to england, with the right to tarry there and to move about as well by land as by water, for buying and selling by the ancient and right customs, quit from all evil tolls, except (in time of war) such merchants as are of the land at war with us. and if such are found in our land at the beginning of the war, they shall be detained without injury to their bodies or goods, until information be received by us, or by our chief justiciar, how the merchants of our land found in the land at war with us are treated and if our men are safe there, the others shall be safe in our land. "it shall be lawful in future for any one (excepting always those imprisoned or outlawed in accordance with the law of the kingdom, and natives of any country at war with us, and merchants, who shall be treated as is above provided) to leave our kingdom, and to return, safe and secure by land and water, except for a short period in time of war, on grounds of public policy--reserving always the allegiance due to us. "we will appoint as justices, constables, sheriffs or bailiffs only such as know the law of the realm and mean to observe it well. { } "we shall have, moreover, the same respite and the same manner in rendering justice concerning the disafforestation or retention of those forests which henry our father and richard our brother afforested and concerning the wardship of lands which are of the fief of another (namely, such wardships as we have hitherto had by reason of a fief, which any one held of us by knight's service) and concerning abbeys founded on other fiefs than our own, in which the lord of the fee claims to have right; and when we have returned, or if we desist from our expedition, we will immediately grant full justice to all who complain of such things. "all fines made with us unjustly and against the law of this land, and all amercements imposed unjustly and against the law of this land, shall be entirely remitted, or else it shall be done concerning them according to the decision of the five and twenty barons of whom mention is made below, in the clause for securing the peace, or according to the judgment of the majority of the same, along with the aforesaid stephen archbishop of canterbury, if he can be present, and such others as he may wish to bring with him for this purpose, and if he cannot be present the business shall nevertheless proceed without him, provided always that if any one or more of the aforesaid five and twenty barons are in a similar suit, they shall be removed as far as concerns this particular judgment, others being substituted in their places after having been selected by the rest of the same five and twenty for this purpose only, and after having been sworn. "moreover, all the aforesaid customs and liberties, the observance of which we have granted in our kingdom as far as pertains to us towards our men, shall be observed by all of our kingdom, as well by clergy as by laymen, as far as pertains to them towards their men. "and, on this head, we have caused to be made out letters patent of stephen, archbishop of canterbury, henry, archbishop of dublin, the bishops aforesaid, and master pandulf, as evidence of this clause of security and of the aforesaid concessions." these last provisions show how closely the church was bound up with the securing and maintenance of the rights of { } the english people. the clauses we have quoted just before, need no comment to show how sturdily the spirit of liberty strode abroad even at the beginning of the thirteenth century, for magna charta was signed in . the rest of the century was to see great advances in liberty and human rights, even beyond the guarantees of the great charter. magna charta, glorious as it was, was only the beginning of that basic legislation which was to distinguish the thirteenth century in england. about the middle of the century bracton began his collection of the laws of the land which has since been the great english classic of the common law. his work was accomplished while he was the chief justiciary during the reign of henry iii. for many years before he had occupied various judicial positions, as justice itinerant of the counties of nottingham and derby and for seventeen years his name appears as one of the justices of the aula regis. this experience put him in an eminently fitting position to be the mouthpiece of english practice and law applications, and his book was at once accepted as an authority. it is a most comprehensive and systematic work in five volumes, bearing the title de legibus et consuetudinibus angliae, and was modeled after the institutes of justinian. it was during the reign of edward i., the english justinian as he has been called, that the english common law came to its supreme expression, and this monarch has rightly been placed among the great benefactors of mankind for his magnanimous generosity in securing the legal rights of his subjects and framing english liberties for all time. not a little of edward's greatness as a law-maker and his readiness to recognize the rights of his subjects, with his consequent willingness to have english law arranged and published, must be attributed to his connection during his earlier years as prince of wales with the famous simon de montfort. to this man more than to any other the english speaking people owe the development of those constitutional rights, which gradually came to be considered inalienably theirs during the thirteenth century. he is undoubtedly one of the very great characters of history and the thirteenth century is by so much greater for having been the scene of his labors, during so many years, for the { } establishment of constitutional limitations to the power of the monarch, and the uplifting of the rights of subjects not only among the nobility, but also among the lower classes. it was in edward's time that the english common law was fashioned into the shape in which it was to exist for many centuries afterwards. how true this is may perhaps best be judged by the fact that even the laws with regard to real estate have not been changed in essence since that time, though medieval titles to land would seem to be so different to those of the present day. according to the encyclopedia britannica the changes which have been made since that time have been mainly due to the action of equity and legislation, the latter sometimes interpreted by the courts in a manner very different from the intention of parliament. the same authority is responsible for the statement that the reign of edward i., is notable for three leading real estate statutes which are still law. one of these was with regard to mortmain, while the important statute known as _quia emptores_ (the eighteenth of chapter i. of the laws of edward i.) had the practical effect of making the transfer of land thenceforward, more of a commercial and less of a legal transaction. it is to this same period that is owed the writ _elegit_ which introduced the law practice of a creditor's remedy over real estate. how little was accomplished in the matter of law-making in subsequent centuries, may be gathered from the fact that mr. james williams who writes the article on real estate in the encyclopedia britannica ninth edition, says that from to the reign of henry viii., that is down to the sixteenth century, there is no statute of the first importance dealing with real estate. in a word, then, it may be said that these law-makers of the thirteenth century anticipated most of the legal difficulties of the after-time. their statutory provisions, as in the case of the chapters of magna charta, seemed originally only to have a narrow application to certain urgent legal questions of the time, but proved eventually to contain in themselves the essence of legal principles that could be applied in circumstances such as the original law-maker had not even imagined. this is indeed the typical triumph of the century in every line of endeavor, that while apparently it devoted itself only to the { } narrow problems of its own time, its solutions of them whether in art and architecture or decoration, in literary expression or poetic effectiveness, in educational methods or social uplift, always proved so complete, so thoroughly human in the broadest sense of that word and so consonant with development, that their work did not have to be done over again. no greater praise than this could be bestowed. [illustration] spire of st. elizabeth's (marburg) { } xxiii justice and legal development. it must not be thought because we have devoted so much time to the triumphs of english law-making in the thirteenth century that, therefore, there is little or nothing to be said about this same admirable feature of the time in other countries. as a matter of fact every nation in europe saw the foundation of its modern legal system laid, and was responsive witness to the expression of the first principles of popular rights and popular liberties. montalembert in his life of st. elizabeth of hungary [footnote ] makes no mention in the introduction which is really a panegyric of the thirteenth century, of the progress of english law-making, and yet considers that he is able to bring together enough evidence to show that legislation had its acme of development just at this time. his paragraph on the subject will serve as the best possible preface to the scant treatment of continental law-making and enforcement of justice in this period, that our limited space will allow. he says: [footnote : life of st. elizabeth of hungary by the count de montalembert, translated by francis deming hoyt, new york, longman's, green and company, .] "legislation never, perhaps, had a more illustrious period. on the one hand, the popes, supreme authorities in matters of law as well as of faith, gave to canon law the fullest development possible to this magnificent security of christian civilization; sat themselves as judges with exemplary assiduity, published immense collections, and founded numerous schools. on the other hand, that period gave birth to most of the national legislation of the various states of europe; the great _mirrors_ of swabia and saxony, the first laws published in the german language by frederick ii. at the diet of mentz, and the code given by him to sicily; in france, the institutes of st. louis, together with the _common law_ of pierre des fontaines, { } and the _statutes of beauvoisis_ of philip of beaumanoir; and lastly the french version of the _assizes of jerusalem_, in which is to be found the most complete résumé now extant of christian and chivalric law. all these precious monuments of the old christian organization of the world are preserved in the native languages of the various people, and are distinguished, less even by this fact than by their generous and pious spirit, from that pernicious roman law, the progress of which was destined soon to change all the principles of the former." most of montalembert's paragraph refers to the law-making in france with which he is naturally more familiar. he has supplied ample material for consultation for those who wish to follow out this interesting theme further. even more significant, however, than the law-making in france, were the new ideas with regard to the enforcement in law that came in during the reign of louis ix. we have not had to wait until this generation to realize, that as a rule it is not the absence of law so much as the lack of enforcement of such laws as exist, that gives rise to many of the injustices between men. st. louis made it his business to bring about the enforcement of the laws with proper construction of their terms in such a way as to secure the rights of all. he himself sat under the famous old oak of versailles as a court of appeals, reviewing especially the cases of the poor. it soon came to be known, that it would be a sad occasion for any and every court official who was found to have given judgment against the poor because of partiality or the yielding to unlawful influence. on the other hand, in order to keep the right of appeal from being abused, punishments were meted out to those who made appeals without good reason. finding that he was unable to hear so many causes as were appealed to him, louis chose stephen boileau to act as chief justice and committed the care of proper legal enforcement with confidence into his hands. boileau had become famous by having condemned some very near relatives, under circumstances such that relationship might have been expected to weigh down the wrong side of the scales of justice, and in a few years he enhanced his reputation by the utter disregard of all motives in the settlement of suits at law, except those of { } the strictest justice. how much louis himself did in order to safeguard the rights of the poor can be judged from the famous incident told by all his biographers, in which he risked the enmity of the most powerful among his barons, in order to secure the punishment of one of them who had put two students to death. this was the first time that the rights of men, as men, were asserted and it constitutes the best possible testimony to the development of law and true liberty in france. "three young nobles of the county of flanders were surprised, together with the abbot of st. nicholas, in a wood pertaining to coucy, with bows and arrows. although they had neither dogs nor hunting implements, they were found guilty of having gone out to hunt and were hanged. the abbot and several women of their families made complaint to the king, and enguerrard was arrested and taken to the louvre. the king summoned him before him; he appeared, having with him the king of navarre, the king of burgundy, the counts of bar, soissons, brittany, and blois, the archbishop of rheims, sire john of thorote, and nearly all the great men in the kingdom. the accused said that he wished to take counsel, and he retired with most of the seigneurs who had accompanied him, leaving the king alone with his household. when he returned, john of thorote, in his name, said that he would not submit to this inquiry, since his person, his honour, and his heritage were at stake, but that he was ready to do battle, denying that he had hanged the three young men, or ordered them to be hanged. his only opponents were the abbot and the women, who were there to ask for justice. the king answered that in causes in which the poor, the churches, and persons worthy of pity, took part, it was not fitting to decide them in battle; for it was not easy to find anyone to fight for such sorts of people against the barons of the kingdom. he said that his action against the accused was no new thing, and he alleged the example of his predecessor philip augustus. he therefore agreed to the request of the complainants, and caused enguerrard to be arrested by the sergeants and taken to the louvre. all prayers were useless; st. louis refused to hear them, rose from his seat, and the barons went away astonished and confused. { } "they did not, however, consider that they were beaten. they again came together; the king of navarre, the count of brittany, and with them the countess of flanders, who ought rather to have intervened for the victims. it was as if they had conspired against the king's power and honour; for they were not content to implore coucy's release, but asserted that he could not be kept in prison. the count of brittany maintained that the king had no right to institute inquiries against the barons of his kingdom in matters which concerned their persons, their heritage or their honour. the king replied, 'you did not speak thus in former times when the barons in direct dependence upon you came before me with complaints against yourself, and offered to sustain them in battle. you then said that to do battle was not in the way of justice.' the barons put forward a final argument, namely, that according to the customs of the kingdom, the king could only judge the accused and punish him in person after an inquiry to which he had refused to submit. the king was resolute, and declared that neither the rank of the guilty man nor the power of his friends should prevent him from doing full justice. coucy's life was, however, spared. the fact that he had not been present at the judgment, nor at the execution, prevailed in his favour. by the advice of his counsellors, the king condemned him to pay livres parisis, which, considering the difference in the purchasing power of money, may be estimated at considerably more than , pounds, and he sent this sum to st. john of acre for the defense of palestine. the wood in which the young men were hanged was confiscated to the abbey of st. nicholas. the condemned man was also constrained to found three perpetual chapelries for the souls of his victims, and he forfeited jurisdiction over his woods and fish ponds, so that he was forbidden to imprison or execute for any offense which had to do with them. since enguerrard's defender, john of thorote, had in his anger told the barons that the king would do well to hang them all, the king, who had been told of this, sent for him and said, 'how comes it, john, that you have said i should hang my barons? i certainly will not have them hanged, but i will punish them when they do amiss.' john of thorote denied that he had said this, and offered to { } justify himself on the oath of twenty or thirty knights. the king would not carry the matter further, and let him go." one of the best evidences of the development of the spirit of law in germany during this time is the establishment of the famous fehmic courts, or vehmgerichte, which achieved their highest importance during the thirteenth century. as with regard to the universities, there is a tradition that carries the origin of these courts back to the time of charlemagne. they are much more likely to have been developments out of the relics of the ancient free courts of the old teutonic tribe. the first definite knowledge of their existence cannot be traced much earlier than a decade or two before the thirteenth century. they had their principal existence in westphalia. practically the whole country between the rhine and the weser was ruled to a subordinate degree by these fehmic courts. during the thirteenth century they were used only in the most beneficial and liberal spirit, supplying a means of redress at a time when the public administration of justice was almost completely in abeyance. as a matter of fact, before their establishment disregard for authority to the extent of utter lawlessness prevailed in this part of germany. {opp } [illustration] city gate (neubrandenburg) [illustration] rathhaus (stralsund) the significance of these courts has sometimes been missed. they arose, however, out of the justice loving spirit of the people themselves and were meant to supply legal enforcements when the regularly constituted authorities were unable to secure them. they remind one very much of the vigilance committees, which in our own country, in the cities of the distant west, bravely and with the admirable prudence of the race, have so often supplied the place of regular courts and have brought justice and order out of the chaos of lawlessness. the last place most people would expect their prototypes, however, would be here in the germany of the thirteenth century. how much these vehmgerichte accomplished during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it would be difficult to say. they represent an outgrowth of the spirit of the people themselves, that constitutes another striking feature of the practical side of the generations of the thirteenth century. they had much more to do with bringing about the development of the modern acute sense of justice among the teutonic peoples { } than is usually thought. they are the german expression of the same feelings that in england dictated trial by jury, and secured for the english speaking people of all time the precious privileges of even-handed justice and the right to be judged by one's peers. it was not alone in the western countries of europe that great advances were made in liberty. the democratic spirit that was abroad made itself felt everywhere and the foundations of rights for the people were laid even in central europe, in countries which ordinarily are thought of at this time as scarcely more than emerging from barbarism. hungary may be cited as an example. andrew ii. is usually set down by narrow-minded historians as having been entirely too visionary in his character, and the fact that he led the fifth crusade, apparently even more fruitless than were most of the others, is supposed to be an additional proof of this. even duruy in his history of the middle ages says of him, "he organized a state of anarchy by decreeing his golden bull, that if the king should violate the privileges of the nobility, they should be permitted to resist him by force and such resistance should not be treated as rebellion." as a matter of fact, his people were thus granted a constitution more liberal even than that of magna charta, but containing quite similar provisions in many respects, and the curious historical analogy is heightened when we recall that at the two ends of civilized europe these constitutions were given in the same decade. one cannot help but wonder whether the saxon elements which were in both peoples, for many saxon and frisian colonists had been induced to settle in certain parts of transylvania just half a century before, did not have much to do with this extremely interesting development in hungary, so like the corresponding evolution of the democratic spirit among their western kinsfolk. in poland the development in law came a little later but evidently as the result of the same factors that were at work during the thirteenth century. casimir the great, who was born shortly after the close of the thirteenth century, gave wise laws to poland which have constituted the basis of polish law ever since. at this time poland was one of the most important countries in europe. casimir, besides giving laws to { } his people, also founded a university for them and in every way encouraged the development of such progress as would make his subjects intelligently realize their own rights and maintain them, apparently foreseeing that thus the king would be better able to strengthen himself against the many enemies that surrounded him in central europe. how much the great popes of the century accomplished for the foundation and development of law, can only be appreciated by those who realize the extent of their contributions to the codification of canon law. it was the arrangement of this in definite shape that put the civil jurists of the time at work setting their house in order. innocent iii., who is deservedly called _pater juris_, devoted a great deal of his wonderful energy and genius to the arrangement of canon law. this placed for the first time the canon law on an absolutely sure footing and filled up many gaps that formerly existed. gregory ix. commissioned his chaplain, the famous raymond of pennafort, who had been a professor of canon law in the university of bologna, to codify all the decretals since the time of gratian. this work was officially promulgated in , four years of labor having been devoted to it. the laws are in the form of decisions pronounced in cases submitted to the pope from all parts of christendom, including many from the distant east and not a few from england and scotland. gregory's decretals were published in five books; a supplement under the name of the sixth book was published under pope boniface viii. in . in this for the first time abstract rules of law are laid down extracted from actual judgments. a compendium of roman law was added so as to approximate canon and civil procedure. this gives the best possible idea of how deeply the popes and the authorities in canon law of the century were laying the foundations of canonical practise and procedure for all times. the origins of modern law are to be found here, and yet not, as might be anticipated because of the distance in time, in such a confused or unmanageable fashion that they are not worth while consulting, but on the contrary with such clarity and distinctness and with such orderly arrangement, that they have been the subjects of study on the part of distinguished { } jurists for most of the centuries ever since, and have never lost their interest for the great lawyers and canonists, who prefer to know things from the foundation rather than accept them at second hand. some of the commentaries, or glosses as they were called, on canon law serve to give an excellent idea of the legal ability as well as the intellectual acumen of the canon lawyers of the century. the system of teaching was oral, and careful study was devoted to original authorities in law. explanatory notes were added by the professors to their copies of the text. when later these texts were given out or lent for transcription, the notes were also copied, usually being written in the margin. after a time the commentary, however, proved to be, for students at least, as important as the text and so was transcribed by itself and was called an apparatus, that is a series of mechanical helps, as it were, to the understanding of the text. of the names of some of the most distinguished glossatores the memory has been carefully preserved because they produced so much effect on legal teaching. the gloss written on gratian by joannes teutonicus (john the german), probably during the first decade of the thirteenth century, was revised and supplemented by bartholomew of brescia about the middle of the thirteenth century. some ten years later bernard of parma wrote a commentary on the decretals of gregory. all of these are important fundamental works in canon law, and they were of very great influence in bringing out the principles of law and showing the basis on which they were founded. it is almost needless to say that they aroused additional interest and made the subject much more easy of approach than it had been. the fact that all of these magnificent contributions to the science and literatures of law should have been made during our thirteenth century, serves only to emphasize the fact that everything that men touched during this period was sure to be illuminated by the practical genius of the time, and put into a form in which for many centuries it was to be appealed to as a model and an authority in its own line. how much of legal commentary writing there was besides these, can be readily understood from the fact that these represent the activity only of the university of bologna { } which was, it is true, the greatest of universities in its law department, but it must not be forgotten that many other universities throughout europe also had distinguished professors of law at this time. all this would seem to be of little interest for the secular law-making of the period, but it must not be forgotten that civil law was closely related to canon law at all times and that the development of canon law always meant a renewed evolution of the principles, and practise, and procedure of the civil law. in such countries as scotland, indeed, the canon law formed the basis of the civil jurisprudence and its influence was felt even for centuries after the so-called reformation. on the other hand it must not be forgotten that the popes and the ecclesiastics helped to fight the battles of the middle and lower classes against the king and the nobility in practically every country in europe. a very striking example of this is to be found in the life of that much misunderstood pope boniface viii., the last pope of the century, who had received his legal training at bologna, and who was one of the great jurists of his time. circumstances differ so much, however, and obscure realities to such a degree, that at the present time we need the light of sympathetic interpretation to enable us to realize what boniface accomplished. {opp } [illustration] portrait of pope boniface viii. (giotto, rome) he did much to complete in his time that arrangement and codification of canon law which his predecessors during the thirteenth century had so efficiently commenced. like innocent iii. he has been much maligned because of his supposed attempt to make the governments of the time subservient to the pope and to make the church in each nation independent of the political government. with regard to the famous bull clericis laicos, "thrice unhappy in name and fortune" as it has been designated, much more can be said in justification than is usually considered to be the case. indeed the rev. dr. barry, whose "story of the papal monarchy" in the stories of the nations series has furnished the latest discussion of this subject, does not hesitate to declare that the bull far from being subversive of political liberties or expressive of too arrogant a spirit on the part of the church, was really an expression of a great principle that was to become very prominent in { } modern history, and the basis of many of the modern declarations of rights against the claims of tyranny. he says in part: "imprudent, headlong, but in its main contention founded on history, this extraordinary state-paper declared that the laity had always been hostile to the clergy, and were so now as much as ever. but they possessed no jurisdiction over the persons, no claims on the property of the church, though they had dared to exact a tenth, nay, even a half, of its income for secular objects, and time-serving prelates had not resisted. now, on no title whatsoever from henceforth should such taxes be levied without permission of the holy see. every layman, though king or emperor, receiving these moneys fell by that very act under anathema; every churchman paying them was deposed from his office; universities guilty of the like offense were struck with interdict. "robert of winchelsea, langton's successor as primate, shared langton's views. he was at this moment in rome, and had doubtless urged boniface to come to the rescue of a frightened, down-trodden clergy, whom edward i. would not otherwise regard. in the parliament at bury, this very year, the clerics refused to make a grant. edward sealed up their barns. the archbishop ordered that in every cathedral the pope's interdiction should be read. hereupon the chief-justice declared the whole clergy outlawed; they might be robbed or murdered without redress. naturally, not a few gave way; a fifth, and then a fourth, of their revenue was yielded up. but archbishop robert alone, with all the prelates except lincoln against him, and the dominicans preaching at paul's cross on behalf of the king, stood out, lost his lands, and was banished to a country parsonage. war broke out in flanders. it was the saving of the archbishop. at westminster edward relented and apologized. he confirmed the two great charters; he did away with illegal judgments that infringed them. next year the primate excommunicated those royal officers who had seized goods or persons belonging to the clergy, and all who had violated magna charta. the church came out of this conflict exempt, or, more truly a self-governing estate of the realm. it must be considered as { } having greatly concurred towards the establishment of that fundamental law invoked long after by the thirteen american colonies, 'no taxation without representation,' which is the corner stone of british freedom." we have so often heard it said that there is nothing new under the sun, that finally the expression has come to mean very little, though its startling truth sometimes throws vivid light on historical events. certainly the last place in the world that one would expect to find if not the origin, for all during the thirteenth century this great principle had been gradually asserting itself, at least, a wondrous confirmation of the principle on which our american revolution justified itself, would be in a papal document of the end of the thirteenth century. here, however, is a distinguished scholar, who insists that the colonists' contention that there must be no taxes levied unless they were allowed representation in some way in the body which determined the mode and the amount of taxation, received its first formal justification in history at the hands of a roman pontiff, nearly five centuries before the beginning of the quarrel between the colonies and the mother country. the passage serves to suggest how much of what is modern had its definite though unsuspected origin, in this earlier time. [illustration] decoration thirteenth century psalter ms. { } xxiv democracy, christian socialism and nationality. democracy is a word to conjure with but it is usually considered that the thing it represents had its origin in the modern world much later than the period with which we are occupied. the idea that the people should be ready to realize their own rights, to claim their privileges and to ask that they should be allowed to rule themselves, is supposed ordinarily to be a product of the last century or two. perhaps in this matter more than any other does the thirteenth century need interpretation to the modern mind, yet we think that after certain democratic factors and developments in the life of this period are pointed out and their significance made clear, it will become evident that the foundations of our modern democracy were deeply laid in the thirteenth century, and that the spirit of what was best in the aspiration of people to be ruled by themselves, for themselves, and of themselves had its birth in this precious seed time of so much that is important for our modern life. lest it should be thought that this idea of the development of democracy has been engendered merely in the enthusiastic ardor of special admiration for the author's favorite century, it seems well to call attention to the fact that historians in recent years have very generally emphasized the role that the thirteenth century played in the development of freedom. a typical example may be quoted from the history of anglo-saxon freedom by professor james k. hosmer, [footnote ] who does not hesitate to say that "while in england representative government was gradually developing during this century, in germany the cities were beginning to send deputies to the imperial parliament and the emperor, frederick ii., was allowing a certain amount of representation in the { } government of sicily. in spain, alfonso the wise, of castile, permitted the cities to send representatives to the cortez, and in france this same spirit developed to such a degree that a representative parliament met at the beginning of the fourteenth century." in none of these countries, however, unfortunately did the spirit of representative government continue to develop as in england and in many of them the privileges obtained in the thirteenth century were subsequently lost. [footnote : scribners, new york, .] certain phases of the rise of the democratic spirit have already been discussed, and the reader can only be referred to them now with the definite idea of recognizing in them the democratic tendencies of the time. what we have said about the trade guilds constitutes one extremely important element of the movement which will be further discussed in this chapter. after this comes the guild merchant in its various forms. after all the hanseatic league was only one manifestation of these guilds. its widespread influence in awakening in people's minds the realization that they could do for themselves much more, and secure success in their endeavors much better by their own united efforts, than by anything that their accepted political rulers could do or at least would do for them, will be readily appreciated by all who read that chapter. hansa must have been a great enlightener for the teutonic peoples. the history of the league shows over and over again their political rulers rather interfering with than fostering their commercial prosperity. these rulers were always more than a little jealous of the wealth which the citizens of these growing towns in their realm were able to accumulate, and they showed it on more than one occasion. the history of the hansa towns exhibits the citizens doing everything to dissemble the feelings of disaffection that inevitably came to them as the result of their appreciation of the fact, that they could rule themselves so much better than they were being ruled, and that they could accomplish so much more for themselves by their commercial combination with other cities than had ever been done for them by these hereditary princes, who claimed so much yet gave so little in their turn. the training in self-government that came with the { } necessities for defense as well as for the protection of commercial visitors from other cities in the league, who trustfully came to deal with their people, was an education in democracy such as could not fail to bring results. the rise of the free cities in germany represents the growth of the democratic spirit down to our own time, better than any other single set of manifestations that we have. the international relations of these cities did more, as we have said, to broaden men's minds and make them realize the brotherhood of man in spite of national boundaries than any other factor in human history. commerce has always been a great leveler and such it proved to be in these early days in germany, only it must not be thought that these german cities had but faint glimmerings of the great purpose they were engaged in, for seldom has the spirit of popular government risen higher than with them. how clearly the teutonic mind had grasped the idea of democracy can be best appreciated perhaps from the attitude of the swiss in this matter. these hardy mountaineers whose difficult country and rather severe climate separate them effectually from the other nations, soon learned the advisability of ruling themselves for their own benefit. before the end of the thirteenth century they had formed a defensive and offensive union among themselves against the hapsburgs, and though for a time overborne by the influence of this house after its head ascended the imperial throne, immediately on rudolph's death they proceeded to unite themselves still more firmly together. they then formed the famous league of which represents so important a step in the democracy of modern times. the formal document which constituted this league a federal government deserves to be quoted. it is the first great declaration of independence, and its ideas were to crop out in many another declaration in the after times. it is an original document in the strictest sense of the word. it runs as follows: "know all men that we, the people of the valley of uri, the community of the valley of schwiz, and the mountaineers of the lower valley, seeing the malice of the times, have solemnly agreed and bound ourselves by oath to aid and defend each other with all our might and main, with our lives and property, { } both within and without our boundaries each at his own expense, against every enemy whatever who shall attempt to molest us, either singly or collectively. this is our ancient covenant. whoever hath a lord let him obey him according to his bounden duty. we have decreed that we shall accept no magistrate in our valleys who shall have obtained his office for a price, or who is not a native or resident among us. every difference among us shall be decided by our wisest men; and whoever shall reject their award shall be compelled by the other confederates. whoever shall wilfully commit a murder shall suffer death, and he who shall attempt to screen the murderer from justice shall be banished from our valleys. an incendiary shall lose his privileges as a free member of the community, and whoever harbors him shall make good the damage. whoever robs or molests another shall make full restitution out of the property he possesses among us. everyone shall acknowledge the authority of a chief magistrate in either of the valleys. if internal quarrels arise, and one of the parties shall refuse fair satisfaction, the confederates shall support the other party. this covenant for our common weal, shall, god willing, endure forever." in england democracy was fostered in the guilds, which, as we have already seen in connection with the cathedrals, proved the sources of education and intellectual development in nearly every mode of thought and art. the most interesting feature of these guilds was the fact that they were not institutions suggested to the workmen and tradesmen by those above them, but were the outgrowth of the spirit of self help and organization which, came over mankind during this century. at the beginning they were scarcely more than simple beneficial associations meant to be aids in times of sickness and trial, and to make the parting of families and especially the death of the head of the family not quite so difficult for the survivors, since affiliated brother workmen remained behind who would care for them. during this century, however, the spirit of democracy, that is the organized effort of the people to take care of themselves, better their conditions, and add to their own happiness, led to the development of the guilds in a fashion that it is rather difficult for generations of the modern time to { } understand, for our trades' unions do not, as yet at least, present anything that quite resembles their work in our times. it was because of the effective social work of these guilds that urbain gohier, the well-known french socialist and writer on sociological subjects, was able to say not long ago in the north american review: "when the workmen of the european continent demand 'the three eights'--eight hours of work, eight hours of rest and refreshment, physical and mental, and eight hours of sleep--some of them are aware of the fact that this reform already exists in the anglo-saxon countries; but all are ignorant of this other fact that, during the middle ages, in an immense number of labor corporations and cities, a work-day was often only nine, eight and even seven hours long. nor have they ever been told that every saturday, and on the eve of over two dozen holidays, work was stopped everywhere at four o'clock." the saturday half holiday began it may be said even earlier, namely at the vesper hour which according to medieval church customs was some time between two and three p. m. and the same was true on the vigils, as the eves of the important church festivals were called. the only possible way to give a reasonably good idea of the spirit of the old-time guilds which succeeded in accomplishing such a wonderful social revolution, is to quote some of their rules, which serve to show their intents and purposes at least, even though they may not always have fulfilled their aims. their rules regard two things particularly--the religious and the social functions of the guild. there was a fine for absence from the special religious services held for the members but also a fine of equal amount for absence from the annual banquet. in this they resemble the rules of the religious orders which were coming to be widely known at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century, and according to which the members of the religious community were required quite as strictly to be present at daily recreation, that is, at the hour of conversation after meals, as at daily prayer. an interesting phase of the social rules of the guild is that a member was expected to bring his wife with him, or if not his wife then his sweetheart. they were franker in these matters { } in this simpler age and doubtless the custom encouraged matrimony a little bit more than our modern colder customs. as giving a fair idea of the ordinances of the pre-reformation guilds in their original shape the rules of the guild of st. luke at lincoln, may be cited. st. luke had been chosen as patron because according to tradition he was an artist as well as an evangelist. the patron saint was chosen always so that he might be a model of life as well as a protector in heaven. its members were the painters, guilders, stainers, and alabaster men of the city. the first rule provides that on the sunday next after the feast of st. luke all the brothers and sisters of the guild shall, with their officers, go in procession from an appointed place, carrying a great candle, to the cathedral church of lincoln, and there every two of the brethren and sisters shall offer one half-penny or more after their devotion, and then shall offer the great candle before an image of st. luke within the church. and any who were absent without lawful cause shall forfeit one pound of wax to the sustentation of the said great candle. on the same sunday, "for love and amity and good communication to be had for the several weal of the fraternity," the guildmen dined together, every brother paying for himself and his wife, or sweetheart, the sum of four pence. absentees were fined one pound of wax towards the aforesaid, candle. the third rule provided that four "mornspeeches"--that its business meetings--should be held each year, "for ordering and good rule to be had and made amongst them." absentees from a mornspeech forfeited one pound of wax to st. luke's candle. another rule provided that the decision of ambiguities or doubts about the forfeitures prescribed should be referred to the mayor and four aldermen of the city. rules to , and also , regulate the taking of apprentices and the setting up in trade; forbid the employing of strangers; provide for the settlement of disputes and the examination of work not sufficiently done after the sample. already the tendency to limit the number of workmen that might be employed which was later to prove a stumbling block to artistic progress is to be noted. on the other hand the effort to keep work up to a certain standard, which was to mean so much for artistic { } accomplishment in the next few generations must be noted as a compensatory feature of the guild regulations. {opp } [illustration] doorway (lincoln) [illustration] nave (durham cathedral) [illustration] broken arch (st. mary's, york, climax of gothic) rule directs that "when it shall happen any brother or sister of the said fraternity to depart and decease from the world, at his first mass the gracemen and wardens (skyvens) for the time being shall offer of the goods and chattels of the said fraternity, two pence; and at his eighth day, or thirtieth day, every brother and sister shall give to a poor creature a token made by the dean, for which tokens every brother and sister shall pay the dean a fixed sum of money, and with the money thus raised he shall buy white bread to give to the poor creatures" holding the tokens, the bread to be distributed at the church of the parish in which the deceased lived. this twelfth rule with regard to the manner of giving charity is particularly striking, because it shows a deliberate effort to avoid certain dangers, the evil possibilities of which our modern organized charity has emphasized. according to this rule of the guild of st. luke's at lincoln, all the members were bound to give a certain amount in charity, for the benefit of a deceased member. this was not, however, by direct alms, but by means of tokens for which they paid a fixed price to the dean, who redeemed the tokens when they were presented by the deserving poor. this guaranteed that each member would give the fixed sum in charity and at the same time safeguarded the almsgiving from any abuses, since the member of the guild himself would be likely to know something of the poor person and his deservingness, and if not there was always the question of the dean being informed with regard to the needs of the case. all of this was accomplished, however, without hurting the feelings of the recipients of the charity, since they felt that it was done not for them but for the benefit of a deceased member. how much the guilds came to influence the life of the people during the next two centuries may be best appreciated from their great increase in number and wealth. in england, it is computed that at the beginning of the sixteenth century there were thirty thousand of these institutions spread over the country. the county of norfolk alone had nine hundred, of which number the small town of { } wymondham had at least eleven still known by names, one--the guild of holy trinity, wymondham--being possessed of a guild-hall of its own, whilst it and the other guilds of the town are said to have been "well endowed with lands and tenements." in bury st. edmunds, suffolk, there were twenty-three guilds; boston, lincolnshire, had fourteen, of which the titles and other particulars are known, whilst in london their number must have been very great. of the london trade guilds, stow, the elizabethan antiquary, records the names of sixty of sufficient importance to entitle their representatives to places at the civic banquets in the reign of henry viii. many of them are still in existence, having been spared at the time of the reformation on the plea that they were trading or secular associations. fifteen of the largest of them--including the merchant tailors, the goldsmiths and the stationers--have at the present time an annual income of over $ , each. the reasons for their popularity can be readily found in the many social needs which they cared for. socialistic cooperation has, perhaps, never been carried so far as in these medieval institutions which were literally "of the people, by the people, and for the people." often their regulation made provisions for insurance against poverty, fire, and sometimes against burglary. frequently they provided schoolmasters for the schools. their funds they loaned out to needy brethren in small sums on easy terms, whilst trade and other disputes likely to give rise to ill-feeling and contention were constantly referred to the guilds for arbitration. one of the rules of the guild of our lady at wymondham thus ordains, that for no manner of cause should any of the brothers or sisters of the fraternity go to law till the officers of the guild had been informed of the circumstances and had done their best to settle the dispute and restore "unity and love betwixt the parties." to assist at the burial of deceased brethren, and to aid in providing for the celebration of obits for the repose of their souls, were duties incumbent on all, defaulters without good excuse being subject to fines and censure. it must not be thought that these tendencies to true democracy were confined to the trades guilds, however. the historian of the merchant guilds has demonstrated that they had the { } same spirit and this was especially true for the great guild merchant. he says: "to this category of powerful affinities must be added the gild merchant. the latter was from the outset a compact body emphatically characterized by fraternal solidarity of interests, a protective union that naturally engendered a consciousness of strength and a spirit of independence. as the same men generally directed the counsels of both the town and the gild, there would be a gradual, unconscious extension of the unity of the one to the other, the cohesive force of the gild making itself felt throughout the whole municipal organism. but the influence of the fraternity was material as well as moral. it constituted a bond of union between the heterogeneous sokes (classes of tenants) of a borough; the townsmen might be exclusively amenable to the courts of different lords, but, if engaged in trade within the town, they were all members of one and the same gild merchant. the independent regulation of trade also accustomed the burgesses to self-government, and constituted an important step toward autonomy; the town judiciary was always more dependent upon the crown or mesne lord than was the gild merchant." because of the supreme interest in everything connected with shakespeare, the existence of one of the most important guilds in stratford, has led to the illustration of guilds' works there better than for any english town during this period. the guild of the holy cross was the most important institution of stratford and enthusiastic shakespeare scholars have applied themselves to find out every detail of its history as far as it is now available, in order to make clear the conditions--social and religious--that existed in the great dramatist's birthplace. halliwell, in his descriptive calendar of the records of stratford on avon, and sidney lee, in his stratford on avon in the time of the shakespeares, have gathered together much of this information:--"the guild has lasted, wrote its chief officer in , for many, many years and its beginning was from time whereunto the memory of man reaches not." bowden, in his volume on the religion of shakespeare, has a number of the most important details with regard to stratford's guild. the earliest extant documents with regard to it are from the { } reign of henry iii., - , and include a deed of gift by one william sede, of a tenement to the guild, and an indulgence granted october th, , by giffard, bishop of wooster, of forty days to all sincere penitents who after having duly confessed had conferred benefits on the guild. by the close of the reign of edward i., at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the guild was wealthy in houses and lands, and the foundation was laid of its chapel and almshouses which, with the hall of meeting--the "rode or reed hall"--stood where the guild hall is at the present day. edward iii. and richard ii., during the fourteenth century, confirmed the rights of the guild and even added to its privileges. though it was a purely local institution, the fame of its good works had spread so wide during these next centuries that affiliation with it became a distinction, and the nobility were attracted to its ranks. george, duke of clarence, brother of edward, with his wife and children, and the earl of warwick, and the lady margaret were counted among its members, and merchants of distant towns counted it an honor to belong to it. later, also, judge littleton, one of the famous founders of english law, was on its roll of membership. the objects of the guild were many and varied and touched the social life of stratford at every point. the first object was mutual prayer. the guild maintained five priests or chaplains who were to say masses daily, hour by hour, from six to ten o'clock for its members, it being expected that some of them would be present at each of the masses. out of the fees of the guild one wax candle was to be kept alight every day throughout the year at every mass in the church before the rood, or cross, "so that god and our blessed virgin and the venerated cross may keep and guard all the brethren and sisters of the guilds from every ill." the second object was charity, under which was included all the various works of mercy. the needs of any brother or sister who had fallen into poverty or been robbed were to be provided for "as long as he bears himself rightly towards the brethren." when a brother died all the brethren were bound to follow the body to the church and to pray for his soul at its burial. the guild candle and eight smaller ones were to be kept burning by the body from the { } time of death till the funeral. when a poor man died in the town the brethren and sisters were, for their soul's health, to find four wax candles, a sheet, and a hearse cloth for the corpse. this rule also applied in the event of a stranger's death, if the stranger had not the necessary means for burial. nor were the efforts of the guild at stratford devoted solely to the alleviation of the ills of mankind and the more serious purposes of life. once a year, in easter week, a feast of the members was held in order to foster peace and true brotherly love among them. at this time offerings were made for the poor in order that they too might share in the happiness of the festival time. there was attendance at church before the feasting and a prayer was offered by all the "brethren and sisters that god and our blessed virgin and the venerated cross in whose honor we have come together will keep us from all ills and sins." this frequent reference to the cross will be better understood if it is recalled that the guild at stratford bore the name of the guild of the holy cross, and the figure of the crucified one was one of its most respected symbols and was always looked upon as a special object of veneration on the part of the members. the thoroughly progressive spirit of the guild at stratford will perhaps be best appreciated by the modern mind from the fact, that to it the town owed the foundation of its famous free school. during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the study of grammar, and of the various theoretical branches, was not considered the essential part of an education. gradually, however, there had arisen the feeling that all the children should be taught the ground-work of the vulgar tongue, and that those whose parents wished it should receive education in latin also; hence the establishment of grammar schools, that at stratford being founded for the children of the members of the guild about the middle of the fifteenth century. this was only the normal development of the earlier spirit of the guild which enabled it to meet the growing social needs of the time. it was at this school, as reconstituted under edward vi., that shakespeare was educated, and the reestablishment by edward was only in response to the many complaints which arose because of the absence of the school after its suppression by { } henry viii. the fact that shakespeare was educated at an edward vi. grammar school, has often given occasion for commentators to point out that it was practically the reformation in england which led to the establishment of free schools. any such suggestion, however, can be made only in complete ignorance of the preexisting state of affairs in which the people, by organization, succeeded in accomplishing so much for themselves. as a matter of fact the guild at stratford, as in most of the towns in england--for we have taken this as an example only because it is easier to get at the details of its history--was the most important factor in the preservation of social order, in the distribution of charity, in the providing of education, and even the maintenance of the security of the life and property of its inhabitants. when it was dissolved, in , stratford found itself in a chaotic state and had to petition edward vi. to reconstitute the guild as a civil corporation, which he did by charter in . after this consideration of the guilds and their purpose and success, it is no wonder that we should declare that the wind of the spirit of democracy was blowing in england and carrying away the old landmarks of absolute government. it is to the spirit thus fostered that must be attributed the marvelous progress in representative government, the steps of which we recall. in , all england united against the odious john lackland and obliged him to grant the magna charta--a declaration of national liberty. in , the provisions of oxford, under henry iii., established, for the moment, the stated recurrence of the great national council of parliament. in , under the same prince, the earl of leicester admitted to parliament the knights of the shire and the representatives of the townspeople, who formed later the lower house, or house of commons, while those personally summoned to attend by the king from the great nobles formed the upper house, or house of lords. beginning with the year , in the reign of edward i., the attendance of the county and town members became { } regular, making parliament really representative of the country. in , in the reign of edward ii., parliament revealed its possible strength by putting conditions on its vote for taxes. there were other factors at work, however, and one of them at least, because of its importance, deserves to be recalled here. in the chapter on great beginnings of modern commerce we call attention to the fact, that the crusades were responsible to a great degree for the spirit of enterprise which led to the formation of the lombard league of cities, and later to the great hanseatic league, which seems to have taken at least its incentive from the southern confederation. in the chapter on louis ix. we point out that the crusades, and his connection with them, far from being blots on louis's career must rather be considered as manifestations of the great heart of the time which was awakening to all needs, and had its religious aspirations stirred so deeply that men were ready to give up everything in order to follow an idea. one thing is certain, the crusades did more to set ferments at work in the social organization of europe than would have been possible by any other movement. these ferments brought about two results, one the uplift of the common people, the other the centralization of power in the hands of the kings with the gradual diminution of the influence of the nobility. while fostering the spirit of democracy on the one hand, they gave birth to the spirit of nationality and to all that this has accomplished in modern history. storrs, in his life of st. bernard, recently issued, has given expression to this thought in a very striking fashion. he says: "it used to be the fashion to regard the crusades as mere fantastic exhibitions of a temporary turbulent religious fanaticism, aiming at ends wholly visionary, and missing them, wasting the best life of europe in colossal and bloody undertakings, and leaving effects only of evil for the time which came after. more reasonable views now prevail; and while the impulse in which the vast movement took its rise is recognized as passionate and semi-barbaric, it is seen that many effects followed which were beneficial rather than harmful, which could not perhaps have been at the time in other ways realized. as i have already suggested, properties were to an important { } extent redistributed in europe, and the constitutions of states were favorably affected. lands were sold at low prices by those who were going on the distant expeditions, very probably, as they knew, never to return; and horses and armor, with all martial equipments, were bought at high prices by the jews, who could not hold land, and the history of whom throughout the middle ages is commonly traced in fearful lines of blood and fire, but who increased immeasurably their movable wealth through these transfers of property. communes bought liberties by large contributions to the needs of their lord; and their liberties, once secured, were naturally confirmed and augmented, as the years went on. the smaller tended to be absorbed in the larger; the larger often to come more strictly under royal control, thus increasing the power of the sovereign--which meant at the time, general laws, instead of local, a less minutely oppressive administration, the furtherance of the movement toward national unity. it is a noticeable fact that italy took but a comparatively small part in the crusades; and the long postponement of organic union between different parts of the magnificent peninsula is not without relation to this. the influence which operated elsewhere in europe to efface distinction of custom and language in separate communities, to override and extinguish local animosities, to make scattered peoples conscious of kinship, did not operate there; and the persistent severance of sections from each other, favored, of course, by the run of the rivers and the vast separating walls of the apenines, was the natural consequence of the want of this powerful unifying force." [footnote ] [footnote : storrs, "bernard of chairvaux," new york (scribners), , pp. - . ] as a matter of fact very few people realize how much was accomplished for the spirit of democracy, for liberty, for true progress, as regards the rights of men of all classes, and for the feeling of the brotherhood of man itself, by the crusades. a practical money-making age may consider them examples of foolish religious fanaticism, but those who have studied them most profoundly and with most sympathy, who are deeply interested in the social amelioration which they brought about, and, above all, those who look at them in the higher poetic { } spirit of what they did to lift man above the sordid cares of everyday life, see them in a far different way. charles kingsley sang in the poem of the saints tragedy: "tell us how our stout crusading fathers fought and bled for god and not for gold." but quite apart from the poetry of them, from the practical side much can be said which even the most matter of fact of men will appreciate. here, for instance, are a series of paragraphs from the history of the middle ages by george washington greene, which he confesses to have taken chiefly from the french, [footnote ] which will make clear something of the place these great expeditions should be considered as holding in the history of democracy and of liberty: [footnote : new york, appleton, .] "christendom had not spent in vain its treasures and its blood in the holy wars. its immense sacrifices were repaid by immense results, and the evils which these great expeditions necessarily brought with them were more than compensated for by the advantages which they procured for the whole of europe. "the crusades saved europe from the mussulman invasion and this was their immediate good. their influence was felt, too, in a manner less direct, but not less useful. the crusades had been preached by a religion of equality in a society divided by odious distinctions. all had taken part in them, the weak as well as the strong, the serf and the baron, man and woman, and it was by them that the equality of man and woman, which christianity taught, was made a social fact. st. louis declared that he could do nothing without the consent of his queen, his wife. it was from this period that we must date that influence of woman which gave rise to chivalric courtesy, the first step towards refinement of manners and civilization. the poor, too, were the adopted children of the christian chivalry of the crusades. the celebrated orders of palestine were instituted for the protection of poor pilgrims. the knights of the hospitals called the poor their masters. surely no lesson was more needed by these proud barons of the middle ages than that of charity and humility. { } "these ideas were the first to shake the stern despotism of feudality, by opposing to it the generous principles of chivalry which sprang all armed from the crusades. bound to the military orders by a solemn vow--and in the interests of all christendom--the knight felt himself free from feudal dependence, and raised above national limits, as the immediate warrior and servant of the united christendom and of god. chivalry founded not upon territorial influence, but upon personal distinction, necessarily weakened nobility by rendering it accessible to all, and diminishing the interval which separated the different classes of society. every warrior who had distinguished himself by his valor could kneel before the king to be dubbed a knight, and rise up the equal, the superior even, of powerful vassals. the poorest knight could sit at the king's table while the noble son of a duke or prince was excluded, unless he had won the golden spurs of knighthood. another way by which the crusades contributed to the decay of feudalism was by favoring the enfranchisement of serfs, even without the consent of their masters. whoever took the cross became free, just as every slave becomes free on touching the soil of england or france. "the communities whose development is to be referred to the period of the crusades, multiplied rapidly; the nobility gladly granting charters and privileges in exchange for men and money. with the communities the royal power grew, and that of the aristocracy decreased. the royal domain was enlarged, by the escheating of a great number of fiefs which had been left vacant by the death of their lords. the kings protected the communities, favored their enfranchisement, and employed them usefully against insubordinate vassals. the extension of the royal power favored the organization of the nation, by establishing a principle of unity, for till then, and with that multitude of masters, the nation had been little else than an agglomeration of provinces, strangers to one another, and destitute of any common bond or common interest. the great vassals, themselves, often united under the royal banner, became accustomed during these distant expeditions to submission and discipline, and learned to recognize a legitimate authority; and if they lost by this submission a part of their { } personal power, they gained in compensation the honorable distinctions of chivalry. "but it was not the national feeling alone which was fostered by the crusades. relations of fraternity, till then wholly unknown, grew up between different nations, and softened the deep-rooted antipathy of races. the knights, whom a common object united in common dangers, became brothers in arms and formally formed permanent ties of friendship. that barbarous law which gave the feudal lord a right to call every man his serf who settled in his domains was softened. stranger and enemy seemed to be synonymous, and 'the crusaders,' say the chroniclers of the times, 'although divided by language, seemed to form only one people, by their love for god and their neighbor.' and without coloring the picture too warmly, and making all due allowance for the exaggerations which were so natural to the first recorders of such a movement, we may say that human society was founded and united and europe began to pass from the painful period of organization, to one of fuller and more rapid development." here in reality modern democracy had its rise, striking its roots deep into the disintegrating soil of the old feudalism whence it was never to be plucked, and though at times it languished it was to remain ever alive until its luxuriant growth in recent times. [illustration] animals from bestiarium, thirteenth century ms. { } xxv great explorers and the foundation of geography. geography is usually considered to be quite a modern subject. the idea that great contributions were made to it in the thirteenth century would ordinarily not be entertained. america was discovered at the end of the fifteenth century. knowledge of the east was obtained during the sixteenth century. africa was explored in the nineteenth and a detailed knowledge of asia came to us in such recent years that the books are still among the novelties of publication. our knowledge of persia, of northern india, of thibet, and of the interior of china are all triumphs of nineteenth century enterprise and exploration. as a matter of fact, however, all portions of the east were explored, the capital and the dominions of jenghis khan described, lhasa was entered and the greater part of china thoroughly explored by travelers of the thirteenth century, whose books still remain as convincing evidence of the great work that they accomplished. this chapter of thirteenth century accomplishment is, indeed, one of the most interesting and surprising in the whole story of the time. it is usually considered that the teaching, supposed to have been more or less generally accepted, that the antipodes did not exist, prevented any significant development of geography until comparatively modern times. while the question of the existence of antipodes was discussed in the schools of the middle ages, and especially of the thirteenth century when men's minds were occupied with practically all of the important problems even of physical science, and while many intelligent men accepted the idea that there could not be inhabitants on the other side of the world because of physical difficulties which supposedly made it impossible, it would be a mistake to think that this idea was universally accepted. we have already called attention to the fact in the chapter on "what was taught at the { } universities," that albertus magnus, for instance, ridiculed the notion that men could not live with their heads down, as was urged against the doctrine of the existence of antipodes, by suggesting very simply that for those on the other side of the earth what we call down was really not down but up. this expresses, of course, the very heart of the solution of the supposed difficulty. as a matter of fact it seems clear that many of the great travelers and explorers of the later middle ages harbored the notion that the earth was round. as we shall note a little later in mentioning sir john mandeville's work, the writer, whomever he was who took that pseudonym, believed thoroughly in the rotundity of the earth and did not hesitate to use some striking expressions--which have been often quoted--that he had heard of travelers who by traveling continually to the eastward had come back eventually to the point from which they started. while in the schools, then, the existence of antipodes may have been under discussion, there was a practical acceptance of their existence among those who were better informed with regard to countries and peoples and all the other topics which form the proper subject matter of geography. it must be realized, moreover, that though the existence of the antipodes is an important matter in geography, at this early period it was a mere theory, not a condition antecedent to progress. it was really a side issue as compared with many other questions relating to the earth's surface and its inhabitants with which the medieval mind was occupied. to consider that no knowledge of geography could be obtained until there was a definite acceptance of the right view of the earth's surface, would be to obliterate much precious knowledge. the argument as to the existence of antipodes, as it was carried on, was entirely outside of geography properly so-called. it never influenced in the slightest degree the men who were consciously and unconsciously laying deep and broad the foundations of modern geography. to consider such a matter as vital to the development of as many sided a subject as geography, illustrates very typically the narrowness of view of so many modern scholars, who apparently can see the value of nothing which does not entirely accord with modern knowledge. the really { } interesting historian of knowledge, however, is he who can point out the beginnings of what we now know, in unexpected quarters in the medieval mind. as the story of these travels and explorations is really a glorious chapter in the history of the encouragement of things intellectual, as well as an interesting phase of an important origin whose foundations were laid broad and deep in the thirteenth century, it must be told here in some detail. our century was the great leader in exploration and geography as in so many other matters in which its true place is often unrecognized. the people of the time are usually considered to have had such few facilities for travel that they did not often go far from home, and that what was known about distant countries, therefore, was very little and mainly legendary. nothing could be more false than any such impression as this. the crusades during the previous century had given the people not only a deep interest in distant lands, but the curiosity to go and see for themselves. pilgrimages to the holy land were frequent, ecclesiastics often traveled at least as far as italy, and in general the tide of travel in proportion to the number of population must have been not very much less in amount than in our own day. after the establishment of the religious orders, missionary expeditions to the east became very common and during the thirteenth century, as we shall see, the franciscans particularly, established themselves in many parts of the near east, but also of the far east, especially in china. many of those wrote accounts of their travels, and so the literature of travel and exploration during the thirteenth century is one of the most interesting chapters of the literature of these times, while the wonderfully deep foundations that were laid for the science of geography, are worthy to be set beside the great origins in other sciences and in the arts, for which the century is so noteworthy. to most people it will come as a distinct surprise to learn that the travelers and explorers of the thirteenth century--merchants, ambassadors, and missionaries--succeeded in solving many of the geographical problems that have been of deepest interest to the generations of the last half of last century. { } the eastern part of asia particularly was traveled over and very thoroughly described by them. even the northern part of india, however, was not neglected in spite of the difficulties that were encountered, and thibet was explored and lhasa entered by travelers of the thirteenth century. of china as much was written as had been learned by succeeding generations down practically to our own time. this may sound like a series of fairy-tales instead of serious science, but it is the travelers and explorers of the modern time who have thought it worth while to comment on the writings of these old-time wanderers of the thirteenth century, and who have pointed out the significance of their work. these men described not only the countries through which they passed, but also the characters of the people, their habits and customs, their forms of speech, with many marvelous hints as regards the relationship of the different languages, and even something about the religious practises of these countries and their attitude toward the great truths of christianity when they were presented to them. undoubtedly one of the greatest travelers and explorers of all times was marco polo, whose book was for so long considered to be mainly made up of imaginary descriptions of things and places never seen, but which the development of modern geographical science by travels and expeditions has proved to be one of the most valuable contributions to this department of knowledge that has ever been made. it took many centuries for marco polo to come to his own in this respect but the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have almost more than made up for the neglect of their predecessors. marco polo suffered the same fate as did herodotus of whom voltaire sneered "father of history, say, rather, father of lies." so long as succeeding generations had no knowledge themselves of the things of which both these great writers had written, they were distrusted and even treated contemptuously. just as soon, however, as definite knowledge began to come it was seen how wonderfully accurate both of them were in their descriptions of things they had actually seen, though they admitted certain over-wonderful stories on the authority of others. herodotus has now come to be acknowledged as { } one of the greatest of historians. in his lives of celebrated travelers, james augustus st. john states the change of mind with regard to marco polo rather forcibly: "when the travels of marco polo first appeared, they were generally regarded as fiction; and as this absurd belief had so far gained ground, that when he lay upon his death bed, his friends and nearest relatives, coming to take their eternal adieu, conjured him as he valued the salvation of his soul, to retract whatever he had advanced in his book, or at least many such passages as every person looked upon as untrue; but the traveler whose conscience was untouched upon that score, declared solemnly, in that awful moment, that far from being guilty of exaggeration, he had not described one-half of the wonderful things which he had beheld. such was the reception which the discoveries of this extraordinary man experienced when first promulgated. by degrees, however, as enterprise lifted more and more the veil from central and eastern asia the relations of our traveler rose in the estimation of geographers; and now that the world--though containing many unknown tracts--has been more successfully explored, we begin to perceive that marco polo, like herodotus, was a man of the most rigid veracity, whose testimony presumptuous ignorance alone can call in question." there is many a fable that clings around the name of marco polo, but this distinguished traveler needs no fictitious adornments of his tale to make him one of the greatest explorers of all time. it is sometimes said that he helped to introduce many important inventions into europe and one even finds his name connected with the mariner's compass and with gunpowder. there are probably no good grounds for thinking that europe owes any knowledge of either of these great inventions to the venetian traveler. with regard to printing there is more doubt and polo's passage with regard to movable blocks for printing paper money as used in china may have proved suggestive. there is no need, however, of surmises in order to increase his fame for the simple story of his travels is quite sufficient for his reputation for all time. as has been well said most of the modern travelers and explorers have only been developing what polo indicated at least in outline, and they have been { } scarcely more than describing with more precision of detail what he first touched upon and brought to general notice. when it is remembered that he visited such cities in eastern turkestan as kashgar, yarkand, and khotan, which have been the subject of much curiosity only satisfied in quite recent years, that he had visited thibet, or at least had traveled along its frontier, that to him the medieval world owed some definite knowledge of the christian kingdom of abyssinia and all that it was to know of china for centuries almost, his merits will be readily appreciated. as a matter of fact there was scarcely an interesting country of the east of which marco polo did not have something to relate from his personal experiences. he told of burmah, of siam, of cochin china, of japan, of java, of sumatra, and of other islands of the great archipelago, of ceylon, and of india, and all of these not in the fabulous dreamland spirit of one who has not been in contact with the east but in very definite and precise fashion. nor was this all. he had heard and could tell much, though his geographical lore was legendary and rather dim, of the coast of zanzibar, of the vast and distant madagascar, and in the remotely opposite direction of siberia, of the shores of the arctic ocean, and of the curious customs of the inhabitants of these distant countries. how wonderfully acute and yet how thoroughly practical some of polo's observations were can be best appreciated by some quotations from his description of products and industries as he saw them on his travels. we are apt to think of the use of petroleum as dating from much later than the thirteenth century, but marco polo had not only seen it in the near east on his travels, but evidently had learned much of the great rock-oil deposits at baku which constitute the basis for the important russian petroleum industry in modern times. he says: "on the north (of armenia) is found a fountain from which a liquor like oil flows, which, though unprofitable for the seasoning of meat, is good for burning and for anointing camels afflicted with the mange. this oil flows constantly and copiously, so that camels are laden with it." he is quite as definite in the information acquired with regard, to the use of coal. he knew and states very confidently that { } there were immense deposits of coal in china, deposits which are so extensive that distinguished geologists and mineralogists who have learned of them in modern times have predicted that eventually the world's great manufacturing industries would be transferred to china. we are apt to think that this mineral wealth is not exploited by the chinese, yet even in marco polo's time, as one commentator has remarked, the rich and poor of that land had learned the value of the black stone. "through the whole province of cathay," says polo, "certain black stones are dug from the mountains, which, put into the fire, burn like wood, and being kindled, preserve fire a long time, and if they be kindled in the evening they keep fire all the night." another important mineral product which even more than petroleum or coal is supposed to be essentially modern in its employment is asbestos. polo had not only seen this but had realized exactly what it was, had found out its origin and had recognized its value. curiously enough he attempts to explain the origin of a peculiar usage of the word salamander (the salamander having been supposed to be an animal which was not injured by fire) by reference to the incombustibility of asbestos. the whole passage as it appears in the romance of travel and exploration deserves to be quoted. while discoursing about dsungaria, polo says: "and you must know that in the mountain there is a substance from which salamander is made. the real truth is that the salamander is no beast as they allege in our part of the world, but is a substance found in the earth. everybody can be aware that it can be no animal's nature to live in fire seeing that every animal is composed of all the four elements. now i, marco polo, had a turkish acquaintance who related that he had lived three years in that region on behalf of the great khan, in order to procure these salamanders for him. he said that the way they got them was by digging in that mountain till they found a certain vein. the substance of this vein was taken and crushed, and when so treated it divides, as it were, into fibres of wool, which they set forth to dry. when dry these fibres were pounded in a copper mortar and then washed so as to remove all the earth and to leave only the fibres, like { } fibres of wool. these were then spun and made into napkins." needless to say this is an excellent description of asbestos. it is not surprising, then, that the twentieth century so interested in travel and exploration should be ready to lay its tributes at the feet of marco polo, and that one of the important book announcements of recent years should be that of the publication of an annotated edition of marco polo from the hands of a modern explorer, who considered that there was no better way of putting definitely before the public in its true historical aspect the evolution of modern geographical knowledge with regard to eastern countries. it can scarcely fail to be surprising to the modern mind that polo should practically have been forced into print. he had none of the itch of the modern traveler for publicity. the story of his travels he had often told and because of the wondrous tales he could unfold and the large numbers he found it frequently so necessary to use in order to give proper ideas of some of his wanderings, had acquired the nickname of marco millioni. he had never thought, however, of committing his story to writing or perhaps he feared the drudgery of such literary labor. after his return from his travels, however, he bravely accepted a patriot's duty of fighting for his native country on board one of her galleys and was captured by the genoese in a famous sea-fight in the adriatic in . he was taken prisoner and remained in captivity in genoa for nearly a year. it was during this time that one rusticiano, a writer by profession, was attracted to him and tempted him to tell him the complete story of his travels in order that they might be put into connected form. rusticiano was a pisan who had been a compiler of french romances and accordingly polo's story was first told in french prose. it is not surprising that rusticiano should have chosen french since he naturally wished his story of polo's travels to be read by as many people as possible and realized that it would be of quite as much interest to ordinary folk as to the literary circles of europe. how interesting the story is only those who have read it even with the knowledge acquired by all the other explorers since his time, can properly appreciate. it lacks entirely the egotistic quality that usually characterizes an explorer's account of his travels, and, indeed, { } there can scarcely fail to be something of disappointment because of this fact. no doubt a touch more of personal adventure would have added to the interest of the book. it was not a characteristic of the thirteenth century, however, to insist on the merely personal and consequently the world has lost a treat it might otherwise have had. there is no question, however, or the greatness of polo's work as a traveler, nor of the glory that was shed by it on the thirteenth century. like nearly everything else that was done in this marvelous century he represents the acme of successful endeavor in his special line down even to our own time. it has sometimes been said that marco polo's work greatly influenced columbus and encouraged him in his attempt to seek india by sailing around the globe. of this, however, there is considerable doubt. we have learned in recent times, that a very definite tradition with regard to the possibility of finding land by sailing straight westward over the atlantic existed long before columbus' time. [footnote ] polo's indirect influence on columbus by his creation of an interest in geographical matters generally is much clearer. there can be no doubt of how much his work succeeded in drawing men's minds to geographical questions during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. [footnote : my learned friend, father deroo, of portland, ore., who has written two very interesting volumes on the history of america before columbus, does not hesitate to say that columbus may even have met in his travels and spoken with sailors who had touched on some portions of the american continent, and that, of course, the traditions with regard to greenland were very clear.] after marco polo, undoubtedly, the most enterprising explorer and interesting writer on travel in the thirteenth century was john of carpini, the author of a wonderful series of descriptions of things seen in northern asia. like so many other travelers and explorers at this time john was a franciscan friar, and seems to have been one of the early companions and disciples of st. francis of assisi, whom he joined when he was only a young man himself. before going on his missionary and ambassadorial expedition he had been one of the most prominent men in the order. he had much to do with its { } propagation among the northern nations of europe, and occupied successively the offices of custos or prior in saxony and of provincial in germany. he seems afterwards to have been sent as an organizer into spain and to have gone even as far as the barbary coast. it is not surprising, then, that when, in , pope innocent iv. (sometime after the mongol invasion of eastern europe and the disastrous battle of legamites which threatened to place european civilization and christianity in the power of the tartars) resolved to send a mission to the tartar monarch, john of carpini was selected for the dangerous and important mission. at this time friar john was more than sixty years of age, but such was the confidence in his ability and in his executive power that everything on the embassy was committed to his discretion. he started from lyons on easter day, . he sought the counsel first of his old friend wenceslaus, king of bohemia, and from that country took with him another friar, a pole, to act as his interpreter. the first stage in his journey was to kiev, and from here, having crossed the dnieper and the don to the volga, he traveled to the camp of batu, at this time the senior living member of jenghis khan's family. batu after exchanging presents allowed them to proceed to the court of the supreme khan in mongolia. as col. yule says, the stout-hearted old man rode on horseback something like three thousand miles in the next hundred days. the bodies of himself and companion had to be tightly bandaged to enable them to stand the excessive fatigue of this enormous ride, which led them across the ural mountains and river past the northern part of the caspian, across the jaxartes, whose name they could not find out, along the dzungarian lakes till they reached the imperial camp, called the yellow pavilion, near the orkhon river. there had been an interregnum in the empire which was terminated by a formal election while the friars were at the yellow pavilion, where they had the opportunity to see between three and four thousand envoys and deputies from all parts of asia and eastern europe, who brought with them tributes and presents for the ruler to be elected. { } it was not for three months after this, in november, that the emperor dismissed them with a letter to the pope written in latin, arabic, and mongolian, but containing only a brief imperious assertion that the khan of the tartars was the scourge of god for christianity, and that he must fulfill his mission. then sad at heart, the ambassadors began their homeward journey in the midst of the winter. their sufferings can be better imagined than described, but friar john who does not dwell on them much tells enough of them to make their realization comparatively easy. they reached kiev seven months later, in june, and were welcomed there by the slavonic christians as though arisen from the dead. from thence they continued their journey to lyons where they delivered the khan's letter to the pope. friar john embodied the information that he had obtained in this journey in a book that has been called liber tartarorum (the book of the tartars or according to another manuscript, history of the mongols whom we call tartars). col. yule notes that like most of the other medieval monks' itineraries, it shows an entire absence of that characteristic traveler's egotism with which we have become abundantly familiar in more recent years, and contains very little personal narrative. we know that john was a stout man and this in addition to his age when he went on the mission, cannot but make us realize the thoroughly unselfish spirit with which he followed the call of holy obedience, to undertake a work that seemed sure to prove fatal and that would inevitably bring in its train suffering of the severest kind. of the critical historical value of his work a good idea can be obtained from the fact, that half a century ago an educated mongol, galsang gombeyev, in the historical and philological bulletin of the imperial academy of st. petersburg, reviewed the book and bore testimony to the great accuracy of its statements, to the care with which its details had been verified, and the evident personal character of all its observations. friar john's book attracted the attention of compilers of information with regard to distant countries very soon after it was issued, and an abridgment of it is to be found in the encyclopedia of vincent of beauvais, which was written shortly { } after the middle of the thirteenth century. at the end of the sixteenth century hakluyt published portions of the original work, as did borgeron at the beginning of the seventeenth century. the geographical society of paris published a fine edition of the work about the middle of the nineteenth century, and at the same time a brief narrative taken down from the lips of john's companion. friar benedict the pole, which is somewhat more personal in its character and fully substantiates all that friar john had written. as can readily be understood the curiosity of his contemporaries was deeply aroused and friar john had to tell his story many times after his return. hence the necessity he found himself under of committing it to paper, so as to save himself from the bother of telling it all over again, and in order that his brother franciscans throughout the world might have the opportunity to read it. col. yule says "the book must have been prepared immediately after the return of the traveler, for the friar salimbene, who met him in france in the very year of his return ( ) gives us these interesting particulars: 'he was a clever and conversable man, well lettered, a great discourser, and full of diversity of experience. he wrote a big book about the tartars (sic), and about other marvels that he had seen and whenever he felt weary of telling about the tartars, he would cause this book of his to be read, as i have often heard and seen. (chron. fr. salembene parmensis in monum. histor. ad provinceam placent: pertinentia, parma ).'" another important traveler of the thirteenth century whose work has been the theme of praise and extensive annotation in modern times was william of rubruk, usually known under the name of rubruquis, a franciscan friar, thought, as the result of recent investigations, probably to owe his cognomen to his birth in the little town of rubruk in brabant, who was the author of a remarkable narrative of asiatic travel during the thirteenth century, and whose death seems to have taken place about . the name rubruquis has been commonly used to designate him because it is found in the latin original of his work, which was printed by hayluyt in his collection of voyages at the end of the { } sixteenth century. friar william was sent partly as an ambassador and partly as an explorer by louis ix. of france into tartary. at that time the descendants of jenghis khan ruled over an immense empire in the orient and king louis was deeply interested in introducing christianity into the east and if possible making their rulers christians. about the middle of the thirteenth century a rumor spread throughout europe that one of the nephews of the great khan had embraced christianity. st. louis thought this a favorable opportunity for getting in touch with the eastern potentate and so he dispatched at least two missions into tartary at the head of the second of which was william of rubruk. his accounts of his travels proved most interesting reading to his own and to many subsequent generations, perhaps to none more than our own. the encyclopedia britannica (ninth edition) says that the narrative of his journey is everywhere full of life and interest, and some details of his travels will show the reasons for this. rubruk and his party landed on the crimean coast at sudak or soldaia, a port which formed the chief seat of communication between the mediterranean countries and what is now southern russia. the friar succeeded in making his way from here to the great khan's court which was then held not far from karakorum. this journey was one of several thousand miles. the route taken has been worked out by laborious study and the key to it is the description given of the country intervening between the basin of the talas and lake ala-kul. this enables the whole geography of the region, including the passage of the river ili, the plain south of the bal cash, and the ala-kul itself, to be identified beyond all reasonable doubt. the return journey was made during the summertime, and the route lay much farther to the north. the travelers traversed the jabkan valley and passed north of the river bal cash, following a rather direct course which led them to the mouth of the volga. from here they traveled south past derbend and shamakii to the uraxes, and on through iconium to the coast of cilicia, and finally to the port of ayas, where they embarked for cyprus. all during his travels friar william made observations on men and cities, and rivers and mountains, and { } languages and customs, implements and utensils, and most of these modern criticism has accepted as representing the actual state of things as they would appear to a medieval sightseer. occasionally during the period intervening between his time and our own, scholars who thought that they knew better, have been conceited enough to believe themselves in a position to point out glaring errors in rubruquis' accounts of what he saw. subsequent investigation and discovery have, as a rule, proved the accuracy of the earlier observations rather than the modern scholar's corrections. an excellent example of this is quoted in the encyclopedia britannica article on rubruquis already referred to. {opp } [illustration] doorway of giotto's tower (florence) [illustration] principal door of baptistery (pisa, diotisalvi) the writer says: "this sagacious and honest observer is denounced as an ignorant and untruthful blunderer by isaac jacob schmidt (a man no doubt of useful learning, of a kind rare in his day but narrow and long-headed and in natural acumen and candour far inferior to the thirteenth century friar whom he maligns), simply because the evidence of the latter as to the turkish dialect of the uigurs traversed a pet heresy long since exploded which schmidt entertained, namely, that the uigurs were by race and language tibetan." some of the descriptions of the towns through which the travelers passed are interesting because of comparisons with towns of corresponding size in europe. karakorum, for instance, was described as a small city about the same size as the town of st. denis near paris. in karakorum the ambassador missionary maintained a public disputation with certain pagan priests in the presence of three of the secretaries of the khan. the religion of these umpires is rather interesting from its diversity: the first was a christian, the second a mohammedan, and the third a buddhist. a very interesting feature of the disputation was the fact that the khan ordered under pain of death that none of the disputants should slander, traduce, or abuse his adversaries, or endeavor by rumor or insinuations to excite popular indignation against them. this would seem to indicate that the great tartar khan who is usually considered to have been a cruel, ignorant despot, whose one quality that gave him supremacy was military valor, was really a large, liberal-minded man. his idea seems to have been to discover { } the truth of these different religions and adopt that one which was adjudged to have the best groundwork of reason for it. it is easy to understand, however, that such a disputation argued through interpreters wholly ignorant of the subject and without any proper understanding of the nice distinctions of words or any practise in conveying their proper significance, could come to no serious conclusion. the arguments, therefore, fell flat and a decision was not rendered. friar william's work was not unappreciated by his contemporaries and even its scientific value was thoroughly realized. it is not surprising, of course, that his great contemporary in the franciscan order, roger bacon, should have come to the knowledge of his brother minorite's book and should have made frequent and copious quotations from it in the geographical section of his opus majus, which was written some time during the seventh decade of the thirteenth century. bacon says that brother william traversed the oriental and northern regions and the places adjacent to them, and wrote accounts of them for the illustrious king of france who sent him on the expedition to tartary. he adds: "i have read his book diligently and have compared it with similar accounts." roger bacon recognized by a sort of scientific intuition of his own, certain passages which have proved to be the best in recent times. the description, for instance, of the caspian was the best down to this time, and friar william corrects the error made by isidore, and which had generally been accepted before this, that the caspian sea was a gulf. rubruk, as quoted by roger bacon, states very explicitly that it nowhere touches the ocean but is surrounded on all sides by land. for those who do not think that the foundations of scientific geography were laid until recent times, a little consultation of roger bacon's opus majus would undoubtedly be a revelation. it is probably with regard to language that one might reasonably expect to find least that would be of interest to modern scholars in friar william's book. as might easily have been gathered from previous references, however, it is here that the most frequent surprises as to the acuity of this medieval traveler await the modern reader. scientific philology is so much a product of the last century, that it is difficult to { } understand how this old-time missionary was able to reach so many almost intuitive recognitions of the origin and relationships of the languages of the people among whom he traveled. he came in contact with the group of nations occupying what is now known as the near east, whose languages, as is well known, have constituted a series of the most difficult problems with which philology had to deal until its thorough establishment on scientific lines enabled it to separate them properly. it is all the more surprising then, to find that friar william should have so much in his book that even the modern philologist will read with attention and unstinted admiration. with regard to this colonel yule, whose personal experience makes him a valuable guide in such matters, has written a paragraph which contains so much compressed information that we venture to quote it entire. it furnishes the grounds for the claim (which might seem overstrained if it were not that its author was himself one of the greatest of modern explorers) that william was an acute and most intelligent observer, keen in the acquisition of knowledge; and the author in fact of one of the best narratives of travel in existence. col. yule says: "of his interest and acumen in matters of language we may cite examples. the language of the pascatir (or bashkirds) and of the hungarians is the same, as, he had learned from dominicans who had been among them. the language of the ruthenians, poles, bohemians, and slavonians is one, and is the same with that of the wandals or wends. in the town of equinus (immediately beyond the ili, perhaps aspara) the people were mohammedans speaking persian, though so far remote from persia. the yugurs (or uigurs) of the country about the cailac had formed a language and character of their own, and in that language and character the nestorians of that tract used to perform their office and write their books. the yugurs are those among whom are found the fountain and root of the turkish and comanian tongue. their character has been adopted by the moghals. in using it they begin writing from the top and write downwards, whilst line follows line from left to right. the nestorians say their service, and have their holy book in syriac, but know nothing of the { } language, just as some of our monks sing the mass without knowing latin. the tibet people write as we do, and their letters have a strong resemblance to ours. the tangut people write from right to left like the arabs, and their lines advance upwards." there were other matters besides language and religion on which friar william made observations, and though his book is eminently human giving us a very interesting view of his own personality and of his difficulties with his dragoman, which many a modern eastern traveler will sympathize with, and a picture that includes the detail that he was a very heavy man, _valde ponderosus_, which makes his travel on horseback for some , miles all the more wonderful; it also contains a mass of particulars, marvelously true--or so near the truth as to be almost more interesting--as to asiatic nature, ethnography, manners, morals, commercial customs, and nearly everything else relating to the life of the peoples among whom he traveled. a typical example of this is to be found in the following suggestive paragraph: "the current money of cathay is of cotton paper, a palm in length and breath, and on this they print lines like those of mangu khan's seal: 'imprimunt lineas sicut est sigillum mangu'"--a remarkable expression. "they write with a painter's pencil and combine in one character several letters, forming one expression: 'faciunt in una figura plures literas comprehendentes unam dictionem'"--a still more remarkable utterance, showing an approximate apprehension of the nature of chinese writing. there are other distinguished travelers whose inspiration came to them during the thirteenth century though their works were published in the early part of the next century. some of these we know mainly through their adaptation and incorporation into his work without due recognition, by that first great writer of spurious travels sir john mandeville. mandeville's work was probably written some time during the early part of the second half of the fourteenth century, but he used materials gathered from travelers of the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the next (his own) century. sir henry yule has pointed out, that by far the greater part of the supposed { } more distant travels of sir john mandeville were appropriated from the narrative of friar odoric, a monk, who became a member of the franciscan order about the end of the thirteenth century, and whose travels as a missionary in the east gave him the opportunities to collect a precious fund of information which is contained in odoric's famous story of his voyages. of odoric himself we shall have something to say presently. in the meantime it seems well worth while calling to attention, that the accepted narrative of sir john mandeville as it is called, and which may have been written by a physician of the name of john of burgoigne under an assumed name, contains a number of interesting anticipations of facts that were supposed to enter into the domain of human knowledge much later in the intellectual development of the race. in certain passages, and especially in one which is familiar from its being cited by dr. johnson in the preface to his dictionary, mandeville, to use the name under which the story is best known, shows that he had a correct idea of the form of the earth and of position in latitude as it could be ascertained by observation of the pole star. he knew also, as we noted at the beginning of this article, that there are antipodes, and if ships were sent on voyages of discovery they might sail around the world. as col. yule has pointed out, mandeville tells a curious story which he had heard in his youth of how "a worthy man did travel ever eastward until he came to his own country again." odoric of whom we have already spoken must be considered as the next great missionary traveler of this age. he took franciscan vows when scarcely a boy and was encouraged to travel in the east by the example of his holy father st. francis, and also by the interest and missionary zeal to convert the east which had been aroused by marco polo's travels. his long journeys will be more readily understood, however, if we realize, as is stated in the article on him in the encyclopedia britannica, an authority that will surely be unsuspected of too great partiality for the work of catholic missionaries, that "there had risen also during the latter half of the thirteenth century an energetic missionary action, extending all over the east on the part of both the new orders of preaching and minorite (or dominican and franciscan) friars which had caused { } members of these orders, of the last especially, to become established in persia and what is now southern russia, in tartary and in china." in the course of his travels in the east odoric visited malabar touching at pandarini (twenty miles north of calicut), at craganore and at quilon, preceding thence, apparently, to ceylon and to the shrine of st. thomas at mailapur near madras. even more interesting than his travels in india, however, are those in china. he sailed from the hindustan peninsula in a chinese junk to sumatra, visiting various ports on the northern coast of that island and telling something about the inhabitants and the customs of the country. according to sir henry yule he then visited java and it would seem also the coast of borneo, finally reaching kanton, at that time known to western asiatics as chin kalan or great china. from there he went to the great ports of fuhkeen and schwan chow, where he found two houses of his order, thence he proceeded to fuchau from which place he struck across the mountains into chekaeng and then visited hang chow at that time renowned under the name of cansay. modern authorities in exploration have suggested that this might be king sae, the chinese name for royal residence, which was then one of the greatest cities of the world. thence odoric passed northward by nanking, and, crossing the great kiang, embarked on the grand canal and traveled to cambaluc or pekin, where he remained for three years and where it is thought that he was attached to one of the churches founded by archbishop john of monte corvino, who was at this time in extreme old age. the most surprising part of odoric's travels were still to come. when the fever for traveling came upon him again he turned almost directly westward to the great wall and through shenshua. from here the adventurous traveler (we are still practically quoting sir henry yule) entered thibet and appears to have visited lhasa. considering how much of interest has been aroused by recent attempts to enter lhasa and the surprising adventures that men have gone through in the effort, the success of this medieval monk in such an expedition would seem incredible, if it were not substantiated by documents that { } place the matter beyond all doubt even in the minds of the most distinguished modern authorities in geography and exploration. how odoric returned home is not definitely known, though certain fragmentary notices seem to indicate that he passed through khorasan and probably tabriz to europe. it only remains to complete the interest of odoric's wondrous tale to add that during a large portion of these years' long journeys his companion was friar james, an irishman who had been attracted to italy in order to become a franciscan. as appears from a record in the public books of the town of udine in italy, where the monastery of which both he and odoric were members was situated, a present of two marks was made by the municipal authorities to the irish friar shortly after odoric's death. the reason for the gift was stated to be, that friar james had been for the love of god and of odoric (a typical celtic expression and characteristic) a companion of the blessed odoric in his wanderings. unfortunately odoric died within two years after his return though not until the story of his travels had been taken down in homely latin by friar william of bologna. shortly after his death odoric became an object of reverence on the part of his brother friars and of devotion on the part of the people, who recognized the wonderful apostolic spirit that he had displayed in his long wanderings, and the patience and good-will with which he had borne sufferings and hardships for the sake of winning the souls of those outside the church. sir henry yule summed up his opinion of odoric in the following striking passage which bears forcible testimony also to the healthy curiosity of the times with regard to all these original sources of information which were recognized as valuable because first hand: "the numerous mss. of odoric's narrative that have come down to our time (upwards of forty are known), and chiefly from the fourteenth century, show how speedily and widely it acquired popularity. it does not deserve the charge of general mendacity brought up against it by some, though the language of other writers who have spoken of the traveler as a man of learning is still more injudicious. like most of the medieval travelers, he is indiscriminating in accepting strange tales; but while some of these are the habitual stories of the { } age, many particulars which he recited attest the genuine character of the narrative, and some of those which tiraboschi and others have condemned as mendacious interpolations are the very seals of truth." besides odoric there is another monkish traveler from whom mandeville has borrowed much, though without giving him any credit. this is the well-known praemonstratensian monk hayton, who is said to have been a member of a princely armenian family and who just at the beginning of the fourteenth century dictated a work on the affairs of the orient and especially the history of the nearer east in his own time, of which, from the place of his nativity and bringing up, he had abundant information, while he found all round him in france, where he was living at the time, the greatest thirst for knowledge with regard to this part of the world. his book seems to have been dictated originally in french at poictiers, and to have attracted great attention because of its subject, many copies of it being made as well as translations into other languages within a few years after its original appearance. the story of odoric is a forcible reminder of how much the missionaries accomplished for geography, ethnology, and ethnography in the thirteenth century, as they did in succeeding centuries. if what the missionaries have added to these sciences were to have been lost, there would have been enormous gaps in the knowledge with which modern scholars began their scientific labors in philology. it may be a surprise to most people, moreover, to be thus forcibly reminded of the wonderful evangelizing spirit which characterized the later middle age. needless to say these graduates of the thirteenth century universities who wandered in distant eastern lands, brought with them their european culture for the uplifting of the orientals, and brought back to europe many ideas that were to be fruitful sources of suggestions not only for geographical, ethnological, philological, and other departments of learning, but also in manufactures and in arts. we mentioned the fact that odoric in his travels eventually reached cambaluc, or pekin, where he found archbishop john of monte corvino still alive though at an advanced age, and was probably attached for the three years of his stay to one of { } the churches that had been founded by this marvelous old friar, who had been made archbishop because of the wonderful power of organization and administration displayed during his earlier career as a missionary. the story of this grand old man of the early franciscan missions is another one of the romances of thirteenth century travels and exploration which well deserves to be studied in detail. unfortunately the old archbishop was too much occupied with his work as a missionary and an ecclesiastic to return to europe in order to tell of it, or to write any lengthy account of his experiences. like many another great man of the thirteenth century he was a doer and not a writer, and, but for the casual mention of him by others, the records of his deeds would only be found in certain ecclesiastical records, and his work would now be known to the master alone, for whom it was so unselfishly done. it will be noted that most of these traveling missionaries were franciscans but it must not be thought that it was only the franciscans who sent out such missionaries. the dominicans (established at the beginning of the thirteenth century) also did wonderful missionary work and quite as faithfully as even their franciscan brothers. undoubtedly the franciscans surpassed them in the extent of their labors, but then the dominicans were founded with the idea of preaching and uplifting the people of europe rather than of spreading the good news of the gospel outside the bounds of christianity as it then existed. from the very earliest traditions of their order the franciscans had their eyes attracted towards the east. the story that st. francis himself went to the holy land at the beginning of the thirteenth century in order to convert saladin, the eastern monarch whose name has been made famous by the stories of the crusade in which richard coeur de lion took part, has been doubted, but it seems to be founded on too good contemporary authority to be considered as entirely apocryphal. st. francis' heart went out to those in darkness who knew nothing of the christ whom he had learned to love so ardently, and it was a supreme desire of his life that the good tidings of christianity should be spread by his followers all over the world. while they did this great work they accomplished unwittingly great things in all the series of sciences { } now included under the term geography, and gathered precious information as to the races of men, their relations to one another and to the part of the earth in which they live. the scientific progress thus made will always redound largely to their credit in the story of the intellectual development of modern europe. most of their work was far ahead of the times and was not to be properly appreciated until quite recent generations, but this must only emphasize our sympathy for those obscure, patient but fruitful workers in a great field of human knowledge. as to what should be thought of those who ignorant of their work proclaim that the church did not tolerate geography it is hard to say. our geographical knowledge comes mainly from travelers whose wish it is to gain commercial opportunities for themselves or their compatriots; that of the middle ages was gained by men who wished anxiously to spread the light of christianity throughout the world. the geographical societies of these earlier days were the religious orders who sent but the explorers and travelers, furnished them on their return with an enthusiastic audience to hear their stories, and then helped to disseminate their books all over the then civilized world. there is probably no better refutation of the expression so often heard from those who know nothing about it, with regard to the supposed laziness of the monks of the middle ages, than this chapter of the story of their exploration and missionary labors during the thirteenth century. it is usually supposed that if a monk was fat he could not possibly have accomplished any serious work in life. some of these men were _valde ponderosi_, very weighty, yet they did not hesitate to take on themselves these long journeys to the east. their lives are the best illustration of the expression of montalembert: "let us then banish into the world of fiction that affirmation so long repeated by foolish credulity which made monasteries an asylum for indolence and incapacity, for misanthropy and pusillanimity, for feeble and melancholic temperaments, and for men who were no longer fit to serve society in the world. it was not the sick souls, but on the contrary the most vigorous and healthful the human race has ever produced who presented themselves in crowds to fill them." { } xxvi great beginnings of modern commerce. for our present eminently commercial age nothing of all the accomplishment of the thirteenth century will probably possess livelier interest than the fact that, in spite of what must have seemed insuperable difficulties to a less enterprising generation, the men of that time succeeded in making such business combinations and municipal affiliations, besides arranging various trade facilities among distant, different peoples, that not only was commerce rendered possible and even easy, but some of the most modern developments of the facilitation of international intercourse were anticipated. the story of the rise of this combination of many men of different nations, of many cities whose inhabitants were of different races and of different languages, of commercial enterprise that carried men comparatively much farther than they now go on trade expeditions, though we have thought that our age had exhausted the possibilities of progress in this matter, cannot fail to have an interest for everyone whose attention has been attracted to the people of this time and must be taken as a symbol of the all-pervading initiative of the generations, which allowed no obstacle to hinder their progress and thought no difficulty too great to be surmounted. in beginning the history of the great commercial league which in the thirteenth century first opened men's minds to the possibilities of peace and commerce among the nations and alas! that it should be said, did more perhaps than any other agent except christianity to awaken in different races the sense of the brotherhood of man, the english historian of the hanseatic league, miss zimmern in the stories of the nations, said: "there is scarcely a more remarkable chapter in history than that which deals with the trading alliance or association known as the hanseatic league. the league has long since { } passed away having served its time and fulfilled its purpose. the needs and circumstances of mankind have changed, and new methods and new instruments have been devised for carrying on the commerce of the world. yet, if the league has disappeared, the beneficial results of its action survive to europe though they have become so completely a part of our daily life that we accept them as matters of course, and do not stop to inquire into their origin." this last declaration may seem surprising for comparatively few know anything about this medieval commercial league, yet the effects claimed for it are only what we have seen to be true with regard to most of the important institutions of the period--they were the origins of what is best in our modern life. like many of the great movements of the thirteenth century the origin of the hanseatic league is clouded somewhat by the obscurity of the times and the lack of definite historical documents. [footnote ] there is no doubt, however, that just before the middle of the century it was in flourishing existence, and that by the end of the century it had reached that acme of its power and influence which it was to maintain for several centuries in spite of the jealousy of the nobility, of certain towns that did not have the same privileges, and even of the authorities of the various countries who resented more and more as time went on the growing freedom and independence of these wealthy cities. the impetus for the formation of the league seems to have been given during the crusades. like so many other of the important movements of the time commerce was greatly influenced by these expeditions, and the commercial spirit not only aroused but shown the possibility of { } accomplishing hitherto impossible results in the matter of transportation and exchange. the returning crusaders brought back with them many precious eastern objects whose possession was a source of envy to others and whose value was rated so high as to make even distant travel for them well worth while. the returning crusaders also knew how cheaply objects considered very precious in the west might be purchased in the east, and they told the stories of their own acquisition of them to willing listeners, who were stimulated to try their fortunes in expeditions that promised such rich rewards. [footnote : perhaps no better idea of the obscurity of the origin of the hansa confederation can be given, than is to be derived from the fact that even the derivation of the word hansa is not very clear. bishop ulfilas in his old gothic translation of the scriptures used the word "hansa" to designate the mob of soldiers and servants of the high priest who came to take christ prisoner in the garden. later on the word hansa was used to mean a tax or a contribution. this term was originally employed to designate the sum of money which each of the cities was compelled to pay on becoming a member of the league, and it is thought to be from this that the terms hansa and hanseatic league were eventually derived.] {opp } [illustration] palazzo dei consoli (gubbio) [illustration] palazzo zabarella (padua) besides the crusaders on their return through italy had observed what was accomplished by the league of the lombard cities which had been in existence in a more or less imperfect way for more than a century, and at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century had begun to provide an example of the strength there is in union, and of the power for good there is in properly regulated combinations of commercial interests with due regard for civic rights and privileges. this league of the lombard cities was encouraged by the popes especially by innocent iii. and his successors who are usually said to have given it their approbation for their own purposes, though this is to look at but one side of the case. the german emperors endeavored to assert their rights over italian territory and in so doing came into collision with the popes not only in temporal matters but also in spiritual things. as we have noted in the short sketch of the popes of the century, innocent iii. was the first great italian patriot and original advocate of italy for the italians. he constantly opposed the influence of the german emperor in italian politics, mainly, of course, because this interfered with the power of the church, but to a very great degree also because it proved a source of manifold political evil for the italian cities. the germans then, who in the train of the emperor went down into italy saw the working of this league of lombard cities, talked about it on their return, and were naturally tempted to essay what might be accomplished by the same means on german territory. these two elements, the incentive of the crusades and the stimulus of the example of the { } italians, must be considered as at the basis of hansa, though these were only seeds, and it was the nurture and fostering care of the german mind which ever since the days of tacitus had been noted as the freest in europe, that gave the league its wonderful development. it is difficult to tell how many towns belonged to the hanseatic league during the thirteenth century but at the end of this period, hansa, as it came to be called, was, as we have said, in its most flourishing condition and we know something definite of its numbers a little more than half a century later. in deputies from all the towns met in the large council chamber of the famous town hall at cologne to discuss certain injustices that had been committed against the members of the league, or as the document set forth "against the free german merchants," in order to determine some way of preventing further injuries and inflict due punishment. altogether the deputies of towns were present and declared most solemnly "that because of the wrongs and the injuries done by the king of denmark to the common german merchant the cities would be his enemies and help one another faithfully." the distant and smaller cities were not expected to send troops or even naval forces but promised to give contributions in money. such cities as did not take part in this movement were to be considered as having forfeited their membership and would no longer be permitted to trade with the members of hansa. lest it should be thought that the cities were incapable of enforcing any such boycott with effect, the story of the town of lübeck must be recalled. lübeck on one occasion refused to join with the other hansa towns in a boycott of certain places in flanders which had refused to observe the regulations as to trading. one of these was to the effect that such vessels as were lost on a coast did not become the property of the people of the neighborhood, though they had a right to a due share for salvage, but a fair proportion must be returned to the citizens of the town that suffered the loss. lübeck was at the moment one of the most powerful commercial cities in germany, and her citizens seemed to think that they could violate the hansa regulation with impunity. for years. { } however, the hansa boycott was maintained and so little trading was done in the city that according to one old writer "the people starved, the markets were deserted, grass grew in the street and the inhabitants left in large numbers." such a lesson as this was enough to make the hanseatic decrees be observed with scrupulous care and shows the perfection of the organization. the outcome of the war with denmark demonstrates the power of the league. the king of denmark is said to have scorned their declaration of war, and making an untranslatable pun on the word "hansa" called the members of the league "geese who cackled much but need not be feared." the fleet of the league, however, succeeded in shutting off all the commerce of the coast of denmark and though there was a truce each winter the war was renewed vigorously, and with summer many of the danish cities were ransacked and plundered. at the end of the second year denmark was exhausted and the people so weary of war that they pleaded for peace, and valdemar had to accept the terms which the "geese" were willing to offer him. this triumph of the common people over a reigning monarch is one of the most striking passages in medieval history. it comes about a half century after the close of the thirteenth, and is evidently the direct result of the great practical forces that were set in movement during that wonderful period, when the mighty heart of humanity was everywhere bestirring men to deeds of high purpose and far-reaching significance. as a matter of fact, hansa became, very early in its career, one of the firmest authorities in the midst of these troubled times and meted out unfailingly the sternest justice against those who infringed its rights if they were outsiders, or broke the rules of the league if they were its members. it was ever ready to send its ships against offenders and while it soon came to be feared, this fear was mingled with respect, and its regulations were seldom infringed. it is a most interesting reflection, that as its english historian says, "never once in the whole course of its history did it draw the sword aggressively or against its own members." while it was ever on the look-out to increase its power by adding new cities to the league, cities were not forced to join and when it meted { } out punishments to its members this was not by the levying of war but by fines, the refusal to pay these being followed by the "declaration of boycott," which soon brought the offender to terms. war was only declared in all cases as a last resort, and the ships of the league were constantly spoken of and designated in all documents as "peace ships," and even the forts which the league built for the protection of its towns, or as places where its members might be sure of protection, were described as "peace burgs." unfortunately, the lessons of peace that were thus taught by commerce were not to bear fruit abundantly for many centuries after the thirteenth. it is practically only in our own time that they have been renewed, and the last generation or two, has rather plumed itself over the fact that trade was doing so much to prevent war. evidently this is no guarantee of the perpetuation of such an improvement in national or international morals, for the influence of hansa for peace came to be lost entirely, after a few centuries. the cities themselves, however, that belonged to the league gradually became more and more free, and more independent of their rulers. it was thus, in fact, that the free cities of germany had their origin, and in them much more of modern liberty was born than has ever been appreciated, except by those whose studies have brought them close to these marvelous medieval manifestations of the old spirit of teutonic freedom. the names of most of the cities that were members of the hansa league are well known, though it is not easy to understand in the decrepitude that has come over many of them, how they could have been of so much importance as has been claimed for them in the middle ages. all the cities of the north sea and the baltic sea were united together, and while we think of these as german, many of them really belonged to slav people at this time, so that the membership of a number of russian cities is not surprising. while the rhenish cities were important factors in the league, cologne indeed being one of the most important, bremen and hamburg and both the frankforts, and rostock, and lübeck and stralsund, and tangermünde and warnemunde, were important members. novgorod was founded by hansa for the purpose of trading { } with the orientals, and the volga, the dnieper, the dwina, and the oder were extensively used for the purpose of transporting goods here and there in central europe. one of their most famous towns, winetha in german, julin in danish, disappeared beneath the waters of the baltic sea and gave rise to many legends of its reappearance. it is hard to realize that it was so important that it was called the venice of the north, and was seriously compared with its great southern rival. a good idea of the intimate relations of the hansa towns to england and the english people can be obtained from the article on the subject written by richard lodge for the ninth edition of the encyclopedia britannica. a single paragraph of this compresses much of the external and internal history of the "rise and development of hansa." it was rather to be expected that the commercial relations between england and the various cities situated along the north sea, as well as the baltic and up the rhine, would be active and would have to be submitted to careful regulation. unless the modern mind is actually brought directly in touch, however, with the complex yet very practical state of affairs, which actually existed, it will utterly fail to appreciate how thoroughly progressive and enterprising were these medieval peoples. enterprise and practicalness we are apt to think of as the exclusive possession of much more modern generations. least of all would we be apt to consider them as likely to be found in the thirteenth century, yet here they are, and the commercial arrangements which were made are as absolute premonitions of our modern thought as were the literature and architecture, the painting, even the teachings of science at the same period. "the members of this league (hanseatic) came to england mostly from cologne, the first german town which obtained great importance both at home and abroad. its citizens possessed at an early date a guild-hall of their own (in london), and all germans who wished to trade with england had to join their guild. this soon included merchants from dortmund, soest and munster, in westphalia; from utrecht, stavern and groningen, in the netherlands, and from bremen and hamburg on the north sea. but, when at the beginning of the thirteenth century, the rapidly rising town of lübeck { } wished to be admitted into the guild, every effort was made to keep her out. the intervention of frederick ii. was powerless to overcome the dread felt by cologne towards a possible rival to its supremacy. but this obstacle to the extension of the league was soon overcome. in a charter of henry iii. assured protection to all german merchants. a few years later hamburg and lübeck also were allowed to form their own guilds. the hansa of cologne, which had long been the only guild, now sinks to the position of a branch hansa, and has to endure others with equal privileges. over all the branch hansas rises the "hansa alamanniae," first mentioned in . this article gives additional information with regard to the many and varied influences at work at the end of the thirteenth century. it furnishes in brief, moreover, an excellent picture of the activity of mind and power of organization so frequently displayed during this period in every branch of life. this is after all the highest quality of man. the development of associations of various kinds, especially such as are helpfully purposive, are the outcome of that social quality in man's mind which is the surest index of his rational quality. succeeding centuries lost for some almost unaccountable reason much of this faculty of organization and the result was a lamentable retrogression from the advances made by older generations, so that it was only in quite recent years that anything like this old international comity was reestablished. {opp } [illustration] rathhaus (l�beck) the extent and very natural development of this community of interests must ever attract attention. it is the first time in our modern history that it occurs and men of some seven different races and tongues were at last drawn into it. in this it represents the greatest advance of history, for it led to assimilation of laws and of liberties, with some of the best features of each nation's old-time customs preserved in the new codes. its extension even to novgorod, in what is now the heart of russia is a surprising demonstration of successful enterprise and spread of influence almost incredible. the settling of the trade disputes of this distant russian city in the courts of a north sea town, is an evidence of advance in commercial relations emphasized by the writer in the britannica, that deserves to be well weighed as a manifestation of what is often thought { } to be the exclusively modern recognition of the rights of commerce and the claims of justice over even national feelings. "the league between lübeck and hamburg was not the only, and possibly not the first, league among the german towns. but it gradually absorbed all others. besides the influence of foreign commercial interests there were other motives which compelled the towns to union. the chief of these were the protection of commercial routes both by sea and land, and the vindication of town independence as opposed to claims of the landed aristocracy. the first to join the league were the wendish towns to the east, wismar, rostock, stralsund, etc., which had always been intimately connected with lübeck, and were united by a common system of laws known as the 'lübisches recht' (lübeck laws). the saxon and westphalian towns had long possessed a league among themselves; they also joined themselves to lübeck. lübeck now became the most important town in germany. it had already surpassed cologne both in london and bruges. it soon gained a similar victory over wisby. at a great convention in which twenty-four towns from cologne to revel took part, it was decided that appeals from novgorod which had hitherto been decided at wisby should henceforth be brought to lübeck." after much travail and vexation of spirit, after much diplomacy and political and parliamentary discussion, after much striving on the part of the men in all nations, who have the great cause of universal peace for mankind at heart, we have reached a position where at least commercial difficulties can be referred to a sort of international court for adjudication. the standing of this court is not very clear as yet. special arrangements at least are required, if not special treaties in many cases, even for the reference of such merely commercial difficulties as debt-collecting to it. in the last quarter of the nineteenth century special tribunals had to be erected for the settlement of such difficulties between nations. in the twentieth century the outlook is more hopeful and the actual accomplishment is indeed encouraging. in the thirteenth century with the absence of the telegraph and the cable, with the slowness of sailing vessels and the distance of towns { } emphasizing all the difficulties of the situation, the hanseatic league succeeded in obtaining an international tribunal, whose judgments with regard to commercial difficulties were final and were accepted by men of many different races and habits and customs, and to which causes were referred without any of the immense machinery apparently required at the present time. this is the real triumph of the commercial development of the thirteenth century. while it may be astonishing to many modern people to learn how much was accomplished in this utterly unexpected quarter, it will not be a surprise to those who realize the thoroughly practical character of the century and the perfectly matter of fact way in which it went about settling all the difficulties that presented themselves; and how often they succeeded in reaching a very practical if not always ideal solution. the sad feature of the case is to think that most of this coming together of nations was lost by the gradual development of national feeling, much of benefit as there may have been in that for the human race, and by the drawing of the language lines between nations more closely than they had been before, for the next three centuries saw the development of modern tongues into the form which they have held ever since. hansa did more than almost any other institution in northern europe to establish the reign of law. if it had accomplished no other purpose, this would make it eminently worthy of the study of those who are interested in sociology and social evolution. before the time of hansa the merchant by sea or land was liable to all sorts of impositions, arbitrary taxes, injustices, and even the loss of life as well of his goods. as hansa gained in power however, these abuses disappeared. perhaps the most noteworthy improvement came with regard to navigation. there is a story told of a famous rock in brittany on which many ships were wrecked during the middle ages. even as late as the thirteenth century sometimes false lights were displayed on this rock with the idea of tempting vessels to their destruction on it. everything that was thrown ashore in the neighborhood was considered to be the property of the people who gathered it, except that a certain portion of its value had to be paid to the lord of the manor. { } this worthy representative of the upper classes is said to have pointed out the rock to some visiting nobleman friends one day, and declared that it was more precious to him than the most precious stone in the diadem of any ruling monarch in europe. this represents the state of feeling with regard to such subjects when hansa started in to correct the abuses. it may be looked upon as a serious disgrace to the thirteenth century that such a low state of ethical feeling should have existed, but it is the amelioration of conditions which obliterated such false sentiments that constitutes the triumph of the period. on the other hand we must not with smug self-complacency think that our generation is so much better than those of the past. it is easy to be pharisaical while we forget that many a fortune in modern times suffers shipwreck on the coasts of business and investment, because the false lights of advertising intended to deceive, are displayed very prominently, for those who are only anxious as were the mariners of the olden times to make their fortunes. doubtless too the proprietors of many of the papers which display such advertisements, and it is nonsense to say that they are unconscious of the harm they do, are quite as proud of the magnificent revenue that their advertising columns bring to them as was the breton noble of the thirteenth century. man has not changed much in the interval. lest it should be thought that even the present-day initiation into secret societies of various kinds is the invention of modern times, it seems well to give some of the details of the tests through which those seeking to be members of the hanseatic league were subjected, by those who were already initiated. it may possibly seem that some of these customs were too barbarous to mention in the same breath with the present-day initiations, but if it is recalled that at least once a year some serious accident is reported as the result of the thoughtless fooling of "frat" students at our universities, this opinion may be withdrawn. miss helen zimmern in her story of the hansa towns already quoted several times, has a paragraph or two of descriptions of these that we shall quote. it may be well to remember that these tests were not entirely without a serious significance for the members of the hansa. much { } was expected of those who belonged to the hansa guild. a number of precious trade secrets were entrusted them, and they alone knew the methods and mysteries of hansa. in order that these might not by any possibility be betrayed, the members of hansa who lived in foreign countries were forbidden to marry while abroad and were bound under the severest penalties to live a life of celibacy. they were not supposed to be absent from the houses assigned to them during the night, and their factories so called, or common-places of residence, were guarded by night watchman and fierce dogs in order to secure the keeping of these rules. besides torture was a very common thing in those times and a man who belonged to a country that happened to be at war for the moment, might very easily be subjected to torture for some reason or another with the idea of securing important information from him. if the members of hansa wanted to be reasonably assured that new members would not give up their secrets without a brave struggle, they had no better way than by these tests, for which there was therefore some excuse. as to the brutality of the tests perhaps miss zimmern in maidenly way has said too much. we commend her paragraphs to the modern committees of reception of college secret societies, because here as elsewhere this generation may get points from the thirteenth century. {opp } [illustration] minster (chorin, germany) [illustration] city gate (neubrandenburg) "we cannot sully our pages by detailing the thirteen different games or modes of martyrdom that were in use at bergen. our more civilized age could not tolerate the recital. in those days they attracted a crowd of eager spectators who applauded the more vociferously the more cruel and barbarous the tortures. the most popular were those practices known as the smoke, water and flogging games; mad, cruel pranks calculated to cause a freshman to lose health and reason. truly dantesque hell tortures were these initiations into hansa mysteries. merely to indicate their nature we will mention that for the smoke game the victim was pulled up the big chimney of the schutting while there burned beneath him the most filthy materials, sending up a most nauseous stench and choking wreaths of smoke. while in this position he was asked a number of questions, to which he was forced, under yet more terrible penalties, to reply. if { } he survived his torture he was taken out into the yard and plied under the pump with six tons of water." (even the "water cure" is not new). there was a variety about the tests at different times and places that show no lack of invention on the part of the members of hansa. with regard to other water tests miss zimmern has furnished some interesting details: "the 'water' game that took place at whitsuntide consisted in first treating the probationer to food, and then taking him out to sea in a boat. here he was stripped thrown into the ocean, ducked three times, made to swallow much sea-water, and thereafter mercilessly flogged by all the inmates of the boats. the third chief game was no less dangerous to life and limb. it took place a few days after, and was a rude perversion of the may games. the victims had first to go out into the woods to gather the branches with which later they were to be birched. returned to the factory, rough horse play pranks were practised upon them. then followed an ample dinner, which was succeeded by mock combats, and ended in the victims being led into the so-called paradise, where twenty-four disguised men whipped them till they drew blood, while outside this black hole another party made hellish music with pipes, drums and triangles to deafen the screams of the tortured. the 'game' as considered ended when the shrieks of the victims were sufficiently loud to overcome the pandemonic music." some of the extreme physical cruelties of the initiations our modern fraternities have eliminated, but the whole story has a much more familiar air than we might have expected. probably the most interesting feature of the history of the hanseatic league is the fact that this great combination for purposes of trade and commerce proved a source of liberty for the citizens of the various towns, and enabled them to improve their political status better than any other single means at this precious time of development of legal and social rights. this is all the more interesting because great commercial combinations with similar purposes in modern times have usually proved fruitful rather of opposite results. a few persons have been very much benefited by them, or at least have made much money by them, which is quite another thing, though money is { } supposed to represent power and influence, but the great mass of the people have been deprived of opportunities to rise and have had taken from them many chances for the exercise of initiative that existed before. there is a curious effect of hansa upon the political fortunes of the people of the cities that were members of the league which deserves to be carefully studied. as with regard to so many other improvements that have come in the history of the race, it was not a question so much of the recognition of great principles as of money and revenues that proved the origin of amelioration of civic conditions. these commercial cities accumulated wealth. money was necessary for their rulers for the maintenance of their power and above all for the waging of war. in return for moneys given for such purposes the cities claimed for the inhabitants and were granted many privileges. these became perpetuated and as time went on were added to as new opportunities for the collection of additional revenues occurred, until finally an important set of fundamental rights with documentary confirmation were in the hands of the city authorities. one would like to think that this state of affairs developed as the result of the recognition on the part of the ruling sovereign, of the benefits that were conferred on his realm by having in it, or associated with it, an important trading city whose enterprising citizens gave occupation to many hands. this was very rarely the case, however, but as was true of the legal rights obtained by england's citizens during the thirteenth century, it was largely a question of the coordination of taxation and legislative representation and the consequent attainment of privileges. the most important effect on the life of europe and the growth of civilization that the hanseatic league exerted, was its success in showing that people of many different nations and races, living under very different circumstances, might still be united under similar laws that would enable them to accomplish certain objects which they had in view. germans, slavs and english learned to live in one another's towns and while observing the customs of these various places maintained the privileges of their homes. the mutual influence of these people on one another, many of them being the most practical and { } enterprising individuals of the time, could scarcely fail to produce noteworthy effects in broadening the minds of those with whom they came in contact. it is to this period that we must trace the beginnings of international law. hansa showed the world how much commercial relations were facilitated by uniform laws and by just treatment of even the citizens of foreign countries. it is to commerce that we owe the first recognition of the rights of the people of other countries even in time of war. if the hanseatic league had done nothing else but this, it must be considered as an important factor in the development of our modern civilization and an element of influence great as any other in this wonderful century. [illustration] hinge from cathedral, schlestadt { } appendix i so-called history. rulers. emperors of germany. otho iv - frederick ii - conrad iv - william of holland - richard earl of cornwall - rudolph of hapsburg - adolph of nassau - albert of austria - kings of scotland.. william - alexander ii - alexander iii - margaret - john balliol - interregnum - kings of castile and leon. alfonso ix - henry i - st. ferdinand iii - alfonso x - sancho iv - ferdinand iv - kings of england. john lackland - henry iii - edward i - kings of france. philip ii - louis viii - louis ix - philip iii - louis [philip] iv - kings of aragon. pedro ii - james i., the conqueror - pedro iii - alfonso iii - james ii - kings of naples. conrad - conradin - manfred - charles of anjou - charles - events. .--fourth great crusade under boniface, marquis of montferrat. .--the english stripped of normandy, etc., by philip augustus of france. .--jenghis-khan: foundation of the great empire of the moguls. .--battle of ubeda: defeat and fall of almohads of africa. .--john lackland acknowledges himself vassal of the pope. .--battle of bouvines won by philip augustus. .--magna charta. the palatinate of the rhine goes to the house of wittelsbach. .--crusade of andrew ii., king of hungary. .--extinction of the dukes of zarringuia: switzerland becomes an immediate province of the empire. { } .--charter or decree of andrew ii., basis of the hungarian constitution. .--renewal of the league of lombardy to oppose the emperor frederick ii. .--battle of bornhoeved in holstein: waldemar ii., king of denmark, loses his conquests on the southern coast of the baltic. .--crusade of the emperor frederick ii. .--the teutonic order establishes itself in prussia. conquest of the balearic islands by the king of aragon. .--formation of the duchy of brunswick in favor of the house of the guelphs. .--conquest of the kingdoms of cordova, murcia and seville by the castilians. .--conquest of russia by baton-khan: origin of the mogul or tartar horde of kaptschak. .--invasion of poland, silesia, and hungary by the moguls. .--crusade of st. louis, king of france. .--beginning of the great interregnum in germany. .--accessions of the emperors of different houses in germany. end of the dominion of the agubites in egypt and syria; beginning of the empire of the mamelukes. .--enfranchisement of the serfs at bologna in italy. .--michel paleologus, emperor of nice, takes constantinople; end of the empire of the latins. .--accession of the house of anjou to the throne of the two sicilies. .--admission of the commons to the parliament of england. .--corradino decapitated at naples; extinction of the house of hohenstaufen. suabia and franconia become immediate provinces of the empire. .--the county of toulouse passes to the king of france, and the venaissin to the pope. .--accession of the emperor rudolph of hapsburg to the throne of the empire: first election by the seven electors. .--conquest of wales by the king of england. .--the sicilian vespers, the kingdom of sicily passes to the king of aragon. the emperor rudolph gives to his sons the duchies of austria; foundation of the house of hapsburg. .--the teutonic order completes the conquest of prussia. .--extinction of the male line of the old race of scotch kings. contest of baliol and bruce. .--decline of the republic of piza. aggrandizement of that of genoa. .--taking of ptolemais and tyre by the mamelukes. end of the crusades. .--decline of the mogul empire at the death of kublai-khan. .--introduction of an hereditary aristocracy at venice. .--foundation of the modern turkish empire by ottoman i. first jubilee proclaimed by pope boniface viii. { } appendix ii. twenty-six chapters that might have been. i. america in the thirteenth century. to most people it would seem quite out of the question that a chapter on america in the thirteenth century might have been written. one of the most surprising chapters for most readers in the previous edition was that on great explorers and the foundation of geography, for it was a revelation to learn that thirteenth century travelers had anticipated all of our discoveries in the far and in the near east seven centuries ago. certain documents have turned up, however, which make it very clear that with the same motives as those which urged eastern travelers, europeans went just as far towards the west at this time. documents found in the vatican archives in and exhibited at st. louis in , have set at rest finally and absolutely the long disputed question of the discovery of america by the norsemen, and in connection with these the story of america in the thirteenth century might well have been told. there is a letter from pope innocent iii., dated february , , addressed to the archbishop of norway, who held jurisdiction over greenland, which shows not only the presence of the norsemen on the american continent at this time, but also that they had been here for a considerable period, and that there were a number of churches and pastors and large flocks in whom the roman see had a lively interest. there are americana from three other popes of the thirteenth century. john xxi. wrote, in , nicholas iii. two letters, one dated january , , and another june , , and martin iii. wrote . we have inserted on the opposite page a reproduction of a portion of the first papal document extant relating to america, the letter of pope innocent iii., taken from "the norse discovery of america" (the norraena society, n. y., ). the word _grenelandie_, underscored, indicates the subject. the writing as an example of the chirography of the century is of interest. ii. a representative upper house. in most historical attempts at government by the people it has been recognized that legislation is better balanced if there are two chambers in the law-making body, one directly elected by the people, the other indirectly chosen and representing important vested interests that are likely to make its members conservative. the initiative for legislation comes, as a rule, from the direct representatives of the people, while the upper chamber represses radical law-making or sudden changes in legislative policy, yet does not hamper too much the progress of democracy. { } [illustration] part of letter of pope innocent iii. mentioning greenland. { } during the last few years a crisis in english politics has led to a very general demand for a modification of the status of the house of lords, while almost similar conditions have led to the beginning at least of a similar demand for the modification of our senate in this country. both these upper chambers have come to represent vested interests to too great a degree. the house of lords has been the subject of special deprecation. the remark is sometimes made that it is unfortunate that england is weighted down by this political incubus, the house of lords, which is spoken of as a heritage from the middle ages. the general impression, of course, is that the english house of lords, as at present constituted, comes down from the oldest times of constitutional government in england. nothing could well be more untrue than any such idea. the old upper chamber of england, the medieval house of lords, was an eminently representative body. out of the or more of members of the english house of lords at the present time about five hundred and fifty hold their seats by heredity. only about seventy-five are in some sense elective. at least one-half of these elected peers, however, must be chosen from the hereditary nobility of ireland and scotland. nearly nineteen-twentieths of the membership of the house of lords, as at present constituted, owe their place in national legislation entirely to heredity. until the reformation so-called this was not so. more than one-half of the english house of lords, a good working majority, consisted of the lords spiritual. besides the bishops and archbishops there were the abbots and priors of monasteries, and the masters of religious orders. these men as a rule had come up from the people. they had risen to their positions by intellectual abilities and by administrative capacity. the abbots and other superiors of religious orders had been chosen by their monks as a rule because, having shown that they knew how to rule themselves, they were deemed most fitting to rule over others. even in our day, when the church occupies nothing like the position in the hearts of the masses that she held in the ages of faith, our catholic cardinals, archbishops and bishops, both here and in england, are chosen as members of arbitration boards to settle strikes and other social difficulties, because it is felt that the working class has full confidence in them, and that they are thoroughly representative of the spirit of democracy. in england cardinal manning served more than once in critical social conditions. in this country we have had a series of such examples. from these we can better understand what the lords spiritual represented in the english house of lords. there were abuses, though they were not nearly so frequent as were thought, by which unworthy men sometimes reached such positions, for men abuse even the best things, but in general these clerical members of the house of lords were the chosen intellectual and moral products of the kingdom. since they were without families they had { } less temptation to serve personal interests and, besides, they had received a life-long training in unselfishness, and the best might be expected of them. for an ideal second chamber i know none that can compare with this old english house of lords of the middle ages. how much it was responsible for the foundation of the liberties of which the english-speaking people are deservedly so proud, and which have been treated in some detail in the chapter on origins in law, would be interesting to trace. iii. the parish, and training in citizenship. mr. toulmin smith, in his book on "the parish," and dom gasquet, in his volume on "the parish before the reformation," have shown what a magnificent institution for popular self-government was the english medieval parish, and how much this contributed to the solution of important social problems and to the creation of a true democratic spirit. mr. toulmin smith calls particular attention to the fact that when local self-government gets out of the hands of the people of a neighborhood personal civic energy goes to sleep. the feeling of mutual responsibility of the men of the place is lost, to the great detriment of their larger citizenship in municipality and nation. in the parish, however, forming a separate community, of which the members had rights and duties, the primal solid basis for government, the parish authorities took charge of the highways, the roads, the paths, the health, the police, the constabulary, and the fires of their neighborhood. they kept, besides, a registry of births and deaths and marriages. when these essentially local concerns are controlled in large bodies the liability to abuse at once becomes easy and political corruption sets in. he mentions, besides many parochial institutions, a parochial friendly society for loans on security, parish gilds for insurance, and many other phases of that thoroughly organized mutual aid so characteristic of the middle ages. these parishes became completely organized, so as to be thoroughly democratic and representative of all the possibilities of local self-government under king edward at the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century. rev. augustus jessopp, in "after the great pillage," tells the story of how the parishes were broken up as a consequence of the confiscation of their endowment during the so-called reformation. the quotation from him may be found in appendix iii. in the section on "how it all stopped." toulmin smith is not so emphatic, but he is scarcely less explicit than jessopp. "the attempts of ecclesiastical authority to encroach on the civil authorities of the parish have been more successful since the reformation." as a matter of fact, at that time all government became centralized, and complete contradiction though it may seem to be of what is sometimes declared the place of the reformation in the history { } of human liberty, the genuine democratic institutions of england were to a great extent impaired by the reform, and an autocracy, which later developed into an autocratic aristocracy, largely took its place. out of that england has gradually lifted itself during the nineteenth century. even now, however, as pointed out in the preceding chapter that might have been, the house of lords is not at all what it was in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries when the majority of its members were lords spiritual, men who had come up from the masses as a rule. iv. the chance to rise. we are very prone to think that even though there may have been excellent opportunities for the higher education in the thirteenth century and, in many ways, an ideal education of the masses, still there was one great social drawback in those times, the lack of opportunity for men of humble birth to rise to higher stations. nothing, however, is less true. there probably never was a time when even members of the poorest families might rise more readily or rapidly to the highest positions in the land. the sons of village merchants and village artisans, nay, the sons and grandsons of farmers bound to the soil, could by educational success become clergymen in various ranks, and by attaining a bishopric or the position of abbot or prior of a monastery, reach a seat in the house of lords. most of the lord high chancellors of england during the middle ages--and some of them are famous for their genius as canon and civil lawyers, for their diplomatic abilities and their breadth of view and capacity as administrators--were the sons of humble parents. take the single example of stratford, the details of whose inhabitants' lives, because of the greatness of one of them, have attracted more attention than those of any other town of corresponding size in england. at the beginning of the fourteenth century it is only what we would call a village, and it probably did not have , inhabitants, if, indeed, the number was not less than , . in his book, "shakespeare the boy," mr. rolfe calls attention to certain conditions that interest us in the old village. he tells us of what happened as a result of the development of liberty in the thirteenth century: "villeinage gradually disappeared in the reign of edward vii. ( - ), and those who had been subject to it became free tenants, paying definite rents for house and land. three natives of the town, who, after the fashion of the time, took their surnames from the place of their birth, rose to high positions in the church, one becoming archbishop of canterbury, and the others respectively bishops of london and chichester. john of stratford and robert of stratford were brothers, and ralph of stratford was their nephew. john and robert were both for a time chancellors of england, and there is no other instance of two brothers attaining that high office in succession." { } to many people the fact that the avenue to rise was through the clergy more than in any other way will be disappointing. one advantage, however, that the old people would insist that they had from their system was that these men, having no direct descendants, were less likely to pursue selfish aims and more likely to try to secure the benefit of the community than are those who, in our time, rise through the legal profession. the lord high chancellors of recent time have all been lawyers. would not most of the world confess that the advantage was with the medieval peoples? president woodrow wilson of princeton realized sympathetically this great element of saving democracy in the middle ages, and has paid worthy tribute to it. he said: "the only reason why government did not suffer dry rot in the middle ages under the aristocratic systems which then prevailed was that the men who were efficient instruments of government were drawn from the church--from that great church, that body which we now distinguish from other church bodies as the roman catholic church. the roman catholic church then, as now, was a great democracy. there was no peasant so humble that he might not become a priest, and no priest so obscure that he might not become pope of christendom, and every chancellery in europe was ruled by those learned, trained and accomplished men--the priesthood of that great and then dominant church; and so, what kept government alive in the middle ages was this constant rise of the sap from the bottom, from the rank and file of the great body of the people through the open channels of the roman catholic priesthood." v. insurance. insurance is usually supposed to be a modern idea representing one of those developments of the capitalization of mutual risks of life, property, and the like that have come as a consequence of modern progress. the insurance system of the middle ages, the organization of which came in the thirteenth century, is therefore extremely interesting. it was accomplished, as was every form of co-operation and co-ordination of effort, through special gilds or through the trade or merchant gilds. among the objects of the gilds enumerated by toulmin smith is insurance against loss by fire. this was paid through the particular gild to which the merchant belonged, or in the case of the artisan through a special gild which he joined for the purpose. provision was made, however, for much more than insurance by fire. our fire insurance companies are probably several centuries old, so also are our insurance arrangements against shipwreck. other features of insurance, however, are much more recent. practically all of these were in active existence during the middle ages, though they disappeared with the so-called reformation, and then { } did not come into existence again for several centuries and, indeed, not until our own time. the old gilds, for instance, provided insurance against loss from flood, a feature of insurance that has not, so far as i know, developed in our time, against loss by robbery (our burglary insurance is quite recent), against loss by the fall of a house, by imprisonment, and then also insurance against the loss of cattle and farm products. all the features of life insurance also were in existence. the partial disability clauses of life or accident insurance policies are recent developments. in the old days there is insurance against the loss of sight, against the loss of a limb, or any other form of crippling. the deaf and dumb might be insured so as to secure an income for them, and corresponding relief for leprosy might be obtained; so that, if one were set apart from the community by the law requiring segregation of lepers, there might be provision for food and lodging, even though productive work had become impossible. in a word, the insurance system of the middle ages was thoroughly developed. it was not capitalistic. the charges were only enough to maintain the system, and not such as to provide large percentage returns on invested stock and on bonds, and the accumulation of huge surpluses that almost inevitably lead to gross abuses. what is best in our modern system of insurance is an imitation of the older methods. certain of the trade insurance companies which assume a portion of the risk on mills, factories and the like, are typical examples. they know the conditions, enforce proper precautions, keep an absolute check on suspicious losses, accumulate only a moderate surplus and present very few opportunities for insurance abuses. the same thing is true for the fraternal societies that conduct life insurance. when properly managed they represent the lowest possible cost and the best efficiency with least opportunities for fraud and without any temptations to interfere with legislation and any allurements for legislators to spend their time making strike and graft bills instead of doing legislative work. vi. old age pensions. this generation has occupied itself much with the question of old age pensions. probably most people feel that this is the first time in the world's history that such arrangements have been made. the movement is supposed to represent a recent development of humanitarian purpose, and to be a feature of recent philanthropic evolution. it is rather interesting, in the light of that idea, to see how well they accomplish this same purpose in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. in our time it has been a government affair, with all the possibilities of abuse that there are in a huge pension system, and surely no country knows it better than we do here in america. the old countries, germany and france, have established a contributing { } system of pension. this was the model of their system of caring for the old and the disabled in the middle ages. toulmin smith cites a rule of one of the gilds which gives us exactly the status of the old age disability pension question. after a workman had been seven years a member, the gild assured him a livelihood in case of disability from any cause. when we recall that employer as well as employee as a rule belonged to the gild and this was a real mutual organization in which there was a sharing of the various risks of life, we see how eminently well adapted to avoid abuses this old system was. where the pensioners appeal to a government pension system, abuses are almost inevitable. there is the constant temptation to exploit the system on the part of the pensioners, because they have the feeling that if they do not, others will. then the investigation of each particular case is difficult, and favoritism and graft of various kinds inevitably finds its way in. where the pension is paid by a small body of fellow workmen, the investigation is easy, the temptation to exploit does not readily find place, and while abuses are to some extent inevitable, these are small in amount, and not likely to be frequent. friends and neighbors know conditions, and men are not pauperized by the system, and if, after an injury that seemed at first so disabling as to be permanent, the pensioner should improve enough to be able to get back to work, or, at least, to do something to support himself, the system is elastic enough so that he is not likely to be tempted to continue to live on others rather than on his own efforts. vii. the ways and means of charity--organized charity. most of us would be apt to think that our modern methods of obtaining funds for charitable purposes represented definite developments, and that at least special features of our collections for charity were our own invention. in recent years the value of being able to reach a great many people even for small amounts has been particularly recognized. "tag day" is one manifestation of that. everyone in a neighborhood is asked to contribute a small amount for a particular charitable purpose, and the whole collection usually runs up to a snug sum. practices very similar to this were quite common in the thirteenth century. as in our time, it was the women who collected the money. a rope, for instance, was stretched across a marketplace, where traffic was busy, and everyone who passed was required to pay a toll for charity. occasionally the rope was stretched across a bridge and the tolls were collected on a particular day each year. other forms of charitable accumulation resembled ours in many respects. entertainments of various kinds were given for charity, and special collections were made during the exhibition of mystery plays { } partly to pay the expenses of the representation, and the surplus to go to the charities of the particular gild. most of the charity, however, was organized. indeed it is the organization of charity during the thirteenth century that represents the best feature of its fraternalism. the needy were cared for by the gilds themselves. there were practically no poorhouses, and if a man was willing to work and had already shown this willingness, there were definite bureaus that would help him at least to feed his family while he was out of work. this system, however, was flexible enough to provide also for the ne'er-do-wells, the tramps, the beggars, but they were given not money, but tokens which enabled them to obtain the necessaries of life without being able to abuse charity. the committees of the gilds consulted in various ways among themselves and with the church wardens so as to be sure that, while all the needy were receiving help, no one was abusing charity by drawing help from a number of different quarters. of course, they did not have the problem of large city life that we have, and so their comparatively simple organization of charity sufficed for all the needs of the time, and at the same time anticipated our methods. viii. scientific universities. in the first edition of this book i called attention to the fact, that science, even in our sense of physical science, was, in spite of impressions to the contrary, a favorite subject for students and teachers in the early universities. what might have been insisted on, however, is that these old universities were scientific universities resembling our own so closely in their devotion to science as to differ from them only in certain unimportant aspects. because the universities for three centuries before the nineteenth had been occupied mainly with classical studies, we are prone to think that these were the main subjects of university teaching for all the centuries before. nothing could well be less true. the undergraduate studies consisted of the seven liberal arts so-called, though these were largely studied from the scientific standpoint. the quotation from prof. huxley (appendix iii., education) makes this very clear. what we would now call the graduate studies consisted of metaphysics, in which considerable physics were studied, astronomy, medicine, above all, mathematics, and then the ethical sciences, under which were studied what we now call ethics, politics and economics. the picture of these medieval universities as i have given them in my lecture on medieval scientific universities, in "education, how old the new," makes this very clear. the interests and studies were very like those of our own time, only the names for them being different. nature-study was a favorite subject, and, as i have pointed out in "the popes and science," dante must be considered as a great nature student, for he was able to draw the most exquisite figures from details of knowledge of living things with which few { } poets are familiar. the books of the professors of the thirteenth century which have been preserved, those of albertus magnus, roger bacon, aquinas, duns scotus and others, make it very clear that scientific teaching was the main occupation of the university faculties, while the preservation of these huge tomes by the diligent copying of disciples shows how deeply interested were their pupils in the science of the time. ix. medical teaching and professional standards. at all times in the history of education, the standards of scientific education, and the institutions of learning, can be best judged from the condition of the medical schools. when the medical sciences are taken seriously, when thorough preparation is demanded before their study may be taken up, when four or five years of attention to theoretic and practical medicine are required for graduation, and when the professors are writing textbooks that are to attract attention for generations afterwards, then, there is always a thoroughly scientific temper m the university itself. medicine is likely to suffer, first, whenever there is neglect of science. the studies of the german historians, puschmann, pagel, neuberger, and sudhoff in recent years, have made it very clear that the medical schools of the universities of the thirteenth century were maintaining high standards. the republication of old texts, especially in france, has called attention to the magnificent publications of their professors, while a review of their laws and regulations confirms the idea of the good work that was being done. gurlt, in his history of surgery, "geschichte der chirurgie" (berlin, ), has reviewed the textbooks of roger and roland and the four masters, of william of salicet and lanfranc and of many others, in a way to make it very clear that these men were excellent teachers. when we discover that three years of preparatory university work was required before the study of medicine could be begun, and four years of medical studies were required, with a subsequent year of practice under a physician's direction, before a license for independent practice could be issued, then the scientific character of the medical schools and therefore of the universities to which they were attached is placed beyond all doubt. these are the terms of the law issued by the emperor frederick ii. for the two sicilies. that, in substance, it applied to other countries we learn from the fact that the charters of medical schools granted by the popes at this time require proper university preliminary studies, and four or five years at medicine before the degree of doctor could be given. we know besides that in the cities only those who were graduates of properly recognized medical schools were allowed to practice medicine, so that there was every encouragement for the maintenance of professional standards. indeed, { } strange as it may seem to our generation, the standards of the thirteenth century in medical education were much higher than our own, and their medical schools were doing fine work. x. magnetism. for proper understanding of the thirteenth century scholars, it is especially important to appreciate their thoroughly scientific temper of mind, their powers of observation, and their successful attainments in science. i know no more compendious way of reaching the knowledge of these qualities in the medieval mind, than a study of the letter of peregrinus, which we would in our time call a monograph on magnetism. brother potamian, in his chapter in "makers of electricity" (fordham university press, n. y., ) on peregrinus and columbus, sums up the very interesting contributions of this medieval student of magnetism to the subject. the list of chapters alone in peregrinus' monograph (epistola) makes it very clear how deep were his interests and how thoroughly practical his investigations. [illustration] the double pivoted needle of peregrinus. they are:--"part i., chapter i, purpose of this work; , qualifications of the experimenter; , characteristics of a good lodestone; , how to distinguish the poles of a lodestone; , how to tell which pole is north and which is south; , how one lodestone attracts another; , how iron touched by a lodestone turns toward the poles of the world; , how a lodestone attracts iron; , why the north pole of one lodestone attracts the south pole of another, and vice versa; , an inquiry into the natural virtue of the lodestone. "part ii., chapter , construction of an instrument for measuring the azimuth of the sun, the moon or any star then in the horizon; , construction of a better instrument for the same purpose; , the art of making a wheel of perpetual motion." in order to illustrate what peregrinus accomplished it has seemed worth while to reproduce here the sketches which illustrate his epistle. we have the double pivoted needle and the first pivoted compass. in the light of certain recent events a passage from the "new naval history or complete review of the british marine" (london, ) is of special interest. it illustrates perhaps the new confidence that came to men in sailing to long distances as the result of the { } realization of the practical value of the magnetic needle during the thirteenth century. [illustration] first pivoted compass (peregrinus, ). "in the year it is recorded that a friar of oxford called nicholas de linna (of lynn), being a good astronomer, went in company with others to the most northern island, and thence traveled alone, and that he went to the north pole, by means of his skill in magic, or the black art; but this magic or black art may probably have been nothing more than a knowledge of the magnetic needle or compass, found out about sixty years before, though not in common use until many years after." xi. biological theories, evolution, recapitulation. of course only those who are quite unfamiliar with the history of philosophic thought are apt to think that the theory of evolution is modern. serious students of biology are familiar with the long history of the theory, and especially its anticipations by the greeks. very few know, however, that certain phases of evolutionary theory attracted not a little attention from the scholastic philosophers. it would not be difficult to find expressions in roger bacon and albertus magnus, that would serve to show that they thought not only of the possibility of some very intimate relation of species but of developmental connections. the great teacher of the time, st. thomas aquinas, has some striking expressions in the matter, which deserve to be quoted, because he is the most important representative of the philosophy and science of the century and the one whose works most influenced succeeding generations. in the lecture on medieval scientific universities, published in "education, how old the new" (fordham university press, n. y., ), i called particular attention to this phase of st. thomas' teaching. two quotations will serve to make it clear here. prof. osborne, in "from the greeks to darwin," quotes aquinas' commentary on st. augustine's opinion with regard to the origin of things as they are. augustine declared that the creator had simply { } brought into life the seeds of things, and given these the power to develop. aquinas, expounding augustine, says: "as to production of plants, augustine holds a different view, . . . for some say that on the third day plants were actually produced, each in his kind--a view favored by the superficial reading of scripture. but augustine says that the earth is then said to have brought forth grass and trees _causaliter_; that is, it then received power to produce them." (quoting genesis ii: ): "for in those first days, . . . god made creation primarily or _causaliter_, and then rested from his work." like expressions might be quoted from him, and other writers of the thirteenth century might well be cited in confirmation of the fact that while these great teachers of the middle ages thoroughly recognize the necessity for creation to begin with and the placing by the creator of some power in living things that enables them to develop, they were by no means bound to the thought that all living species were due to special creations. they even did not hesitate to teach the possibility of the lower order of living beings at least coming into existence by spontaneous generation, and would probably have found no difficulty in accepting a theory of descent with the limitations that most scientific men of our generation are prone to demand for it. lest it should be thought that this is a mere accidental agreement with modern thought, due much more to a certain looseness of terms than to actual similarity of view, it seems well to point out how close st. thomas came to that thought in modern biology, which is probably considered to be one of our distinct modern contributions to the theory of evolution, though, in recent years, serious doubts have been thrown on it. it is expressed by the formula of herbert spencer, "ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny." according to this, the completed being repeats in the course of its development the history of the race, that is to say, the varying phases of foetal development from the single cell in which it originates up to the perfect being of the special type as it is born into the world, retrace the history by which from the single cell being the creature in question has gradually developed. it is very curious to find that st. thomas aquinas, in his teaching with regard to the origin and development of the human being, says, almost exactly, what the most ardent supporters of this so-called fundamental biogenetic law proclaimed during the latter half of the nineteenth century, thinking they were expressing an absolutely new thought. he says that "the higher a form is in the scale of being and the farther it is removed from mere material form, the more intermediate forms must be passed through before the finally perfect form is reached. therefore, in the generation of animal and man-- these having the most perfect forms--there occur many intermediate forms in generations, and consequently destruction, because the { } generation of one being is the destruction of another." st. thomas draws the ultimate conclusions from this doctrine without hesitation. he proclaims that the human material is first animated by a vegetative soul or principle of life, and then by an animal soul, and only ultimately when the matter has been properly prepared for it by a rational soul. he said: "the vegetative soul, therefore, which is first in embryo, while it lives the life of a plant, is destroyed, and there succeeds a more perfect soul, which is at once nutrient and sentient, and for that time the embryo lives the life of an animal: upon the destruction of this there succeeds the rational soul, infused from without." xii. the pope of the century. the absence of a chapter on the pope of the century has always seemed a lacuna in the previous editions of this book. pope innocent iii., whose pontificate began just before the century opened, and occupied the first fifteen years of it, well deserves a place beside francis the saint, thomas the scholar, dante the poet, and louis the monarch of this great century. more than any other single individual he was responsible for the great development of the intellectual life that took place, but at the same time his wonderfully broad influence enabled him to initiate many of the movements that meant most for human uplift and for the alleviation of suffering in this period. it was in councils of the church summoned by him that the important legislation was passed requiring the development of schools, the foundation of colleges in every diocese and of universities in important metropolitan sees. what he accomplished for hospitals has been well told by virchow, from whom i quote a magnanimous tribute in the chapter on the foundation of city hospitals. the legislation of innocent iii. did much to encourage, and yet to regulate properly the religious orders of this time engaged in charitable work. besides doing so much for charity, he was a stern upholder of morals. as more than one king of the time realized while innocent was pope, there could be no trifling with marriage vows. on the other hand, while innocent was so stern as to the enforcement of marriage laws, his wonderfully judicious character and his care for the weak and the innocent can be particularly noted in his treatment of the children in these cases. while he compelled recalcitrant kings to take back the wives they would repudiate, and put away other women who had won their affections, he did not hesitate to make due provision as far as possible for the illegitimate children. pirie gordon, in his recent life of pope innocent iii., notes that he invariably legitimated the offspring of these illegal unions of kings, and even declared them capable of succession. he would not visit the guilt of the parent on the innocent offspring. { } innocent did more to encourage the idea of international arbitration than anyone up to his time. during his period more than once he was the arbitrator to whom rival national claims that might have led to war were referred. probably his greatest claim on our admiration in the modern time is his attitude toward the jews. in this he is centuries ahead of his time and, indeed, the policy that he laid down is far ahead of what is accorded to them by many of the nations even at the present time, and it must not be forgotten that it is only during the past hundred years that the jew has come to have any real privileges comparable to those accorded to other men. at a time when the jew had no real rights in law, innocent insisted on according them all the rights of men. his famous edict in this regard is well known. "let no christian by violence compel them to come dissenting or unwilling to baptism. further let no christian venture maliciously to harm their persons without a judgment of the civil power, to carry off their property or change their good customs which they have had hitherto in that district which they inhabit." when, in addition to all this, it is recalled that he was a distinguished scholar and graduate of the university of paris, looked up to as one of the intellectual geniuses of the time, the author of a treatise "on the contempt of the world" at a time when the kings of the earth were obeying him, known for his personal piety and for his thorough regulation of his own household, something of the greatness of the man will be appreciated. no wonder that historians who have taken up the special study of his career have always been won over to deep personal admiration of him, and though many of them began prejudiced in his regard, practically all of them were converted to be his sincere admirers. xiii. international arbitration. during the peace conference in new york in i was on the programme with mr. william t. stead of london, the editor of the english _review of reviews_, who was very much interested in the volume on the thirteenth century, and who suggested that one chapter in the book should have been devoted to the consideration of what was accomplished for peace and for international arbitration during this century. there is no doubt that there developed, as the result of many papal decrees, a greater tendency than has existed ever before or since, to refer quarrels between nations that would ordinarily end in war to decision by some selected umpire. usually the pope, as the head of the christian church, to which all the nations of the civilized world belonged, was selected as the arbitrator. this international arbitration, strengthened by the decrees of pope innocent iii., pope honorius iii. and pope alexander iii., developed in a way that is well worth while studying, and that has deservedly been the subject of careful investigation since the present { } peace movement began. certainly the outlook for the securing of peace by international arbitration was better at this time than it has been at any time since. what a striking example, for instance, is the choice of king louis of france as the umpire in the dispute between the barons and the king of england, which might have led to war. louis' position with regard to the empire and the papacy was to a great extent that of a pacificator, and his influence for peace was felt everywhere throughout europe. the spirit of the century was all for arbitration and the adjudication of intranational as well as international difficulties by peaceful means. xiv. bible revision. most people will be quite sure that at least the question of bible revision with critical study of text and comparative investigation of sources was reserved for our time. the two orders of friars founded in the early part of the thirteenth century, however, devoted themselves to the task of supplying to the people a thoroughly reliable edition of the scriptures. the first systematic revision was made by the dominicans about . after twenty years this revision was set aside as containing too many errors, and another dominican correction replaced it. then came that great scholar, hugh of st. cher, known later as the cardinal of santa sabina, the author of the first great biblical concordance. his bible studies did much to clarify obscurities in the text. sometime about he organized a commission of friars for the revision of what was known as the paris exemplar, the bible text that was most in favor at that time. the aim of hugh of st. cher was to establish the old vulgate of st. jerome, the text which received this name during this century, but with such revision as would make this version correspond as nearly as possible to the hebrew and the greek. this activity on the part of the dominicans was rivaled by the franciscans. we might not expect to find the great scientist, roger bacon, as a biblical scholar and reviser, but such he was, working with willermus de mara, to whom, according to father denifle, late the librarian of the vatican library, must be attributed the title given him by roger bacon of sapientissimus vir. the dominicans under the leadership of hugh of st. cher with high ideals had hoped to achieve a perfect primitive text. the version made by de mara, however, with the approval and advice of bacon, was only meant to bring out st. jerome's text as perfectly as possible. these two revisions made in the thirteenth century are typical of all the efforts that men have made since in that same direction. contrary to usual present day impressions, they are characterized by critical scholarship, and probably represent as great a contribution to biblical lore as was made by any other century. { } xv. fiction of the century. ordinarily it would be presumed that life was taken entirely too seriously during the thirteenth century for the generation to pay much attention to fiction. in a certain sense this is true. in the sense, however, that they had no stories worthy of the great literature in other departments it would be quite untrue. there is a naiveté about their story telling that rather amuses our sophisticated age, yet all the elements of our modern fiction are to be found in the stories that were popular during the century, and arranged with a dramatic effect that must have given them a wide appeal. the most important contribution to the fiction of the century is to be found in the collection known as the _cento novelle antiche_ or "hundred ancient tales," which contains the earliest prose fiction extant in italian. many of these come from a period anterior to dante, and it is probable from what manni, the learned editor of the _novelliero_, says, that they were written out in the thirteenth century and collected in the early part of the fourteenth century. they did not all originate in italy, and, indeed, manni considers that most of them derived their origin from provence. they represent the interest of the century in fiction and in anecdotal literature. as for the longer fiction, the pure love story of the modern time, we have one typical example of it in that curious relic of the middle ages, "aucassin and nicolette." the manuscript which preserved this for us comes from the thirteenth century. perhaps, as m. paris suggests, the tale itself is from the preceding century. at least it was the interest of the thirteenth century in it that saved it for us. for those who think that the love romance in any of its features is novel, though we call it by that name, or that there has been any development of human nature which enables the writer of love stories to appeal to other and deeper, or purer and loftier feelings in his loved ones now than in the past, all that is needed, as it seems to me, is a casual reading of this pretty old song-story. perhaps the most interesting feature of this oldest specimen of modern fiction is the number of precious bits of psychologic analysis or, at least, what is called that in the recent time, which occur in the course of it. for instance, when aucassin is grieving because he cannot find nicolette he wanders through the forest on horseback, and is torn by trees and brambles, but "he feels it not at all." on the other hand, when he finds nicolette, though he is suffering from a dislocated shoulder, he no longer feels any pain in it, because of his joy at the meeting, and nicolette (first aid to the injured) is able to replace the dislocated part without difficulty (the trained nurse in fiction) because he is so happy as not to notice the pain (psychotherapy). the herdsman whom he meets wonders that aucassin, with plenty of money and victuals, should grieve so much over the loss of nicolette, { } while he has so much more cause to grieve over the loss of an ox, which means starvation to him. toward the end of the story we have the scene in which nicolette, stolen from home when very young, and utterly unable to remember anything about her childhood, has brought back to her memory by the view of the city of carthage forgotten events of her childhood (subconscious memory). these represent naively enough, it is true, the study of the mind under varying conditions that has in recent years been given the rather ambitious name of psychology in fiction. xvi. great orators. without a chapter on the great orators of the period an account of the thirteenth century is quite incomplete. great as were the other forms of literature, epic, lyric and religious poetry and the prose writing, it is probable that the oratory of the time surpassed them all. when we recall that the cid, the arthur legends, the nibelungen, the meistersingers, and the minnesingers, reynard the fox, the romance of the rose, the troubadours, and even dante are included in the other term of the comparison thus made, it may seem extravagant, but what we know of the effect of the orators of the time fully justifies it. just before the thirteenth century, great religious orators swayed the hearts and minds of people, to the organization of the crusades. at the beginning of the thirteenth century the mendicant orders were organized, and their important duties were preaching and teaching. the dominicans were of course the order of preachers, and we have traditions of their sway over the minds of the people of the time which make it very clear that their power was equal to that exerted in any other department of human expression. there are traditions particularly of the oratory of the dominicans among the german races, which serve to show how even a phlegmatic people can be stirred to the very depths of their being by the eloquent spoken word. in france the traditions are almost as explicit in this matter, and there are remains of religious orations that fully confirm the reputation of the orators of the time. rhetoric and oratory was studied very assiduously. cicero was the favorite reading of the great preachers of the time, and we find the court preachers of st. louis, �tienne de bourbon, elinand, guillaume de perrault and others appealing to his precepts as the infallible guide to oratory. quintilian was not neglected, however, and symmachus and sidonius apollinaris were also faithfully studied. if we turn to the speeches that are incorporated in the epics, as, for instance, the cid, or in some of the historians, as villehardouin, we have definite evidence of the thorough command of the writers of the time over the forms of oratory. m. paullin paris, the authority in our time on the literature of the thirteenth century, quotes a passage from villehardouin in which canon de bethune speaks in the { } name of the french chiefs of the fourth crusade to the emperors isaac and alexis comnenus. m. paris does not hesitate to declare that the passage is equal to many of the same kind that have been much admired in the classic authors. it has the force, the finish and the compression of thucydides. xvii. great beginnings in english literature. only the fact that this work was getting beyond the number of printed pages determined for it in the first edition prevented the insertion of a chapter especially devoted to the great beginnings of english literature in the thirteenth century. the most important contributions to early english were made at this period. the ormulum and layamon's brut, both written probably during the first decade of the thirteenth century, have become familiar to all students of old english. mr. gollancz goes so far as to say that "the ormulum is perhaps the most valuable document we possess for the history of english sound. orm was a purist in orthography as well as in vocabulary, and may fittingly be described as the first of english phoneticians." [illustration] manuscript of ormulum (thirteenth century) of layamon, garnett said in his "english literature" (garnett and gosse): "it would have sufficed for the fame of layamon had he been no more than the first minstrel to celebrate arthur in english song, but his own pretensions as a poet are by no means inconsiderate. he is everywhere vigorous and graphic, and improved upon his predecessor, wace, alike by his additions and expansions, and by his more spiritual handling of the subjects common to both." even more important in the history of language than these is _the ancren riwle_ (the anchorites' rule). this was probably written by richard poore, bishop of salisbury, for three cistercian nuns. its place in english literature may be judged from a quotation or two with regard to it. mr. kington-oliphant says: "_the ancren riwle_ is the forerunner of a wondrous change in our speech. more than anything else written outside the danelagh, that piece has influenced our standard { } english." garnett says: "_the ancren riwle_ is a work of great literary merit and, in spite of its linguistic innovations, most of which have established themselves, well deserves to be described as 'one of the most perfect models of simple eloquent prose in our language.'" the religious poetry of the time is not behind the great prose of _the ancren riwle_, and one of them, the _luve ron_ (love song) of thomas de hales, is very akin to the spirit of that work, and has been well described as "a contemplative lyric of the simplest, noblest mold." garnett says: "the reflections are such as are common to all who have in all ages pleaded for the higher life under whatsoever form, and deplored the frailty and transitoriness of man's earthly estate. two stanzas on the latter theme as expressed in a modernized version might almost pass for villon's:-- "paris and helen, where are they, fairest in beauty, bright to view? amadas, tristrem, ideine, yea isold, that lived with love so true? and caesar, rich in power and sway, hector the strong, with might to do? all glided from earth's realm away, like shaft that from the bow-string flew. "it is as if they ne'er were here. their wondrous woes have been a' told, that it is sorrow but to hear; how anguish killed them sevenfold, and how with dole their lives were drear; now is their heat all turned to cold. thus this world gives false hope, false fear; a fool, who in her strength is bold." xviii. great origins in music. in the chapter on the great latin hymns a few words were said about one phase of the important musical development in the thirteenth century, that of plain chant. in that simple mode the musicians of the thirteenth century succeeded in reaching a climax of expression of human feeling in such chants as the _exultet_ and the _lamentation_ that has never been surpassed. something was also said about the origin of part music, but so little that it might easily be thought that in this the century lagged far behind its achievements in other departments. m, pierre aubry has recently published ( ) _cent motets du xiiie siècle_ in three volumes. his first volume contains a photographic reproduction of the manuscript of bamberg from which the hundred musical modes are secured, the second a transcription in modern musical notation of the old music, and the third volume studies and commentaries on the music and the times. if anything were needed to show how utterly ignorant we have been of the interests and artistic achievements of the middle ages, it is this book of m. aubry. victor hugo said that music dates from the sixteenth century, and it has been quite the custom, even for people who thought they { } knew something about music, to declare that we had no remains of any music before the sixteenth century worth while talking about. ancient music is probably lost to us forever, but m. aubry has shown conclusively that we have abundant remains to show us that the musicians of the thirteenth century devoted themselves to their art with as great success as their rivals in the other gothic arts and, indeed, they thought that they had nearly exhausted its possibilities and tried to make a science of it. by their supposedly scientific rules they succeeded in binding music so firmly as to bring about its obscuration in succeeding centuries. this is, however, the old story of what has happened in every art whenever genius succeeds in finding a great mode of expression. a formula is evolved which often binds expression so rigorously as to prevent natural development. xix. a chapter on manners. whatever the people of the middle ages may have been in morals, their manners are supposed to have been about as lacking in refinement as possible. as for nearly everything else, however, this impression is utterly false, and is due to the assumption that because we are better-mannered than the generations of a century or two ago, therefore we must be almost infinitely in advance, in the same respect, of the people of seven centuries ago. there are ups and downs in manners, however, as there are in education, and the beginnings of the formal setting forth of modern manners are, like everything else modern, to be found in the thirteenth century. about the year thomasin zerklaere wrote in german a rather lengthy treatise, _der wälsche gast_, on manners. it contains most of the details of polite conduct that have been accepted in later times. not long afterwards, john garland, an oxford man who had lived in france for many years, wrote a book on manners for english young men. he meant this to be a supplement to dionysius cato's treatise, written probably in the fourth century in latin, which was concerned more with morals than manners and had been very popular during the middle ages. garland's book was the first of a series of such treatises on manners which appeared in england at the close of the middle ages. many of them have been recently republished, and are a revelation of the development of manners among our english forefathers. the book is usually alluded to in literature as liber faceti, or as facet; the full title was, "the book of the polite man, teaching manners for men, especially for boys, as a supplement to those which were omitted by the most moral cato." the "romance of the rose" has, of course, many references to manners which show us how courtesy was cultivated in france. in italy, dante's teacher, bruneto latini, published his "tesoretto," which treats of manners, and which was soon followed by a number of similar treatises in { } italian. in a word, we must look to the thirteenth century for the origin, or at least the definite acceptance, of most of those conventions which make for kindly courtesy among men, and have made possible human society and friendly intercourse in our modern sense of those words. we are prone to think that refinement in table manners is a matter of distinctly modern times. in "the babees' book," which is one of the oldest books of english manners, the date of which in its present form is about the middle of the fourteenth century, many of our rules of politeness at table are anticipated. this book is usually looked upon as a compilation from preceding times, and the original of it is supposed to be from the preceding century. a few quotations from it will show how closely it resembles our own instructions to children: "thou shalt not laugh nor speak nothing while thy mouth be full of meat or drink; nor sup thou not with great sounding neither pottage nor other thing. at meat cleanse not thy teeth, nor pick with knife or straw or wand or stick. while thou holdest meat in mouth, beware to drink; that is an unhonest chare; and also physic forbids it quite. also eschew, without strife. to foul the board cloth with thy knife. nor blow not on thy drink or meat, neither for cold, neither for heat. nor bear with meat thy knife to mouth. whether thou be set by strong or couth. lean not on elbow at thy meat, neither for cold nor for heat. dip not thy thumb thy drink into; thou art uncourteous if thou it do. in salt-cellar if thou put or fish or flesh that men see it, that is a vice, as men me tells; and great wonder it would be else." the directions, "how to behave thyself in talking with any man," in one of these old books, are very minute and specific:-- "if a man demand a question of thee. in thine answer making be not too hasty; weigh well his words, the case understand ere an answer to make thou take in hand; else may he judge in thee little wit, to answer to a thing and not hear it. suffer his tale whole out to be told. then speak thou mayst, and not be controlled; in audible voice thy words do thou utter, not high nor low, but using a measure. thy words see that thou pronounce plaine. and that they spoken be not in vain; in uttering whereon keep thou an order, thy matter thereby thou shalt much forder which order if thou do not observe. from the purpose needs must thou swerve." { } xx. textile work of the century. a special chapter might easily have been written on the making of fine cloths of various kinds, most of which reached their highest perfection in the thirteenth century. velvet, for instance, is mentioned for the first time in england in , but existed earlier on the continent, and cut velvets with elaborate patterns were made in genoa exactly as we know finished velvet now. baudekin or baldichin, a very costly textile of gold and silk largely used in altar coverings and hangings, came to very high perfection in this century also. the canopy for the blessed sacrament is, because of its manufacture from this cloth, still called in italy a _baldichino_. chaucer in the next century tells how the streets in royal processions were "hanged with cloth of gold and not with serge." satin also was first manufactured very probably in the thirteenth century. it is first mentioned in england about the middle of the fourteenth century, when bishop grandison made a gift of choice satins to exeter cathedral. the word satin, however, is derived from the silks of the mediterranean, called by the italians _seta_ and by the spanish _seda_, and the art of making it was brought to perfection during the preceding century. the art of making textiles ornamented with elaborate designs of animal forms and of floral ornaments reached its highest perfection in the thirteenth century. in one of the chronicles we learn that in st. paul's in london owned a hanging "patterned with wheels and two-headed birds." we have accounts of such elaborate textile ornamentation as peacocks, lions, griffins and the like. almeria in andalusia was a rich city in the thirteenth century, noted for its manufactures of textiles. a historian of the period writes: "christians of all nations came to its port to buy and sell. then they traveled to other parts of the interior of the country, where they loaded their vessels with such goods as they wanted. costly silken robes of the brightest colors are manufactured in almeria." marco-polo says of the persians that, when he passed through that country (end of the thirteenth century), "there are excellent artificers in the city who make wonderful things in gold, silk and embroidery. the women make excellent needlework in silk with all sorts of creatures very admirably wrought therein." he also reports the king of tartary as wearing on his birthday a most precious garment of gold, and tells of the girdles of gold and silver, with pearls and ornaments of great price on them. unfortunately english embroidery fell off very greatly at the time of the wars of the roses. these wars constitute the main reason why nearly every form of intellectual accomplishment and artistic achievement went into decadence during the fourteenth century, from which they were only just emerging when the so-called { } reformation, with its confiscation of monastic property, and its destruction of monastic life, came to ruin schools of all kinds, and, above all, those in which the arts and crafts had been taught so successfully. france at the end of the thirteenth century saw a similar rise to excellence of textile and embroidery work. in there is an allusion to one clément le brodeur who furnished a magnificent cope for the count of artois. in a beautifully decorated set of hangings was made for the queen by gautier de poulleigny. there are other references to work done in the early part of the fourteenth century, which serve to show the height which art had reached in this mode during the thirteenth century. in ireland, while the finer work had its due place, the making of woolens was the specialty, and the dyeing of woolen cloth made the irish famous and brought many travelers from the continent to learn the secret. the work done in england in embroidery attracted the attention of the world. english needlework became a proverb. in the body of the book i mentioned the cope of ascoli, but there were many such beautiful garments. the syon cope is, in the opinion of miss addison, author of "arts and crafts in the middle ages," the most conspicuous example of the medieval embroiderers' art. it was made by nuns about the middle of the thirteenth century, that is, just about the same time as the cope of ascoli, but in a convent near coventry. according to miss addison "it is solid stitchery on a canvas ground, wrought about with divers colors' on green. the design is laid out in a series of interlacing square forms, with rounded and barbed sides and corners. in each of these is a figure or a scriptural scene. the orphreys, or straight borders, which go down on both fronts of the cope, are decorated with heraldic charges. much of the embroidery is raised, and wrought in the stitch known as opus anglicanum. the effect was produced by pressing a heated metal knob into the work at such points as were to be raised. the real embroidery was executed on a flat surface, and then bossed up by this means until it looked like bas-relief. the stitches in every part run in zig-zags, the vestments, and even the nimbi about the heads, are all executed with the stitches slanting in one direction, from the center of the cope outward, without consideration of the positions of the figures. each face is worked in circular progression outward from the center, as well. the interlaces are of crimson, and look well on the green ground. the wheeled cherubim is well developed in the design of this famous cope, and is a pleasing decorative bit of archaic ecclesiasticism. in the central design of the crucifixion, the figure of the lord is rendered in silver on a gold ground." xxi. glass-making. a chapter might well have been devoted to thirteenth century glass-making quite apart from the stained glass of the cathedral { } windows. all over europe some of the most wonderful specimens of colored glass we possess were made in the thirteenth century. recently mr. frederick rolfe has looked up for me venetian glass, of the three centuries, the twelfth, the thirteenth and the fourteenth. he says twelfth century glass is small in form, simple and ignorant in model, excessively rich and brilliant in colors; the artist evidently had no ideal, but the byzantine of jewels and emeralds. "thirteenth century glass is absolutely different. the specimens are pretty. the work of the beroviero family is large and splendid in form, exquisite and sometimes elaborate in model, mostly crystal glass reticently studded with tiny colored gem-like knobs. there are also fragments of two windows pieced together, and missing parts filled with the best which modern murano can do. these show the celebrated beroviero ruby glass (secret lost) of marvelous depth and brilliancy in comparison with which the modern work is merely watery. the ancient is just like a decanter of port-wine. "fourteenth century returns to the wriggling ideal and exiguous form of the twelfth century, and fails woefully in brilliance of color. it is small and dull and undistinguished. one may find out what war or pest afflicted murano at this epoch to explain the singular degradation." this same curious degradation took place in the manufacture of most art objects during the fourteenth century. one would feel in mr. rolfe's words like looking for some physical cause for it. the decadence is so universal, however, that it seems not unlikely that it follows some little known human law, according to which, after man has reached a certain perfection of expression in an art or craft, there comes, in the striving after originality yet variety, an overbalancing of the judgment, a vitiation of the taste in the very luxuriance of beauty discovered that leads to decay. it is the very contradiction of the supposed progress of mankind through evolution, but it is illustrated in many phases of human history and, above all, the history of art, letters, education and the arts and crafts. xxii. inventions. most people are sure to think that, at least in the matter of inventions, ours is the only time worth considering. the people of the thirteenth century, however, made many wonderful inventions and adaptations of mechanical principles, as well as many ingenious appliances. their faculty of invention was mainly devoted to work in other departments besides that of mechanics. they were inventors of designs in architecture, in decoration, in furnishings, in textiles, and in the beautiful things of life generally. their inventiveness in the arts and crafts was especially admirable and, indeed, has been fruitful in our time, since, with the reawakening in this matter, we have gone back to imitate their designs. good authorities declare these to be endless in number and variety. such mechanical inventions as were { } needed for the building of their great cathedrals, their municipal buildings, abbeys, castles, piers, bridges and the like were admirably worked out. necessity is the mother of invention, and whenever needs asserted themselves, these old generations responded to them, very successfully. there are, however, a number of inventions that would attract attention even, in the modern time for their practical usefulness and ingenuity. with the growth of the universities writing became much more common, textbooks were needed, and so paper was invented. with the increase of reading, to replace teaching by hearing, spectacles were invented. time became more precious, clocks were greatly improved, and we hear of the invention of something like an alarm clock, an apparatus which, after a fixed number of hours, woke the monk of the abbey whose duty it was to arouse the others. organs for churches were greatly improved, bells were perfected, and everything else in connection with the churches so well fashioned that we still use them in their thirteenth century forms. gunpowder was not invented, but a great many new uses were found for it, and roger bacon even suggested, as i have said, that sometime explosives would enable boats to move by sea without sails or oars, or carriages to move on land without horses or men. roger bacon even suggested the possibility of airships, described how one might be made, the wings of which would be worked by a windlass, and thought that he could make it. his friend and pupil, peregrinus, invented the double pivoted compass, and, as the first perpetual-motion faddist, described how he would set about making a magnetic engine that he thought would run forever. when we recall how much they accomplished mechanically in the construction of buildings, it becomes evident that any mechanical problem that these generations wanted solved they succeeded in solving very well. what they have left us as inventions are among the most useful appliances that we have. without paper and without spectacles, the intellectual world would be in a sad case, indeed. many of the secrets of their inventions in the arts and crafts have been lost, and, in spite of all our study, we have not succeeded in rediscovering them. xxiii. industry and trade. we are rather inclined to think that large organizations of industry and trade were reserved for comparatively modern times. to think so, however, is to forget the place occupied by the monasteries and convents in the olden time. we have heard much of the lazy monks, but only from those who know nothing at all about them. idleness in the monasteries was one of the accusations made by the commission set to furnish evidence to henry viii. on which he might suppress the monasteries, but every modern historian has rejected the findings of that commission as false. many forms of manufacture were carried on in the monasteries and convents. they were { } the principal bookmakers and bookbinders. to a great extent they were the manufacturers of art fabrics and arts-and-crafts work intended for church use, but also for the decoration of luxurious private apartments. most of us have known something of all this finer work, but not that they had much to do with cruder industries also. they were millers, cloth-makers, brush- and broom-makers, shoemakers for themselves and their tenantry; knitting was done in the convents, and all the finer fancy work. a recent meeting of the institute of mining engineers in england brought out some discussion of coal mining in connection with the early history of the coal mines in england. the records of many of the english monasteries show that in early times the monks knew the value of coal, and used it rather freely. they also mined it for others. the monks at tynemouth are known to have been mining coal on the manor of tynemouth in , and shipping it to a distance. at durham and at finchale abbey they were doing this also about the same time. it would require special study to bring out the interesting details, but there is abundant material not alone for a chapter, but for a volume on the industries of the thirteenth century, which, like the education and the literature and the culture of the time, we have thought undeveloped, because we knew nothing of them. the relation of the monasteries to trade, domestic and foreign, is very well brought out in a paragraph of mr. ralph adams cram's book on "the ruined abbeys of great britain" (new york, the churchman co., ), in which he describes the remains at beaulieu, which show the place of that monastery, not by any means one of the most important in england, in trade. for the benefit of their tenantry others had done even more. "some idea of the power of one of these great monasteries may be gained from traces still existing of the center of trade built up by the monks outside their gates. here, at the head of tide water, in a most out-of-the-way spot, a great stone quay was constructed, to which came ships from foreign lands. near by was a great marketplace, now, as then, called cheapside, though commerce exists there no longer. at the height of monastic glory the religious houses were actually the chief centers of industry and civilization, and around them grew up the eager villages, many of which now exist, even though their impulse and original inspiration have long since departed. of course, the possessions of the abbey reached far away from the walls in every direction, including many farms even at a great distance, for the abbeys were then the great landowners, and beneficent landlords they were as well, even in their last days, for we have many records of the cruelty and hardships that came to the tenants the moment the stolen lands came into the hands of laymen." xxiv. fairs and markets. a chapter might well have been devoted to showing the significance of those curious old institutions, the fairs and market days of the { } middle ages. the country folk flocked into town, bringing with them their produce, and found there gathered from many parts merchants come to exchange and barter. the expense of maintaining a store all the year around was done away with, and profits did not have to be large. exchanges were direct, and the profits of the middlemen were to a great extent eliminated. it was distinctly to the advantage of the poor, for the expenses of commerce were limited to the greatest possible extent, and every advantage accrued to the customer. besides, these market days became days of innocent merriment, amusement and diversion. wandering purveyors of amusement followed the fairs, and obtained their living from the generosity of the people who were amused. these amusements were conducted out of doors, and with very few of the objectionable features as regards hygiene and morality that are likely to attach themselves to the same things in our day. the amusement was what we would call now vaudeville, singing, dancing, the exhibition of trained animals, acrobatic feats of various kinds, so that we cannot very well say that our people are in advance of their medieval forbears in such matters, since their taste is about the same. fairs and market days made country life less monotonous by their regular recurrence, and so prevented that emptying of the country into the city which we deprecate in our time. they had economic, social, even moral advantages, that are worth while studying. xxv. intensive farming. we hear much of intensive farming in the modern time, and it is supposed to be a distinctly modern invention mothered by the necessity due to great increase of population. one of the most striking features of the story of monasticism in the countries of europe, however, during the middle ages, and especially during the thirteenth century, when so many of the greatest abbeys reached a climax of power and influence and beauty of construction, is their successful devotion paid to agriculture. in the modern time we are gradually learning the lesson of growing larger and larger crops on the same area of ground by proper selection of seed, and of developing cattle in such a way as to make them most valuable as a by-product of farming. this is exactly what the old monastic establishments did. at the beginning of the thirteenth century many of them were situated in rather barren regions, sometimes, indeed, surrounded by thick forests, but at the end of the century all the great monastic establishments had succeeded in making beautiful luxuriant gardens for themselves, and had taught their numerous tenantry the great lessons of agricultural improvement which made for plenty and happiness. many monasteries belonged to the same religious order, and the traditions of these were carried from one to the other by visiting { } monks or sometimes by the transfer of members of one community to another. the monastic establishments were the great farmers of europe, and it was their proud boast that their farming lands, instead of being exhausted from year to year, were rather increasing in value. they doubtless had many secrets of farming that were lost and had to be rediscovered in the modern time, just as in the arts and crafts, for their success in farming was as noteworthy. their knowledge of trees must have been excellent, since they surrounded themselves with fine forests, at times arranged so as to provide shady walks and charming avenues. their knowledge of simple farming must have been thorough, for the farms of the monasteries were always the most prosperous, and the tenantry were always the happiest. with the traditions that we have especially in english history, this seems almost impossible to credit, but these traditions, manufactured for a purpose, have now been entirely discredited. we have learned in recent years what wonderful scholars, architects, painters, teachers, engineers these monks were, and so it is not surprising to find that they had magnificently developed agricultural knowledge as well as that of every other department in which they were particularly interested. xxvi. cartography and the teaching of geography. in the chapter on great explorers and the foundation of geography, in the body of the book, much might have been said about maps and map-making, for the thirteenth century was a great period in this matter. lecoy de la marche among his studies of the thirteenth century has included a volume of a collection of the maps of the thirteenth century. if the purpose had been to make this a work of erudition rather than of popular information, much might have been said of the cartography of the time even from this work alone (_receuil de charles du xiii e siècle_, paris, ). one of the great maps of the thirteenth century, that on the cathedral wall of hereford, deserves a place here. it was made just at the end of the thirteenth century. the idea of its maker was to convey as much information as possible about the earth, and not merely indicate its political divisions and the relative size and position of the different parts. it is to a certain extent at least a resume of history, of physical geography, and even of geographical biology and anthropology, for it has indications as to the dwelling-place of animals and curious types of men. it contains, besides, references to interesting objects of other kinds. because of its interest i have reproduced the map itself, and the key to it with explanations published at hereford. { } [illustration] _key to the photograph of the ancient map of the world_. preserved in hereford cathedral. [illustration] map of the world (hereford cathedral) the map is executed on a single sheet of vellum, in. in breadth, by in. in extreme height, it is fixed on a strong framework of oak. at the top (fig. ) is a representation of the last judgment. our saviour is represented in glory, and below is the virgin mary interceding for mankind. for convenience of reference the key map is divided into squares marked by roman capitals, with the more prominent objects in figures. i.--commencing with sq. . the circle marked by fig. represents the garden of eden, with the four rivers, and adam and eve eating the forbidden fruit. the remainder of the square, as also in ii. and iii., is occupied by india. at fig. is shown the expulsion of adam and eve, to the right of which is shown a race of giants, and to the left the city of enoch, and still further the golden mountains guarded by dragons. below these mountains are shown a race of pigmies. in a space bounded by two rivers is placed a crocodile, and immediately below a female warrior. to the left of the latter are a pair of birds called in the map alerions. the large { } river to the left is the ganges. ii.--shows one of the inhabitants of this part of india, who are said to have but one foot, which is sufficiently large to serve as an umbrella to shelter themselves from the sun. the city in the center is samarcand. iii.--in which is seen an elephant, to the left a parrot. a part of the red sea is also shown with the island of taprobana (ceylon), on which are shown two dragons. it also bears an inscription denoting that dragons and elephants are found there. the small islands shown are crise, argire, ophir, and frondisia (aphrodisia). iv.--contains the caspian sea, below which is a figure holding its tail in his hand, and which the author calls the minotaur. to the left is shown one of the albani, who are said to see better at night than in the daytime. below are two warriors in combat with a griffin (fig. ). v.--in the upper part are bokhara and thrace, in the latter of which (fig. ) is shown the pelican feeding its young, to the left a singular figure representing the cicones, and to the right the camel, in bactria. below to the left is the tiger, and on the right an animal with a human head and the body of a lion, called the mantichora. still lower is seen noah's ark (fig. ), in which are shown three human figures, with beasts, birds and serpents. in the lower corner, at fig. , is the golden fleece. vi.--the upper parts contain babylonia, with the city of babylon (fig. ) on the river euphrates, below which is the city of damascus, which has on its right an unknown animal called the marsok. to the right is lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt (fig. ). decapolis and the river jordan are near the bottom of the square. above the river euphrates is a figure in a frame representing the patriarch abraham's residence at ur of the chaldees. vii.--the red sea (figs. , ) is the most conspicuous object here. in the fork formed by it is shown the giving of the tables of the law on mount sinai. below, and touching the line (fig. ) showing the wanderings of the israelites, is seen the worship of the golden calf. the dead sea and submerged cities are shown lower down to the left, and between this and the red sea is the phoenix. at the bottom is a mythical animal with long horns, called the eale. viii.--in the upper part is the monastery of st. anthony in ethiopia. the river to the left is the nile, between this and a great interior lake (figs. , ) is a figure of satyr. beyond the lake, and extending a distance down the map (figs. , , ), are various singular figures, supposed to represent the races dwelling there. in a circular island to the left (meroe) is a man riding a crocodile, and at the bottom left-hand corner is a centaur. ix.--the upper part is scythia, and shows some cannibals, below which (fig. ) are two scythians in combat. under this again is a man leading a horse with a human skin thrown over it, and to the right of the latter is placed the ostrich. x.--asia minor with the black sea (fig. ). many cities are shown prominent, among which is troy (fig. ), described as "_troja civitas bellicosissima_." near the bottom to the left is constantinople. the lynx is shown near the center. xi.--is nearly filled by the holy land. in the center is jerusalem (fig. ), the supposed center of the world, surrounded by a high wall, and above is the crucifixion. below jerusalem to the right is bethlehem with the manger. near a circular place to the right, called _"puteus juramenti"_ (well of the oath), is an unknown bird, called on the map avis cirenus. xii.--egypt with the nile. at the upper part (fig. ) are joseph's granaries, i.e., the pyramids, immediately below which is the salamander, and to the right of that the mandrake. fig. denotes the delta with its cities. { } on the other side of the nile, and partly in sq. xiii., is the rhinoceros, and below it the unicorn. xiii.--ethiopia. in the upper left-hand corner is the sphinx, and near the bottom the temple of jupiter ammon, represented by a singular horse-shoe shaped figure. the camp of alexander the great is in the bottom left-hand corner, immediately above which is the boundary line between asia and africa, xiv.--at the top of the left is norway, in which the author has placed the monkey. the middle is filled by russia. the small circular islands on the left are the orkneys, immediately below which is an inscription relating to the seven sleepers, scotland and part of england are shown in the lower part, but the british isles will be described in sq. xix. the singular triangular figure in the center of this square cannot be identified. xv.--germany, with part of greece, in the upper part to the right. the danube and its tributaries are seen in the upper part, in the lower is the rhine. on the bank of the latter the scorpion is placed; venice is shown on the right, xvi.--contains italy and a great part of the mediterranean sea (fig. ). about the center (fig. ) is rome, which bears the inscription, "roma caput mundi tenet orbis frena rotundi." in the upper part of the mediterranean sea is seen a mermaid, below (fig. ) is the island of crete, with its famous labyrinth, to the left of which is the rock scylla. below crete is sicily (fig. ), on which mount etna is shown; close to sicily is the whirlpool charybdis, xvii.--part of africa; in the lower part to the left, on a promontory, is seen carthage; on the right the leopard is shown. xviii.--also part of africa. the upper part is fezzan, below is shown the basilisk, and still lower some troglodytes or dwellers in caves. xix.--on the left hand are the british isles (figs. , , ), on the right france. great britain (figs. , ) is very fully laid down, but of ireland the author seemed to know but little. in england twenty-six cities and towns are delineated, among which hereford (h'ford) is conspicuous. twenty rivers are also seen, but the only mountains shown are the clee hills. in wales, snowdon is seen, and the towns of carnarvon, conway and st. david's. in ireland four towns, armagh, bangor, dublin and kildare, with two rivers, the banne, which, as shown, divides the island in two, and the shannon. in scotland there are six towns. in france the city of paris (fig. ) is conspicuous. xx.--the upper part is provence, the lower spain. in the mediterranean sea are laid down, among others, the islands of corsica, sardinia, majorca, and minorca. at the bottom are (fig. ) the pillars of hercules (gibraltar), which were considered the extreme western limits of the world. xxi.--at the top to the left (fig. ) is st. augustine of hippo, in his pontifical habit. and at the opposite corner the lion, below which are the agriophagi, a one-eyed people who live on the flesh of lions and other beasts. the kingdoms on the shore of the mediterranean are algiers, setif, and tangier. { } appendix iii. criticisms, comments, documents. human progress. for most people the impossible would apparently be accomplished if a century so far back as the thirteenth were to be even seriously thought of as the greatest of centuries. evolution has come to be accepted so unquestioningly, that of course "we are the heirs of all the ages of the foremost files of time," and must be far ahead of our forbears, especially of the distant past, in everything. when a man talks glibly about great progress in recent times, he usually knows only the history of his own time and not very much about that. men who have studied other periods seriously hesitate about the claim of progress, and the more anyone knows about any other period, the less does he think of his own as surpassing. there are many exemplifications of this in recent literature. because this was a cardinal point in many criticisms of the book, it has seemed well to illustrate the position here taken as to the absence of progress in humanity by quotations from recognized authorities. just as the first edition of this book came from the press, ambassador bryce delivered his address at harvard on "what is progress?" it appeared in the _atlantic monthly_ for august, . mr. bryce is evidently not at all persuaded that there is human progress in any real sense of the word. some striking quotations may be made from the address, but to get the full impression of mr. bryce's reasons for hesitation about accepting any progress, the whole article needs to be read. for instance, he said: "it does not seem possible, if we go back to the earliest literature which survives to us from western asia and southeastern europe, to say that the creative powers of the human mind in such subjects as poetry, philosophy, and historical narrative or portraiture, have either improved or deteriorated. the poetry of the early hebrews and of the early greeks has never been surpassed and hardly ever equaled. neither has the philosophy of plato and aristotle, nor the speeches of demosthenes and cicero. geniuses like dante, chaucer, and shakespeare appear without our being able to account for them, and for aught we know another may appear at any moment. it is just as difficult, if we look back five centuries, to assert either progress or decline in painting. sculpture has never again risen to so high a level as it touched in the fifth century, b. c, nor within the last three centuries, to so high a level as it reached at the end of the fifteenth. but we can found no generalizations upon that fact. music is the most inscrutable of the arts, and whether there is any progress to be expected other { } than that which may come from a further improvement in instruments constituting an orchestra, i will not attempt to conjecture, any more than i should dare to raise controversy by inquiring whether beethoven represents progress from mozart, wagner progress from beethoven." perhaps the most startling evidence on this subject of the absence of evolution in humanity is the opinion of prof. flinders petrie, the distinguished english authority on egyptology, who has added nearly a millennium to the history of egypt. his studies have brought him in intimate contact with egypt from , to , b. c. he has found no reason at all for thinking that our generation is farther advanced in any important qualities than men were during this period. in an article on "the romance of early civilization" (_the independent_, jan. , ), he said: "we have now before us a view of the powers of man at the earliest point to which we can trace written history, and what strikes us most is how very little his nature or abilities have changed in seven thousand years; _what he admired we admire; what were his limits in fine handiwork also are ours_. we may have a wider outlook, a greater understanding of things; our interests may have extended in this interval; but so far as human nature and tastes go, man is essentially unchanged in this interval." . . . "this is the practical outcome of extending our view of man three times as far back as we used to look, and it must teach us how little material civilization is likely in the future to change the nature, the weaknesses, or the abilities of our ancestors in ages yet to come." those who think that man has advanced in practical wisdom during the , years of history, forget entirely the lessons of literature. whenever a great genius has written, he has displayed a knowledge of human nature as great as any to be found at any other time in the world's history. the wisdom of homer and of solomon are typical examples. probably the most striking evidence in this matter is to be found in what is considered to be the oldest book ever written. this is the instructions of ptah hotep to his son. ptah hotep was the vizier of king itosi, of the fifth dynasty of egypt (about b.c.). there is nothing that a father of the modern time would wish to tell his boy as the result of his own experience that is not to be found in this wise advice of a father, nearly , years ago. this was written longer before solomon than solomon is before us, yet no practical knowledge to be gained from intercourse with men has been added to what this careful father of the long ago has written out for his son. the century of origins. to many readers apparently, it has seemed that the main reason for writing of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries was the fact that the church occupied so large a place in the life of that time, and that, therefore, most of what was accomplished must naturally revert { } to her account. it is not only those who are interested in the old church, however, who have written enthusiastically about the thirteenth century. since writing this volume, i have found that mr. frederick harrison is almost, if not quite, as ardent in his praise of it as i have been. there are many others, especially among the historians of art and of architecture, who apparently have not been able to say all that they would wish in admiration of this supreme century. most of these have not been catholics; and if we place beside mr. frederick harrison, the great positivist of our generation, mr. john morley, the great rationalist, the chorus of agreement on the subject of the greatness of the thirteenth century ought to be considered about complete. mr. morley, in his address on popular culture, delivered as president of the midland institute, england, october, (great essays. putnam, new york), said: "it is the present that really interests us; it is the present that we seek to understand and to explain. i do not in the least want to know what happened in the past, except as it enables me to see my way more clearly through what is happening to-day. i want to know what men thought and did in the thirteenth century, not out of any dilettante or idle antiquarian's curiosity, but because the thirteenth century is at the root of what men think and do in the nineteenth." education. many even of the most benevolent readers of the book have been quite sure that it exaggerated the significance of medieval education and, above all, claimed too much for the breadth of culture given by the early universities. prof. huxley is perhaps the last man of recent times who would be suspected for a moment of exaggerating the import of medieval education. in his inaugural address on universities actual and ideal, delivered as rector of aberdeen university, after discussing the subject very thoroughly, he said: "the scholars of the medieval universities seem to have studied grammar, logic and rhetoric; arithmetic and geometry; astronomy, theology and music. thus their work, however imperfect and faulty, judged by modern lights, it may have been, brought them face to face with all the leading aspects of the many-sided mind of man. for these studies did really contain, at any rate in embryo, sometimes it may be in caricature, what we now call philosophy, mathematical and physical science, and art. _and i doubt if the curriculum of any modern university shows so clear and generous a comprehension of what is meant by culture, as this old trivium and quadrivium does_." (italics ours.) the results of this system of education may be judged best perhaps from dante as an example. in the popes and science (fordham university press, n. y., ) a chapter is devoted to dante as the typical university man of the time, above all in his knowledge of science as displayed in his great poem. no poet of the modern time has { } turned with so much confidence to every phase of science for his figures as this product of medieval universities. anyone who thinks that the study of science is recent, or that nature study was delayed till our day, need only read dante to be completely undeceived. the fact that the scholars and the professors at the universities were almost without exception believers in the possibility of the transmutation of metals in the old days, used to be considered by many educated people as quite sufficient to stamp them as lacking in judgment and as prone to believe all sorts of incredible and even impossible things without justification. such supercilious condemnation of the point of view of the medieval scholars in this matter, however, has recently received a very serious jolt. sometime ago, sir william ramsey, the greatest of living english chemists, announced at the meeting of the british association for the advancement of science, that he had succeeded in changing copper into lithium. this created a sensation at the time, but represented, after all, a culmination of effort in this direction that had long been expected. more recently, sir william has reported to the british chemical society that he has succeeded in obtaining carbon from four substances not containing this element--bismuth, hydro-fluo-silicic acid, thorium and zirconium. an american professor of chemistry has declared that he would like to remove all traces of silver from a quantity of lead ore, and then, after allowing it to stand for some years, have the opportunity to re-examine it, since he is confident that he would find further traces of silver in it that had developed in the meantime. he is sure that the reason why these two metals always occur together, as do copper and, gold, is that they are products of a developmental process, the precious metals being a step farther on in that process than the so-called base metals. it would seem, then, that the medieval scholars were not so silly as they used to appear before we knew enough about the subject to judge them properly. only their supercilious critics were silly. it is probably with regard to the exact sciences that most even educated people are quite sure that the thirteenth century does not deserve to be thought of as representing great human advance. for them the middle ages were drowsily speculative, but never exact in thinking. of course, such people know nothing of the intense exactness of thought of st. thomas or albertus magnus or duns scotus. it would be impossible, moreover, to make them realize, from the writings of these men, how exact human thought actually was in the thirteenth century, though the more that modern students devote themselves to scholastic philosophy, the more surely do they appreciate and admire this very quality in the medieval philosophy. for such people, very probably, the only evidence that would have made quite an adequate answer to their objection, would be a chapter on the mathematics of the thirteenth century. { } that might very easily have been made, for cantor, in his history of mathematics (vorlesungen �ber geschichte der mathematik, leipzig, ), devotes nearly pages of his second volume to the mathematicians of the thirteenth century, two of whom, leonardo of pisa and jordanus nemorarius, did so much in arithmetic, the theory of numbers, algebra and geometry, as to make a revolution in mathematics. cantor says that they accomplished so much, that their contemporaries and successors could scarcely follow them, much less go beyond them. they had great disciples, like john of sacrobusco (probably john of holywood, near dublin), joannes campanus and others. cantor calls attention particularly to the spread of arithmetical knowledge among the masses, which is a well-deserved tribute to the century, for it was a characteristic of the time that the new thoughts and discoveries of scholars were soon made practical and penetrated very widely among the people. brewer, in the preface to roger bacon's works, quotes some of bacon's expressions with regard to the value of mathematics. the english franciscan said: "for without mathematics, nothing worth knowing in philosophy can be attained." and again: "for he who knows not mathematics cannot know any other science; what is more, he cannot discover his own ignorance or find its proper remedy." the term mathematics, as used by bacon, had a much wider application then than now, and brewer notes that the thirteenth century scientist included therein geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and music. with regard to post-graduate education; the best evidence that, far from any exaggeration of what was accomplished in the thirteenth century, there has been a very conservative estimate of it made in the book, may be gathered from the legally erected standards of the medical schools and the legal status of the medical profession. in the appendix of the popes and science, two bulls are published, issued by pope john xxii. (_circa_, ), establishing medical schools in perugia, at that time in the papal states, and in cahors, the birthplace of this pope. these bulls were really the formal charters of the medical schools. they require three years of preliminary study at the university and four or five years at medicine before the degree of doctor may be granted, and in addition emphasized that the curricula of the new medical schools must be equal to those of paris and bologna. these bulls were issued in the early part of the fourteenth century, and show the height to which the standards of medical education had been raised. there will be found also a law of frederick ii., issued , requiring for all physicians who wished to practice in the two sicilies three years of preliminary study--four years at the medical school and a year of practice with a physician before the diploma which constituted a license to practice would be issued. this law is also a pure drug law forbidding the sale of impure drugs under penalty of confiscation of goods, and the preparation of them under penalty of death. our pure drug law was passed about the time of the issue of the first edition of this book. { } those who ask for the results of this post-graduate training may find them in the story of guy de chauliac, the father of modern surgery. his life formed the basis of a lecture before the johns hopkins medical club that is to be published in the bulletin of john hopkins hospital. it is incorporated in catholic churchmen in science, second series (the dolphin press, phila., ). we know chauliac's work not by tradition, but from his great text-book on surgery. this great papal physician of the fourteenth century operated within the skull, did not hesitate to open the thorax, sewed up wounds of the intestines, and discussed such subjects as hernia, catheterization, the treatment of fractures, and manipulative surgery generally with wonderful technical ability. his book was the most used text-book for the next two centuries, and has won the admiration of everyone who has ever read it. technical education of the masses. some of my friends courteously but firmly have insisted with me that i have greatly exaggerated the technical abilities of the village workmen of the middle ages. that every town of less than ten thousand inhabitants in england was able to supply such workmen as we can scarcely obtain in our cities of a million inhabitants, and in that scanty population supply them in greater numbers than we can now secure them from our teeming populations, seems to many simply impossible. what i have been trying to say, however, in the chapters on the arts and crafts and on popular education, has been much better said by an authority that will scarcely be questioned by my critics. the rev. augustus jessopp, d. d., who has been for twenty years the rector of searning in england, who is an honorary fellow of st. john's college and of worcester college, oxford, besides being an honorary canon in the cathedral of norwich, has devoted much time and study to this question of how the cathedrals were built and finished. twenty years of his life have been spent in the study of the old english parish and of parish life. he has studied the old parish registers, and talks, therefore, not from distant impressions, but from the actual facts as they are recorded. if to his position as an antiquarian authority i add the fact that he is not a member of the roman catholic church, to the credit of which so much of this popular education and accomplishment in the arts and crafts of the century accrues, the value of his evidence is placed entirely above suspicion of partisan partiality. in his chapter on parish life in england, in his book "before the great pillage" (before the great pillage with other miscellanies, by augustus jessopp, d. d., london. t. fisher unwin, paternoster square, ), he says: "the evidence is abundant and positive, and is increasing upon us year by year, that the work done upon the fabrics of our churches, and the other work done in the beautifying of the interior of our churches, such as the woodcarving of our screens, the painting of the lovely { } figures in the panels of those screens, the embroidery of the banners and vestments, the frescoes on the walls, the engraving of the monumental brasses, the stained glass in the windows, and all that vast aggregate of artistic achievements which existed in immense profusion in our village churches till the sixteenth century stripped them bare--all this was executed by local craftsmen. the evidence for this is accumulating upon us every year, as one antiquary after another succeeds in unearthing fragments of pre-reformation church-wardens' accounts. "we have actual contracts for church building and church repairing undertaken by village contractors. we have the cost of a rood screen paid to a village carpenter, of painting executed by local artists. we find the name of an artificer, described as aurifaber, or worker in gold and silver, living in a parish which could never have had five hundred inhabitants; we find the people in another place casting a new bell and making the mould for it themselves; we find the blacksmith of another place forging the iron work for the church door, or we get a payment entered for the carving of the bench ends in a little church five hundred years ago, which bench ends are to be seen in that church at the present moment. and we get fairly bewildered by the astonishing wealth of skill and artistic taste and aesthetic feeling which there must have been in this england of ours, in times which till lately we had assumed to be barbaric times. bewildered, i say, because we cannot understand how it all came to a dead-stop in a single generation, not knowing that the frightful spoliation of our churches and other parish buildings, and the outrageous plunder of the parish gilds in the reign of edward the sixth by the horrible band of robbers that carried on their detestable work, effected such a hideous obliteration, such a clean sweep of the precious treasures that were dispersed in rich profusion over the whole land, that a dull despair of ever replacing what had been ruthlessly pillaged crushed the spirit of the whole nation, and art died out in rural england, and king whitewash and queen ugliness ruled supreme for centuries." my argument is that a century which produced such artist-artisans everywhere, had technical schools in great profusion, though they may not have been called by any such ambitious name. how it all stopped. to most people it seems impossible to understand how it is that, if artistic evolution proceeded to the perfection which it now seems clear that it actually attained in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, we are only just getting back to a proper state of public taste and a right degree of artistic skill in many of these same accomplishments at the present time. that thought has come to many others who, knowing and appreciating medieval progress in art and literature, have tried to work out the reasons for the gap that exists between medieval art and modern artistic endeavor. some of these explanations, because they serve to make clear why art evolution stopped so abruptly and we are retracing our steps and taking models from the past rather than doing original work that is an advance, must be quoted here. many people will find in them, i think, the reasons for their misunderstanding of the old times. { } gerhardt hauptmann, who is very well known, even among english-speaking people, as one of the great living german dramatists, and whose "sunken bell" attracted considerable attention in both its german and english versions here in new york, in a recent criticism of a new german book, declared that the reason for the gap between modern and medieval art was the movement now coming to be known as the religious revolt in germany in the sixteenth century. he said: "i, as a protestant, have often had to regret that we purchased our freedom of conscience, our individual liberty, at entirely too high a price. in order to make room for a small, mean little plant of personal life, we destroyed a whole garden of fancy and hewed down a virgin forest of aesthetic ideas. we went even so far in the insanity of our weakness as to throw out of the garden of our souls the fruitful soil that had been accumulating for thousands of years, or else we plowed it under sterile clay. "we have to-day, then, an intellectual culture that is well protected by a hedge of our personality, but within this hedge we have only delicate dwarf trees and unworthy plants, the poorer progeny of great predecessors. we have telegraph lines, bridges and railroads, but there grow no churches and cathedrals, only sentry boxes and barracks. we need gardeners who will cause the present sterilizing process of the soil to stop, and will enrich the surface by working up into it the rich layers beneath. in my work-room there is ever before me the photograph of sebaldus' tomb (model metropolitan museum, new york). this rich german symbol rose from the invisible in the most luxuriant developmental period of german art. as a formal product of that art, it is very difficult to appreciate it as it deserves. it seems to me as one of the most wonderful bits of work in the whole field of artistic accomplishment. the soul of all the great medieval period encircles this silver coffin, wrapping it up into a noble unity, and enthrones on the very summit of death. life as a growing child. such a work could only have come to its perfection in the protected spaces of the old mother church." rev. dr. jessopp, in his book, already cited, "the great pillage," does not hesitate to state in unmistakable terms the reason why all the beauty and happiness went out of english country life some two centuries after the thirteenth century, and how it came about that the modern generations have had to begin over again from the beginning, and not where our catholic forefathers of the medieval period left us, in what used to be the despised middle ages. he says: "when i talk of the great pillage, i mean that horrible and outrageous looting of our churches other than conventual, and the robbing of the people of this country of property in land and movables, which property had actually been inherited by them as members of those organized religious communities known as parishes. it is necessary to emphasize the fact that in the general scramble of the terror under henry the eighth, and of the anarchy in the days of edward the sixth, there was only one class that was permitted to retain any large portion of its endowments. the monasteries were plundered even to their very pots and pans. almshouses in which old men and women were fed and clothed were robbed to the last pound, the poor alms-folk being turned out into the cold at an hour's warning to beg their bread. { } hospitals for the sick and needy, sometimes magnificently provided with nurses and chaplains, whose very raison d'etre was that they were to look after and care for those who were past caring for themselves--these were stripped of all their belongings, the inmates sent out to hobble into some convenient dry ditch to lie down and die in, or to crawl into some barn or hovel, there to be tended, not without fear of consequences, by some kindly man or woman who could not bear to see a suffering fellow creature drop down and die at their own doorposts. "we talk with a great deal of indignation of the tweed ring. the day will come when someone will write the story of two other rings--the ring of the miscreants who robbed the monasteries in the reign of henry the eighth was the first; but the ring of the robbers who robbed the poor and helpless in the reign of edward the sixth was ten times worse than the first. "the universities only just escaped the general confiscation; the friendly societies and benefit clubs and the gilds did not escape. the accumulated wealth of centuries, their houses and lands, their money, their vessels of silver and their vessels of gold, their ancient cups and goblets and salvers, even to their very chairs and tables, were all set down in inventories and catalogues, and all swept into the great robbers' hoard. last, but not least, the immense treasures in the churches, the joy and boast of every man and woman and child in england, who day by day and week by week assembled to worship in the old houses of god which they and their fathers had built, and whose every vestment and chalice and candlestick and banner, organs and bells, and picture and image and altar and shrine they looked upon as their own and part of their birthright--all these were torn away by the rudest spoilers, carted off, they knew not whither, with jeers and scoffs and ribald shoutings, while none dared raise a hand or let his voice be heard above the whisper of a prayer of bitter grief and agony. "one class was spared. the clergy of this church of england of ours managed to retain some of their endowments; but if the boy king had lived another three years, there is good reason for believing that these too would have gone." graft prevailed, and the old order disappeared in a slough of selfishness. comfort and poverty. a number of friendly critics have insisted that _of course_ the thirteenth century was far behind later times in the comfort of the people. poverty is supposed to have been almost universal. doubtless many of the people were then very poor. personally, i doubt if there was as much poverty, that is, misery due to actual want of necessaries of life, as there is at the present time. certainly it was not emphasized by having close to it, constantly rendering the pains of poverty poignant by contrast, the luxury of the modern time. they had not the large city, and people in the country do not suffer as much as people in the city. in recent years, investigations of poverty in england have been appalling in the statistics that they have presented. mr. robert hunter, in his book poverty, has furnished us with some details that make one feel that our generation should be the last to say { } that the thirteenth century was behind in progress, because so many of the people were so poor. ruskin once said that the ideal of the great nation is one wherein there must be "as many as possible full-breathed, bright-eyed and happy-hearted human creatures." i am sure that, tried by this standard, the thirteenth century in merrie england is ahead of any other generation and, above all, far in advance of our recent generations. by contrast to what we know of the merrie english men and women of the thirteenth century, i would quote mr. hunter's paragraphs on the poverty of the modern english people. he says: "a few years ago, england did not know the extent of her own poverty. economists and writers gave opinions of all kinds. some said conditions were 'bad,' others said such statements were misleading; and here they were, tilting at each other, backward and forward, in the most ponderous and serious way, until mr. booth, a business man, undertook to get at the facts. _no one, even the most radical economist, would have dared to have estimated the poverty of london as extending to per cent of the people_ (as it proved). the extent of poverty--the number of underfed, underclothed in insanitary houses--was greater than could reasonably have been estimated." some of the details of this investigation by mr. booth were so startling that some explanation had to be found. they could not deny, in the face of mr. booth's facts, but they set up the claim that the conditions in london were exceptional. then mr. rountree made an investigation in york with precisely the same results. more than one in four of the population was in poverty. to quote mr. hunter once more: "as has been said, it was not until mr. charles booth published, in , the results of his exhaustive inquiries that the actual conditions of poverty in london became known. about , , people, or about thirty per cent of the entire population of london, were found to be unable to obtain the necessaries for a sound livelihood. they were in a state of poverty, living in conditions, if not of actual misery, at any rate bordering upon it. in many districts, considerably more than half of the population were either in distress or on the verge of distress. when these results were made public, the more conservative economists gave it as their opinion that the conditions in london were, of course, exceptional, and that it would be unsafe to make any generalizations for the whole of england on the basis of mr. booth's figures for london. about ten years later, mr. b. s. rountree, incited by the work of mr. booth, undertook a similar inquiry in his native town, york, a small provincial city, in most ways typical of the smaller towns of england. in a large volume in which the results are published, it is shown that the poverty in york was only slightly less extensive than that of london. in the summary, mr. rountree compares the conditions of london with those of york. his comments are as follows: 'the proportions arrived at for the total populations living in poverty in london and york respectively were as under: london-- . per cent york-- . per cent { } the proportion of the population living in poverty in york may be regarded as practically the same as in london, especially when we remember that mr. booth's information was gathered in - , a period of only average trade prosperity, whilst the york figures were collected in , when trade was unusually prosperous.'" he continues: "we have been accustomed to look upon the poverty in london as exceptional, but when the result of careful investigation shows that the proportion of poverty in london is practically equalled in what may be regarded as a typical provincial town, we are faced by the startling probability that from to per cent of the town populations of the united kingdom are living in poverty." most of us will be inclined to think that mr. rountree must exaggerate, and what he calls poverty most of us would doubtless be inclined to think a modest competency a little below respectability. he fixed the standard of twenty-one shillings eight pence ($ . ) a week as a necessary one for a family of ordinary size. he says: "a family living upon the scale allowed for in this estimate, must never spend a penny on railway fare or omnibus. they must never go into the country unless they walk. they must never purchase a half-penny newspaper or spend a penny to buy a ticket for a popular concert. they must write no letters to absent children, for they cannot afford to pay the postage. they must never contribute anything to their church or chapel, nor give any help to a neighbor which costs them money. they cannot save, nor can they join sick club or trade union, because they cannot pay the necessary subscription. the children must have no pocket money for dolls, marbles or sweets. the father must smoke no tobacco nor drink no beer. the mother must never buy any pretty clothes for herself or for her children, the character for the family wardrobe, as for the family diet, being governed by the regulation, 'nothing must be bought but that which is absolutely necessary for the maintenance of physical health, and that which is bought must be of the plainest and most economical description.' should a child fall ill, it must be attended by the family parish doctor; should it die, it must be buried by the parish. finally, the wage-earner must never be absent from his work for a single day." _more than one in four of the population living below this scale!_ conditions are, if anything, worse on the continent. in germany, industry is at the best. conditions in berlin have been recently reported in the daily consular reports by a u. s. government official. of the somewhat more than two millions of people who live in berlin, , , have an income. nearly one-half of the incomes, however, are exempt from taxation because they do not amount to the minimum taxable income, though that is only $ --$ per week. of the , who have taxable incomes, nearly , have less than $ a year; that is, get about $ a day or less. less than sixty thousand out of the total population get more than $ a day. it is easy to say, but hard to understand, that this is a living wage, because things are cheaper in germany. meat is, however, nearly twice as dear; sugar is twice as dear; bread is dearer than it is in this country; coffee is dearer; and only rent is somewhat cheaper. { } it is easy to talk about the spread of comfort among the people of our generation and the raising of the standard of living, but if one compares these wages with the price of things as they are now, it is hard to understand on just what basis of fact the claim for betterment in our time, meaning more general comfort and happiness, is made. people always refuse to believe that conditions are as bad as they really are in these matters. americans will at once have the feeling, on reading mr. hunter and mr. rountree's words and the account of the american consul at berlin, that this may be true for england and germany, but that of course it is very different here in america. it is extremely doubtful whether it is very different here in america. in this matter, mr. hunter's opinion deserves weight. he has for years devoted himself to gathering information with regard to this subject. he seems to be sure that one in seven of our population is in poverty. probably the number is higher than this. here is his opinion: "how many people in the country are in poverty? is the number yearly growing larger? are there each year more and more of the unskilled classes pursuing hopelessly the elusive phantom of self-support and independence? are they, as in a dream, working faster, only the more swiftly to move backward? are there each year more and more hungry children and more and more fathers whose utmost effort may not bring into the home as much energy in food as it takes out in industry? these are not fanciful questions, nor are they sentimental ones. i have not the slightest doubt that there are in the united states ten million persons in precisely these conditions of poverty, but i am largely guessing, and there may be as many as fifteen or twenty millions!" perhaps mr. hunter exaggerates. as a physician, i should be inclined to think not; but certainly his words and, above all, the english statistics will give any one pause who is sure, on general principles, that the great mass of the people are happier now or more comfortable, above all, in mind--the only real happiness--than they were in the thirteenth century. after due consideration of this kind, no one will insist on the comparative misery and suffering of the poor in old times. england had less than , , in the thirteenth century, and probably there was never a time in her history when a greater majority of her people fulfilled ruskin's and morris' ideals of happy-hearted human beings. the two-handed worker got at least what the four-footed worker, in carlyle's words, has always obtained, due food and lodging. england was not "a nation with sleek, well-fed english horses, and hungry, dissatisfied englishmen." comfort and happiness. there is another side to the question of comparative happiness that may be stated in the words of william morris, when he says, in "hopes and fears for art," that a greek or a roman of the luxurious time (and of course _a fortiori_ a medieval of the thirteenth century) would { } stare astonished could he be brought back again and shown the comforts of a well-to-do middle-class house. this expression is often re-echoed, and one is prone to wonder how many of those who use it realize that it is a quotation, and, above all, appreciate the fact that morris made the statement in order to rebut it. his answer is in certain ways so complete that it deserves to be quoted. "when you hear of the luxuries of the ancients, you must remember that they were not like our luxuries, they were rather indulgence in pieces of extravagant folly than what we to-day call luxury--which, perhaps, you would rather call comfort; well, i accept the word, and say that a greek or a roman of the luxurious time would stare astonished could he be brought back again and shown the comforts of a well-to-do middle-class house. "but some, i know, think that the attainment of these very comforts is what makes the difference between civilization and uncivilization--that they are the essence of civilization. is it so indeed? farewell my hope then! i had thought that civilization meant the attainment of peace and order and freedom, of good-will between man and man, of the love of truth and the hatred of injustice, and by consequence the attainment of the good life which these things breed, a life free from craven fear, but full of incident; that was what i thought it meant, not more stuffed chairs and more cushions, and more carpets and gas, and more dainty meat and drink--and therewithal more and sharper differences between class and class. "if that be what it is, i for my part wish i were well out of it and living in a tent in the persian desert, or a turf hut on the iceland hillside. but, however it be, and i think my view is the true view, i tell you that art abhors that side of civilization; she cannot breath in the houses that lie under its stuffy slavery. "believe me, if we want art to begin at home, as it must, we must clear our houses of troublesome superfluities that are forever in our way, conventional comforts that are no real comforts, and do but make work for servants and doctors. if you want a golden rule that will fit everybody, this is it: 'have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.'" comfort and health. a comment on william morris's significant paragraphs may be summed up in some reflections on the scornful expression of a friend who asked, how is it possible to talk of happiness at a time when there were no glass in windows and no heating apparatus except the open fireplace in the great hall of the larger houses, or in the kitchen of the dwelling houses. to this there is the ready answer that, in the modern time, we have gone so far to the opposite extreme as to work serious harm to health. when a city dweller develops tuberculosis, his physician now sends him out to the mountains, asks him to sleep with his window wide open, and requires him to spend just as much of his time as possible in the open air, even with the temperature below zero. in our hospitals, the fad for making patients comfortable by artificial heat is passing, and that of stimulating them by cold, fresh air is gaining ground. we know that, for all the fevers and all the respiratory { } diseases this brings about a notable reduction in the mortality. surely, what is good for the ailing must be even better to keep them well from disease. many a physician now arranges to sleep out of doors all winter. certainly all the respiratory diseases are rendered much more fatal and modern liability to them greatly increased by our shut-up houses. the medieval people were less comfortable, from a sensual standpoint, but the healthy glow and reaction after cold probably made them enjoy life better than we do in our steam-heated houses. they secured bodily warmth by an active circulation of their blood. we secure it by the circulation of hot water or steam in our houses. ours may be the better way, but the question is not yet absolutely decided. a physician friend points to the great reduction in the death-rate in modern times, and insists that this, of course, means definite progress. even this is not quite so sure as is often thought. we are saving a great many lives that heretofore, in the course of nature, under conditions requiring a more vigorous life, passed out of existence early. it is doubtful, however, whether this is an advantage for the race, since our insane asylums, our hospitals for incurables and our homes of various kinds now have inmates in much greater proportion to the population than ever before in history. these are mainly individuals of lower resistive vitality, who would have been allowed to get out of existence early, save themselves and their friends from useless suffering, and whose presence in life does not add greatly if at all to the possibilities of human accomplishment. our reduced death-rate is, because of comfort seeking, more than counterbalanced by a reduced birth-rate, so that no advantage is reaped for the race in the end. these reflections, of course, are only meant to suggest how important it is to view such questions from all sides before being sure that they represent definite progress for humanity. progress is much more elusive than is ordinarily thought, and is never the simple, unmistakable movement of advance it is often thought. hygiene. the objection that medical friends have had to the claims of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries is that it failed to pay any attention to hygiene. here, once more, we have a presumption that is not founded on real knowledge of the time. it is rather easy to show that these generations were anticipating many of our solutions of hygienic problems quite as well as our solutions of other social and intellectual difficulties. in the sketch of pope john xxi., the physician who became pope during the second half of the thirteenth century, which was published in ophthalmology, a quarterly review of eye diseases (jan., ), because pope john wrote a little book on this subject which has many valuable anticipations of modern knowledge, i called attention to the fact that, while a physician and professor of { } medicine at the medical school of the university of sienna, this pope, then known as peter of spain, had made some contributions to sanitary science. later he was appointed archiater, that is, physician in charge of the city of rome. as pointed out in the sketch of him as enlarged for the volume containing a second series of catholic churchmen in science (the dolphin press, phila., ), he seems to have been particularly interested in popular health, for we have a little book, thesaurus pauperum--the treasure of the poor--which contains many directions for the maintenance of health and the treatment of disease by those who are too poor to secure physicians' advice. the fact that the head of the bureau of health in rome should have been made pope in the thirteenth century, itself speaks volumes for the awakening of the educated classes at least to the value of hygiene and sanitation. their attention to hygiene can be best shown by a consideration of the hospitals. ordinarily it is assumed that the hospitals provided a roof for the sick and the injured, but scarcely more. most physicians will probably be quite sure that they were rather hot-beds of disease than real blessings to the ailing. that is not what we find when we study them carefully. these generations gave us a precious lesson by eradicating leprosy, which was quite as general as tuberculosis is now, and they made special hospitals for erysipelas, which materially lessened the diffusion of that disease. in rewriting the chapter on the foundation of city hospitals for my book, the popes and science (fordham university press, n. y., ), i incorporated into it a description of the hospital erected at tanierre, in france, in , by marguerite of bourgogne, the sister of st. louis. of this hospital mr. arthur dillon, from the standpoint of the modern architect, says: "it was an admirable hospital in every way, and it is doubtful if we to-day surpass it. it was isolated, the ward was separated from the other buildings; it had the advantage we often lose, of being but one story high, and more space was given to each patient than we now afford. "the ventilation by the great windows and ventilators in the ceiling was excellent; it was cheerfully lighted, and the arrangement of the gallery shielded the patients from dazzling light and from draughts from the windows, and afforded an easy means of supervision, while the division by the roofless, low partitions isolated the sick and obviated the depression that comes from the sight of others in pain. "it was, moreover, in great contrast to the cheerless white wards of to-day. the vaulted ceiling was very beautiful; the woodwork was richly carved, and the great windows over the altars were filled with colored glass. altogether, it was one of the best examples of the best period of gothic architecture." in their individual hygiene there was, of course, much to be desired among the people of the thirteenth century, and it has been declared that the history of europe from the fifth to the fifteenth century might, from the hygienic standpoint, he summed up as a thousand years without a bath. the more we know about this period, however, the less of { } point do we find in the epigram. mr. cram, in the ruined abbeys of great britain (pott & co., n. y., ), has described wonderful arrangements within the monasteries (!) for the conduction of water from long distances for all toilet purposes. there was much more attention to sanitary details than we have been prone to think. mr. cram, in describing what was by no means one of the greatest of the english abbeys of the thirteenth century, says: "here at beaulieu the water was brought by an underground conduit from an unfailing spring a mile away, and this served for drinking, washing and bathing, the supply of the fish ponds, and for a constant flushing of the elaborate system of drainage. in sanitary matters, the monks were as far in advance of the rest of society as they were in learning and agriculture." wages and the condition op working people. what every reader of the thirteenth century seems to be perfectly sure of is that, whatever else there may have been in this precious time, at least the workmen were not well paid and men worked practically for nothing. it is confessed that, of course, working as they did on their cathedrals, they had a right to work for very little if they wished, but at least there has been a decided step upward in evolution in the gradual raising of wages, until at last the workman is beginning to be paid some adequate compensation. there is probably no phase of the life of the middle ages with regard to which people are more mistaken than this supposition that the workmen of this early time were paid inadequately. i have already called attention to the fact that the workmen of this period claimed and obtained "the three eights"--eight hours of work, eight hours of sleep and eight hours for recreation and bodily necessities. they obtained the saturday half-holiday, and also release from work on the vigils of all feast days, and there were nearly forty of these in the year. after the vesper hour, that is, three in summer and two in winter, there was no work on the eves of holy-days of obligation. with regard to wages, there is just one way to get at the subject, and that is, to present the legal table of wages enacted by parliament, placing beside it the legal maximum price of necessities of life, as also determined by parliamentary enactment. an act of edward iii. fixes the wages, without food, as follows. there are many other things mentioned, but the following will be enough for our purpose: [price in shillings and pence; s. d.] s. d. a woman hay-making, or weeding corn for the day-- a man filling dung-cart-- - / a reaper-- mowing an acre of grass-- threshing a quarter of wheat-- { } the price of shoes, cloth and provisions, throughout the time that this law continued in force, was as follows: [price in pounds, shillings and pence; s. d.] £. s. d. a pair of shoes-- russet broadcloth, the yard-- a stall fed ox-- a grass fed ox-- a fat sheep unshorn-- a fat sheep shorn-- a fat hog two years old-- a fat goose-- - / . ale, the gallon, by proclamation-- wheat, the quarter-- white wine, the gallon-- red wine-- an act of parliament of the fourteenth century, in fixing the price of meat, names the four sorts of meat--beef, pork, mutton and veal, and sets forth in its preamble the words, "these being the food of the poorer sort." the poor in england do not eat these kinds of meat now, and the investigators of the poverty of the country declare that most of the poor live almost exclusively on bread. the fact of the matter is, that large city populations are likely to harbor many very miserable people, while the rural population of england in the middle ages, containing the bulk of the people, were happy-hearted and merry. when we recall this in connection with what i have given in the text with regard to the trades-unions and their care for the people, the foolish notion, founded on a mere assumption and due to that aristophanic joke, our complacent self-sufficiency, which makes us so ready to believe that our generation _must_ be better off than others were, vanishes completely. it is easy to understand that beef, pork, mutton, veal and even poultry were the food of the poor, when a workman could earn the price of a sheep in less than four days or buy nearly two fat geese for his day's wages. a day laborer will work from forty to fifty days now to earn the price of an ox on the hoof, and it was about the same at the close of the thirteenth century. when a fat hog costs less than a dollar, a man's wages, at eight cents a day, are not too low. when a gallon of good ale can be obtained for two cents, no workman is likely to go dry. when a gallon of red wine can be obtained for a day's wages, it is hard to see any difference between a workman of the olden time and the present in this regard. two yards of cloth made a coat for a gentleman and cost only a little over two shillings. the making of it brought the price of it up to two shilling and six pence. these prices are taken from the preciosum of bishop fleetwood, who took them from the accounts kept by the bursars of convents. fleetwood's book is accepted very generally as an excellent authority in the history of economics. { } cobbett, in his history of the protestant reformation, has made an exhaustive study of just this question of the material and economic condition of the people of england before and since the reformation. he says: "these things prove, beyond all dispute, that england was, in catholic times, a real wealthy country; that wealth was generally diffused; that every part of the country abounded in men of solid property; and that, of course, there were always great resources at hand in cases of emergency." ... "in short, everything shows that england was then a country abounding in men of real wealth." fortesque, the lord high chancellor of england under henry vi., king a century after the thirteenth, has this to say with regard to the legal and economic conditions in england in his time. some people may think the picture he gives an exaggeration, but it was written by a great lawyer with the definite idea of giving a picture of the times, and, under ordinary circumstances, we would say that there could be no better authority. "the king of england cannot alter the laws, or make new ones, without the express consent of the whole kingdom in parliament assembled. every inhabitant is at his liberty fully to use and enjoy whatever his farm produceth, the fruits of the earth, the increase of his flock and the like--all the improvements he makes, whether by his own proper industry or of those he retains in his service, are his own, to use and enjoy, without the let, interruption or denial of any. if he be in any wise injured or oppressed, he shall have his amends and satisfactions against the party offending. hence it is that the inhabitants are rich in gold, silver, and in all the necessaries and conveniences of life. they drink no water unless at certain times, upon a religious score, and by way of doing penance. they are fed in great abundance, with all sorts of flesh and fish, of which they have plenty everywhere; they are clothed throughout in good woollens, their bedding and other furniture in the house are of wool, and that in great store. they are also well provided with all sorts of household goods and necessary implements for husbandry. every one, according to his rank, hath all things which conduce to make mind and life easy and happy." interest and loans. a number of commercial friends have been interested in the wonderful story of business organizations traced in the chapter on great beginnings of modern commerce. they have all been sure, however, that it is quite idle to talk of great commercial possibilities at a time when ecclesiastical regulations forbade the taking of interest. this would seem to make it quite impossible that great commercial transactions could be carried on, yet somehow these people succeeded in accomplishing them. a number of writers on economics in recent years have suggested that possibly one solution of the danger to government and popular rights from the accumulation of large fortunes might be avoided by a return to the system of prohibition of interest taking. there is { } much more in that proposition than might possibly be thought by those who are unfamiliar with it from serious consideration. they did succeed in getting on without it in the thirteenth century, and at the same time they solved the other problem of providing loans, not alone for business people, but for all those who might need them. we are solving the "loan shark" evil at the present time in nearly the same way that they solved it seven centuries ago. abbot gasquet, in his "parish life in england before the reformation," describes the methods of the early days as follows: "the parish wardens had their duties towards the poorer members of the district. in more than one instance they were guardians of the common chest, out of which temporary loans could be obtained by needy parishioners, to tide over persons in difficulties. these loans were secured by pledges and the additional security of other parishioners. no interest was charged for the use of the money, and in case the pledge had to be sold, everything over and above the sum lent was returned to the borrower." the eighteenth lowest of centuries. there is no doubt that the nineteenth century, and especially the latter half of it, saw some very satisfactory progress over immediately preceding times. with the recognition of this fact, that the last century so far surpassed its predecessor there has been a tendency to assume, because evolution occupies men's minds, that the eighteenth must have quite as far surpassed the seventeenth, and the seventeenth the sixteenth, and so on, so that of course we are far ahead in everything of the despised middle ages. in recent years, indeed, we have dropped the attitude of blaming the earlier ages, for one of complacent pity that they were not born soon enough, and, therefore, could not enjoy our advantages. unfortunately for any such conclusion as this, the term of comparison nearest to us, the eighteenth century is without doubt the lowest hundred years in human accomplishment, at least during the past seven centuries. this is true for every form of human endeavor and every phase of human existence. prof. goodyear, of the brooklyn institute of arts and science, the well-known author of a series of books on art and history, in one of the chapters of his handbook on renaissance and modern art (new york, the mcmillan co.), in describing the greek revival of the latter part of the eighteenth century says: "according to our accounts so far throughout this whole book, either of architecture, painting, or sculpture, it will appear that the earlier nineteenth century represents the foot of a hill, whose gradual descent began about ." as a matter of fact, in every department of artistic expression the taste of the eighteenth century was almost the worst possible. the monuments that we have from that time, in the shape of churches and municipal buildings, are few, but such as they are, they are the least { } worthy of imitation, and the art ideas they represent are most to be deprecated of any in the whole history of modern art. perhaps the most awful arraignment of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century that was ever made is that of mr. cram, in the ruined abbeys of great britain, from which i have already quoted. he calls attention to the fact that, during this century, some of the most beautiful sculptured work that ever came from the hand of man was torn out of the ruins of st. mary's abbey, york, to serve no better purpose than to make lime. his description of the sculpture of the abbey will give some idea of its beauty and render all the more poignant the loss that was thus inflicted on art. he says: "most wonderful of all amongst a horde of smaller statues, a mutilated fragment of a statue of our lady and the holy child, so consummate in its faultless art that it deserves a place with the masterpieces of sculpture of every age and race. here in this dim and scanty undercraft is an epitome of the english art of four centuries, precious and beautiful beyond the power of words to describe. "york abbey was a national monument, the aesthetic and historic value of which was beyond computation. it is with feelings of horror and unutterable dismay that, as we stand beside the few existing fragments, realizing the irreparable loss they make so clear, we call into mind henry's sacrilege in the sixteenth century, and his silly palace doomed to instant destruction, and the crass ignorance and stolidity of the eighteenth century with its grants of building material, and the mercenary savagery of the nineteenth century when, from smoking lime kilns rose into the air the vanishing ghosts of the noblest creations that owed their existence to man. "nothing is sadder to realize than the failure of appreciation for art of the early nineteenth and the eighteenth century. men had lost, apparently, all proper realization of the value of artistic effort and achievement. it was an era of travel and commerce and, unfortunately, of industrial development. as a consequence, in many parts of europe, and especially of england, art remains of inestimable value suffered at the hands of utilitarians who found them of use in their enterprises. we are accustomed to rail against the barbarians and the turks for their failure to appreciate the remains of latin and greek art and for their wanton destruction of them, but what shall we say of modern englishmen, who quite as ruthlessly destroyed objects of art of equal value at least with roman and greek, while the great body of the nation made no complaint, and no protest was heard anywhere in the kingdom." what is so true of the arts is, as might be reasonably expected, quite as true of other phases of intellectual development. education, for instance, is at the lowest ebb that it has reached since the foundation of the universities at the end of the twelfth century. in germany, there was only one university, that of göttingen, in which there was a professorship of greek. when winckelmann introduced the study of greek into his school at seehausen, no school-books for this language were available, and he was obliged to write out texts for his students. what was the case in germany was also true, to a great { } degree, of the rest of europe. leading french critics ridiculed the greek authors. homer was considered a ballad singer and compared to the street singers of paris. voltaire thought that the aeneid of virgil was superior to all that the greek writers had ever done. no edition of plato had been published in europe since the end of the sixteenth century. other greek authors were almost as much neglected, and of true scholarship there was very little. when cardinal newman, in his idea of a university, wants to find the lowest possible term of comparison for the intellectual life of the university, he takes the english universities of the middle of the eighteenth century. with this neglect of education, and above all of the influence that greek has always had in chastening and perfecting taste, it is not surprising that literature was in every country of europe at a very low ebb. it was not so feeble as art, but the two are interdependent, much more than is usually thought. only france has anything to show in literature that has had an enduring influence in the subsequent centuries. when we compare the french literature of the eighteenth with that of the seventeenth century, however, it is easy to see how much of a descent there has been from corneille, racine, moliêre, boileau, la fontaine, bossuet, bourdaloue, and fénelon to voltaire, marivaux, lesage, diderot, and bernardin de st. pierre. this same decadence of literature can be noted even more strikingly in england, in spain, and in italy. the seventeenth, especially the first half of it, saw the origin of some of the greatest works of modern literature. the eighteenth century produced practically nothing that was to live and be a vital force in aftertimes. what is true in art, letters and education is, above all, true in what men did for liberty and for their fellow-men. hospital organization and the care of the ailing was at its lowest ebb during the eighteenth century. jacobson, the german historian of the hospitals, says: [footnote ] [footnote : beiträge zur geschichte des krankencomforts. deutsche krankenpflege zeitung, , in parts.] "it is a remarkable fact that attention to the well-being of the sick, improvements in hospitals and institutions generally and to details of nursing care, had a period of complete and lasting stagnation after the middle of the seventeenth century, or from the close of the thirty years' war. neither officials nor physicians took any interest in the elevation of nursing or improving the conditions of hospitals. during the first two-thirds of the eighteenth century, nothing was done to bring either construction or nursing to a better state. solely among the religious orders did nursing remain an interest, and some remnants of technique survive. the result was that, in this period, the general level of nursing fell far below that of earlier periods. the hospitals of cities were like prisons, with bare, undecorated walls and little dark rooms, small windows where no sun could enter, and dismal wards where fifty or one hundred patients were crowded together, deprived of all comforts and even of necessaries. in the municipal and state institutions of this period, the beautiful gardens, roomy halls, and { } springs of water of the old cloister hospital of the middle ages were not heard of, still less the comforts of their friendly interiors." as might be expected, with the hospitals so badly organized, the art of nursing was in a decay that is almost unutterable. miss nutting, of johns hopkins hospital, the superintendent of nurses, and miss dock, the secretary of the international council of nurses, have in their history of nursing a chapter on the dark period of nursing, in which the decadence of the eighteenth century, in what regards the training of nurses for the intelligent care of the sick, is brought out very clearly. they say: [footnote ] [footnote : a history of nursing, by m. adelaide nutting and lavinia l. dock, in two volumes, illustrated. g. p. putnam's sons, new york, .] "it is commonly agreed that the darkest known period in the history of nursing was that from the latter part of the seventeenth up to the middle of the nineteenth century. during the time, the condition of the nursing art, the well-being of the patient, and the status of the nurse, all sank to an indescribable level of degradation." taine, in his history of the old regimé of france, has told the awful story of the attitude of the so-called better classes toward the poor. while conditions were at their worst in france, every country in europe saw something of the same thing. in certain parts of germany conditions were, if possible, worse. it is no wonder that the french revolution came at the end of the eighteenth century, and that a series of further revolutions during the nineteenth century were required to win back some of the rights which men had gained for themselves in earlier centuries and then lost, sinking into a state of decadence out of which we are only emerging, though in most countries we have not reached quite the level of human liberty and, above all, of christian democracy that our forefathers had secured seven centuries ago. with these considerations in mind, it is easier to understand how men in the later nineteenth century and beginning twentieth century are prone to think of their periods as representing an acme in the course of progress. there is no doubt that we are far above the eighteenth century. that, however, was a deep valley in human accomplishment, indeed, a veritable slough of despond, out of which we climbed; and, looking back, are prone to think how fortunate we are in having ascended so high, though beyond our vision on the other side of the valley the hills rise much higher into the clouds of human aspiration and artistic excellence than anything that we have attained as yet. indeed, whenever we try to do serious work at the present time, we confessedly go back from four to seven centuries for the models that we must follow. with renaissance art and gothic architecture and the literature before the end of the sixteenth century cut out of our purview, we would have nothing to look to for models. this phase of history needs to be recalled by all those who would approach with equanimity the consideration of the thirteenth as the greatest of centuries. { } index. a. abbey schools, ; of st. victor, aberration of light, abingdon, edmund of, adam of st. victor, age of students, - albertus magnus, alchemies, alfonso the wise, aliens' rights, allbutt, prof., amiens, andrew ii, golden bull, angel choir, , angelo on dante, anselm, antipodes, , ants in dante, appreciation of art, aquinas, ; and albertus, ; appreciation of, ; capacity for work, ; education, ; on existence of god, ; on liberty and society, ; at paris, ; as a poet, ; and pope leo xiii, ; on resurrection, ; tributes to, arbitration, arena padua, arezzo, arnaud, daniel, arnaud de marveil, arnold, matthew, and francis, art and the friars, artemus ward, arts and crafts, arthur legends, , arundel, countess of, asbestos, ascoli, cope, , assisi, assizes of clarendon, ; of jerusalem, avignon, b. bacon, barbarossa, barbizon school, basil valentine, bateson, miss, beau dieu, beautiful god, beauty and usefulness, beauvoisis, statutes of, bell-making, beowulf, berrengaria, queen, bernardo del carpio, bernart de ventadorn, bernard of cluny, or morlaix, bertrand de born, bestiarium, bible study, , blanche of castile, , ; as a mother, ; as a ruler, blessed work, boileau, stephen, boniface vii and american revolution, books, beautiful, ; bequests, ; collecting, , ; great stone, booklovers, book-learning, book of arts, deeds, words, borgo allegri, botany, bracton, bracton's digest, , bremen, brook farm, c. cahors, calendar, calvi, college of, capital, english, created, canon law, codified, canticle of sun, carlyle, minnesong, ; nibelungen, case histories, casimir the great, caspian not a gulf, castles and armories, catalogues of libraries, cathedral symbolism, cavalcanti, celano, chalices, charity organizations, , chartres, glass, ; windows, chauliac, chemistry, ; not forbidden, chester cycle, , chrestien de troyes, chronicles, cid, el, cimabue, , , cino da pistoia, circulating libraries, clare, st., and st. francis, clare, st., ; character, ; happiness, ; life, clarendon assizes, ; constitutions, clerics at the universities, cloisters, lateran, ; st. paul's, rome, coal, code of hammurabi, coeducation, colleges, origin of, cologne, common law, commentaries on law, common pleas, comparative university attendance, compayré, complaints of books, composition of matter, condorcet, conrad of kirchberg, conservation of energy, cope of ascoli, corrections, optical, { } cost of books, crusades and democracy, ; greene, on, ; storrs on, ; stubbs on, curtain lectures, d. dante da maiano, dante and children, ; and milton, ; and virgil, ; education, ; in america, ; in england, ; in germany, ; in italy, ; not alone, ; power of observation, ; present estimation, ; sonnets, ; troubadour, ; universality, dante-gesellschaft, dean church's dante, decay of philosophy, declaration of independence, swiss, degrees, de maistre, democracy and the crusades, ; guilds, denifle, de roo on pre-columbian america, dialectics, dies irae, admirers of, ; supreme, dietmar von eist, digest of common law, discipline at universities, ; and democracy, disease segregation, dissection not forbidden, dominicans and art, ; and books, st. dominic, ; and st. francis, donatus, deposition for ignorance of, drama and st. francis, durandus, , e. education, classes, ; masses, ; popular, ; of women, four periods, edward i, , edward vi and charity, ; education, el cid, ; battle scene, ; daughters' innocence, ; marriage, ; single author, emulation of workers, encyclopedia, enforcement of law, english democracy, enterprise, commercial, epic poetry, equality of women, , erysipelas segregated, evelyn's diary, evolution and man, experiment, explosives, exultet, f. fehmic courts, felix of valois, feminine education, ; four periods, reasons for decline, ferguson, francis, st., great disciples, ; in drama, ; influence still, ; life, ; literary man, ; modern interest in, ; ruskin on, ; second order, ; third order, ; troubadour, franciscans and art, ; explorers, fraternal insurance, fraternity, initiations, frederick ii, freedom, development of, free cities, ; schools, freemen's rights, friars, ; green's tribute to, ; explorers, froude, ; on reynard, furniture, finsen anticipated, five sisters, york, , founder of hospitals, g. gaddi, , galsang gombeyev, geography, german guild-hall, london, gerontius' dream, gild merchant, giotto, , , ; appreciation of, ; immense work, giotto's tower, gladstone and richard de bury, glosses, law, goethe's reynard, goerres, gohier, urbain, golden bull, golden legend, goodyear, gothic, development, ; english, ; french, north german, ; sculpture, - ; spanish, ; varieties, , , grail legends, gratian, gray, green on matthew paris, greatness of an epoch, gregorian chant, grotesque in dante, grounds of ignorance, guido de montpelier, guido, guilds, ; and the drama, ; and democracy, ; boston, ; london, ; number, ; rules, ; list of, h. hamburg, hamilton, hammurabi, hansa alamanniae, ; and denmark, ; geese cackle, ; obscurity of origin, harper, hartman von aue, hayton, healing by first intention, herodotus and marco polo, history, so-called, , appendix hollandus, { } homer, hospitals, earliest, ; england, hotel dieu, ; endowment, human life, value, human rights, humboldt on dante, - humboldt, humor in mystery plays, humphreys, huysmans, hymns often heard, ; and languages, ; seven greatest, i. ignorance and servitude, illuminated books, indestructibility of matter, international court, ; comity, ; fraternity, irnerius, , iron work, j. jenghis khan, jerusalem the golden, jessopp, rev. augustus, job, jocelyn of brakelond, ; and boswell, ; selection, john of carpini, john of matha, john of monte corvino, - joinville and the poor, ; selection, journeymen, justinian, english, k. kenilworth, kidney disease, l. lafenestre, - lamentations, lanfranc, , lancelot, lateran, council of, laurie, , , , law, canon, ; french, ; german, ; glosses, ; hungarian, ; polish, ; spanish, lea, henry c, league, lombard, legenda aurea, lending of books, lending of professors, leo xiii, lepers, louis ix and, leprosy eradicated, lerida, lhasa entered, liberties and customs, ; english, ; hungary and poland, library of la ste. chapelle, ; circulating, , ; of hotel dieu, ; of the sorbonne, lincoln, lingard, literature for women, lodge, sir oliver, longfellow, ; dante, louis ix, ; books, ; charity, ; crusades, ; education, ; father, - ; husband, ; justice, , ; law, ; monks, ; son, lowell on dante, lübeck punished, ; laws, lully, lunar rainbows, m. mabel rich, maccarthy, magna charta, , ; development of, ; excerpts, , et seq. malory, mandeville, manning on dante, map or mapes, walter, - march on latin hymns, marco millioni, maria di novella, masterpieces, matter and form, ; constitution of, matthew paris, ; green's tribute, meaning of cathedral, meistersingers, merchants' privileges, merrie england, metaphysical speculations, - method of study, meyer, middle ages, place of, middle class students, mill, millet, minnesingers, modern war correspondents anticipated, , mondino, money and privileges, money grabbers, monks, idle, ; explorers, monroe, montalembert, monks, ; laws, montpelier, morley, henry, , , , most read books. ten, motor cars, music, church, ; part, mutual aid, mystery plays, players, , ; bible study, ; influence, n. names, medieval, nations, neale, needlework, nerve suture, newman's tribute to dante, new york times building, nibelungen, noah and wife, nolasco, peter, notebook, the elegant, novgorod founded, numbers of students, , et seq nurses' habits, o. odoric, one thing a day, optics, { } optical corrections, opus majus, organized charity, osler, , oxford, p. padua, pagel, ; on vincent of beauvais, palencia, pange lingua, papal court and academy, parliament, first english, parzifal, peace burgs, pennell, elizabeth robbins, peregrinus, - perugia, petroleum, peyrols, philobiblon, philosophic writers, phosphorescence in dante, physical geography, place of women, plain chant, plumptre's dante, polo, marco, poor students, poor, washing feet of, popes and laws, pope alexander iv, ; boniface viii, ; gregory ix, , ; honorius iv, , ; innocent iii, , , population of england, potamian, brother, piacenza, practical knowledge, preparatory schools, pre-renaissance, , professors' publications, progress of liberty, q. queen berengaria, queen blanche of castile, r. ransom of prisoners, raymond of pennafort, real estate law, redemption of captives, red-light therapy, religious order for erysipelas, ; for slaves, reinach, , , representative government, , renaissance, reynard the fox, ; original, rheims, , rhenish cities, rhymed latin, rhyme, origin, richard coeur de lion, richard de bury, ; as a churchman, ; chaplains, ; charity, ; place in history, rich, mabel, ; and her sons, robinson, fr. paschal, , rod in school, roland, romance of rose, ; charge of dullness, ; poor happy, ; misers miserable, ; satire on money grabbers, rossetti on dante, rubruquis, ; on customs, ; on languages, , rucellai madonna, rudolph of hapsburg, , appendix ruskin, , , , rusticiano, s. sadness absent in gothic art, saintsbury, , , , , , , saladin, salamanca, salamander, asbestos, salicet, salimbene, friar, salisbury, saturday, half-holiday, schaff, , scholasticism and style, sculpture, amiens, , ; rheims, st. denis, settlement work, ; seneca, siena, sigbart, simon de montfort, social unrest, sorbonne, robert, sordello, st. bonaventure, , ; clare, , ; dominic, ; edmund, , ; elizabeth, , ; ferdinand, ; hugh, , ; thomas, st. gall, st. john, lateran, st. mary's abbey, st. paul's, rome, st. victor, adam and hugh of, stabat mater, ; translations, stained glass, ; lincoln, ; york, stevenson, r. m., storrs on crusades, stubbs on crusades, students, support of, studies, studium generale, symbolism, systematizing thought, t. tarragona, tartars, book of, tasso and nibelungen, taste, popular, tate, taxation and representation, ; no, without representation, "the three eights," thibet, thomas, st., see aquinas thule, toledo, toulouse, towns and cathedrals, trade facilities, travel, medieval, troubadours, trouvères, turner, , training intellect { } u. ungreek, only thing, universitas, university, bologna, , ; foundation, ; orleans, ; oxford, ; paris, , ; salernum, ; roughness, v. vehmgerichte, vercelli, vicenza, vienna cathedral, vigilance committees, vigils, holidays, villehardouin, ; and xenophon, vincent of beauvais, ; and historical writers, ; methods, ; style, virchow and evolution, ; on hospitals, ; on pope innocent, vocation for women, vogelweide, voragine, jacobus de, w. wandering students, wanderjahre, water cure, wernher, whewell, widows, magna charta, william of rubruk, william of salicet, william of st. gregory, wolfram von eschenbach, women, in hospitals, ; in literature, ; occupations, ; position, working students, wounds of neck, x. xenophon, and villehardouin, y. yeats, yule, colonel, ; on odoric, ; on rubruquis, z. zimmern, miss, on hansa, ; on medieval initiations, [end text; advertisements] books by dr. walsh --------------------------- dear dr. walsh: i beg to thank you for your interesting letter enclosing syllabus of advent lectures and circular of your latest work. the highest value attaches to historical research on the lines you so ably indicate, especially at the present time, when the enemies of holy church are making renewed efforts to show her antagonism to science and human progress generally. i shall have much pleasure in perusing your work entitled "the thirteenth greatest of centuries." wishing you every blessing, i am, yours sincerely in xt., rome, january th, . r. card. merry del val. ---------------------- _fordham university press series_ makers of modern medicine a series of biographies of the men to whom we owe the important advances in the development of modern medicine. by james j. walsh, m. d., ph. d., ll.d., dean and professor of the history of medicine at fordham university school of medicine, n. y. third edition, , pp. price, $ . net. _the london lancet_ said: "the list is well chosen, and we have to express gratitude for so convenient and agreeable a collection of biographies, for which we might otherwise have to search through many scattered books. the sketches are pleasantly written, interesting, and well adapted to convey the thoughtful members of our profession just the amount of historical knowledge that they would wish to obtain. we hope that the book will find many readers." _the new york times_: "the book is intended primarily for students of medicine, but laymen will find it not a little interesting." _il morgagni_ (italy): "professor walsh narrates important lives in modern medicine with an easy style that makes his book delightful reading. it certainly will give the young physician an excellent idea of who made our modern medicine." _the church standard_ (protestant episcopal): "there is perhaps no profession in which the lives of its leaders would make more fascinating reading than that of medicine, and dr. walsh by his clever style and sympathetic treatment by no means mars the interest which we might thus expect." _the new york medical journal_: "we welcome works of this kind; they are evidence of the growth of culture within the medical profession, which betokens that the time has come when our teachers have the leisure to look backward to what has been accomplished." _science_: "the sketches are extremely entertaining and useful. perhaps the most striking thing is that everyone of the men described was of the catholic faith, and the dominant idea is that great scientific work is not incompatible with devout adherence to the tenets of the catholic religion." makers of electricity by brother potamian, f. s. c, sc. d. (london), professor of physics in manhattan college, and james j. walsh, m. d., ph. d., litt. d., dean and professor of the history of medicine and of nervous diseases at fordham university school of medicine, new york. fordham university press, west th street. illustrated price, $ . net. postage, cents extra. _the scientific american_: "one will find in this book very good sketches of the lives of the great pioneers in electricity, with a clear presentation of how it was that these men came to make their fundamental experiments, and how we now reach conclusions in science that would have been impossible until their work of revealing was done. the biographies are those of peregrinus, columbus, norman and gilbert, franklin and some contemporaries, galvini, volta, coulomb, oersted, ampere, ohm, faraday, clerk maxwell, and kelvin." _the boston globe_: "the book is of surpassing interest." _the new york sun_: "the researches of brother potamian among the pioneers in antiquity and the middle ages are perhaps more interesting than dr. walsh's admirable summaries of the accomplishment of the heroes of modern science. the book testifies to the excellence of catholic scholarship." _the evening post_: "it is a matter of importance that the work and lives of men like gilbert, franklin, galvini, volta, ampere and others should be made known to the students of electricity, and this office has been well fulfilled by the present authors. the book is no mere compilation, but brings out many interesting and obscure facts, especially about the earlier men." _the philadelphia record_: "it is a glance at the whole field of electricity by men who are noted for the thoroughness of their research, and it should be made accessible to every reader capable of taking a serious interest in the wonderful phenomena of nature." _electrical world_: "aside from the intrinsic interest of its matter, the book is delightful to read owing to the graceful literary style common to both authors. one not having the slightest acquaintance with electrical science will find the book of absorbing interest as treating in a human way and with literary art the life work of some of the greatest men of modern times; and, moreover, in the course of his reading he will incidentally obtain a sound knowledge of the main principles upon which almost all present-day electrical development is based. it is a shining example of how science can be popularized without the slightest twisting of facts or distortion of perspective. electrical readers will find the book also a scholarly treatise on the evolution of electrical science, and a most refreshing change from the "engineering english" of the typical technical writer." education, how old the new a series of lectures and addresses on phases of education in the past which anticipate most of our modern advances, by james j. walsh, m. d., ph. d., litt. d., k. c. st. g. dean and professor of the history of medicine and of nervous diseases at fordham university school of medicine. fordham university press, . pp. price, $ . net. postage, cents extra. cardinal moran (sydney, australia): "i have to thank you for the excellent volume education how old the new. the lectures are admirable, just the sort of reading we want for english readers of the present day." _new york sun_: "it is all bright and witty and based on deep erudition." _the north american_ (phila.): "wide historical research, clear graphic statement are salient elements of this interesting and suggestive addition to the modern welter of educational literature." _detroit free press_: "full of interesting facts and parallels drawn from them that afford much material for reflection." _chicago inter-ocean_: "incidentally it does away with a number of popular misconceptions as to education in the middle ages and as to education in the latin-american countries at a somewhat later time. the book is written in a straight unpretentious and interesting style." _wilkes-barre record_: "the volume is most interesting and shows deep research bearing the marks of the indefatigable student." _pittsburg post_: "there is no bitterness of controversy and one of the first things to strike the reader is that the dean of fordham quotes from nearly everybody worth while, protestant or catholic, poetry, biography, history, science or what not." _the wall street news_ (n. y.): "the book is calculated to cause a healthy reduction in the conceit which each generation enjoys at the expense of that which preceded it." _rochester post express_: "the book is well worth reading." _the new orleans democrat_: "the book makes very interesting reading, but there is a succession of shocks in store in it for the complacent new englander or bostonian and for the orthodox or perfunctory reader of american literature." old time makers of medicine the story of the medical sciences during the middle ages. by james j. walsh, k. c. st, g., m. d., ph. d. dean and professor of the history of medicine and of nervous diseases at fordham university school of medicine. fordham university press, . price, $ . net. postage, cents. what we now know of art, architecture, literature, the arts and crafts in the middle ages has almost won for them the name of the bright ages instead of the dark ages. there seems just one dark spot--the neglect of science. this book removes that. it tells the story of medieval medical education with higher standards than ours, of medieval surgery with anaesthesia and antisepsis, with beautiful hospitals and fine nursing, and of medieval dentistry with gold fillings and bridgework. _the lancet_ (london): "we have said enough to whet the appetite of all interested in the history of the early makers of medicine. we cordially commend the perusal of this fascinating volume, which shows how much was accomplished in every department of intellectual effort in what is usually regarded as the unprogressive, stagnant, dark period of the middle ages." _the new york world_ said: "as in dr. walsh's 'thirteenth the greatest of centuries' he carries amazement with his revelations of how old are many things we call new." modern progress and history: lectures on various academic occasions by james j. walsh, m. d., ph. d., k. c. st. g., litt, d., sc. d. dean and professor of the history of medicine and of functional nervous diseases at fordham university school of medicine, fordham university press, . pp. twelve illustrations. price, $ . net. postage, cents. though delivered on various occasions, these lectures are all on the theme that our modern progress is but a repetition of previous phases of human accomplishment and that whenever men faced certain problems they solved them as well at any time in history as they do now. educational problems are shown to have been the same in greece and rome as in our own time. old time prescriptions in medicine are strangely like many that we have now. old time dentists filled teeth with gold and tin, did fine bridgework, invented movable dentures, transplanted teeth successfully and anticipated our dental progress. pronunciation, old and new, shows that the irish brogue is shakespeare's pronunciation while the women of two republics demonstrates how old are our political problems, even suffragettism. "the book is disillusioning, but marvelously illuminating." proofreading team. readings in the history of education mediaeval universities by arthur o. norton _assistant professor of the history and art of teaching in harvard university_ cambridge published by harvard university preface these readings in the history of mediaeval universities are the first installment of a series, which i have planned with the view of illustrating, mainly from the sources, the history of modern education in europe and america. they are intended for use after the manner of the source books or collections of documents which have so vastly improved the teaching of general history in recent years. no argument is needed as to the importance of such a collection for effective teaching of the history of education; but i would urge that the subject requires in a peculiar degree rich and full illustration from the sources. the life of school, college, or university is varied, vivid, even dramatic, while we live it; but, once it has passed, it becomes thinner and more spectral than almost any other historical fact. its original records are, in all conscience, thin enough; the situation is still worse when they are worked over at third or fourth hand, flattened out; smoothed down, and desiccated in the pages of a modern history of education. such histories are of course necessary to effective teaching of the subject; but the records alone can clothe the dry bones of fact with flesh and blood. only by turning back to them do we gain a sense of personal intimacy with the past; only thus can we realize that schools and universities of other days were not less real than those of to-day, teachers and students of other generations not less vividly alive than we, academic questions not less unsettled or less eagerly debated. to gain this sense of concrete, living reality in the history of education is one of the most important steps toward understanding the subject. in selecting and arranging the records here presented i have had in mind chiefly the needs of students who are taking the usual introductory courses in the subject. students of general history--a subject in which more and more account is taken of culture in the broad sense of the term--may also find them useful. within the necessarily limited space i have chosen to illustrate in some detail a few aspects of the history of mediaeval universities rather than to deal briefly with a large number of topics. many important matters, not here touched upon, are reserved for future treatment. some documents pertinent to the topics here discussed are not reproduced because they are easily accessible elsewhere; these are mentioned in the bibliographical note at the close of the volume. in writing the descriptive and explanatory text i have attempted only to indicate the general significance of the translations, and to supply information not easily obtained, or not clearly given in the references or text-books which, it is assumed, the student will read in connection with this work. it would be possible to write a commentary of genuinely mediaeval proportions on the selections here given; doubtless many of the details would be clearer for such a commentary. some of these are explained by cross-references in the body of the text; in the main, however, i have preferred to let the documents stand for their face value to the average reader. i have given especial attention to university studies (pp. - ) and university exercises (pp. - ) because these important subjects are unusually difficult for most students, and because surprisingly few illustrations of them from the sources have been heretofore easily accessible in english. in particular, there has not been, i believe, a previous translation of any considerable passage from the much discussed and much criticised mediaeval commentaries on university text-books. the selection here given (pp. - ) is not intended for continuous reading; but it will fully repay close and repeated examination. not infrequently single sentences of this commentary are the outcroppings of whole volumes of mediaeval thought and controversy; indeed anyone who follows to the end each of the lines of study suggested will have at command a very respectable bit of knowledge concerning the intellectual life of the middle ages. the passage requires more explanation by the teacher, or more preliminary knowledge on the part of the student, than any other selection in the book. the sources from which the selections have been made are indicated in the footnotes to the text my great indebtedness to mr. hastings rashdall's "universities of europe in the middle ages" is also there indicated. messrs. g.p. putnam's sons and mr. joseph mccabe generously gave me permission to quote more extensive passages from the latter's brilliant biography of abelard than i finally found it possible to use. mr. charles s. moore has been my chief assistant in the preparation of the manuscript; most of the translations not otherwise credited are due to his careful work, but i am responsible for the version finally adopted in numerous passages in which the interpretation depends on a knowledge of detailed historical facts. in conclusion, i have to thank professor charles h. haskins and professor leo wiener for information which has spared me many days of research on obscure details, and professor paul h. hanus for suggestions which have contributed to the clearness of the text. a.o.n. contents page i. introduction ii. the renaissance of the twelfth century iii. the rise of universities . teachers and students of the twelfth century (a) abelard (b) john of salisbury . the new method . the new studies (a) the works of aristotle (b) roman law (c) canon law (d) theology (e) medicine (f) other university text-books . university privileges (a) special protection by the sovereign (b) the right of trial in special courts (c) exemption from taxation (d) the privilege of suspending lectures (cessatio) (e) the right of teaching everywhere (jus ubique docendi) (f) privileges granted by a municipality (g) the influence of mediaeval privileges on modern universities . universities founded by the initiative of civil or ecclesiastical powers iv. university exercises (a) the lecture (b) the disputation (c) the examination (d) a day's work in (e) time-table of lectures at leipzig, v. requirements for the degrees in arts . paris, . paris, . oxford, and (?) . leipzig, a.b., . leipzig, a.m., . leipzig, a.b. and a.m., vi. academic letters . letters relating to paris . two oxford letters of the fifteenth century readings in the history of education i introduction the history of education, like all other branches of history, is based upon documents. historical documents are, in general, "the traces which have been left by the thoughts and actions of men of former times"; the term commonly refers to the original records or _sources_ from which our knowledge of historical facts is derived. the documents most generally used by historians are written or printed. in the history of education alone these are of the greatest variety; as is shown in the following pages, among them are university charters, proceedings, regulations, lectures, text-books, the statutes of student organizations, personal letters, autobiographies, contemporary accounts of university life, and laws made by civil or ecclesiastical authorities to regulate university affairs. similar varieties of records exist for other educational institutions and activities. the immense masses of such written or printed materials produced to-day, even to the copy-book of the primary school and the student's note-book of college lectures, will, if they survive, become documents for the future historian of education. the known sources for the history of education in western europe since the twelfth century--to go no further afield--are exceedingly numerous, and widely spread among various public and private collections; the labor of a lifetime would hardly suffice to examine them all critically. nevertheless many printed and written documents have been collected, edited, and published in their original languages; and in some instances the collections are fairly complete, or at least fairly representative of the documents in existence. assuming that they are accurate copies of the original records, many are now easily accessible to students of the subject, since these reproductions may be owned by all large libraries. these records, rightly apprehended, have far more than a mere antiquarian interest. the history of mediaeval universities is profoundly important, not only for students, but also for administrators, of modern higher education. for to a surprising degree the daily and hourly conduct of university affairs of the twentieth century is influenced by what universities did six centuries ago. on this point the words of mr. hastings rashdall, a leading authority on mediaeval universities, are instructive: "... if we would completely understand the meaning of offices, titles, ceremonies, organizations preserved in the most modern, most practical, most unpicturesque of the institutions which now bear the name of 'university,' we must go back to the earliest days of the earliest universities that ever existed, and trace the history of their chief successors through the seven centuries that intervene between the rise of bologna or paris, and the foundation of the new university of strassburg in germany, or of the victoria university in england." knowledge of the subject should, however, yield much more than understanding: it should also influence the practical attitudes of those who are concerned with university affairs. here i take issue with those historians who hold that history supplies no "information of practical utility in the conduct of life"; no "lessons directly profitable to individuals and peoples." the evidence cannot be exhibited here, but such information notoriously has been of the utmost practical value in education, both in shaping influential theories and in determining even minute details of educational practice. there is no reason to suppose that it may not continue to be thus serviceable. other utilities of university history are less direct, but not less important. the study of individual institutions and their varying circumstances and problems "prepares us to understand and tolerate a variety of usages"; the study of their growth not only "cures us of a morbid dread of change," but also leads us to view their progressive adaptation to new conditions as necessary and desirable. if such study teaches only these two lessons to those who may hereafter shape the course of educational affairs it more than justifies itself. for to eradicate that intolerance of variety in educational practice so characteristic of the academic man of the past, and to diminish in future generations his equally characteristic opposition to changes involving adaptation to new conditions, is to render one of the greatest possible services to educational progress. ii the renaissance of the twelfth century during the twelfth century a great educational revival manifested itself in western europe, following upon several centuries of intellectual decline or relative inactivity. though its beginnings may be traced into the eleventh century, and though its culmination belongs to a much later period, the movement is often called the renaissance of the twelfth century. in that century it first appears as a widely diffused and rapidly growing movement, and it then takes on distinctly the characteristics which mark its later development. the revival appears first in italy and france; from these regions it spreads during the next three centuries into england, spain, germany, denmark, sweden, and scotland. certain facts concerning this educational renaissance should be clearly understood in connection with the following selections: . to men of the times it first showed itself as a renewal of activity in existing schools. here and there appeared eminent teachers; to them resorted increasing numbers of students from greater and greater distances. in a few years some of these institutions became schools of international fame. the newly roused enthusiasm for study in france at the opening of the twelfth century is thus described by a modern writer: the scholastic fever, which was soon to inflame the youth of the whole of europe, had already set in. you could not travel far over the rough roads of france without meeting some footsore scholar, making for the nearest large monastery or cathedral town. before many years, it is true, there arose an elaborate system of conveyance from town to town, an organization of messengers to run between the chateau and the school; but in the earlier days, and, to some extent, even later, the scholar wandered afoot through the long provinces of france. robbers, frequently in the service of the lord of the land, infested every province. it was safest to don the coarse frieze tunic of the pilgrim, without pockets, sling your little wax tablets and stylus at your girdle, strap a wallet of bread and herbs and salt on your back, and laugh at the nervous folk who peeped out from their coaches over a hedge of pikes and daggers. few monasteries refused a meal or a rough bed to the wandering scholar. rarely was any fee exacted for the lesson given. for the rest, none were too proud to earn a few sous by sweeping, or drawing water, or amusing with a tune on the reed-flute; or to wear the cast-off tunics of their masters.[ ] this account refers to the study of logic and theology, which soon became dominant in paris and in various cathedral schools in other parts of france. with slight modifications it would describe also the revival of interest in roman law in italy, especially at bologna. . the revival was concerned mainly with professional, or--as later appeared--university, education. the prevailing interest was in law, medicine, theology, and the philosophy of aristotle. schools of lower grade were much influenced by the intellectual activity of the times, but the characteristic product of this movement was the university. the universities, organized as corporations, with their teachers divided into faculties, their definite courses of study, their examinations, their degrees, their privileges, and their cosmopolitan communities of students, were not only the result of the revival, but they were institutions essentially new in the history of education, and the models for all universities which have since been established. . between the latter part of the twelfth century and a.d. at least seventy-nine universities were established in western europe. there may have been others of which no trace remains. several of them were short-lived, some lasting but a few years; ten disappeared before . since that date twenty others have become extinct. the forty-nine european universities of to-day which were founded before have all passed through many changes in character and various periods of prosperity and decline, but we still recognize in them the characteristic features mentioned above, and the same features reappear in the "most modern, most practical, most unpicturesque of the institutions which now bear the name of 'university.'" this is one illustration of the statement on page that the daily and hourly conduct of university affairs in the twentieth century is to a surprising degree influenced by what universities did seven centuries ago. . the term "university" has always been difficult to define. in the middle ages its meaning varied in different places, and changed somewhat in the centuries between and a.d. in these pages it signifies in general an institution for higher education; and "institution" means, not a group of buildings, but a society of teachers or students organized, and ultimately incorporated, for mutual aid and protection, and for the purpose of imparting or securing higher education. originally, universities were merely guilds of masters or scholars; as such they were imitations of the numerous guilds of artisans and tradesmen already in existence. out of the simple organization and customs of these guilds grew the elaborate organization and ceremonials of later universities. there were two main types of university organization,--the university of masters, and the university of students. in the former,--which is the type of all modern universities,--the government and instruction of students were regulated by the masters or doctors. in the latter, these matters were controlled by the students, who also prescribed rules for the conduct of the masters. paris and bologna were, respectively, the original representatives of these types. paris was the original university of masters; its pattern was copied, with some modifications, by the universities of england, germany, denmark, sweden, and scotland. bologna was the archetypal university of students; its organization was imitated, also with variations, by the universities italy, france (except paris), spain, and portugal. in and after the thirteenth century, the place or school in which a university existed was almost always called a _studium generale_, i.e. a place to which students resorted, or were invited, from all countries. this term was used in contrast to _studium particulare_, i.e. any school in which a master in a town taught a few scholars. in the _studium generale_ instruction was given by several masters, in one or more of the faculties of arts, law, medicine, and theology. in time the term came to be synonymous with "university"; it is so used in this book. . the theoretically complete mediaeval university contained the four faculties of arts, theology, law, and medicine. these we find reproduced in some modern universities. then, as now, however, it was not common to find them all equally well developed in any single institution; many possessed only two or three faculties, and some had but one. there are rare instances of five faculties, owing to the subdivision of law. at paris, the strongest faculties were those of arts and theology; law and medicine were in comparison but feebly represented. at bologna, on the other hand, the study of law was predominant, although the arts, medicine, and theology were also taught there. . the studies pursued in the various faculties in and after the thirteenth century were in general as follows: in the faculty of arts: . the "three philosophies"--natural, moral, and rational--of aristotle, together with his logic, rhetoric, and politics. of these, logic and rhetoric are included below. . the seven liberal arts, comprising {grammar. (_a_) {rhetoric. {logic. {arithmetic. (_b_) {geometry. {music. {astronomy. in the faculty of law: . the _corpus juris civilis_, or body of roman civil law, compiled at constantinople - a.d., under direction of the roman emperor justinian. . the canon law, or law governing the church, of which the first part was compiled by the monk gratian about the year . his compilation of the canon law is usually referred to as the _decretum gratiani_. in the faculty of theology: . the "sentences" of peter lombard. . the bible. in the faculty of medicine: . the works of hippocrates. . the works of galen. . medical treatises of various arabic and jewish writers of the seventh century a.d. and later. these studies will be described more fully in connection with the selections on pages - . not all of the works mentioned under these divisions were included in the regular programme of any university; the actual studies required for the various degrees consisted rather in selections from these works. the selections chosen varied somewhat in different universities; moreover, the course in any given university changed from time to time. consequently the degrees of a.b. and a.m., as well as degrees in law, medicine, and theology, probably never represented exactly the same set of studies in any considerable number of universities, nor did they even represent exactly the same work for many years in any single university. this corresponds exactly with the situation in modern universities, although at present the variations in studies for the same degree are greater and the changes in any given university are usually more rapid than they were in the universities of the middle ages. it is necessary to remember that all the text-books were in latin. those written originally in other tongues were translated into latin. all university exercises were conducted in that language, and frequently the regulations required students to use latin in conversation outside the lecture halls. latin was, in short, the universal academic tongue. obviously, the use of the same language everywhere facilitated the migration of students and teachers from one university to another. . although the first universities were not established as organized institutions until the latter part of the twelfth century, the intellectual movement which gave rise to them was well under way a century earlier. it showed itself first in the rise of great teachers, some of whom were also notable scholars. there has never been a clearer demonstration of the central importance in education of the distinguished teacher: at the beginning of the twelfth century three schools are distinguished in the contemporary literature above the multitude which had sprung into new life in france and were connected with so many of her cathedrals and religious houses. these three were at laon, paris, and chartres. it would be more accurate to say, they were the schools of anselm and ralph, of william of champeaux, and of bernard sylvester. for in those days the school followed the teacher, not the teacher the school. wherever a master lived, there he taught; and thither, in proportion to his renown, students assembled from whatever quarter.... the tie was a personal one, and was generally severed by the master's death. a succession of great teachers in one place was a rare exception; nor is such an exception afforded by the history of any of the three schools to which we have referred.[ ] in these days, when education requires a more and more elaborate equipment of buildings, libraries, laboratories, and museums, it is no longer possible for teachers, however distinguished, to attract throngs of students to places absolutely unprovided with the resources for teaching, or to provide these resources anywhere on the spur of the moment in the twelfth century, on the contrary, the only necessary equipment consisted in the master, his small library which could be carried by one man; wax tablets, or pens, ink, and vellum or parchment for the students; and any kind of a shelter which would serve as a protection from the weather. not even benches or chairs were necessary, for students commonly sat upon the straw-strewn floors of the lecture rooms. thus the school might easily follow the teacher in his migrations, and easily sink into obscurity or disappear upon his death or cessation from teaching. the autobiography of abelard (see page ), recounts an experience unusual in itself, but perfectly illustrative of the point. after relating various misfortunes and persecutions he continues: so i betook myself to a certain wilderness previously known to me, and there on land given to me by certain ones, with the consent of the bishop of the region, i constructed out of reeds and straw a sort of oratory in the name of the holy trinity where, in company with one of our clergy, i might truly chant to the lord: "lo i have wandered far off, and have remained in the wilderness." as soon as scholars learned this they began to gather from every side, leaving cities and castles to dwell in the wilderness, and in place of their spacious homes to build small tabernacles for themselves, and in place of delicate food to live on herbs of the fields and coarse bread, and in place of soft couches to make up [beds of] straw and grass, and in place of tables to pile up sods.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : adapted from joseph mccabe, _abelard_, pp. , .] [footnote : r.l. poole, _illustrations from the history of medieval thought_, p. .] [footnote : _petri abaelardi opera_, edd. cousin et jourdain, i, p. .] iii the rise of mediaeval universities the influences contributing to the rise of universities were numerous, and in many cases obscure. the most important were: . inspiring and original teachers, who gathered about them great numbers of students. . a new method of teaching. . a new group of studies. . privileges granted to scholars and masters by civil and ecclesiastical authorities. . the direct initiative of those authorities in establishing universities by decree. the readings which follow are chosen to illustrate these influences. . teachers and students of the twelfth century (a) _a pre-university teacher: abelard_ among the teachers of the early part of the twelfth century, two were of especial significance in the later intellectual development of the period,--irnerius (_ca._ - ) at bologna, and abelard ( - ) at paris. they were the forerunners of the universities which began to take form at the end of the twelfth century in those cities. irnerius marks a new epoch in the study of the body of roman law; following the traditions of teaching which he established, the university of bologna became the most prominent school of law in europe. in a similar way abelard marks at paris the introduction of a new method of teaching and investigation, an attitude of intellectual independence on theological questions, and a permanently influential position in scholastic philosophy; following his initiative the university of paris became the leading school of philosophy and theology. these two institutions,--bologna and paris,--were in turn the models for all other mediaeval universities, not only in organization, but also so far as the study of law, theology, and philosophy was concerned. hence, indirectly, the influence of abelard and irnerius was widely diffused and long continued. the documents relating to irnerius are scanty. for a discussion of his influence on the teaching of roman law, see rashdall, i, ch. iv, and especially pages - . concerning abelard the records are abundant. abelard, the eldest son of a noble family of pallet (palais), brittany, was in his day the most renowned teacher in france. instead of becoming the head of his family and adopting the career of a soldier, he abandoned his birthright and the profession of arms for the life of the scholar and the battlefields of debate. his early life as a student wandering from school to school is thus described by himself: the more fully and easily i advanced in the study of letters the more ardently i clung to them, and i became so enamored of them that, abandoning to my brothers the pomp of glory, together with my inheritance and the rights of the eldest son, i resigned from the councils of war that i might be educated in the camp of minerva. and since among all the weapons of philosophy i preferred the arms of logic, i exchanged accoutrements and preferred the conflicts of debate to the trophies of war. thenceforward i walked through the various provinces engaging in debates wherever i had heard that the study of this art [logic] flourished, and thus became a rival of the peripatetics. at length [about a.d.] i reached paris, where for some time this art had been prospering, and went to william of champeaux, my instructor, distinguished at the time in this particular by his work and reputation as a teacher. staying with him for a while, i was at first acceptable, but shortly after was very annoying to him, namely, when i tried to refute some of his opinions, and often ventured to argue against him and, not seldom, seemed to surpass him in debate.[ ] _in scholis militare_--to wage war in the schools--was the phrase aptly used to describe this mode of debate. william of champeaux was then the head of the cathedral school of notre dame and the leading teacher of logic in france. "within a few months abelard made his authority totter, and set his reputation on the wane. in six or seven years he drove him in shame and humiliation from his chair, after a contest which filled christendom with its echoes." by overcoming william in debate he established his own reputation as a teacher. at various times between and he taught in paris, whither crowds of students came to hear him. his fame was at its height about , shortly after his appointment to the chair which william himself had held. few teachers have ever attracted a following so large and so devoted. his remarkable success in drawing to paris students from all quarters is vividly described by a modern writer: the pupil who had left paris when both william and abelard disappeared in would find a marvellous change on returning to it about or . he would find the lecture hall and the cloister and the quadrangle, under the shadow of the great cathedral, filled with as motley a crowd of youths and men as any scene in france could show. little groups of french and norman and breton nobles chattered together in their bright silks and fur-tipped mantles, with slender swords dangling from embroidered belts, vying with each other in the length and crookedness of their turned-up shoes. anglo-saxons looked on, in long fur-lined cloaks, tight breeches, and leathern hose swathed with bands of many colored cloth. stern-faced northerners, poles and germans, in fur caps and with colored girdles and clumsy shoes, or with feet roughly tied up in the bark of trees, waited impatiently for the announcement of _li mestre_. pale-faced southerners had braved the alps and the pyrenees under the fascination of "the wizard." shaven and sandalled monks, black-habited clerics, black canons, secular and regular, black in face too, some of them, heresy hunters from the neighboring abbey of st. victor, mingled with the crowd of young and old, grave and gay, beggars and nobles, sleek citizens and bronzed peasants.... over mountains and over seas the mingled reputation of the city and the school were carried, and a remarkable stream set in from germany, switzerland, italy (even from proud rome), spain, and england; even "distant brittany sent you its animals to be instructed," wrote prior fulques to abelard (a breton) a year or two afterwards.[ ] what was there in the teaching of abelard which brought together this extraordinary gathering? one may admit the presence of unanalysable genius in this master, and still find certain qualities indispensable to the efficient teacher of to-day,--a winning personality, fulness of knowledge, and technical skill as a teacher. these are admirably set forth in the following description: it is not difficult to understand the charm of abelard's teaching. three qualities are assigned to it by the writers of the period, some of whom studied at his feet; clearness, richness in imagery, and lightness of touch are said to have been the chief characteristics of his teaching. clearness is, indeed, a quality of his written works, though they do not naturally convey an impression of his oral power. his splendid gifts and versatility, supported by a rich voice, a charming personality, a ready and sympathetic use of human literature, and a freedom from excessive piety, gave him an immeasurable advantage over all the teachers of the day. beside most of them, he was as a butterfly to an elephant. a most industrious study of the few works of aristotle and of the roman classics that were available, a retentive memory, an ease in manipulating his knowledge, a clear, penetrating mind, with a corresponding clearness of expression, a ready and productive fancy, a great knowledge of men, a warmer interest in things human than in things divine, a laughing contempt for authority, a handsome presence, and a musical delivery--these were his gifts.[ ] he takes his place in history, apart from the ever-interesting drama and the deep pathos of his life, in virtue of two distinctions. they are, firstly, an extraordinary ability in imparting such knowledge as the poverty of the age afforded--the facts of his career reveal it; and, secondly, a mind of such marvellous penetration that it conceived great truths which it has taken humanity seven or eight centuries to see--this will appear as we proceed. it was the former of these gifts that made him, in literal truth, the centre of learned and learning christendom, the idol of several thousand eager scholars. nor, finally, were these thousands the "horde of barbarians" that jealous master roscelin called them. it has been estimated that a pope, nineteen cardinals, and more than fifty bishops and archbishops were at one time among his pupils.[ ] abelard's fame as a teacher, with the consequent increase of masters and students at paris, undoubtedly paved the way for the formation of the university later in the century. this is not however his greatest distinction in the history of education. his most enduring influences came from ( ) his independence in thinking, ( ) his novel method of dealing with debatable questions, and ( ) his contributions to scholastic philosophy and theology. the first two of these are considered below; the last belongs more properly to the history of philosophy. ( ) nothing singles abelard out more clearly among the teachers of his time than his intellectual independence. most of his contemporaries accepted unquestioningly the view that in religious matters faith precedes reason. one might seek to justify one's faith by reason, but preliminary doubt as to what should be the specific articles of one's faith was inadmissible. as they supposed, these articles had been determined by the church fathers--augustine, jerome, and others--and by the bible. their view had been formulated by anselm of canterbury in the preceding century: "i do not seek to know in order that i may believe, but i believe in order that i may know." "the christian ought to advance to knowledge through faith, not come to faith through knowledge." "the proper order demands that we believe the deep things of christian faith before we presume to reason about them." with his keenly critical, questioning mind abelard found a flaw in this position: on many questions of faith the authorities themselves disagreed. "in such cases,"--he said in effect,--"how shall i come to any definite belief unless i first reason it out?" "by doubting we are led to inquiry, and by inquiry we attain the truth." his attitude--as contrasted with that of anselm, given above--is set forth in the prologue to his _sic et non_ (yes and no): in truth, constant or frequent questioning is the first key to wisdom; and it is, indeed, to the acquiring of this [habit of] questioning with absorbing eagerness that the famous philosopher, aristotle, the most clear sighted of all, urges the studious when he says: "it is perhaps difficult to speak confidently in matters of this sort unless they have often been investigated. indeed, to doubt in special cases will not be without advantage." for through doubting we come to inquiry and through inquiry we perceive the truth. as the truth himself says: "seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you." and he also, instructing us by his own example, about the twelfth year of his life wished to be found sitting in the midst of the doctors, asking them questions, exhibiting to us by his asking of questions the appearance of a pupil, rather than, by preaching, that of a teacher, although there is in him, nevertheless, the full and perfect wisdom of god. now when a number of quotations from [various] writings are introduced they spur on the reader and allure him into seeking the truth in proportion as the authority of the writing itself is commended ... in accordance, then, with these forecasts it is our pleasure to collect different sayings of the holy fathers as we planned, just as they have come to mind, suggesting (as they do) some questioning from their apparent disagreement, in order that they may stimulate tender readers to the utmost effort in seeking the truth and may make them keener as the result of their seeking.[ ] ( ) the new method which abelard formed for discovering the truth is presented in the "yes and no." he first stated in the form of a thesis for debate the question on which doubt existed. the book contains one hundred and fifty-eight such questions. he then brought together under each question the conflicting opinions of various authorities, and, without stating his own view, left the student to reason for himself in the matter. there is no doubt that this method served his purpose to "stimulate tender readers to the utmost effort in seeking the truth." his boldness in considering some of these questions debatable at all, the novelty of the doubt which they imply, and their incisive challenge to keen thinking are evident from the following list: . that faith is based upon reason, _et contra_. . that god is not single, _et contra_. . that god is tripartite, _et contra_. . that in the trinity it is not to be stated that there is more than one eternal being, _et contra_. . that the divine persons mutually differ, _et contra_. . that in the trinity each is one with the other, _et contra_. . that god the father is the cause of the son, _et contra_. . that the son is without beginning, _et contra_. . that god judges with foreknowledge, _et non_. . that the providence of god is the cause of things happening, _et non_. . that to god all things are possible, _et non_. . that god does whatever he wishes, _et non_. . that nothing happens contrary to the will of god, _et contra._ . that god knows all things, _et non_. . that adam's sin was great, _et non_. . that man's first sin did not begin through the persuasion of the devil, _et contra_. . that eve only, not adam, was beguiled, _et contra_. . that by sinning man lost free will, _et non_. . that the son of god was predestinated, _et contra_. . that christ was a deceiver, _et non_. . that the hour of the lord's resurrection is uncertain, _et contra_. . that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, _et contra_. . that everybody should be allowed to marry, _et contra_. . that works of sanctity do not justify a man, _et contra_. . that at times we all sin against our will, _et contra_. . that sins are not remitted without confession, _et contra_. . that a lie is never permissible, _et contra_. . that a man may destroy himself for some reasons, _et contra._ . that christians may not for any reason kill a man, _et contra_. . that it is lawful to kill a man, _et non_. how he brought out the conflict of opinions is shown by the following example: that it is lawful to kill a man, and the opposite thesis. _jerome on isaiah, bk. v._ he who cuts the throat of a man of blood, is not a man of blood. _idem, on the epistle to the galatians:_ he who smites the wicked because they are wicked and whose reason for the murder is that he may slay the base, is a servant of the lord. _idem, on jeremiah:_ for the punishment of homicides, impious persons and poisoners is not bloodshed, but serving the law. _cyprian, in the ninth kind of abuse:_ the king ought to restrain theft, punish deeds of adultery, cause the wicked to perish from off the face of the earth, refuse to allow parricides and perjurers to live. _augustine:_ although it is manslaughter to slaughter a man, a person may sometimes be slain without sin. for both a soldier in the case of an enemy and a judge or his official in the case of a criminal, and the man from whose hand, perhaps without his will or knowledge, a weapon has flown, do not seem to me to sin, but merely to kill a man. _likewise:_ the soldier is ordered by law to kill the enemy, and if he shall prove to have refrained from such slaughter, he pays the penalty at the hands of his commander. shall we not go so far as to call these laws unjust or rather no laws at all? for that which was not just does not seem to me to be a law. _idem, on exodus ch. xxvii:_ the israelites committed no theft in spoiling the egyptians, but rendered a service to god at his bidding, just as when the servant of a judge kills a man whom the law hath ordered to be killed; certainly if he does it of his own volition he is a homicide, even though he knows that the man whom he executes ought to be executed by the judge. _idem, on leviticus ch. lxxv:_ when a man is justly put to death, the law puts him to death, not thou. _idem, bk. i of the "city of god":_ thou shall not kill, except in the case of those whose death god orders, or else when a law hath been passed to suit the needs of the time and express command hath been laid upon a person. but he does not kill who owes service to the person who gives him his orders, for he is as it were a mere sword for the person who employs his assistance. _likewise:_ when a soldier, in obedience to the power under which he is legitimately placed, kills a man, by no law of the state is he accused of murder; nay if he has not done it, he is accused of desertion and insubordination. but if he had acted under his own initiative and of his own will, he would have incurred the charge of shedding human blood. and so he is punished if he does not do when ordered that for which he would receive punishment if he did it without orders. _idem, to publicola:_ counsel concerning the slaying of men pleaseth me not, that none may be slain by them, unless perhaps a man is a soldier or in a public office, so that he does the deed not in his own behalf, but for others and for the state, accepting power legitimately conferred, if it is consonant with the task imposed on him. _likewise:_ it has been said: let us not resist the evil man, let not the vengeance delight us which feeds the mind on others' ill, let us not neglect the reproofs of men. _idem, to marcella:_ if that earthly commonwealth of thine keep to the teachings of christ, even wars will not be waged without goodwill, for with pitying heart even wars if possible will be waged by the good, so that the lusts of desire may be subdued and those faults destroyed which ought under just rule to be either rooted out or chastised. for if christian training condemned all wars, this should rather be the advice given in the gospel for their safety to the soldiers who ask for it, namely to throw aside their arms and retire altogether from the field. but this is the word spoken to them: do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely; and be content with your wages. he warns them that the wages that belong to them should satisfy them, but he by no means forbids them to take the field. _idem, to his comrade boniface:_ "i will give thee and thine a useful counsel: take arms in thy hands; let prayer strike the ears of the creator; because in battle the heavens are opened, god looks forth and awards the victory to the side he sees to be the righteous one." _idem:_ the wars to be waged we undertake either at the command of god or under some lawful rule. else john when the soldiers to be baptized came to him saying, "and what shall we do?" would make answer to them: "cast aside your arms, leave the service; smite no man; ruin no man." but because he knew that they did these things because they were in the service, that they were not slayers of men, but servants of the law; and not avengers of their own injuries, but guardians of the public safety, his answer to them was: "do violence to no man," etc. _isidore, etymologiae, bk. xviii, ch. iii:_ a righteous war is one waged according to orders, to recover property or drive back the enemy. _pope nicholas to the questions of the bulgarians:_ if there is no urgent need, not only in lent but at all times, men should abstain from battles. if however there is an unavoidable and urgent occasion, and it is not lent, beyond all doubt preparations for wars should be sparingly made in one's own defence or in that of one's country or the laws of one's fathers; lest forsooth this word be said: a man if he has an attack to make, does not carefully take counsel beforehand for his own safety and that of others, nor does he guard against injury to holy religion.[ ] this example shows the scholastic method in its earliest form,--the statement of the thesis, followed by the simple citation of authorities, _pro_ and _con_. later writers added the conclusion which they wished to support, or at least indicated it in the statement of the thesis. this, of course, robbed the method of much of its stimulus to independent thinking. other modifications also appeared. see the examples on pages ff., ff. the point to be noted here is that in the "yes and no" abelard struck out definitely the method which was followed for centuries in a large part of university instruction. how great a part it played can be understood only by an extended study of university history. a brief discussion of the subject is given on pages - . the stimulating way in which abelard used it was potent in drawing students to paris. among those who came to hear him was john of salisbury. (b) _a pre-university scholar: john of salisbury_ john of salisbury (c. - ), "for thirty years the central figure of english learning," "beyond dispute the best-read man of his time," is a good example of the more serious students among those who travelled abroad for study in the early days of the revival described above. he spent twelve years ( - ) at paris and at chartres. his "metalogicus" (completed about ) is perhaps the best contemporary account of educational affairs in france in the twelfth century. the book is interesting now mainly for its account of the writer's training, for its advocacy of liberal studies as a preparation for logic, and for its vigorous argument in favor of using all of the works of aristotle then known, several of which had only recently become accessible. it was written originally, however, to discredit the educational practices of a certain person--designated by the pseudonym "cornificius "--who was offering a short and showy education, and spreading it abroad through his disciples. the description of "cornificius" and his school is not necessarily true, but some passages are quoted from it to illustrate a mode of educational argument thoroughly characteristic of the middle ages,--and not unknown to-day. they also give point, by contrast, to the education and views of john salisbury himself. john begins by personal abuse of "cornificius": the shamelessness of his looks, the rapacity of his hands, the frivolousness of his bearing, the foulness of his manners (which the whole neighborhood spews out), the obscenity of his lust, the ugliness of his body, the baseness of his life, his spotted reputation, i would lay bare and thrust into the face of the public, did not my respect for his christian name restrain me. for being mindful of my profession, and of the fraternal communion which we have in the lord, i have believed that indulgence should be given to his person while, nevertheless, indulgence is not given to his sin. having fairly joined battle by several pages of vituperation, john proceeds to describe his opponent's manner of teaching: but i object vigorously to his views, which have destroyed many, because he has a crowd that believes in him, and although the new cornificius is more senseless than the old, yet a mob of foolish ones agrees with him. and there are in particular some of these who, although inert and slothful, are eager to seem rather than to be wise. * * * * * for my part i am not at all surprised if after being employed at a large fee, and beating his drum a long time, he taught his credulous hearer to know nothing. for he, too, was equally untaught by teachers, since, without eloquence, and yet verbose, and lacking the fruit of ideas, he continuously throws to the wind the foliage of words ... he feeds his hearers on fables and trifles, and if what he promises is true, he will make them eloquent without the need of skill, and philosophers by a short cut and without effort.... in that school of philosophizers at that time the question whether the pig which is being led to market is held by the man or by the string, was considered insoluble. also, whether he who bought the whole cloak bought the cowl. decidedly incongruous was the speech in which these words, "congruous" and "incongruous argument" and "reason" did not make a great noise, with multifold negative particles and transitions through "esse" and "non-esse." ... a wordy clamor was enough to secure the victory, and he who introduced anything from any source reached the goal of his proposition.... therefore they suddenly became expert philosophers, for he who had come there illiterate delayed in the schools scarcely longer than the time within which young birds get their feathers. so the fresh teachers from the schools and the young birds from the nests flew off together, having lingered an equal length of time.... they talked only of congruity or reason, and argument resounded from the lips of all, and to give its common name to an ass, or a man, or any of nature's works, was like a crime, or was much too inelegant or crude, and abhorrent to a philosopher.... hence this seething pot of speech in which the stupid old man exults, insulting those who revere the originators of the arts because when he pretends to devote his energies to them he finds nothing useful in them.[ ] john's own training was in marked contrast to all this. instead of remaining in the schools "scarcely longer than the time within which young birds get their feathers," he spent, as above noted, twelve years in study. instead of devoting himself to logic and disputation alone, he received an extensive training in the classics and in theology. his first teacher at paris was abelard. when i was a very young man, i went to study in france, the year after the death of that lion in the cause of justice, henry [the first], king of england. there i sought out that famous teacher and peripatetic philosopher of pallet [abelard], who at that time presided at mont st. genevieve, and was the subject of admiration to all men. at his feet i received the first rudiments of the dialectic art [logic], and shewed the utmost avidity to pick up and store away in my mind all that fell from his lips. when, however, much to my regret, abelard left us, i attended master alberic, a most obstinate dialectician, and unflinching assailant of the nominal sect. two years i stayed at mont st. genevieve, under the tuition of alberic and master robert de melun. then follows a characterization of these teachers. the statement that one of them went to bologna for the further study of logic indicates that that place was eminent for its teaching of dialectics as well as for the study of law. one of these teachers was scrupulous even to minutiae, and everywhere found some subject to raise a question; for the smoothest surface presented inequalities to him, and there was no rod so smooth that he could not find a knot in it, and shew how it might be got rid of. the other of the two was prompt in reply, and never for the sake of subterfuge avoided a question that was proposed; but he would choose the contradictory side, or by multiplicity of words would show that a simple answer could not be given. in all questions, therefore, he was subtle and profuse, whilst the other in his answer was perspicuous, brief, and to the point if two such characters could ever have been united in the same person, he would be the best hand at disputation that our times have produced. both of them possessed acute wit, and an indomitable perseverance, and i believe they would have turned out great and distinguished men in physical studies, if they had supported themselves on the great base of literature, and more closely followed the tracks of the ancients, instead of taking such pride in their own discoveries. all this is said with reference to the time during which i attended on them. for one of them afterwards went to bologna, and there unlearnt what he had taught: on his return also, he untaught it: whether the change was for the better or the worse, i leave to the judgment of those who heard him before and after. the other of the two was also a proficient in the more exalted philosophy of divinity, wherein he obtained a distinguished name. with these teachers i remained two years, and got so versed in commonplaces, rules, and elements in general, which boys study, and in which my teachers were most weighty, that i seemed to myself to know them as well as i knew my own nails and fingers. there was one thing which i had certainly attained to, namely, to estimate my own knowledge much higher than it deserved. i thought myself a young scholar, because i was ready in what i had been taught. evidence external to this narrative shows that he now went to the school at chartres,--some sixty miles southwest of paris,--which was one of three great french schools of the period (see p. ). during the first half of the twelfth century it became famous under the teaching of the brothers theodoric and bernard sylvester, who are both mentioned in the following passages. the school was distinguished in particular for its devotion to grammar, rhetoric, and classical latin literature; in this respect it was in marked contrast to paris, where logic and theology were the prevailing studies. i then, beginning to reflect and to measure my strength, attended on the grammarian william de conches during the space of three years; and read much at intervals: nor shall i ever regret the way in which my time was then spent. after this i became a follower of richard l'eveque, a man who was master of every kind of learning, and whose breast contained much more than his tongue dared give utterance to; for he had learning rather than eloquence, truthfulness rather than vanity, virtue rather than ostentation. with him i reviewed all that i had learned from the others, besides certain things, which i now learnt for the first time, relating to the quadrivium, in which i had already acquired some information from the german hardewin. i also again studied rhetoric, which i had before learnt very superficially with some other studies from master theodoric, but without understanding what i read. afterwards i learnt it more fully from peter hely.[ ] in another chapter, which is here inserted in the narrative, john describes in detail the teaching at chartres. this is one of the most complete accounts which we have of the manner and the matter of the teaching in a twelfth-century school. he begins by a general discussion of the importance of grammar, which is the "foundation and root" of reading, teaching, and reflection. throughout this discussion he refers constantly to quintilian's "institutes of oratory." the study of rhetoric and of other arts prepares one for the proper understanding of literature: "the greater the number of arts with which one is imbued, and the more fully he is imbued with them, so much the more completely will he appreciate the elegance of the authors, and the more clearly will he teach them." as to the study of literature, care should be used in selecting the best authors. bernard, he reports, "always said that unnecessary reading should be avoided, and that the writings of illustrious authors were sufficient; since to study whatever all that the most contemptible men have ever said results in too great torture or in idle boasting, and hinders and even overwhelms the intelligence, which is better left empty for other writings." the reading chosen was classical latin literature; "in this reverent dependence upon the ancients, lies the main peculiarity of the school of chartres," which under bernard and his brother "enjoyed a peculiar distinction, continually growing until it became almost an unapproached pre-eminence among the schools of gaul."[ ] this reading is in turn a preparation for philosophy. "he who aspires to philosophy should understand reading, teaching and reflection, together with practice in good works." "search virgil and lucan, and there, no matter of what philosophy you are professor, you will find it in the making." all this is in marked contrast to the method of "cornificius," who proposed to train philosophers "suddenly." john continues: bernard of chartres, the most copious source of letters in gaul in modern times, followed this method, and in the reading of authors showed what was simple, and fell under the ordinary rules; the figures of grammar, the adornments of rhetoric, the quibbles of sophistries; and where the subject of his own lesson suggested reading related to other arts, these matters he brought into full view, yet in such wise that he did not teach everything about each topic but, in proportion to the capacity of his audience, dispensed to them in due time the full scope of the subject. and because the brilliancy of any speech depends either on _propriety_ (that is, the correct agreement of adjective or verb with the substantive) or on _metathesis_ (that is, the transfer of the meaning of an expression for a worthy reason to another signification), these were the things which he took every opportunity to inculcate in the minds of his hearers. and since the memory is strengthened by exercise and the wits are sharpened by imitating what is heard, he urged some by warnings, and some by floggings and punishments [to the constant practice of memorizing and imitation]. they were individually required on the following day to reproduce some part of what they had heard the day before, some more, some less, for with them the following day was the pupil of the day preceding. evening drill, which was called _declension_, was packed with so much grammar that if one gave a whole year to it he would have at his command, if he were not unusually dull, a method of speaking and writing, and he could not be ignorant of expressions which are in common use.... for those of the boys for whom preliminary exercises in imitating prose or poetry were prescribed, he announced the poets or orators and bade them imitate their example, pointing out the way they joined their words and the elegance of their perorations. but if any one to make his own work brilliant had borrowed the cloak of another he detected the theft and convicted him, though he did not very often inflict a punishment; but he directed the culprit thus convicted, if the poorness of his work had so merited, to condescend with modest favor to express the exact meaning of the author; and he made the one who imitated his predecessors worthy of imitation by his successors. the following matters, too, he taught among the first rudiments and fixed them in their minds:--the value of order; what is praiseworthy in embellishment and in [choice of] words; where there is tenuity and, as it were, emaciation of speech; where, a pleasing abundance; where, excess; and where, a due limit in all things.... and since in the entire preliminary training of those who are to be taught there is nothing more useful than to grow accustomed to that which must needs be done with skill, they repeatedly wrote prose and poetry every day, and trained themselves by mutual comparisons,--a training than which nothing is more effective for eloquence, nothing more expeditious for learning; and it confers the greatest benefit upon life, at least, if affection [rather than envy] rules these comparisons, if humility is not lost in literary proficiency.[ ] john's stay at chartres ( - ) made him a permanent advocate of liberal education; but to no avail; the influence of paris and the rising tide of aristotelianism gained the day. as a champion of the newly-recovered works of aristotle (see p. ) he was more in accord with the tendencies of his time. the concluding section of the account narrates john's return to paris, his further studies there ( - ), and his visit to his old school on the "mount": from hence i was withdrawn by the poverty of my condition, the request of my companions, and the advice of my friends, that i should undertake the office of a tutor. i obeyed their wishes; and on my return [to paris] after three years, finding master gilbert [de la porrée] i studied logic and divinity with him: but he was very speedly removed from us, and in his place we had robert de poule, a man amiable alike for his rectitude and his attainments. then came simon de poissy, who was a faithful reader, but an obtuse disputator. these two were my teachers in theology only. twelve years having passed away, whilst i was engaged in these various occupations, i determined to revisit my old companions, whom i found still engaged with logic at mont st. genevieve, and to confer with them touching old matters of debate; that we might by mutual comparison measure together our several progress. i found them as before, and where they were before; nor did they appear to have reached the goal in unravelling the old questions, nor had they added one jot of a proposition. the aims that once inspired them, inspired them still: they had progressed in one point only: they had unlearned moderation, they knew not modesty; in such wise that one might despair of their recovery. and thus experience taught me a manifest conclusion, that, whereas dialectic furthers other studies, so if it remain by itself it lies bloodless and barren, nor does it quicken the soul to yield fruit of philosophy, except the same conceive from elsewhere.[ ] this was doubtless one of the experiences which led john to vigorous argument on the futility of devotion to logic alone, and on the importance of a liberal education: that eloquence is of no effect without wisdom is a saying that is frequent and true. whence it is evident that to be of effect it operates within the limits of wisdom. therefore eloquence is effective in proportion to the measure of wisdom which each one has acquired; for the former does harm if it is dissociated from the latter. from this it follows that dialectic, which is the quickest and most prompt among the hand-maids of eloquence, is of use to each one in proportion to the measure of his knowledge. for it is of most use to him who knows the most and of least use to him who knows little. for as the sword of hercules in the hand of a pygmy or dwarf is ineffective, while the same sword in the hand of achilles or hector strikes down everything like a thunderbolt, so dialectic, if it is deprived of the vigor of the other disciplines is to a certain degree crippled and almost useless. if it is vigorous through the might of the others, it is powerful in destroying all falsehood and, to ascribe the minimum to it, it is adequate for the proper discussion of all things ... now it is very easy for each workman to talk about his own art; but to do skilfully what the art requires, is most difficult. for what physician is there who does not talk often and much about elements, and humors, and complexions, and diseases, and the rest that pertain to physic? but he who gets well on such talk could well have afforded to be even sicker. what ethical teacher has not an abundance of rules for good living so long as they exist only on his lips? but it is clearly a much harder task to express them in actual life. mechanics, individually, talk glibly about their own arts, but not one of them so lightly vies (in practice) with the architect or the boxer. it is the same in every other line. so it is very easy to talk about definition, arguments, or genus and the like, but to devise these same things within the limits of a single art for the purpose of performing fully the functions of the art, is far more difficult [i.e. to discuss logic in the abstract is easy, but to reason logically in any specific field of knowledge is difficult]. therefore he who is hampered by a dearth of the disciplines will not have the power which dialectic promises and affords.[ ] the views of john of salisbury concerning the study of aristotle are indicated on pages - . . the new method the new method of study and investigation, developed by abelard, was a second influence of importance in the growth of universities. the method itself--later known as the scholastic method--is illustrated on pages , , ff. the present section therefore merely indicates the ways in which it influenced the course of higher education. (_a_) the new method was one cause of the awakened interest in study and investigation. its effect is thus described by the most learned historian of mediaeval universities: paris and bologna experienced before all other schools, and nearly simultaneously, at the beginning of the twelfth century, an unexpected, almost sudden development. for in these schools alone a definite branch of learning was treated ... by a new method, adapted to contemporary needs, but hitherto unknown, or insufficiently known, to other teachers of the period; and thereby a new era of scientific investigation was inaugurated. this new method had an attractive power for teachers and scholars of various countries ... in this way the cornerstones of permanent abodes of learning were laid. the continually growing number of scholars brought with it the increase of teachers; the desire of both classes for learning was awakened; and this desire, and the combative exchange of ideas in the disputations,--which now first became really established in the schools as a result of the new method,--were effective forces to keep investigation active, and the schools themselves from decline. in paris, it was the cultivation of logic, but chiefly the new method in theology, ... developed in various ways especially by abelard and other teachers, and extended by his contemporaries and their disciples ... which caused the revolution in the schools of that city.[ ] (_b_) the new method of abelard established a new form of exposition, and consequently a new mode of teaching, in canon law and in theology. the earliest university text-book in canon law--the "decretum" of gratian--adopted this method, with some modifications. it was followed in portions of the chief text-book in theology,--the "sentences" of peter lombard. variously modified, it became the method used in all subsequent scholastic philosophy and theology. it was widely used in connection with other university studies. in general, it was to mediaeval education what the method of experiment is to the study and teaching of modern natural science. a good illustration of its recent use is thomas harper's "metaphysic of the school." (_c_) the scholastic method became the basis of one of the most important university exercises,--the disputation or debate, which was employed in every field of study.[ ] . the new studies during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the intellectual life of western europe was enriched by the addition of a group of books, old and new, which were destined to influence profoundly the growth of the universities, as well as the whole course of mediaeval life and thought. without some such addition to the stock of learning higher education could hardly have developed at all, for the materials available for it previous to the twelfth century were decidedly scanty. the books presently to be described furnished a body of advanced and solid instruction, suited to the needs of the times. they formed one of the permanent influences which both developed and maintained centers of higher education, for the new learning was not less potent in attracting students than the fame of individual teachers or the new method of study. the greater number of the books which formed the body of university instruction were recoveries from the mass of ancient and long-disused greek and roman learning, together with a few works of arabic and jewish origin. to this group belong the works of aristotle, the body of roman law, and the medical works of galen, hippocrates, and various arabic and jewish physicians. in the main, these had been hitherto unknown in western europe, or at least practically for-gotten since the days of the roman empire. in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries they were collected and made generally accessible to students. those not originally written in latin were now translated into latin; manuscript copies were multiplied and widely diffused. but the intellectual activity of the times accomplished much more than the recovery of some fragments of ancient learning; it also created two new fields of study,--scholastic philosophy and theology, and canon law,--and produced the text-books which marked them off as distinct and professional studies. the book which established the _method_ of these studies was abelard's "yes and no" (see p. ); but the works which furnished the substance of university instruction were, in theology, the "sentences" (sententiae) of peter lombard, and in canon law, the "decree" (decretum) of gratian, which was also known as the "harmony of contradictory canons" (concordia discordantium canonum), and additions thereto, indicated on page . thus, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the growth of universities was stimulated by the development of a great body of learning hitherto inaccessible or unknown. the striking nature of this development will be clearer if we recall that no addition to the learning of western europe in the least degree comparable to this had been made during the entire seven centuries preceding. the books above mentioned did not constitute the sole resources for higher education. besides the already long-used text-books on the seven liberal arts there were mathematical and philosophical works of arabic origin, and as the revival progressed many new books were written on the old subjects. but the books already named were fundamentally important as furnishing not only the early intellectual impulse to the growth of universities, but also the main body of studies in the faculties of arts, theology, law, and medicine down to the year . many of them were in use at a much later date, and some--with many revisions--are still standard text-books. no one can understand the intellectual life of the universities who does not have some acquaintance with the titles and contents of these works. it may be added that acquaintance with them is essential also to the understanding of european history and literature. this section is therefore devoted to certain details concerning the early history of university studies. (a) _the works of aristotle_ the works of aristotle were composed in athens, - b.c. their history, from the time of aristotle's death to their appearance in latin translations in western europe, fifteen hundred years later, cannot be here detailed. the translations commonly used in the universities were nearly all made during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. the earlier ones were made in spain, from arabic versions of the original greek; the later, directly from greek copies found in constantinople, and elsewhere in the east. the arabic-latin translations were very poor, owing to the two removes from the original greek and the incapacity of the translators. those directly from the greek were somewhat better, yet far from satisfactory; and new versions were repeatedly made down to the end of the fifteenth century. university reforms sometimes included the adoption of these better translations (see p. ). the works known by the year may be classified in four groups: { . categories = {predicamenta. i. logical { {categoriae. treatises { . on interpretation = {de interpretatione. commonly { {peri hermeneias. referred to { . prior analytics = analytica priora. as the organon { . posterior analytics = analytica posteriora. or { . topics = topica. methodology { . sophistical} = sophisticae elenchi. { refutations} ii. moral { . politics. and practical { . ethics. philosophy { . rhetoric. { . poetics. { . a physical discourse (physics). { . on the heavens. { . on generation and destruction. { . meteorologies. { . researches about animals. { . on parts of animals. { . on locomotion of animals. { . on generation of animals. iii. natural { . on the soul. philosophy. { . appendices to the work "on the soul." { (_a_) on sense and sensible things. { (_b_) on memory and recollection. { (_c_) on sleep and waking. { (_d_) on dreams and prophesying in sleep. { (_e_) on longevity and shortlivedness. { (_f_) on youth and old age. { (_g_) on life and death. { (_g_) on respiration. iv. rational { . metaphysics. philosophy. { this encyclopedic collection became accessible in latin translations only by slow degrees. abelard knew only the first two (possibly also the third and fourth) works of the organon. john of salisbury, in the next generation, was familiar with the six treatises of the organon, but apparently not with the others. little seems to have been added to these until the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the ethics, the physics, and the metaphysics were mentioned at paris,--the last two as forbidden works. the great era of translation seems to have been between and , when both arabic-latin and greek-latin versions were made of most of the remaining treatises. the recovery of aristotle thus occupied more than a century and a half. during that period the intellectual life of western europe was stimulated by the influx of hitherto unknown works of that philosopher, and weighty additions were made to the list of available studies. as usual, the world of scholars and the universities were slow to recognize the worth of the new studies. this was due partly to the natural conservatism of teachers, and partly to the fear of ecclesiastical authorities that the study of aristotle would give rise to heresies. thus in the documents of the time we meet, on the one hand, vigorous arguments by progressive scholars in favor of aristotle, and on the other, university regulations prescribing what books shall or shall not be studied. the attitude of abelard toward aristotle has already been cited (see p. ). his pupil, john of salisbury, devotes a considerable portion of the _metalogicus_ to a discussion of the utility of the various portions of the organon and to the defense of aristotle, as is shown by the titles of various chapters of that work. it is important to remember that he is advocating the study of the _newly_ translated books, as well as those already known: that logic, because it seeks the truth, takes the lead in all philosophy. on the usefulness of the categories and their appliances. what conception is, and the usefulness of the periermeniae or more correctly periermenia. [peri hermeneias. on interpretation.] of what the body of art consists; and on the usefulness of the topics. why aristotle deserved more than others the name of philosopher. that aristotle erred in many ways; that he is eminent in logic. john of salisbury clearly recognized the supremacy of aristotle among logicians. after naming apuleius, cicero, porphyry, boethius, augustine, and others, he adds: but while individually they shine forth because of their own merits, they all boast that they worship the very footsteps of aristotle; to such a degree, indeed, that by a sure pre-eminence he has made peculiarly his own the common name of all philosophers. for by antonomy [a figure of speech] he is called the philosopher _par excellence_. it is clear, however, that aristotle had by no means attained, at the middle of the twelfth century, the authoritative position which he held a hundred years later. this appears in the chapter "on those who carp at the works of aristotle": i cannot sufficiently wonder what sort of a mind they have (if, that is, they have any) who carp at the works of aristotle, which, in any case, i proposed not to expound but to praise. master theodoric, as i recall, ridiculed the topics,--not of aristotle, but of drogo. yet he once taught those very topics. certain auditors of master robert of melun calumniated this work as practically useless. all decried the categories. wherefore i hesitated some time about commending them; but [there was no question as to] the rest of his works, since they were commended by the judgment of all; but i did not think that they should be praised grudgingly. yet opposition is made to the elenchi [sophistical refutations], though stupidly, because it contains poetry; but clearly the idiom of [the greek] language does not lend itself readily to translation. in this respect the analytics seem to me preferable, because they are no less efficient for actual use, and because by their easier comprehension they stimulate eloquence.[ ] the slowness with which these works made their way is described by roger bacon at the end of the thirteenth century. but a part of the philosophy of aristotle has come slowly into the use of the latins. for his natural philosophy and metaphysics, and the commentaries of averrhoes and of others, were translated in our times, and were excommunicated at paris before the year of our lord on account of [their heretical views on] the eternity of matter and of time, and on account of the [heresies contained in the] book on interpretation of dreams (which is the third book on sleep and wakefulness), and on account of the many errors in the translation. the logicalia were also slowly received and read, for the blessed edmund, archbishop of canterbury, was the first at oxford, in my time, to lecture on the book of elenchi [sophistical refutations] and i saw master hugo who at first read the book of posterior analytics, and i saw his opinion. so there were few [books] which were considered worth [reading] in the aforesaid philosophy of aristotle, considering the multitudes of latins; nay, exceedingly few and almost none, up to this year of our lord . so, too, the ethics of aristotle has been tardily tried and has lately been read by masters, though only here and there. and the entire remaining philosophy of aristotle in a thousand volumes, in which he treated all the knowledges, has never yet been translated and made known to the latins.[ ] the last sentence of the account displays an ignorance of the number of aristotle's extant writings which was doubtless shared by all of bacon's contemporaries. earlier writers, beginning with andronicus of rhodes (first century b.c.), had also placed the number at one thousand; bacon probably copied the statement from one of these. the attitude of ecclesiastical authorities toward the study of aristotle at paris is expressed in a series of regulations extending over nearly half a century ( - ). they indicate at first a fear of certain of the newly translated books on account of their heretical views, as is stated by roger bacon (p. ). this suspicion gradually disappears; and by all the more important works of aristotle are not only approved, but prescribed for study. in a church council held at paris sentenced certain heretics to be burned, condemned various theological writings, and added: nor shall the books of aristotle on natural philosophy, and the commentaries [of averrhoes on aristotle] be read in paris in public or in secret; and this we enjoin under pain of excommunication.[ ] in the statutes of the papal legate, robert de courçon, for the university, prescribe in detail what shall, and what shall not, be studied: the treatises of aristotle on logic, both the old and the new, are to be read in the schools in the regular and not in the extraordinary courses. on feast-days [holidays] nothing is to be read except ... the ethics, if one so chooses, and the fourth book of the topics. the books of aristotle on metaphysics or natural philosophy, or the abridgments of these works, are not to be read.[ ] in other words, the old and new logic are prescribed studies; the ethics, and topics, bk. iv, are optional; the metaphysics and the natural philosophy are forbidden. sixteen years later ( ) the statutes of pope gregory ix for the university prohibit only the natural philosophy, and even these works only until they are "purged from error": furthermore, we command that the masters of arts ... shall not use in paris those books on natural philosophy which for a definite reason were prohibited in the provincial council [of ], until they have been examined and purged from every suspicion of error.[ ] the final triumph of aristotle in the university is indicated by the statute of the masters of arts in .[ ] it must have had at least the tacit approval of the pope or his delegate. the statute is too long to quote effectively to the point. none of the works are forbidden, and a large number are prescribed. the list of works mentioned includes-- ( ) the six logical treatises of the organon; ( ) ethics, bks. i-iv; ( ) physics, on the heavens and the earth, meteorologics, on generation, on animals, on the soul, on sense and sensible things, on sleep and waking, on memory and recollection, on life and death; ( ) metaphysics. to these are added two other works then believed to be aristotle's,--on plants, and on causes,--and numerous books by other authors (named on p. ) which do not concern the present discussion. a comparison of the list above with the list on page will show that nearly the whole range of aristotle's works is prescribed. comparison with the statute of will show not only a change of view regarding the works then forbidden, but also an immense broadening of the studies of the faculty of arts in the course of forty years. the foregoing details are cited to give an idea of the first stage of the question of aristotle in the universities. the statute of may be taken as closing the long struggle for the recognition of his works. the broad principle of their general acceptance had been established; thenceforward for nearly three centuries they remained the dominant studies of the faculties of arts everywhere. these centuries include the second period of their academic history. their authority is now hardly questioned; and woe to the questioner! they furnish the basis for the great structure of scholastic philosophy; they are reconciled with christian doctrine. aristotle is thenceforward "the philosopher"--he is so styled even in modern scholastic philosophy; he is "the forerunner of christ in things natural," "the master of those who know." in this period, then, academic debate concerned itself with matters of detail. what portions of his works should be studied for the various degrees in arts? in what order should they be studied? what comments should be read? what translations should be used? so late as these are the chief questions considered in the reformed plan of studies in arts at leipzig. the reader will note the stress laid upon the study of the text itself; the exclusion of frivolous comments, and the use of the latest translations by greek scholars. inasmuch as no good thing is more desirable than philosophy, as cicero says, and none more advantageous has been given to the race of mortals, or granted by heaven, or will ever be given as a gift; in order that we may possess this too, we choose as our guide aristotle, whom we cause to be commended for his knowledge of facts, the number of his works, his ability in speaking, and the acumen of his intellectual powers. nor will we interpret the visions and involved questions of his interpreters, since it is characteristic of a very poor intellect to grow wise from commentaries only, in which, neglecting aristotle's meaning, the sophists dispute about empty trifles. but his works, translated in part by archeropylus [argyropulos], in part by augustus nipho and hermolaus barbarus and theodoras gaza, will be made clear in the order outlined below:[ ] [then follows the list of books, for which see p. ]. the third stage of the debate concerning aristotle began shortly after . his works were less exclusively the subject of study: they were being displaced by the latin and greek classics. they were, moreover, the object of repeated attack. in , in the university of paris, which had so long maintained their study, pierre ramus successfully defended the startling thesis, "everything that aristotle taught is false." this was only one sign of their loss of prestige. new and improved text-books in logic absorbed the useful portions of the organon; the authority of the natural philosophy waned with the rise of experimental science; that of the metaphysics yielded to the new philosophy of descartes. by the end of the seventeenth century they ceased to be a potent factor in university studies. (b) _the roman law_ the great compilation of the roman law known as the _corpus juris civilis_ (body of civil law) constitutes a second important addition of the twelfth century to the field of university studies. it was probably more important as an influence upon the growth of universities than the works of aristotle. the greater part of the corpus juris was compiled at constantinople, - a.d., by certain eminent jurists under the roman emperor, justinian. the purpose of the work was to reduce to order and harmony the mass of confused and contradictory statutes and legal opinions, and to furnish a standard body of laws of manageable size in place of the unwieldly mass of incorrect texts commonly in use, so that "the entire ancient law, in a state of confusion for some fourteen hundred years and now by us made clear, may be, so to speak, enclosed within a wall and have nothing left outside it." the jurists entrusted with this work were also required to prepare an introductory book for students, as described below. after the completion of the whole work justinian issued ( - ) many new statutes (novellae) which were never officially collected, but which came to be considered a part of the corpus juris. the main divisions of the body of civil law are-- ( ) the code, in twelve books, which contains statutes of the emperors from the third century a.d. since [says justinian] we find the whole course of our statutes ... to be in a state of such confusion that they reach to an infinite length and surpass the bounds of all human capacity, it was therefore our first desire to make a beginning with the most sacred emperors of old times, to amend their statutes, and to put them in a clear order, so that they might be collected together in one book, and, being divested of all superfluous repetition and most inequitable disagreement, might afford to all mankind the ready resource of their unalloyed character.[ ] ( ) the digest, or pandects, in fifty books, containing extracts from the opinions of roman lawyers on a great variety of legal questions. this work was also undertaken to bring order and harmony out of the prevailing confusion: we have entrusted the entire task to tribonianus, a most distinguished man, master of the offices, ex-quaestor of our sacred palace, and ex-consul, and we have laid on him the whole service of the enterprise described, so that with other illustrious and learned colleagues he might fulfil our desire. [he is] to collect together and to submit to certain modifications the very most important works of old times, thoroughly intermixed and broken up as they may almost be called. but in the midst of our careful researches, it was intimated to us by the said exalted person that there were nearly two thousand books written by the old lawyers, and more than three million lines were left us by them, all of which it was requisite to read and carefully consider and out of them to select whatever might be best. [this was accomplished] so that everything of great importance was collected into fifty books, and all ambiguities were settled, without any refractory passage being left.[ ] in mediaeval university documents the digest is frequently mentioned in three divisions, which probably indicate three separate instalments in which the ms. of the work was brought to bologna in the eleventh and twelfth centuries: the old digest (digestum vetus) bks. i-xxiv, title ii, infortiatum bks. xxiv, title iii-xxxviii, title iii, and new digest (digestum novum) bks. xxxviii, title iv-l. the meaning of the term infortiatum is uncertain. this distinction between the various parts of the digest is purely arbitrary.... the division must have originated in an accidental separation of some archetypal ms.[ ] ( ) the institutes, in four books, an elementary text-book for students. the purpose of the book was to afford a simple, clear, and trustworthy introduction to the study of law, and to economize the student's time: when we had arranged and brought into perfect harmony the hitherto confused mass of imperial constitutions (i.e. the code), we then extended our care to the vast volumes of ancient law; and, sailing as it were across the mid ocean, have now completed, through the favour of heaven, a work that once seemed beyond hope (i.e. the digest). when by the blessing of god this task was accomplished, we summoned the most eminent tribonian, master and ex-quaestor of our palace, together with the illustrious theophilus and dorotheus, professors of law, all of whom have on many occasions proved to us their ability, legal knowledge, and obedience to our orders; and we have specially charged them to compose, under our authority and advice, institutes, so that you may no more learn the first elements of law from old and erroneous sources, but apprehend them by the clear light of imperial wisdom; and that your minds and ears may receive nothing that is useless or misplaced, but only what obtains in actual practice. so that, whereas, formerly, the junior students could scarcely, after three years' study, read the imperial constitutions, you may now commence your studies by reading them, you who have been thought worthy of an honour and a happiness so great that the first and last lessons in the knowledge of the law should issue for you from the mouth of the emperor. when, therefore, by the assistance of the same eminent person tribonian and that of other illustrious and learned men, we had compiled the fifty books, called digests or pandects, in which is collected the whole ancient law, we directed that these institutes should be divided into four books, which might serve as the first elements of the whole science of law. in these books a brief exposition is given of the ancient laws, and of those also, which, overshadowed by disuse, have been again brought to light by our imperial authority. these four books of institutes thus compiled, from all the institutes left us by the ancients, and chiefly from the commentaries of our gaius, both in his institutes and in his work on daily affairs, and also from many other commentaries, were presented to us by the three learned men we have above named. we have read and examined them and have accorded to them all the force of our constitutions. receive, therefore, with eagerness, and study with cheerful diligence, these our laws, and show yourselves persons of such learning that you may conceive the flattering hope of yourselves being able, when your course of legal study is completed, to govern our empire in the different portions that may be entrusted to your care. given at constantinople on the eleventh day of the calends of december, in the third consulate of the emperor justinian, ever august ( )[ ] ( ) the novellae (novels), or new statutes issued by justinian between the final edition of the code and his death ( - ). these are really a continuation of the code, but they were never officially collected. the code and the institutes were known and studied in italy throughout the dark ages, but the digest, much the largest and most important part of the corpus juris, was almost wholly neglected, if not unknown, until the time of irnerius of bologna (_c._ - ). he and his co-laborers collected and arranged the scattered parts of the entire body of civil law, and in particular introduced the digest to western europe. "without the digest the study of roman law was in a worse position than the study of aristotle when he was known only from the organon." in a most important sense, therefore, the recovery of the corpus juris was a contribution of the twelfth century to the group of available higher studies. hitherto law had been taught usually as a mere branch of rhetoric, and as a part of a liberal education. the body of material now made available was sufficient to occupy the student's entire time for several years. it therefore attained standing as an independent subject, and as a distinctly professional study. the effect of this newly recovered body of learning upon the rise of universities was very much like that of abelard and his new method. students flocked in thousands to study law at bologna, and toward the close of the twelfth century the university was organized. numerous other universities arose directly from the same impulse, and "law was the leading faculty in by far the greater number of mediaeval universities" (rashdall). except for canon law, the corpus juris civilis remained the chief study of the faculties of law for more than five centuries. roman law is still very generally taught in european universities. thus the impulse given by irnerius and his co-laborers is influential in university affairs of to-day. the influence of roman law upon the social and political history of europe is far-reaching. the subject is beyond the limits of the present work; but it is to be noted that this influence was exerted as a result of its study in the universities (see rashdall, vol. ii, pt. ii, pp. - ). rashdall and denifle think that the example of justinian inspired the first mediaeval grant of special privileges to scholars (see p. ). if this is true, the roman law had a most important effect upon the history of universities themselves. two important mediaeval privileges for masters and scholars were exemption from taxation and the right of trial before special courts. whether or not these were copied from the roman law is a question; but the code of justinian, following the statutes of earlier emperors, explicitly grants both of these privileges to teachers. these are so often mentioned that it is worth while to present those bearing on the subject: the emperors leo and zeno, augusti, to eusebius, master of offices. by this law we decree that those who serve in the individual schools, and who, after completing the curricula of their duties, shall have reached the rank of chiefs and through the adored purple of our divinity have won the dignity of most illustrious counts, shall enjoy both the girdle and all the privileges open to them, and hereafter to their life's end shall be subject to the court of your highness only, nor shall they be compelled by the command of any one else whomsoever to undergo civil litigation. yet in criminal suits and in matters connected with public tribute we wish the appropriate jurisdiction of the rulers of the provinces to be recognized against even such men, lest, under the pretext of a granted privilege, either the influence of the wicked be increased or the public good be diminished.[ ] the emperor constantine, augustus, to the people. we direct that physicians, and chiefly imperial physicians, and ex-imperial physicians, grammarians and other professors of letters, together with their wives and sons, and whatever property they possess in their own cities, be immune from all payment of taxes and from all civil or public duties, and that in the provinces they shall not have strangers quartered on them, or perform any official duties, or be brought into court, or be subject to legal process, or suffer injustice; and if any one harass them he shall be punished at the discretion of the judge. we also command that their salaries and fees be paid, so that they may more readily instruct many in liberal studies and the above mentioned arts. proclaimed on the fifth day before the kalends of october (sept. ) at constantinople, in the consulship of dalmatius and zenophilas.[ ] (c) _canon law_ about (the year of abelard's death) gratian, a monk of bologna, doubtless influenced by the school of roman law in that city, made a compilation of the canon law, which included the canons or rules governing the church in its manifold activities,--"its relations with the secular power, its own internal administration, or the conduct of its members." hitherto canon law had been regarded as merely a subdivision of theology, just as roman law had been considered a branch of rhetoric. it now became an independent subject,--further addition to the body of higher studies. as an influence upon the development of universities it was not less important than the _corpus juris civilis_. the compilation made by gratian was added to in later generations, and the whole body of church law was known in the fifteenth century as the _corpus juris canonici_ (body of canon law). its main divisions are: . the decree of gratian _(decretum gratiani)_ in three parts, published c. . part i contains one hundred and one distinctions (_distinctiones_) or divisions, which treat of matters relating to ecclesiastical persons and offices. dist. xxxvii is translated below. part ii contains thirty-six cases (_causae_) each of which is divided into questions (_quaestiones_). these questions deal with problems which may arise in the administration of the canon law. part iii contains five distinctions which deal with the ritual and the sacraments of the church. under each distinction, or question, are arranged the canons--the views of ecclesiastical authorities--on the matter under discussion. . the decretals (_decretales_), in five books, published by pope gregory ix in . . the sixth book (_liber sextus_), a supplement to the decretals by pope boniface viii, . . the constitutions of clementine (_constitutiones clementinae_), . . several collections of papal laws not included in those above, known by the general title of _extravagantes_, i.e., laws _extra vagantes_, or outside of, the four compilations just mentioned. among all these the _decretum_ of gratian was the great innovation which first marked out canon law as a distinct field of learning, separate from both theology and roman law. it was written as a text-book; "it was one of those great text-books which take the world by storm." it created an entirely new class of students, separate from those devoted to arts, theology, roman law, and medicine,--just as the development of engineering and other new professional studies have created new groups of university students to-day,--and thereby increased the resort to the universities. the selection following illustrates numerous characteristics of mediaeval university study. ( ) the question itself is a very ancient subject of debate; the controversy, on religious grounds, concerning the study of the classics, had already continued for nearly a thousand years, and was destined to continue for centuries after the appearance of the _decretum_. many such questions were debated in the universities for generations. the debate on the classics still rages, though the arguments pro and con no longer raise the point of their influence on religious belief. ( ) the selection is one among many examples of the powerful influence of abelard's method in mediaeval writing and teaching. the reader will at once see in it the form of the "yes and no." ( ) it gives a very good idea of the substance of a university lecture, which would ordinarily consist in reading the actual text and comments here set down (see p. ). ( ) it shows how the mass of comments came to overshadow the original text, and by consequence to absorb the greater part of the attention of teachers and students. one object of university reform in all studies at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century was to sweep away this burdensome and often useless material, and to return to the study of the text itself (see p. ). ( ) it illustrates a common mode of interpreting in a figurative sense passages from the bible which to the modern reader seem to have no figurative meaning. thus (pp. , ) the plagues of frogs and flies which moses brought upon egypt typify "the empty garrulousness of dialecticians, and their sophistical arguments "; the gifts of the three magi to the infant jesus signify "the three parts of philosophy," etc. mediaeval literature contains a great mass of such interpretations. the text and the "gloss," or commentary, are here placed on opposing pages for the sake of clearness. the text is a compilation, chiefly from earlier compilations; gratian did not as a rule consult the sources themselves. his pupil, paucapalea, made many additions to the text, one of which appears in this selection. the gloss here translated is the standard commentary (_glossa ordinaria_) which was used for centuries in the regular university lectures (see p. ). like the text, it is a compilation from many sources. it was first made (c. ) by john the german (joannes teutonicus), who added his own notes--usually signed "john"--to his selections from earlier glossators. the names or titles, often abbreviated, of commentators whom he quotes are frequently appended to their notes, e.g. john of fa[ënza], hugo [of pisa], c[ardinalis], lau[rentius hispanus]; many notes are unsigned. about the compilation of john the german was revised and enlarged by bartholomew of brescia, who also added comments from other writers, e.g. arc [hidiaconus]. this revision forms the greater part, if not the whole, of the gloss which appears below. the cross-references, in the comments below, are left untranslated. they are mainly citations of other passages in the _decretum_ itself. such references as xvi. quaest iii. nemo are to be read, case xvi, question iii, in the section beginning _nemo_; xlviii dist. sit rector means distinction xlviii, in the section beginning _sit rector_. several of the references in this selection are incorrect. the gloss on this page belongs to the first line of text on page . it forms, with the summaries on later pages, a complete analysis of the text. it indicates, first, the five subdivisions of the _distinctio_; second, its general purport. later summaries analyze small portions of the text. (cf. the description of the lecture by odofredus, p. .) this division is divided into five sections; the second begins: "then why ..." (p. ); the third begins: "the report has come to as" (p. ); the fourth begins: "christians are forbidden" (p. ); the fifth begins: "as therefore is evident" (p. ). john of fa.[a] summary. here follows the thirty-seventh division in which the question is asked whether it is fitting that the clergy be made acquainted with profane literature, that is, the books of the heathen. and first he proves that they should not be read (as far as "but on the other hand," p. ). then he proves the opposite and afterwards gives the solution (to "then why," p. ). the first two chapters are plain. [shall priests be acquainted with profane literature, or no?] =but the question (_h_) is asked whether these men should be made acquainted with profane literature.= here is what is written upon the matter in the fourth carthaginian council: =a bishop should not read the books of the (_i_) heathen.= a bishop should not read the books of the heathen: those of heretics he may read carefully, either of necessity (_k_) or for some special reason. so jerome to pope damasus on the prodigal son: =priests are blameworthy who, to the neglect of the gospels, read comedies.= we see priests of god, to the neglect of the gospels and the prophets, reading comedies, singing the amatory words of bucolic verses, keeping vergil in their hands, and making that which occurs with boys as a necessity (_k_) ground for accusation against themselves because they do it for pleasure. idem: =they walk in the vanity and darkness of the senses who occupy themselves with profane learning.[b]= does he not seem to you to be walking in the vanity of the senses, and in darkness of mind, who day and night torments himself with the dialectic art; who, as an investigator of nature, raises his eyes athwart the heavens and, beyond the depths of lands and the abyss, is plunged into the so-called void; who grows warm over iambics, who, in his over zealous mind, analyses and combines the great jungle of metres; and, (to pass to another phase of the matter), who seeks riches by fair means and foul means, who fawns upon kings, grasps at the inheritances of others, and amasses wealth though he knows not at the time to whom he is going to leave it? (_h_) in this thirty-seventh division gratian asks[c] whether one who is to be ordained ought to be acquainted with profane literature. first, however, he shows that the clergy ought not to give attention to the books of the heathen.[d] then he gives the argument on the other side and offers this solution, that some read the books of the heathen for amusement and pleasure, and this is forbidden, while some read for instruction, and this is lawful, in order that, through these books they may know how to speak correctly and to distinguish the true from the false. john, as far as "then why" (p. ). and notice that in all the chapters up to "but on the other hand" (p. ) pleasure alone seems to be forbidden. (_i_) therefore they ought not to hear the laws, for it is a disgrace to them if they wish to be versed in forensic training. c. de testa consulta divalia. but, on the other hand, the laws are divinely promulgated through the mouths of princes as xvi. quaest. iii, nemo.[e] some say that it is lawful to hear the laws in order that through them the canons may be better understood. he argues in favor of this division in the section beginning "some read profane literature" (p. ). john. (_k_) in order that they may know how to speak correctly. likewise [jerome] on isaiah: he who misunderstands the sacred scriptures, or makes a wrong use of profane wisdom, is drunken with wine[f] and with strong drink. they are drunken with wine who (_l_) misunderstand the sacred scriptures and pervert them, and through strong drink they make a wrong use of profane wisdom and the wiles of the dialecticians, which are to be called, not so much wiles as figures, that is, symbols, so-called, and images, which quickly pass away and are destroyed. likewise, in accordance with tropology (_m_), we ought to regard as false prophets those who interpret the words of the scriptures otherwise than as the holy spirit utters them, and as divine those who from the inferences of their own minds and apart from the authority of divine words, proclaim as true the uncertain events of the future. likewise, those who do not understand the scriptures according to the actual truth eat sour grapes. likewise [jerome] in the epistle to the ephesians: bishops are blamed who train their own sons in profane literature.[g] let those bishops and priests read [this] who train their own sons in profane literature, and have them read those well-known comedies and sing the base writings of the actors of farces, having educated them perhaps on the money of the church.(_a_) and that which a virgin, or a widow, or any poor person whatever had offered, pouring out her whole substance as an offering for sin, this [is devoted] to a gift (_b_) of the calendar, and a saturnalian offering, (_c_) and, on the part of the grammarian and orator, to a thank-offering to minerva, or else it is turned over for domestic expenses, or as a temple donation, or for base gain. eli, the priest, was himself holy, but because ... (_l_) the ears of those who misunderstand the words of the master should be cut off: as xxiv. quaest. i. si petrus.[h] (_m_) that is, in accordance with the moral[i] meaning, from trope, i.e. a turning[j] or application, when we apply our words to the shaping of character. xliii. distinct. sit rector. additio. they did the opposite and he writes of penitence, distinct. i. super tribus. archi. (_a_) he argues contrariwise in dist. xxxi. omnino. (_b_) strena,--the first gift which is given at the beginning of the calendar[k]. it is given for a good omen. xxv. quaest. ulti. non observetis. it is called strena as if from sine threna, i.e. without lamentation. (_c_) sportula (a gift) which is given for fables of saturn, or for celebrating the festival of saturn, or for games of saturn,--for good luck. ...he trained not his sons (_d_) in every form of improving discipline, he fell prostrate and died. (also from the replies of pope urban to charles, chapt. ). palea [paucapalea, a pupil of gratian]: heretics, when disputing,[l] place the whole strength of their wits upon the dialectic art, which, in the judgment of philosophers, is defined as having the power not of aiding but of destroying study. but the dialectic art was not pleasing[m] to god the father, son, and holy spirit, for the kingdom of god is in the simplicity of faith, not in contentious speech. also rabanus on the afflictions of the church: the blessed jerome is beaten by an angel because he was reading the works of cicero. we read about the blessed jerome that when he was reading the works (_e_) of cicero he was chidden by an angel because, being a christian man, he was devoting himself to the productions of the pagans. [the discussion which follows, to "hence bede," etc., p. , is attributed, in modern editions, to gratian.] hence, too, the prodigal son in the gospel is blamed because he would fain have filled his belly with the husks (_f_) which the swine did eat. hence, too, origen understands by the flies and frogs with which the egyptians were smitten, the empty garrulousness of the dialecticians and their sophistical arguments. from all which instances it is gathered that knowledge of profane literature is not to be sought after by churchmen. but, on the other hand[n] one reads that moses and daniel were learned in all the wisdom of the egyptians and chaldeans. one reads also that god ordered the sons of israel to spoil (_g_) the egyptians of their gold and silver; the moral interpretation of this teaches that should we find in the poets either the gold of wisdom or the silver of eloquence, we should turn it to the profit of useful learning. in leviticus also we are ordered to ... (_d_) such a one is rejected by the evidence, as vi. quaest. i. qui crimen. also, he cannot be a bishop. as xlviii. dist. § necesse. nay he is called a dog rather than a bishop. as ii. quaest. vii. qui nee. john. (_e_) because he read them for pleasure not for instruction, as de conse. dist. v. non mediocriter. (_f_) that is, with profane wisdom which fills but does not satisfy,[o] (_g_) xiiii. quaest v. dixit.[p] ...offer up to god the first fruits of honey, that is, the sweetness of human eloquence. the magi, too, offered three gifts, by which some would have us understand the three parts _(h)_ of philosophy. [the reader will note that the two paragraphs following belong more properly to the first part of the argument; they may be inserted just before the third paragraph above,--"from all which instances," etc.] finally in his exposition of the psalms, cassiodorus bears witness that all the splendor of rhetorical eloquence, all the melody of poetic speech, whatever variety there may be of pleasing pronunciation, have their origin in divine scriptures. hence also ambrose says concerning the epistle to the colossians: the sum total of celestial knowledge or of earthly creation is in him who is their fountain-head and author, so that he who knows him should not seek anything beyond, because he is goodness and wisdom in their completeness; whatever is sought elsewhere, in him is found in its completeness. in daniel and solomon he shows that he is for infidels the source of all their eloquence and wisdom. infidels do not so think, because they do not, in the gospels and the prophets, read about astrology and other such like things, which are of slight _(i)_ worth because they avail not for salvation, but lead to error; and whoever devotes himself to these has no care for his soul; while he who knows christ finds a treasure house of wisdom and knowledge, because he knows that which is of avail. hence bede says in the book of kings: =the clergy should not be prevented from reading profane literature.[q]= he harms the mental acumen of readers, and causes it to wane, who thinks that they should in every way be prevented from reading profane books; for whatever useful things _(k)_ are found in them it is lawful to adopt as one's own. otherwise moses and daniel would not have been allowed to become learned in the wisdom and literature of the egyptians and ... (_h_) i.e. ethics, natural philosophy, rational philosophy. (_i_) compared with other knowledge. john. (_k_) he argues that the useful is not vitiated by the useless as xvii. q. iv. questi s. dist. ix. si ad scripturas. contra joan. ...chaldeans, whose superstitions and wantonness nevertheless they shuddered at. and the teacher _(l)_ of the gentiles himself would not have introduced _(m)_ some verses of the poets into his own writings or sayings. [on this gratian comments:] then why[r] are those [writings] forbidden to be read which, it ... (_l_) for we read that when paul had come to athens he saw an altar of the unknown god on which it was written: "this is an altar of[s] the unknown god in whom we live and move and have our being." and with this inscription the apostle began his exhortation and made known to those athenians the meaning of this inscription,--continuing about our god and saying: "whom you pronounce unknown, him declare i unto you and worship." then dionysius,[t] the areopagite, seeing a blind man passing by said to him (i.e. paul), "if you will give sight to that blind man i will believe you." immediately, when the name of christ had been invoked, he was restored to sight and dionysius believed. (_m_) e.g. in the epistle of paul to titus,[u] the quotation from epimenides the poet: "the cretians are always liars, evil beasts, slow bellies." i. quaest, i. dominus declaravit. also he introduced in the first epistle to the corinthians this from menander: "evil communications often corrupt good manners." xxviii. quaestio i. saepe. he used also this verse: "i shall hate if i can: if not, i shall love against my will." but jerome in his fifth division on consecration often used verses from virgil and augustine, this of lucan's: "mens hausti nulla" &c. xxvi. quaestio v. nee mirum. and, as a lawyer, he uses the authority of vergil, ff. de rerum divisione, intantrum § cenotaphium; and also, of homer, insti. de dontrahen. emp. § pretium. ...is shown so reasonably, should be read? some (_n_) read profane literature for their pleasure, being delighted with the productions of the poets and the charm of their words; while others learn them to add to their knowledge, in order that through reading the errors, of the heathen they may denounce them, and that they may turn to the service of sacred and devout learning the useful things they find therein. such are praiseworthy in adding to their learning profane literature. whence blessed gregory did not blame a certain bishop for learning it but because, contrary to his episcopal obligation, he read grammar to the people in place of the gospel lesson. hence also ambrose writes concerning luke: =profane writings should be read that they may not be unknown.= some we read (_o_) that we may not neglect (_a_) them; we read that we may not be ignorant of them; we read not that we may embrace them but that we may reject them.(_b_) so jerome on the epistle to titus: =grammar should be read in order that through it the sacred scriptures may be understood.= if anyone[v] has learned grammar or dialectics in order to have the ability to speak correctly and to discriminate between the true and the false, we do not blame them. geometry (_c_) and arithmetic and music contain truth in their own range of knowledge, but that knowledge is not the knowledge of piety. the knowledge of piety is,--to know the law, to understand the prophets, to believe the gospel, (and) not to be ignorant of the apostles. moreover the teaching of the grammarians can contribute to life, provided it has been applied to its higher uses. idem: =from the example of daniel it is established that it is not a sin to be learned in profane literature.=[w] (_n_) whence saint gregory in his lxxxvi division, and in many places. (_o_) this entire section should be read with regard to profane knowledge according to jerome, and the threefold reason why it should be acquired is shown: namely that it be not neglected, that it be not unknown, that it may be refuted[x]. so we read some, as the old and new testament, that we may not neglect them. some we read (as the arts) that we may not be ignorant of them. some, as the writings of the heretics, that we may refute them. some (we read) that they be not neglected, as the old testament. (_a_) for although of no use yet knowledge of them is necessary, as in dist. vii. cap. ult. (_b_) as the books of heretics. as xxiv. quaestio iii. cap. ult. (_c_) geometry. he does not mention astronomy because this subject has fallen into disuse as xxvj. quaest. ii. § his ita. those who are unwilling to partake of the table (_d_) [i.e. meat] and wine of the king, that they may not be defiled, surely would never consent to learn that which was unlawful if they knew that (_e_) the wisdom and learning of the babylonians was sinful. they learn, however, not that they may conform thereto, but that they may judge and convict. for example, if any one ignorant of mathematics should wish to write against the mathematicians, he would expose himself to ridicule; also in contending against the philosophers, if he should be ignorant of the dogmas of the philosophers. with this intent therefore they would learn the wisdom of the chaldeans just as moses had learned all the wisdom of the egyptians. so too: if ever we are compelled to call to mind profane literature, and from it to learn things we before had omitted, it is not a matter of our personal desire, but, so to speak, of the weightiest necessity,--in order that we may prove that those events which were foretold (_f_) many ages ago by the holy prophets are contained (_g_) in the writings of the greeks, as well as in those of the latins and other gentiles. so, too, from the synod of pope eugene: =bishops should appoint teachers and instructors in suitable places.=[y] the report has come to us with regard to certain regions that neither teachers, nor care for the pursuit of letters, is found. therefore, in every way, care and diligence should be used by all the bishops among the peoples subject to them, and in other places where the necessity may arise, that teachers and instructors be appointed to teach assiduously the pursuit of letters and the principles of the liberal arts, because in them especially are the divine commands revealed and declared. likewise augustine in his book against the manichaeans: =the vanity of the gentiles is repressed and refuted by the use of their own authorities.= if the sibyl or orpheus or other soothsayers of the gentiles, (_d_) daniel, ananias, misael[z], azarias.[aa] for it is disgraceful for one who is in a discussion not to know the law in question. (_e_) from the fact that jerome here quotes the example of daniel, the argument is derived that in doubtful cases recourse should be had to the example of our forefathers and others. xvi. quaest. i. sunt nonnulli. xxii. quaest. i. ut noveritis. i quaest. vii. convenientibus. xii. quaest. ii questa. xvi. quaest. iii. praesulum. xvi. quaest. i. cap. ult. xxvi. quaest. ii. non statutum. et cap. non examplo. c. de sen. et interlo. nemo[ab] contra. the solution is that where rules fail recourse must be had from similars to similars, otherwise not. xx. distinct. de quibus;[ac] assuming that it is as there stated. likewise the argument holds that good is assumed from the very fact that it has come from something good. as vii. quaest. i. omnis qui. & xxxiiii. quaest. i. cum beatissimus. ix. quaest. ii. lugdunensis. xii. quaest. i. expedit. xxviii. quaest. i. sic enim. xxxi distinct, omnino. john. (_f_) for example, as to the incarnation, that passage in virgil[ad]: "jam nova progenies caelo demittitur ab alto." (_g_) as that passage from ovid[ae], "odero si potero: si non, invitus amabo." [the notes on the remaining paragraphs of the text are here omitted owing to their length.] ...or philosophers, are said to have foretold any truth, it certainly has weight in overcoming the vanity of the pagans; not, however, in leading to the acceptance of their authority. for as great as is the difference between the prediction of the coming of christ by the angels and the confession of the devils, so great a difference is there between the authority of the prophets and the curiosity of the sacrilegious. likewise pope clement: =for the understanding of sacred scriptures knowledge of profane writings is shown to be necessary.= it has been reported to us that certain ones dwelling in your parts are opposed to the sacred teaching, and seem to teach just as it seems best to them, not according to the tradition of the fathers, but after their own understanding; for, as we have heard, certain ingenious men of your parts draw many analogies of the truth from the books they read. and there special care must be taken that when the law of god is read, it be not read or taught according to the individual's own mental ability and intelligence. for there are many words in divine scripture which can be drawn into that meaning which each one, of his own will, may assume for himself; but this should not be so, for you ought not to seek out a meaning that is external, foreign, and strange, in order, by any means whatsoever, to establish your view from the authority of scriptures; but you should derive from the scriptures themselves the meaning of the truth. and therefore it is fitting to gain knowledge of the scriptures from him who guards it according to the truth handed down to him by the fathers, and that he may be able correctly to impart that which he rightly learned. for when each one has learned from divine scriptures a sound and firm rule of truth, it will not be strange if from the common culture and liberal studies, which perhaps he touched upon in his youth, he should also bring something to the support of true doctrine,--in such manner, however, that when he learns the truth, he rejects the false and the feigned. likewise isidorus in his book of maxims: =why christians should be forbidden read the productions of the poets.= christians are forbidden to read the productions of the poets because through the allurements of their fables the mind is too much stimulated toward the incentives to unlawful desires. for not only by the offering of incense is sacrifice made to devils, but also by accepting too readily their sayings. [gratian draws the conclusion.] as therefore is evident from the authorities already quoted ignorance ought to be odious to priests. since, if in ignorance of their own blindness they undertake to lead others, both fall into the ditch. wherefore in the psalm it is said: "let their eyes be darkened that they may not see, and bow down their back always." for when those who go ahead are darkened, they who follow are easily inclined to bear the burdens of sinners. therefore priests must endeavor to cast off ignorance from them as if it were a sort of pestilence. for although, in a few instances, it is said that a slave is flogged who does not do his master's will through ignorance of that will, this is not, generally understood of all. for the apostle says: "if any man be ignorant, let him be ignorant," which is to be understood as referring to him who did not wish to have knowledge that he might do well. hence augustine in his book of questions: not every man who is ignorant is free from the penalty. for the ignorant man who is ignorant because he found no way of learning (the law) can be excused from the penalty, while he cannot be pardoned who having the means of knowledge did not use them.[ ] (d) _theology_ as above noted, one of the two great contributions of the twelfth-century revival of learning to the field of university studies was scholastic theology. the number of books written on this subject was enormous. the ponderous tomes, loaded with comments, make a long array on the shelves of our great libraries, but they are memorials of a battlefield of the mind now for the most part deserted. the importance of the subject in the scheme of mediaeval education has been much exaggerated; it was the pursuit of a very small minority of students. it has a certain interest to the historian of education, however, as an illustration of the way in which a method struck out by a single original thinker may influence the work of scholars and universities for generations. the method of scholastic theology is mainly due to abelard. the roots of the nobly developed systems of the thirteenth century theology lie in the twelfth century; and all sums of theology, of which there was a considerable number, not only before alexander of hales [thirteenth century] but also before and at the time of peter lombard, may be traced back directly or indirectly to paris.[ ] in this mass of theological writings one book stands out as the contribution which for three centuries most influenced university instruction in theology. this is the "sentences" _(sententiae)_ of peter lombard (c. - ), in four books. the subjects discussed in this work are similar to those treated by abelard in the _sic et non_ (see p. ). in not a few instances it adopts the form of presentation used in that book, i.e., the citation of authorities on both sides of the case. like the _decretum_ of gratian, it is an illustration of the widespread influence of the _sic et non._ a great number of commentaries were written upon this book. a manuscript note in one of the copies in the harvard library states that four hundred and sixty such commentaries are known; but i have been unable to verify the statement. in theory, the bible was studied in the faculties of theology in addition to the "sentences"; but in the thirteenth century and later it seems to have occupied, in practice, a minor share of the student's attention. to this effect is the criticism of roger bacon in : although the principal study of the theologian ought to be in the text of scripture, as i have proved in the former part of this work, yet in the last fifty years theologians have been principally occupied with questions [for debate] as all know, in tractates and summae,--horse-loads, composed by many,--and not at all with the most holy text of god. and accordingly, theologians give a readier reception to a treatise of scholastic questions than they will do to one about the text of scripture.... the greater part of these questions introduced into theology, with all the modes of disputation (see p. ) and solution, are in the terms of philosophy, as is known to all theologians, who have been well exercised in philosophy before proceeding to theology. again, other questions which are in use among theologians, though in terms of theology, viz., of the trinity, of the fall, of the incarnation, of sin, of virtue, of the sacraments, etc., are mainly ventilated by authorities, arguments, and solutions drawn from philosophy. and therefore the entire occupation of theologians now-a-days is philosophical, both in substance and method.[ ] (e) _medicine_ the medical learning of western europe was greatly enlarged during the eleventh and twelfth centuries by the translation into latin of numerous works by greek, arabic, and jewish physicians. these became the standard text-books of the faculties or schools of medicine. the greek writers most commonly mentioned in the university lists of studies are hippocrates (fifth century b.c.) and galen (second century a.d.). several of their more important works were first translated--like those of aristotle--from arabic versions of the original greek. avicenna (c. - ) furnished the most important arabic contribution. accounts of these men and their writings may be found in any good encyclopedia. for the program of studies at paris see d.c. munro, "translations and reprints," vol. ii, pt. iii. a list of the books used at montpellier, one of the most important medical schools, is given in rashdall, vol. ii, pt. i, p. , and pt. ii, p. ; the list for oxford, p. f. (f) _other university text-books_ the foregoing sections indicate the books which furnished the intellectual basis for the rise of universities, and particularly the basis for their division into faculties. they do not indicate by any means the whole list of books used in the universities between and ; nor is it possible here to give such a list. two facts only are to be noted concerning them: first, a considerable number of books already well known in the twelfth century were used in addition to those mentioned above. among these may be mentioned the latin grammars of donatus (_fl._ a.d.) and priscian (_fl._ a.d.), treatises by boethius (_c._ - ) on rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, and music, and his translations of various portions of the _organon_ of aristotle, and of the _iagoge_, or introduction to the categories of aristotle, by porphyry (_c._ - ). the geometry of euclid (_fl._ b.c.) was translated about by adelard of bath, and the astronomy (almagest) of ptolemy (second century a.d.) was pharaphrased from the arabic by gerard of cremona toward the close of the twelfth century, under the title _theorica planetarum_. second, during the whole period under discussion there was an active production of new text-books on the established subjects, some of which were widely used in the universities. among the grammars was the _doctrinale_ of alexander da villa dei, written in . this rhyming grammar was enormously popular, and continued to be so, well into the sixteenth century. the _grecismus_ and _labyrinthus_ of eberhard of bethune (early thirteenth century), also grammars in rhyme, were widely used. logical treatises often mentioned in university programs of study were _de sex principiis_ (on the six principles), written about by gilbert de la porrée, a teacher of john of salisbury; and the _summulae_ of petrus hispanus (thirteenth century). in the thirteenth century albertus magnus made a digest of all the works of aristotle, which proved to be easier for students than the originals, and which were sometimes used in place of them. among mathematical works of this century were the _algorismus_ (arithmetic) and the _libellus de sphaera_ (on the sphere) by john holywood (sacrobosco); and the _perspectiva communis_, i.e. optics, by john (peckham) of pisa. a treatise on music by john de muris of paris was produced in the early part of the fourteenth century. all of these were well-known university text-books. they appear in the list at leipzig throughout the fifteenth century (see p. ). . university privileges the privileges granted by civil and ecclesiastical powers constitute a fourth important influence upon the growth of universities. beginning with the year a long series of immunities, liberties, and exemptions was bestowed by state and church upon masters and students as a class, and upon universities as corporations. masters and scholars were, for example, often taken under the special protection of the sovereign of the country in which they were studying; they were exempted from taxation, and from military service; most important of all, they were placed under the jurisdiction of special courts, in which alone they could be tried. universities as corporations were given, among other privileges, the right to confer upon their graduates the license to teach "anywhere in the world" without further examination, and the very important right to suspend lectures, i.e. to strike, pending the settlement of grievances against state or church. they had, of course, the general legal powers of corporations. thus fortified, the universities attained an astonishing degree of independence and power; and their members were enabled to live in unusual liberty and security. this fact in itself unquestionably tended to increase the university population. the masters and scholars of bologna, paris, and oxford seem to have led the way in securing privileges. their precedent made it easier for later universities to secure similar rights. these were sometimes established "with all the privileges of paris and bologna," or "all the privileges of any other university." the authorities who granted privileges were the sovereigns of various countries,--the emperor of the holy roman empire, the kings of france, england, the spains--feudal lords, municipalities, and the pope or his legates. they usually conferred them upon special universities, or upon the masters and students in specified towns, and sometimes only for a definite term of years. minor privileges differed greatly in different localities, but the more important ones--indicated above--were possessed by nearly all universities. the documents which follow illustrate both the variety of privileges and the variety of authorities who granted them. (a) _special protection is granted by the sovereign_ i. the earliest known privilege of any kind connected with the history of mediaeval universities is the _authentic habita_. it was granted by frederick barbarossa (frederick i), emperor of the holy roman empire, at the diet of roncaglia, italy, in ; probably through the influence of doctors of law from bologna. these men were doubtless familiar with the fact that similar privileges had been given to teachers and scholars by various roman emperors, some of which were preserved in the code of justinian (see p. ). the _authentic habita_ may be regarded as the revival of an ancient roman custom. the section of the _authentic_ granting the special protection of the emperor follows: after careful inquiry of the bishops, abbots, dukes, counts, judges, and other nobles of our sacred palace in regard to this matter, we, in our loving-kindness, do grant to all scholars who are travelling for the sake of study, and especially to professors of divine and sacred laws, this privilege: both they and their messengers are to come in security to the places in which the studies are carried on, and there they are to abide in security. for we think it proper, in order that they may be upheld in their good works by our fame and protection, to defend from all harm, by definite special favor, those by whose knowledge the world is illumined unto obedience to god and to us his servants, and the lives of our subjects are moulded.... therefore by this law, which is of general effect, and is to be valid forever, we decree that hereafter no one shall show himself so bold as to presume to inflict any injury upon scholars, or, for an offence committed in their former province, to impose any fine upon them,--which, we have heard, sometimes happens through an evil custom. and let violators of this decree, and the local rulers at the time in case they have themselves neglected to punish such violation, know surely that a four-fold restitution of property shall be exacted from all, and that in addition to the brand of infamy affixed to them by the law itself, they shall be forever deprived of their official positions.[ ] . in philip augustus of france made certain regulations regarding the protection of students at paris, and entrusted their execution to the provost of that city. this is the earliest known charter of privileges for paris. it should be read in connection with the following selection. for the text in full see d.c. munro, _l.c._ p. . small causes, great events! as is narrated in the contemporary account given below, a simple tavern brawl led to the granting of these extensive privileges. this is one among many examples of the way in which the universities turned similar events to their own advantage. the passage also exhibits a typical conflict between town and gown. on the dissension which existed between the scholars and the citizens of paris. [ a.d.] in that same year a grave dissension arose between the scholars and the citizens of paris, the origin of which was as follows: there was at paris a notable german scholar who was bishop-elect of liége. his servant, while buying wine at a tavern, was beaten and his wine jar was broken. when this was known, the german clerks came together and entering the tavern they wounded the host, and having beaten him they went off, leaving him half dead. therefore there was an outcry among the people and the city was stirred, so that thomas, the provost of paris, under arms, and with an armed mob of citizens, broke into the hall of the german clerks, and in their combat that notable scholar who was bishop-elect of liége, was killed, with some of his people. therefore the masters of the scholars in paris going to the king of france complained to him of thomas, the provost of paris and of his accomplices who killed the aforesaid scholars. and at their instance the aforesaid thomas was arrested, as were certain of his accomplices, and put in prison. but some of them escaped by flight, leaving their homes and occupations; then the king of france, in his wrath, had their houses demolished and their vines and fruit trees uprooted. but as to the provost, it was decided that he should be kept in prison, not to be released until he should clear himself by the ordeal of water or sword, and if he failed, he should be hung, and if he was cleared he should, by the king's clemency, leave the kingdom. and yet the scholars, pitying him, entreated the king of france that the provost and his accomplices after being flogged after the manner of scholars at school, should be let alone and be restored to their occupations. but the king of france would not grant this, saying that it would be greatly derogatory to his honor if any one but himself should punish his malefactors. furthermore, this same king of france, being afraid that the masters of the scholars, and the scholars themselves, would withdraw from his city, sought to satisfy them by decreeing that for the future no clerk should be haled to a secular trial on account of any misdemeanor which he had committed, but that if the clerk committed a misdemeanor he should be delivered over to the bishop and be dealt with in accordance with the clerk's court. also this same king of france decreed that whoever was the provost of paris should take oath that he would be loyal to the clerks, saving his loyalty to the king. moreover this same king conferred upon the scholars his own sure peace and confirmed it to them by his own charter. but that provost, when he had been detained in the king's prison for many days planned his escape by flight, and, as he was being lowered over the wall, the rope broke, and falling from a height to the ground, he was killed.[ ] . special protection for a limited time is granted more explicitly by philip iv in : philip, by the grace of god king of france and navarre, to our provost at paris, greeting. whereas the university, masters and scholars at paris, are under our special guardianship and protection as they--both masters, and scholars as well--come to their studies, stay in the said city, or return to their own places; and inasmuch as injuries, annoyances, oppression, and violence are frequently inflicted upon them, as we have heard, not only in your prefecture but in other places also, to the prejudice of our guardianship,--which wrongs could not be prosecuted outside of paris in any way which would prevent them from being distracted from their studies, to their serious prejudice and that of the aforesaid university, and from being harassed by serious struggles and expense,--therefore we entrust and commit to you their protection and custody, and in addition thereto the restraint of those persons who, to the prejudice of our protection and guardianship, inflict upon the above-mentioned masters or scholars unjust violence, injury or loss, either within the limits of your prefecture or in other places of our kingdom, wheresoever the aforesaid wrongs are committed. this present arrangement is to be in force for a period of two years only.[ ] . the personal property of masters and scholars is protected. the privilege of philip augustus for paris, . also our judges [of the secular courts] shall not lay hands on the chattels of the students at paris for any crime whatever. but if it seem that these ought to be sequestrated, they shall be sequestrated and guarded after sequestration by the ecclesiastical judge, in order that whatever is judged legal by the ecclesiastical judge may be done.[ ] more comprehensive protection is given by the charter of philip iv, / , concerning masters and scholars at paris. the king decrees-- likewise, that their goods and means of support, whereon they have and will have to live in pursuing their studies as aforesaid, in consideration of their status, shall not be taken for our use or that of our subjects or be in any way whatever interfered with under cover of wars or any other pretext whatever, by any persons whatever, of whatever condition, status, or prominence they may be.[ ] (b) _the sovereign grants to scholars the right of trial in special courts, in the city in which they are studying._ this remarkable privilege was one great source of the liberty of mediaeval scholars. under its protection they could not be summoned to a court outside the university town, even to answer for an offense committed elsewhere; the plaintiff must appear at the town in which they were studying, and before specified judges, who were at least not inclined to deal severely with scholars. at paris scholars were not only protected as defendants, but they had the right as plaintiffs to summon the accused to paris. . the earliest document on the subject is the concluding section of the _authentic habita_, described above: moreover, should anyone presume to bring a lawsuit against the scholars on any ground, the choice [of judges] in the matter shall be given to the said scholars, who may meet their accusers before either their professors or the bishop of the city, to whom we have given jurisdiction in this matter. but if, in sooth, the accusers shall attempt to hale the scholar before another judge, the scholar shall escape from the merited punishment, even though the cause be most just, because of such attempt. this provision is reminiscent of, if not actually inspired by, a similar provision for scholars in the code of justinian (see p. ). the _authentic habita_ as a whole is important as the fundamental charter of university privileges in italy, if not in other countries. it was not granted to a university,--indeed, no university was apparently then in existence,--nor to the scholars of any special town; it was "of general effect." but "this pre-university charter was usually recognized as the basis of all the special privileges conferred on particular (italian) universities by the states in which they were situated."[ ] probably it suggested, directly or indirectly, the granting of similar privileges to universities in other countries. it certainly affected those universities which were founded "with all the privileges of any other university." two further illustrations follow. . in pope innocent iv exempted students at paris from citation to ecclesiastical courts outside of paris, in order that their studies might not be interrupted: to the masters and scholars at paris. in order that you may carry on your studies more freely and be less occupied with other business, we grant your petitions, and by the authority of this present letter bestow upon you the privilege of not being haled by apostolic letters beyond the limits of the city of paris upon questions that have arisen within its limits, unless [these letters] make express mention of this privilege.[ ] . the same privilege was granted as regards civil courts by philip iv in / : ... the masters and scholars studying at paris, if summoned by any secular judges of our realm, shall not be haled and cited to their courts outside of paris; nor shall laymen who are subject to our rule attempt to bring this about.[ ] this right was known at paris as the _jus non trahi extra_ (right of not being haled outside). "it became henceforth _the_ characteristic university privilege, not only of paris but of all universities which were in any degree influenced by parisian usage."[ ] (c) _exemption from taxation_ one of the most important privileges enjoyed by modern universities (in common with other educational institutions, and with churches) is exemption from taxation. this privilege is directly traceable to those of the mediaeval universities, and possibly through them to roman laws on the subject. in the early history of universities the privilege was held, not by the corporations as such, but by masters and scholars as individuals. . one example of such exemption is found in the charter of philip iv, / , already quoted: to the aforesaid masters and scholars [of paris], now in attendance at the university, and to those who are hereafter to come to the same university, or who are actually preparing in sincerity so to come, also while [they are] staying at the university, or returning to their own homes, _we grant_ ... that no layman, of whatever condition or prominence he may be, whether he be a private person, prefect, or bailiff, shall disturb, molest, or presume otherwise in any way whatsoever to seek to extort anything from the aforesaid masters and scholars, in person, family or property, under pretext of toll, _tallia_ [special form of feudal tax], tax, customs, or other such personal taxes, or other personal exaction of any kind, while they are either coming to the university itself, or actually preparing in sincerity to come, or returning to their own homes; and whose status as scholars shall be established by the proper oath. . the charter of the university of leipzig, in , exempts certain property of the corporation, as such, from taxes: likewise in said town, in behalf of the aforesaid university, and for the increase of the same, we have instituted and founded two colleges, ... and for these we have given and assigned two houses ... and these same houses of the said colleges we have made free from all _losunge_, exactions, contributions, _steura_, laws, taxes, and from the control of the citizens of the beforementioned town; and of our sure knowledge we incorporate them and make them free for the advantage of the aforesaid university.[ ] the words _steura_ and _losunge_ refer to special forms of taxes whose exact nature is not known. . not only were masters, students, and corporate property exempt from taxation, but also persons connected with the universities in subordinate capacities. there was much dispute in some places as to the number and occupations of those who might be thus exempted. the following letter of henry vi of england to the university of caen, normandy, settles one of these disputes. on january , , the king refused to free the dependents of the university from taxation. the masters and scholars thereupon made formal complaint to him that this refusal hindered the free and peaceful pursuit of their studies as guaranteed by his charter of (see p. ). in reply (february , ), the king recognized the justice of the complaint and granted the desired privilege. compare the similar exemption in the harvard charter of (p. ). the letter is apparently addressed to the bailiff of caen and other royal officials. nevertheless since those letters of ours [of january ] were sent, proper and true objection has been made to us as to those privileges, whereby we have well understood that the doctors, masters, scholars, dependents, officers, households and servitors should not be subject to or obliged to contribute to such villein-taxes, aides, and octrois. therefore is it, that we--wishing our letters, gifts of privileges, and commands to be guarded and supported without any diminution or loss in any manner whatever, but to be increased, augmented and maintained--have regarded and also considered the fact that said members of our said daughter [i.e. the university] could not well carry out the requirements of study, or continue therein, if their servitors and households did not enjoy and use such and similar privileges as said members. desiring, with all our heart the maintenance, continuation and increase of our said university which (not without good reason) we have under our special favor, considering these things, with the advice and counsel of our very dear and very beloved cousin edmond, duke of somerset, lieutenant-general and governor in our stead of our realms of france, the country and duchy of normandy, we command and strictly enjoin you all and each one of you so far as he shall be concerned, that you make or cause to be made free and exempt from said villein-taxes, aides, and octrois, one advocate, one purveyor, one bell-ringer, two booksellers, two parchment makers, two illuminators, two bookbinders, six beadles, five bailiffs, (one for each of the five faculties) and seven messengers (understanding that there shall be one for each diocese in our said duchy), and this you shall do up to this number of attendants and servitors of this our university, and at the same time, uphold, maintain and continue them in their rights, franchises, and liberties, of which by our said command, foundation, and augmentation, you find them to be and to have been duly possessed, without suffering anything to disturb or interfere with this. and, although in our other letters devoted to the regulation of this university the said five bailiffs and seven messengers were not in any way included, yet by special grace through these present letters, to the end that our said university may be able to have the servitors necessary to it, without whom the requirements of study could not be continued and maintained, we wish the said five bailiffs and seven messengers to enjoy such and similar privileges as the rest who are named in our other said letters of regulation, notwithstanding that the said letters and any others whatever may require, or seem to require, the contrary to this. and that the aforesaid suppliants may be able to have, at their need, these present letters in various and diverse places, we wish that copies of these, made under the royal seal, be in good faith made like the original.[ ] (d) _the privilege of suspending lectures_ (cessatio) one of the most effective privileges of mediaeval universities was the right of suspending lectures. this was used again and again in cases of unredressed grievances against civil or ecclesiastical authorities,--more particularly against the former. a _cessatio_ was usually followed by a migration of masters and scholars to some other university, unless satisfaction was promptly forthcoming. such a migration was a serious blow to the commercial prosperity of any town; consequently the "cessation" was an instrument of great power for the extraction of all sorts of local concessions. it was often exercised without express authorization by civil or ecclesiastical powers, but the privilege was distinctly conferred by a bull of pope gregory ix for paris in : and if, perchance, the assessment [right to fix the prices] of lodgings is taken from you, or anything else is lacking, or an injury or outrageous damage, such as death or the mutilation of a limb, is inflicted on one of you, unless through a suitable admonition satisfaction is rendered within fifteen days, you may suspend your lectures until you have received full satisfaction. and if it happens that any one of you is unlawfully imprisoned, unless the injury ceases on a remonstrance from you, you may, if you judge it expedient, suspend your lectures immediately.[ ] the events leading up to the granting of this privilege are worth recounting as an illustration of the way in which such rights were frequently secured. the "clerks" referred to were of course scholars. the cessation of lectures was followed by a migration to other cities until satisfaction was given. the exact nature of the satisfaction given by the king is not known. one important result, however, was the great charter of papal privileges just referred to,--"the _magna charta_ of the university" of paris.[ ] "concerning the discord that arose at paris between the whole body of clergy and the citizens, and concerning the withdrawal of the clergy" [ ]: in that same year, on the second and third holidays before ash wednesday, days when the clerks of the university have leisure for games, certain of the clerks went out of the city of paris in the direction of saint marcel's, for a change of air and to have contests in their usual games. when they had reached the place and had amused themselves for some time in carrying on their games, they chanced to find in a certain tavern some excellent wine, pleasant to drink. and then, in the dispute that arose between the clerks who were drinking and the shop keepers, they began to exchange blows and to tear each other's hair, until some townsmen ran in and freed the shop keepers from the hands of the clerks; but when the clerks resisted they inflicted blows upon them and put them to flight, well and thoroughly pommelled. the latter, however, when they came back much battered into the city, roused their comrades to avenge them. so on the next day they came with swords and clubs to saint marcel's, and entering forcibly the house of a certain shop keeper, broke up all his wine casks and poured the wine out on the floor of the house. and, proceeding through the open squares, they attacked sharply whatever man or woman they came upon and left them half dead from the blows given them. but the prior of saint marcel's, as soon as he learned of this great injury done to his men, whom he was bound to defend, lodged a complaint with the roman legate and the bishop of paris. and they went together in haste to the queen, to whom the management of the realm had been committed at that time, and asked her to take measures for the punishment of such a wrong. but she, with a woman's forwardness, and impelled by mental excitement, immediately gave orders to the prefects of the city and to certain of her own ruffians [mercenary body-guard] with all speed to go out of the city, under arms, and to punish the authors of the violence, sparing no one. now as these armed men, who were prone to act cruelly at every opportunity, left the gates of the city, they came upon a number of clerks busy just outside the city walls with games,--men who were entirely without fault in connection with the aforesaid violence, since those who had begun the riotous strife were men from the regions adjoining flanders, whom we commonly call picards. but, notwithstanding this, the police, rushing upon these men who they saw were unarmed and innocent, killed some, wounded others, and handled others mercilessly, battering them with the blows they inflicted on them. but some of them escaping by flight lay hid in dens and caverns. and among the wounded it was found that there were two clerks, rich and of great influence, who died, one of them being by race a man of flanders, and the other of the norman nation. but when the enormity of this transgression reached the ears of the masters of the university they came together in the presence of the queen and legate, having first suspended entirely all lectures and debates, and strenuously demanded that justice be shown them for such a wrong. for it seemed to them disgraceful that so light an occasion as the transgression of certain contemptible little clerks should be taken to create prejudice against the whole university; but let him who was to blame in the transgression be the one to suffer the penalty. but when finally every sort of justice had been refused them by the king and the legate, as well as by the bishop, there took place a universal withdrawal of the masters and a scattering of the scholars, the instruction of the masters and the training of the pupils coming to an end, so that not one person of note out of them all remained in the city. and the city which was wont to boast of her clerks now remained bereft of them.... thus withdrawing, the clerks betook themselves practically in a body to the larger cities in various districts. but the largest part of them chose the metropolitan city of angers for their university instruction. thus, then, withdrawing from the city of paris, the nurse of philosophy and the foster mother of wisdom, the clerks execrated the roman legate and cursed the womanish arrogance of the queen, nay, also, their infamous unanimity [in the matter].... at length, through the efforts of discreet persons, it was worked out that, certain things being done to meet the situation as required by the faults on both sides, peace was made up between the clerks and citizens and the whole body of scholars was recalled.[ ] not infrequently a university which had decreed a cessation was invited to establish itself elsewhere. the cessation at paris in was followed by an urgent invitation from the king of england: the king; greeting to the masters and the whole body of scholars at paris. humbly sympathizing with the exceeding tribulations and distresses which you have suffered at paris under an unjust law, we wish by our pious aid, with reverence to god and his holy church, to restore your status to its proper condition of liberty. wherefore we have concluded to make known to your entire body that if it shall be your pleasure to transfer yourselves to our kingdom of england and to remain there to study we will for this purpose assign to you cities, boroughs, towns, whatsoever you may wish to select, and in every fitting way will cause you to rejoice in a state of liberty and tranquillity which should please god and fully meet your needs. in testimony of which &c. witnessed by the king at reading, july . [ ].[ ] (e) _the right of teaching everywhere_ (jus ubique docendi) masters and doctors of the three leading universities, paris, bologna, and oxford, were early recognized as qualified to teach anywhere without further examination, by virtue of the superior instruction given at those institutions. their degrees were in strictness merely licenses to teach within the dioceses in which they were granted. the recognition of these licenses elsewhere grew up as a matter of custom, not by any express authorization. at least one other university (padua, founded ) acquired the privilege in the same way. later universities,--or the cities in which they were established,--desiring to gain equal prestige for their graduates, obtained from the pope or from the emperor of the holy roman empire bulls conferring upon them the same privilege. even paris and bologna formally received it from the pope in . "from this time the notion gradually gained ground that _the jus ubique docendi_ was of the essence of a studium generale, and that no school which did not possess it could obtain it without a bull from emperor or pope." "it was usually but not quite invariably, conferred in express terms by the original foundation-bulls; and was apparently understood to be involved in the mere act of erection even in the rare cases where it is not expressly conceded."[ ] in practice, the graduates of almost all universities where subject to further examination in one studium or another before being admitted to teach there, although the graduates of the leading universities may have been very generally received without such test. the privilege is more important in officially marking the rank of a school as a studium generale, i.e. a place of higher education, in which instruction was given, by a considerable number of masters, in at least one of the faculties of arts, theology, law, and medicine, and to which students were attracted, or at least invited, from all countries. the bull granting the _jus ubique docendi_ to paris (pope nicholas iv, ) is here printed, although it is not the earliest example; a similar bull was issued for toulouse as early as . the rhetorical introduction is omitted, as in most instances above. desiring, therefore, that the students in the field of knowledge in the city of paris, may be stimulated to strive for the reward of a mastership, and may be able to instruct, in the faculties in which they have deserved to be adorned with a master's chair, all those who come from all sides,--we decree, by this present letter, that whoever of our university in the aforesaid city shall have been examined and approved by those through whom, under apostolic authority, the right to lecture is customarily bestowed on licentiates in said faculties, according to the custom heretofore observed there,--and who shall have from them license in the faculty of theology, or canon law, or medicine, or the liberal arts,--shall thenceforward have authority to teach everywhere outside of the aforesaid city, free from examination or test, either public or private, or any other new regulation as to lecturing or teaching. nor shall he be prohibited by anyone, all other customs and statutes to the contrary notwithstanding; and whether he wishes to lecture or not in the faculties referred to, he shall nevertheless be regarded as a doctor.[ ] (f) _privileges granted by a municipality_ not infrequently mediaeval cities granted special privileges to universities and their members. these cities recognized the commercial and other advantages resulting from the presence of a large body of students within their gates, and made substantial concessions to retain them, or to secure the settlement of a university which might be migrating from some other city. instances of the latter kind are numerous in the free cities of italy. these privileges included very ample legal jurisdiction by the rector of the university in cases affecting scholars, payment of professors' salaries by the city, exemption from taxes, loans to scholars at a low rate of interest, and guarantees against extortionate prices for food and other necessaries. . the following examples are cited, among many others in the statutes of the city of padua: the town of padua binds itself to make loans to scholars, according to the quality of the scholars, upon good and sufficient securities or bonds worth a third more than the loan, and upon the oath and promise of the scholars that they accept the loan on their own account and for their own use in meeting their personal expenses and not for any other person or persons or for the use of others. ( a.d.) every six months the chief magistrate of padua shall appoint two money lenders for the scholars,--judges or laymen at the will of the rector of the scholars--who shall have charge of the town's money that is to be loaned to the scholars. and they shall, in the name of the town, make loans to the scholars in accordance with the statutes and the agreement of the scholars, and at their own risk entirely, so that the town of padua shall not incur loss. and the money lenders shall themselves deposit in the town treasury good and sufficient security as to this. ( .) scholars shall be regarded as citizens with regard to matters advantageous, but not with regard to matters disadvantageous to them. ( .) scholars shall not be required to pay the _tolloneum_ (i.e. taxes on imports, collected at the city gates). ( .)[ ] . a generation preceding the date of these statutes a large part of the university, dissatisfied with its treatment at padua, migrated to vercelli, more than one hundred and fifty miles away. the contract ( a.d.) between the rectors of the university and the proctors representing the town contains numerous privileges, among which are the following: likewise the aforesaid proctors have promised in the name of the town of vercelli that the town will loan to the scholars, and to the university of scholars, the sum of ten thousand pounds, papal money, at the rate of two pence for two years, and thereafter three pence for six years [under proper security. the customary rate seems to have been four pence.] ... likewise, when a scholar shall have paid the money loaned to him, the town of vercelli will retain that amount in the common treasury as principal, and from it will help some other needy scholar under the same agreement and similar conditions. ... likewise, the town of vercelli will not allow provisions within the town limits to be withdrawn from their markets [in order to raise the price?] but will cause them to be delivered in the city in good faith, and will cause them to be put on sale twice a week.... [also one thousand bushels of grain shall be put in the city granary and sold to scholars at cost in time of need.] ... likewise the town of vercelli shall provide salaries [for professors] which shall be deemed competent by two scholars and two townsmen, and if they disagree the bishop shall decide the matter ... and said salaries shall be for one theologian, three masters of laws, two decretists, two decretalists, two teachers of natural philosophy, two logicians, and two grammarians. [these professors shall be chosen by the rectors of the university. the town will send out at its own expense] trustworthy messengers under oath, who shall in good faith, and in the interests of the university of vercelli, seek out the chosen masters and teachers, and shall use their best endeavors to bind them to lecture in the city of vercelli. [the town will preserve peace within its borders, will consider scholars and their messengers neutral in time of war, will grant them the rights of citizens, and will respect the legal jurisdiction of the rectors, except in criminal and other specially mentioned cases.] likewise, the town of vercelli will provide two copyists, through whom it will undertake to furnish men able to supply to the scholars copies in both kinds of law [civil and canon] and in theology, which shall be satisfactory and accurate both in text and in glosses, and the students shall pay for their copies [no extortionate prices but] a rate based on the estimate of the rectors [of the university]. ... likewise, the scholars or their representatives shall not pay the tributes in the district of vercelli which belong and accrue to the town of vercelli.... the podesta [chief magistrate] and the town itself shall be bound to send, throughout the cities of italy and elsewhere, (as shall seem expedient to them) notice that a university has been established at vercelli, and to invite scholars to come to the university of vercelli.[ ] the whole contract was made a part of the city statutes and was to be in force for eight years. (g) _the influence of mediaeval privileges on modern universities._ there is no question that the long series of privileges granted to mediaeval universities influences the university life of to-day. out of many illustrations of this fact two are here cited as affecting american higher education. the reader will observe in these paragraphs from the charters of harvard college and brown university the familiar exemption of corporate property from taxation, and the exemption of persons connected with these institutions not only from taxes, but also from other public duties. the charter of brown university refers explicitly to european university privileges. both of these charters, with some amendments, are still in force. and, further, be it ordered by this court and the authority thereof, that all the lands, tenements, or hereditaments, houses, or revenues, within this jurisdiction, to the aforesaid president or college appertaining, not exceeding the value of five hundred pounds per annum, shall from henceforth be freed from all civil impositions, taxes, and rates; all goods to the said corporation, or to any scholars thereof, appertaining, shall be exempted from all manner of toll, customs, and excise whatsoever; and that the said president, fellows, and scholars, together with the servants, and other necessary officers to the said president or college appertaining, not exceeding ten,--viz. three to the president and seven to the college belonging,--shall be exempted from all personal civil offices, military exercises or services, watchings and wardings; and such of their estates, not exceeding one hundred pounds a man, shall be free from all country taxes or rates whatsoever, and none others.[ ] and furthermore, for the greater encouragement of the seminary of learning, and that the same may be amply endowed and enfranchised with the same privileges, dignities, and immunities enjoyed by the american colleges, and european universities, we do grant, enact, ordain, and declare, and it is hereby granted, enacted, ordained, and declared, that the college estate, the estates, persons, and families of the president and professors, for the time being, lying, and being within the colony, with the persons of the tutors and students, during their residence at the college, shall be freed and exempted from all taxes, serving on juries, and menial services: and that the persons aforesaid shall be exempted from bearing arms, impresses, and military services, except in case of an invasion.[ ] exemption from "watchings and wardings," and from "military services, except in case of an invasion," is not included in the list of privileges cited in the preceding sections, but it was often conferred on mediaeval universities in almost the exact terms of these charters. . the initiative of civil or ecclesiastical powers many universities originated without the express initiative of any civil or ecclesiastical power. they either grew up slowly, as in the cases of bologna and paris, or established themselves quickly through a migration of students from some other university, as in the cases of padua, vercelli, and leipzig; but in either event the charters which gave them standing as _studia generalia_, and the privileges emanating from imperial, royal, princely, or papal authorities, were granted after, rather than before, masters and students had gathered for their work. the cases in which municipalities granted privileges to migrating bodies of students, before their coming, are not included in the above statement. in some instances, however, civil and ecclesiastical authorities took the initiative. among other examples of universities established directly by them may be cited naples, founded by emperor frederick ii, ; toulouse, by pope gregory ix, , ; prague, by emperor charles iv, ; caen, by henry vi of england, . the motives which led to this action were, on the one hand, the desire of political powers for the support of learned men, especially lawyers; and, on the other, the desire of the papacy for the more effective propagation of the catholic faith.[ ] the political motive appears in the letters-patent of henry vi for caen, : it befits royal highness to govern with due magnificence the peoples subject to him in times of wars and of peace, to the end that they may be defended valorously and constantly from the violence of enemies, and from wrongs offered them; and that they may be rendered tranquil and quiet through laws and active justice, by securing to each man his rights, with due regard to the common interests. for we think that this sort of justice, so excellent and advantageous, can never be practiced without the industry of men of great learning, steeped in laws, divine and human. and formerly our kingdom of france happily abounded in such men; but many kinds of evil men swarmed in, by whom, in the long process of time, the aforesaid kingdom, at one time through the disturbances of civil war, and again through deadly pestilence, and finally through the various butcheries of men, and mighty famine--alas! the pity of it!--has now been so shaken that scarcely can a sufficient number of sound justices be found in modern times, nor can others succeed, without great difficulty and personal peril, in acquiring securely knowledge and advancement, particularly in civil law; whence the aforesaid kingdom, once governed with commendable justice, is subjected to greater inconveniences unless a wholesome remedy be shortly provided.... we therefore, by our special favor, royal authority and plenary power, with the advice and consent of our distinguished uncle john, governor and regent of our aforesaid kingdom of france and duke of bedford, and other nobles of our race, and of many wise men of our great council, do constitute, place, establish, found, and ordain forever by these present letters, a studium generale in our city of caen, in the diocese of bayeux [normandy]. the king does this for the better government of the kingdom, for the reason that no university exists within his jurisdiction in france, and for the preservation of the study of law: we therefore, who with extreme longing desire to have our already-mentioned kingdom governed with justice and equity, and restored so far as we shall be able with god's help [to restore it] to its pristine glory, [establish this university] attentively considering the fact that no studium in civil law has been established in our jurisdictions in france, and in the duchies of normandy, burgundy, and brittany, the counties of champagne and flanders, the county of picardy, and some other parts of the kingdom itself that are united in loyalty and obedience to us. [we do this] in order that the study of civil laws may not disappear in the aforesaid places, to the disadvantage of the state, but [that it] may become, under god's guidance, vigorous to his glory, and the glory of our aforesaid kingdom, and may flourish as an ornament and an advantage to future times. the city of caen is selected for the location of the university because of its favorable position, character, and surroundings. it is a city, forsooth, suitable, quiet, and safe, becomingly adorned with noted monasteries, fraternities, cloisters, and homes of the mendicant friars and other devout religious bodies; with an overflowing population of mild-dispositioned, obedient, and devout people; [a city] fit also because of its varied supply of food and other things adapted to the needs of the human race; prosperous and well-disposed, situated on fertile soil, and near the sea, so that students, and merchants as well, can more readily and easily come together there from almost all parts of the world. the king grants to the university--in order to establish its prestige--all the privileges granted by royal authority to any other university in france: and, that the doctors, licentiates, bachelors, students, and dependents of the aforesaid university, and their households and domestic servants, may be able the more freely and quietly to devote themselves to letters and scholastic deeds, we will, by our royal authority and plenary power, bestow upon these same doctors, licentiates, bachelors, students, dependents, households, and domestic servitors, such and similar privileges, franchises, and liberties as have been granted, given, and bestowed by our predecessors the kings of france upon the rest of the universities of our kingdom. the king grants in particular the usual privilege of a special judge for cases affecting members of the university: and as conservator of these [privileges] henceforth, we depute and appoint our bailiff of caen now in office, and his successors or whoever may hold that office; and to him we commit and consign by these present letters the hearing, determination, and final decision of cases and real actions [cases relating to conveyances of property] relating to persons and property, against all persons whatsoever who may be staying in our said duchy of normandy, or who may possess property there, either ecclesiastical or secular, if any action arises with regard to them, whether of offence or defence. we command our justiciaries and officers, or those holding their places, one and all, to obey and to support efficiently the said bailiff, the conservator, or whoever holds his place, in the matters prescribed above, and such as are connected therewith. and that the foregoing regulations may acquire strength and firmness we have caused the present letters to be secured by the affixing of our seal.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : history of my calamities, _l.c._ p. .] [footnote : mccabe, _abelard_, pp. , , .] [footnote : _l.c._. p. .] [footnote : _l.c._ p. .] [footnote : _ouvrages inédits d' abélard_, ed. v. cousin, p. .] [footnote : _sic et non_, clvi. the latin text of this book is printed in _ouvrages inédits d' abélard_, ed. v. cousin.] [footnote : _metalogicus_, ed. giles, i, , .] [footnote : _metalogicus_, ii, .] [footnote : poole, pp. , .] [footnote : _metalogicus_, i, .] [footnote : _metalogicus_, ii, . the translation of this chapteris adapted from giles, _works of john of salisbury_, i, p. xiii, and r.l. poole, _illustrations of the history of mediaeval thought_, pp. , .] [footnote : _metalogicus_, ii, .] [footnote : denifle: _die entstehung der universitäten des mittelalters_, i, , .] [footnote : see p. . the example given shows also an obvious weakness of the method.] [footnote : john of salisbury, _metalogicus_, iv, .] [footnote : document printed by rashdall, vol. ii, pt. ii, p. .] [footnote : chart. univ. paris., i, no. , p. .] [footnote : _l.c._ no. , p. .] [footnote : _l.c._ no. .] [footnote : _l.c._ no. .] [footnote : zarncke, _statutenbücher der universität leipzig_, p. .] [footnote : _digest_, translated by c.h. monro, p. xiii (preface to _code_).] [footnote : _l.c._ pp. xxv, xxvi.] [footnote : rashdall, i, .] [footnote : preface to the _institutes_; translated by t.c. sandars, published by longmans, green & co.] [footnote : _code_, bk. ; , .] [footnote : a.d. , _code_, bk. ; , .] [footnote a: exodus, xvii. c.] [footnote b: summary. four classes of men are blamed under this caption, i.e. dialecticians, who wrestle daily with the dialectic art; and physicists, who raise their eyes athwart the heavens; and versifiers; and the avaricious, who acquire wealth by fair means and foul, though at the time they know not to whom they are going to leave it.] [footnote c: i.e., incidentally hugo. whether the clergy can give attention to the books of the heathen.] [footnote d: and he does this as far as the paragraph, "but on the other hand," (p. ).] [footnote e: to the same effect c. de long. tem, praescript . fin. xxv. quaest. i. ideo. arc.] [footnote f: summary. under this caption jerome set forth five cases. for he says that they are drunken with wine who misunderstand and pervert the sacred scriptures. secondly, they are drunken with strong drink who make a wrong use of profane wisdom. thirdly, he sets forth who should be called false prophets. fourthly, who are divine. fifthly, that he eats sour grapes who expounds the scriptures otherwise than according to the truth, even though it be not contrary to the faith.] [footnote g: summary. in this section those priests are blamed by jerome, who cause their sons and nephews to read comedies and the verses of the poets; because also to this purpose and to other base purposes they divert the money of the church. wherefore he says that such priest should be punished as was eli who fell prostrate from his seat and died because he did not correct his sons. the statements which follow are clear as far as paragraph "but on the other hand" (p. ).] [footnote h: the ears of those who misunderstand should be torn off.] [footnote i: tropology.] [footnote j: and _logos_, speech, whence, _tropologia_, i.e. the [moral] application of the language. hugo. as to this see dist. jejunium. in fin.] [footnote k: i king. ii. c.] [footnote l: another reading: in their disputations.] [footnote m: another reading: "it pleased god to save his people for his kingdom" &c.] [footnote n: summary. from now on, gratian shows that the clergy ought to be learned in profane knowledge. and this is shown from six considerations. the first is stated at the beginning. the second begins: "one reads also." the third begins: "in leviticus." the fourth begins: "the magi, too." the fifth begins: "finally." the sixth begins: "hence also ambrose."] [footnote o: for as husks load the belly and fill it but do not satisfy, so also this wisdom does not free from spiritual hunger nor banish blindness. but it oppresses with the weight of sins and with the guilt of hell. whoever therefore, for the removing of the blindness of ignorance seeks to learn other arts and knowledge desires to fill his belly, as it were, with husks. according to hugo.] [footnote p: dan. i. a. exodi iii. & xi.] [footnote q: summary. certain men forbade christians to read the books of the gentiles but bede blames them, saying that they can well be read without sin because profit may be derived from them, as in the cases of moses and daniel, and also of paul, who incorporated in his epistles verses of the poets, e.g. "the cretans &c. &c."] [footnote r: summary. gratian solves the contradiction by saying that one ought to learn profane knowledge in addition, not for pleasure but for instruction, in order that the useful things, found therein may be turned to the use of sacred learning. hence gregory blamed a certain bishop, not for acquiring profane knowledge but because, for his pleasure, he expounded grammar instead of the gospel.] [footnote s: another reading to the unknown god, i.e. dative case.] [footnote t: dionysius was converted by the preaching of paul.] [footnote u: the apostle used sentences from the poets.] [footnote v: summary. this section is divided into two parts. in the first part it is set down that it is not blameworthy if one learns grammar and logic in order to distinguish the true and the false. in the second part which begins with "geometry and arithmetic" it is set down that the knowledges of the quadrivium have a truth of their own. but they are not the knowledges of piety, and are not to be so applied. but the old and the new testaments are knowledges of piety, and are to be applied. and grammar, if applied to good uses may be made profitable.] [footnote w: summary. two questions were propounded by jerome. the first was whether it is a sin to learn the learning and knowledge of the pagans, and jerome answers that it is not, and proves this by the example of four youths, daniel, ananias, azarias, misael, and by the example of moses. for these, had they known it to be a sin would not have acquired the learning. for they did so in order to convince unbelievers. otherwise they would have been exposed to ridicule if, when they were disputing with these unbelievers about their dogmas, they were found to know nothing about them. the second question was, whether it is a sin to cite secular laws in preaching or in discussion. and he replies that it is not, because it is necessary to prove that those things which the sacred writers have said are contained in the books of the heathen.] [footnote x: dan. i.] [footnote y: summary. it was reported to eugene at his synod that in certain regions there were no teachers to instruct others in the liberal arts, and therefore he enjoined it upon all the bishops to establish teachers in suitable places to teach others daily in liberal doctrines.] [footnote z: daniel and his companions.] [footnote aa: these were called under other names, balthasar, sidrac, misac, and abednago. according to hugo and lau.] [footnote ab: as for example xx dist. ca. fina.] [footnote ac: recourse is had at times from similars to similars.] [footnote ad: virgil.] [footnote ae: ovid.] [footnote : _decretum gratiani, distinctio_ xxxvii. ed. lyons, .] [footnote : denifle, i, .] [footnote : _compendium studii theologiae;_ translated by j.s. brewer in r. bacon, _opera inedita,_ p. lvi.] [footnote : one sentence of no importance is omitted from the translation. the rest of the document is given below, p. . for a slightly different version see d.c. munro, "translations and reprints from the original sources of european history," vol. ii, pt. iii, p. .] [footnote : roger de hoveden, _chronica_, ed. stubbs, iv, , .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, vol. ii, no. .] [footnote : quoted from d.c. munro, _translations and reprints_, vol. ii, pt. iii.] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, ii, no. .] [footnote : rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, i, no. .] [footnote : _l.c._, ii, no. .] [footnote : rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : f. zarncke, _statutenbücher der universität leipzig,_ p. .] [footnote : fournier, _statuts et priv. des univ. franç._, iii, no. .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, vol. i, p. . quoted from d.c. munro, _l.c._ p. .] [footnote : for the text of this charter in full, see d.c. munro, _l.c._ p. .] [footnote : matthew paris, _chronica majora_, iii, - .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, i, p. .] [footnote : kashdall, i, pp. , .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, ii, no. .] [footnote : documents printed by denifle, _die universitäten, _etc., pp. - .] [footnote : document printed by rashdall, ii, pt. ii, p. .] [footnote : charter of harvard college, .] [footnote : charter of brown university, .] [footnote : see compayré, "abelard," pp. - , and - .] [footnote : fournier, _statuts_, etc., iii, no. .] iv university exercises the ways and means of teaching in mediaeval universities were few and simple in comparison with those of our own times. the task of the student was merely to become acquainted with a few books and to acquire some facility in debate. the university exercises were shaped to secure this result. they consisted in the lecture, the disputation or debate, the repetition, the conference, the quiz, and the examination. of these the first two and the last were by far the most important; they are described in detail below. the repetition, given in the afternoon or evening, was either a detailed discussion of some point which could not be treated in full in the "ordinary" lecture, or a simple re-reading of the lecture, sometimes accompanied by catechism of the students upon its substance. the conference was an informal discussion between professor and students at the close of a lecture, or a discussion of some portion of the day's work by students alone. the quiz was often held in the afternoon at the student's hall or college, by the master in residence there, as described on page . (a) _the lecture_ lectures were of two kinds,--"ordinary," and "extraordinary" or "cursory." the former were given in the morning, by professors; the latter in the afternoon, either by professors or by students about to take a bachelor's degree. the purpose of the lecture was to read and explain the text of the book or books of the course. the character of the lecture was largely determined by the fact that all text-books, practically to the year , were in manuscript, and by the further fact that many students seem to have been unable or unwilling to purchase or hire copies. a large part of the lecturer's time was thus consumed in the purely mechanical process of reading aloud the standard text and comments. to these he might add his own explanations; but the simple ability to "read the book" intelligently was sufficient to qualify a properly licensed master, or a bachelor preparing to take the master's degree, to lecture on a given subject. this accounts for the fact that youths of seventeen or eighteen might be found giving occasional lectures, and that regular courses were given by those not much over twenty-one. the books thus read consisted of two parts,--the text, and the "glosses" or comments. a glance at the selection on page will reveal the nature of the latter: they were summaries, explanations, controversial notes, and cross-references, written by more or less learned scholars, in the margin of the text. in the course of generations the mass of glosses became so great as fairly to smother the original work. the selection just referred to is not especially prolific in glosses; cases may be found in which the text of a page occupies only three or four lines, the rest of the space being completely filled with comments, and with explanations of the comments. instances of books explained to death are not unknown in our own class-rooms! the effect of this accumulation of comments was to draw the attention of both teachers and students more and more away from the text. there is evidence that in some instances the text was almost wholly neglected in the attempt to master the glosses. university reforms at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century sometimes involved the exclusion of this mass of "frivolous and obscure" comment from the lectures, and a return to the study of the text itself. see the introduction to the plan of studies for leipzig, p. . the selection from the canon law (p. ff.) gives a good idea of the substance of a dictated mediaeval lecture. concerning the "original" and more or less off-hand lecture we have the amusing account of giraldus cambrensis (_c._ - ), in his "most flattering of all autobiographies." after recounting--in the third person--his studies at paris in civil and canon law, and theology, he says: he obtained so much favor in decretal cases, which were wont to be handled sundays, that, on the day on which it had become known throughout the city that he would talk, there resulted such a concourse of almost all the doctors with their scholars, to hear his pleasing voice, that scarcely could the amplest house have held the auditors. and with reason, for he so supported with rhetorical persuasiveness his original, wide-awake treatment of the laws and canons, and so embellished his points both with figures and flowers of speech and with pithy ideas, and so applied the sayings of philosophers and authors, which he inserted in fitting places with marvellous cleverness, that the more learned and erudite the congregation, the more eagerly and attentively did they apply ears and minds to listening and memorizing. of a truth they were led on and besmeared with words so sweet that, hanging, as it were, in suspense on the lips of the speaker,--though the address was long and involved, of a sort that is wont to be tedious to many,--they found it impossible to be fatigued, or even sated, with hearing the man. and so the scholars strove to take down all his talks, word for word, as they emanated from his lips, and to adopt them with great eagerness. moreover, on a certain day when the concourse from all parts to hear him was great, when the lecture was over and was followed by a murmur of favorable applause from all the throng, a certain distinguished doctor who both had lectured on the arts at paris and long studied on the laws at bologna, whose name was master roger the norman, ... broke out openly in expressions of this sort: "there is not such knowledge under the sun, and if it were by chance reported at paris, it would, beyond a doubt, carry incomparable weight there, far more so than anywhere else." now the opening--as it were, the proem--of that talk i have not considered it inappropriate to introduce here; so this is the way it began: "i had proposed to hear before being heard, to learn before speaking, to hesitate before debating. for to cultured ears and to men of the highest eloquence my speech will appear to have little marrow in its views, and its poverty of words will seem jejune. for idle is it, and utterly superfluous, to offer that which is arid to the eloquent, and that which is stale to men of knowledge and wisdom. whence our moral seneca, and, quoting from him, sidonius, says: "'until nature has drunk in knowledge, it is not greater glory to speak what you know than to be silent about what you do not know.' "and yet, since, on the testimony of augustine, 'every part out of harmony with its whole is base,' that i may not seem the sole anomaly among you, or, where others speak, be found by my silence a disciple of pythagoras surpassing the rest, i have chosen to be found ridiculous for my speaking, rather than out of harmony for my silence. "what note then shall the noisy goose emit in the presence of the clear-songed swans? shall he offer new things, or things well known? things often considered and trite generate disgust; new things lack authority. for, as pliny says: 'it is an arduous task to give novelty to old things, authority to new things, brightness to things obsolete, charm to things disdained, light to obscure things, credence to doubtful things, and to all things naturalness!' "the question which we have before us is old, but not inveterate,--a question often argued, but whose decision is still pending: should a judge decide according to the evidence, or according to his conviction?" now he supported the second, but far less justifiable view, by arguments taken from the laws and the canons, so forcible that, while all were amazed, all were uncertain whether greater praise should be given to the ornateness of the words or to the efficacy of the arguments.[ ] the mode of lecturing on roman law at bologna is thus described by odofredus (_c._ - ), a distinguished teacher: first, i shall give you summaries of each title [i.e., each chapter into which the books are divided] before i proceed to the text; second, i shall give you as clear and explicit a statement as i can of the purport of each law (included in the title); thirdly, i shall read the text with a view to correcting it; fourthly, i shall briefly repeat the contents of the law; fifthly, i shall solve apparent contradictions, adding any general principles of law (to be extracted from the passage), commonly called "brocardica," and any distinctions or subtle and useful problems (_quaestiones_) arising out of the law, with their solutions, as far as the divine providence shall enable me. and if any law shall seem deserving, by reason of its celebrity or difficulty, of a repetition, i shall reserve it for an evening repetition.[ ] the varied statement and restatement of the passage, implied in the foregoing description, was doubtless necessary to make it intelligible to the not-too-keen minds of the auditors. as rashdall points out, it "makes no mention of a very important feature of all mediaeval lectures,--the reading of the 'glosses.'" this is mentioned in the bologna statutes now to be cited. there are numerous statutes on the mode of lecturing. at bologna, and doubtless elsewhere, professors seem to have experienced the difficulty, not unknown to modern teachers, of getting through the entire course within the prescribed time. the students, who regulated the conduct of their teachers, made stringent rules to prevent this, and punished violations of them by fines large enough to make professors take due caution: we have decreed also that all doctors actually lecturing must read the glosses immediately after reading the chapter or the law, unless the continuity of the chapters or of the laws requires otherwise, taking the burden in this matter on their own consciences in accordance with the oath they have taken. nor, with regard to those things that are not to be read, must they yield to the clamor of the scholars. furthermore we decree that doctors, lecturing ordinarily or extraordinarily, must come to the sections assigned _de novo_, according to the regulations below. and we decree, as to the close observance by them of the passages, that any doctor, in his ordinary lecturing in canon or civil law, must deposit, fifteen days before the feast of saint michael, twenty-five bologna pounds with one of the treasurers whom the rectors have appointed; which treasurer shall promise to give said money to the rectors, or the general beadle in their name, all at once or in separate amounts, as he shall be required by them or by him. the form, moreover, to be observed by the doctors as to the sections is this: let the division of the book into sections (_puncta_) be determined, and then let him be notified. [and if any doctor fails to reach any section on the specified date he shall be fined three bologna pounds, while for a second offense he shall be fined five pounds, and for a third and each succeeding violation of the rule, ten pounds.] and if the twenty-five pounds are exhausted, he must deposit in said place a second twenty-five pounds; and the second deposit must be made within eight days from the time when the first was exhausted.... we decree also that no doctor shall hereafter exceed one section in one lecture. and if the contrary be done by any one he shall be charged with perjury and punished to the extent of three pounds, to be taken from the money deposited for the purpose; and as often as the violation occurs, so often shall the penalty be inflicted, so long as the statute is in force; and the rector also must exact it. we add that at the end of a section the doctors must announce to the scholars at what section they are to begin afterwards, and they shall be obliged to follow that section which they have begun, even to the end of the section. but if by chance, after due weight is given to the glosses or text, it seems useful to transfer a part of the lecture to another section, he shall be obliged in his preceding lecture to announce that to the scholars, so that those who wish may make provision beforehand; under penalty of five bologna shillings for each occasion for the doctor who does to the contrary. we order this statute to be published in each school at the beginning of the term.... since topics not read by the doctors are completely neglected and consequently are not known to the scholars, we have decreed that no doctor shall omit from his sections any chapter, decretal, law, or paragraph. if he does this he shall be obliged to read it within the following section. we have also decreed that no decretal or decree or law or difficult paragraph shall be reserved to be read at the end of the lecture if, through such reservation, promptness of exit at the sound of the appointed bell is likely to be prevented.[ ] a lecture might be either dictated or delivered rapidly, "to the minds rather than to the pens," of the auditors. for pedagogic and possibly other reasons, the latter method seems to have been preferred by the authorities; but lecturers, and students who desire to get full notes, seem to have insisted upon dictation. a statute of the masters of arts at paris, , is one of several unsuccessful attempts to enforce rapid delivery: two methods of reading the books of the liberal arts have been tried: by the first, the masters of philosophy from their chairs rapidly set forth their own words, so that the mind of the listener can take them in, but his hand is not able to write them down; by the second, they pronounce them slowly so that the listeners are able to write them down in their presence with the pen. by diligent examination and mutual comparison of these ways the first method is found to be the better, because the conceptual power of the ordinary mind warns us to imitate it in our lectures. therefore, we, one and all, masters of arts, both lecturing and not lecturing, being especially convoked for this purpose ... have made a statute to this effect: all lecturers, masters as well as scholars, of the same faculty, whenever and wherever they happen to be reading any book in regular order or course in the same faculty, or to be discussing a question according to this or any other method of exposition, shall follow the former method of reading to the best of their ability, to wit: presenting it as though no one were writing it in their presence. it is in accordance with this method that discourses and recommendations are made in the university, and it is followed by lecturers in the rest of the faculties. transgressors of this statute, whether masters or scholars, we deprive thenceforth of their positions as lecturers, of honors, offices, and the rest of their means of support under our faculty, for one year. but if any one repeats the offense, we double the penalty for the first repetition; for the second, we quadruple it, and so on. and auditors who interfere with the execution of this our statute by shouting or whistling or raising a din, or by throwing stones, either personally or through their attendants or accomplices, or in any other way, we deprive of and cut off from our company for one year, and for each repetition we increase the penalty to twice and four times the length as above.[ ] (b) _the disputation._ the disputation, or debate, one of the most important university exercises, "first became really established in the schools as a result of the new method." (cf. page .) this exercise was sometimes carried on in the manner of a modern debate; to "respond" in the schools (i.e., to defend a thesis in public debate), and to "oppose" (i.e., to argue against the respondent), was a common requirement for all degrees. scholars and masters frequently posted in public places theses to the argument of which they challenged all comers, just as a knight might challenge all comers at a tournament to combat. in such cases the respondent usually indicated the side of the question which he would defend. this practice, in a modified form, still exists in some european universities in the public examinations for the doctor's degree. in another mode, the disputation was carried on by a single person, who argued both sides of the question and drew the conclusion in favor of one side or the other. this was of course merely the oral use of the method of exposition commonly found in the works of scholastic philosophers and theologians. the lecture of giraldus cambrensis described above (page ) was doubtless of this type. a complete example is to be found in dante's "quaestio de aqua et terra." the brief of the arguments on both sides of this question is here reproduced with some modifications. it illustrates not only the exercise itself, but also the ponderous complications which the scholastic method received at the hands of abelard's successors, and the weakness of that method when applied to questions of natural science. the reader will note that the argument no longer proceeds by the simple citation of authorities pro and con; the reasonings of the debater are also introduced. moreover, the argument is more complex. it involves first the statement of the affirmative position; second, the refutation of the affirmative by observation and by reasoning; third, objections to the refutation by reasoning; fourth, refutation of these objections; fifth, final refutation of the original arguments. _introduction_: author's reasons for undertaking the discussion. let it be known to you all that, whilst i was in mantua, a certain question arose, which, often argued according to appearance rather than to truth remained undetermined. wherefore, since from boyhood i have ever been nurtured in love of truth, i could not bear to leave the question i have spoken of undiscussed: rather i wished to demonstrate the truth concerning it, and likewise, hating untruth as well as loving truth, to refute contrary arguments. and lest the spleen of many, who, when the objects of their envy are absent, are wont to fabricate lies, should behind my back transform well-spoken words, i further wished in these pages, traced by my own fingers, to set down the conclusion i had reached and to sketch out, with my pen, the form of the whole controversy. the question: is water, or the surface of the sea, anywhere higher than the earth, or habitable dry land? affirmative argument: five affirmative arguments generally accepted. _reason ._ geometrical proof: earth and water are spheres with different centers; the center of the earth's sphere is the center of the universe; consequently the surface of the water is above that of the earth. _reason ._ ethical proof: water is a nobler element than earth; hence it deserves a nobler, or higher, place in the scheme of the universe. _reason ._ experimental proof: based on sailors seeing the land disappear under their horizon when at sea. _reason ._ economical proof: the supply of water, namely, the sea, must be higher than the earth; otherwise, as water flows downwards, it could not reach, as it does, the fountains, lakes, etc. _reason ._ astronomical proof: since water follows the moon's course, its sphere must be excentric, like the moon's excentric orbit; and consequently in places be higher than the sphere of earth. negative argument: these reasons unfounded. i. refutation by observation. water flows down to the sea from the land; hence the sea cannot be higher than the land. ii. refutation by reasoning: a. _water cannot be higher than the dry land._ _proof_: water could only be higher than the earth, . if it were excentric, or . if it were concentric, but had some excrescence. but since _x_. water naturally moves downwards, and _y_. water is naturally a fluid body: . cannot be true, for three impossibilities would follow: _a_. water would move upwards as well as downwards; _b_. water and earth would move downwards in different directions; _c_. gravity would be taught ambiguously of the two bodies. proof of these impossibilities by a diagram. . cannot be true, for _a_. the water of the excrescence would be diffused, and consequently the excrescence could not exist: _b_. it is unnecessary, and what is unnecessary is contrary to the will of god and nature. b. _all land is higher than the sea._ _proof_: it has been shown that water is of one level, and concentric with the earth: therefore, since the shores are higher than the edges of the sea, and since the shores are the lowest portions of the land, it follows that all the land is higher than the sea. c. _objections to the foregoing reasoning, and their refutation._ . _possible affirmative argument_: earth is the heaviest body; hence it is drawn down to its own center, and lies beneath the lighter body, water. . _objection to this argument_: earth is the heaviest body only by comparison with others; for earth is itself of different weights. . _refutation of this objection_: on the contrary, earth is a simple body, and as such subject to be drawn equally in every part. . _answer to the refutation, with minor objections and their refutation._ since the objection is in itself sound, and earth by its own particular nature, due to the stubbornness of matter, would be lower than the sea; and since universal nature requires that the earth project somewhere, in order that its object, the mixture of the elements, may be fulfilled: it follows that there must be some final and efficient cause, whereby this projection may be accomplished. _a_. the final cause has been seen to be the purpose of universal nature. _b_. the efficient cause cannot be (i) the earth, (ii) the water, (iii) the air or fire, (iv) the heaven of the moon, (v) the planets, nor (vi) the primum mobile: therefore it must be ascribed to the heaven of the fixed stars (for this has variety hi efficiency, as is seen in the various constellations), and in particular to those stars of the northern hemisphere which overhang the dry land. (_x_) _first objection_: why is the projecting continent then, not circular, since the motion of these stars is circular? _answer_: because the material did not suffice for so great an elevation. (_y_) _second objection_: why is this elevation in this particular place? _answer_: because god whose ways are inscrutable, willed it so. we should therefore desist from examining too closely the reasons, which we can never hope to fathom. d. _refutation of the original arguments_: _reason ._ invalid because earth and water are spheres with the same center. _reason ._ invalid because of the external influence of universal nature, counteracting the internal influence of particular nature. _reason ._ invalid because it is sphericity of the sea and not the lowness of the land which interferes with one's view at sea. _reason ._ invalid because water does not flow to the tops of mountains, but ascends thither in the form of vapors. _reason ._ invalid because water imitating the moon in one respect, need not imitate it in all.[ ] this brief obviously illustrates much more than the form of the mediaeval disputation. it leaves one in no doubt as to the difference between the natural science of the middle ages and that of our own time. it also illustrates the weakness of the scholastic method when applied to questions which modern science would settle by experiment. the argument abounds in misstatements of fact, the conclusion is incorrect, and the "reasoning" by which it is reached can be described, from the modern point of view, only as grotesque. the weakness of the method was recognized by roger bacon so early as the thirteenth century. the growing recognition of its futility finds repeated expression in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, notably in the new method (novum organum) of francis bacon. like the scholastic method and the worship of aristotle, the disputation fell into disrepute because of the extravagant lengths to which it was carried. the following sarcastic criticism by the spanish scholar, juan luis vives ( - ), is one illustration of the growing revolt of his times against it: disputations, also, to no slight degree have blinded judgment. they were instituted originally (but only among young men) to stimulate mental vigor, often torpid, and to make young men keener in their studies, so that they might either conquer or not be conquered, and also that the instruction received from their teachers might be more deeply impressed upon them. among men, or older persons, there was a kind of comparison of opinions and reasons, not aimed at victory but at unravelling the truth. the very name testifies that they are called disputations because by their means the truth is, as it were, pruned or purged [dis = apart; puto = to prune, or to cleanse]. but after praise and reward came from listeners to the one who seemed to have the best ideas, and out of the praise often came wealth and resources, a base greed of distinction or money took possession of the minds of the disputants, and, just as in a battle, victory only was the consideration, and not the elucidation of truth. so that they defended strenuously whatever they once had said, and overthrew and trampled upon their adversary. low and sordid minds such as with drooping heads look solely at such trivial and ephemeral results, regarded as of small consequence the great benefit that results from study:--namely probity or knowledge of truth; and these two things they did not regard with sufficient acuteness nor did they comprehend their great value, but they sought the immediate reward of money or popular favor. and so, in order to get a greater return for their labor, they admitted the populace to their contests like the spectators of a play brought out at the theatre. then, as one might expect when the standard is lowered, the philosopher laid aside his dignified, venerable character, and put on his stage dress that he might dance more easily: the populace was made spectator, umpire, and judge, and the philosopher did that which the flute player does not do on the stage,--he suited his music, not to his own ideas and to the muses, as his old teacher advises, but wholly to the circle of onlookers and the crowd whence distinction and gain was likely to come back to the actors. there was no need of real, solid teaching (at least, not in the opinion of those who are going to learn); but pretence and dust were thrown in the eyes of the crowd. so the one plain road of obtaining the truth was abandoned; six hundred ways of pretending were made, by which each strove for what suited himself, especially since there is nothing made so ugly as to lack a sponsor. not only did the populace flock to this opinion--that the object of learning is to dispute, just as it is the object of military life to fight--but the public unanimity swept away the veterans, the _triarii_ [the more experienced soldiers who were placed in the third line] as it were, of the scholastic campaign (but these have no more ability and judgment than the dregs of the people), so that they regard him as superfluous and foolish who would call them back to mental activity and character and that quiet method of investigation, philosophy. [they think that] there is no other fruit of studies save to keep your wits about you and not give way to your adversary, either to attack him boldly or to bear up against him, and shrewdly to contrive by what vigor, by what skill, by what method of supplanting, he may be overturned. therefore under this beautiful scheme, surpassing all others, it was the plan to break in the boy immediately and train him constantly; they began disputing as soon as they were born and ceased only at death. the boy brought to school, is bidden to dispute forthwith on the first day and is already taught to quarrel, before he can yet speak at all. so also in grammar, in the poets, in the historians, in logic, in rhetoric, in absolutely every branch. would any one wonder what they can find to do in matters that are perfectly open, very simple and elementary? there is nothing so transparent, so limpid that they do not cloud it over with some petty question as if ruffled by a breeze. it is [thought] characteristic of the most helpless stupidity, not to find something which you may make obscure by most intricate measures and involve in very hard and rigid conditions, which you may twist and twist again. for you may simply say: "write to me,"--here comes a question, if not from grammar then from logic, if not from logic then from physics,--"what motions are made in writing?" or, from metaphysics, "is it substance or quality?" and these boys are hearing the first rudiments of logic who were only yesterday, or the day before, admitted to the school. so they are to be trained never to be silent, but vigorously to assert whatever comes uppermost lest they may seem at any time to have given in. nor is one dispute a day enough, nor two, like a meal. at lunch they dispute, after lunch they dispute, at dinner they dispute, after dinner they dispute. do they do these things to learn, or to cook a new dish? they dispute at home, they dispute away from home. at a banquet, in the bath, in the tepidarium, at church, in the city, in the fields, in public, in private, in all places and at all times they dispute. courtesans in charge of a panderer do not wrangle so many times, or gladiators in charge of a trainer do not fight so many times for a prize as these do under their teacher of philosophy. the populace, not self-restrained and serious, but fickle, barbarous, pugnacious, is wonderfully tickled with all this as with a mock battle. so there are very many exceedingly ignorant men, utterly without knowledge of literature in any form, who take more pleasure in this form of show than in all else; and the more easily to win the fight, they employ a quick and prompt mode of fighting and deliver a blow every second, as it were, in order the more speedily to use up their foe. they neither assail their adversary with uninterrupted argument nor can they endure prolonged talk from him. if by way of explaining himself he should begin to enlarge, they raise the cry: "to the point! to the point! answer categorically!" showing how restless and flippant _their_ minds are who cannot stand a few words.... to such a degree did they go that instead of a settlement based on the strongest arguments, such as drove them into their absurdities, they considered it sufficient to say: "i admit it, for it follows from my own conclusion," and the next step is: "i deny it. prove it. i will defend it appropriately." for he who "defends appropriately" (in their own words), no matter by what incongruous admissions and concessions, is held to be a learned man and best adapted to disputation, that is, to the apex of all knowledge. (c) _the examination_ the examination, as an exercise leading to a degree, is one phase of modern educational practice which comes from mediaeval universities. the system of examinations grew up slowly. generalization is difficult owing to the differences in practice in various universities, but broadly speaking the student who took a master's or doctor's degree in any faculty passed through the three stages of bachelor, licentiate, and doctor, and at each stage underwent some form of examination. the examination for the license (to teach anywhere) seems to have been the most formidable of the three; that for the doctorate being mainly ceremonial. in general, the examination tested the candidate's knowledge of the books prescribed, and his power of public debate. the statutes of bourges (c. - ) thus describe the requirements and the manner of procedure of examinations for the license in arts: [in preparation for the a.b. degree, which preceded the license, the candidate had heard lectures on ( ) the isagoge (introduction) of porphyry to the categories of aristotle, ( ) the following works of aristotle: (a) categories; (b) peri hermeneias (on interpretation), the first (?) two books and a part of the fourth; (c) topics, first book; (d) physics, first three books.] likewise we have decreed that before any one comes to the grade of license he must have heard four other books of physics, three books "on the heavens," two of "on generation," the first three of "on meteors," three "on the soul," "on the memory," "on the length and brevity of life," with the first six books of "metaphysics" and the first six on "ethics" with a part of euclid, and with the book "on the sphere" [by john sacrobosco]. likewise we have decreed that candidates must respond twice openly and in public, and there may be five at most in one day and in the same debate; yet four will be sufficient. and when they respond they must pay, each his own chairman, a scudo of gold. likewise we have determined that, when this has been done, the faculty shall appoint four masters who have already been masters for three years and who do not have [the candidates] that year as pupils under their own special direction; and they shall test the sufficiency of all the candidates. and the said committee shall take oath that they will accept those who are eligible and will reject those who are ineligible. likewise we have decreed that, when this has been done, on the report of said committee, over their seals manual faithfully transmitted, the chancellor shall arrange the candidates in the order assigned to them by said committee, always putting the better men and those who are eligible ahead of the others, in order that the opportunity of studying well may be given to the students and that no one may suffer harm from his position. likewise we have decreed that before proceeding to license the candidates themselves, the assembled faculty of arts shall ordain four masters, other than the first, who shall examine in assigned groups the said candidates in their own persons. and if they do not find them to be such as the first examiners reported that they found them, they shall report to the faculty, pointing out the deficiency that the faculty may have knowledge of the mistake of the first committee. if it finds that they made a mistake it shall have authority to correct their errors by changing the positions [of the names on the list] and by rejecting them entirely if they seem ineligible. likewise we have decreed that when their approval or disapproval has been settled by the said second examiners, they shall place their candidates according to proper order in one list sealed with their own seals, and shall deliver it, under enclosure, to the chancellor, and it shall not be lawful for him to change the order but he shall license them in the order set down in the list.[ ] the process of taking the licentiate and the doctorate in laws at bologna, in vogue at the end of the thirteenth century and later, is described at great length in the statutes of . the examination consisted of two parts; the first private, the second public. the first led to a license, which was, however, a license merely to proceed to the public examination. the statute concerning the private examination is summarized by rashdall: the private examination was the real test of competence, the so-called public examination being in practice a mere ceremony. before admission to each of these tests the candidate was presented by the consiliarius of his nation to the rector for permission to enter it, and swore that he had complied with all the statutable conditions, that he would give no more than the statutable fees or entertainments to the rector himself, the doctor or his fellow-students, and that he would obey the rector. within a period of eight days before the examination the candidate was presented by "his own" doctor or by some other doctor or by two doctors to the archdeacon, the presenting doctor being required to have satisfied himself by private examination of his presentee's fitness. early on the morning of the examination, after attending a mass of the holy ghost, the candidate appeared before the assembled college and was assigned by one of the doctors present two passages (puncta) in the civil or canon law as the case might be. he then retired to his house to study the passages, in doing which it would appear that he had the assistance of the presenting doctor. later in the day the doctors were summoned to the cathedral or some other public building by the archdeacon, who presided over but took no active part in the ensuing examination. the candidate was then introduced to the archdeacon and doctors by the presenting doctor or promoter as he was styled. the prior of the college then administered a number of oaths in which the candidate promised respect to that body and solemnly renounced all the rights of which the college had succeeded in robbing all doctors not included in its ranks. the candidate then gave a lecture or exposition of the two prepared passages; after which he was examined upon them by two of the doctors appointed by the college. other doctors might ask supplementary questions of law (which they were required to swear that they had not previously communicated to the candidate) arising more indirectly out of the passages selected, or might suggest objections to the answers. with a tender regard for the feelings of their comrades at this "rigorous and tremendous examination" (as they style it) the students by their statutes required the examiner to treat the examinee "as his own son." the examination concluded, the votes of the doctors present were taken by ballot and the candidate's fate determined by the majority, the decision being announced by the archdeacon.[ ] the successful candidate ordinarily proceeded within a short time to the public examination, which was held in the cathedral. at this examination he received both the formal license to teach and the doctor's degree. before the appointed day he went about inviting friends and public officials to the ceremony. ostentation at this time was forbidden: those who are candidates for the doctor's degree, when they give their invitations to the public examination, should go without trumpets or any instruments whatever; and the beadle of the arch-deacon of bologna, with the beadles of the doctors under whom they are to have the public examination, should precede him on horseback. at that late day they [the candidates] shall not provide any feast, except among scholars from the same house or among those related to the candidate in the first, second, third, or even the fourth degree. furthermore no one of the rectors shall presume to ride with him on that day.[ ] on the actual day of the examination, however, "the love of pageantry characteristic of the mediaeval and especially of the italian mind was allowed the amplest gratification"; the candidate went to the cathedral, doubtless preceded by trumpeters, and escorted by a procession of his fellow-students. the statutes of the german nation at bologna describe as one object of that organization "the clustering about, attendance upon, and crowding around our doctors-to-be, in season and out of season." moreover, "the scholars of our nation shall individually accompany the one who is to be made doctor, to the place where the insignia [of the degree] are usually bestowed, if he so wishes, or has so requested of the proctor [of the nation]. also, they shall escort him with a large accompanying crowd from the aforesaid place to his own house, under penalty of one bologna shilling."[ ] the university statutes are to the same effect, but they prohibit horse-play, and the extravagance of tournaments. "ultramontane" scholars are those from north, "cismontane," those from south, of the alps. moreover, the ultramontane scholars shall accompany the ultramontane candidate, and the cismontane, the cismontane, from their dwelling places to saint peter's when they go there to take the public examination, and at that time hay and straw shall not be placed [on the floor of] the church. furthermore all the ultra-and cis-montanes shall be present at the public examination, and all shall afterwards accompany the new doctor from the church to his house under penalty of ten bologna shillings, which it shall be the duty of the rector to exact within eight days. and no scholar at the public examination of any citizen or foreign scholar shall be dressed for a dance or a brawl or a tournament, nor shall he joust as a knight. if any one disobey, he shall incur the penalty of perjury and ten bologna pounds, and if he does not pay this within ten days on the demand of any rector he shall be deprived of the advantage and honor of our university. and we impose the penalty of perjury also upon the rector of the student who is to take the public examination, and this penalty he shall incur from the very fact that he should by all means exact from the candidate an oath that on the day on which he rides about to give invitations for the public examination which he is to take, he will not bring about any jousting or brawling as some have done heretofore. and if the candidate, when required, is unwilling to take the oath, or if he takes the oath and breaks it, he [the rector] shall utterly forbid the public examination and direct the doctors not to hold their meeting and also stop the beadle, so that he shall not dare to announce his programme through the schools, under an arbitrary penalty to be imposed.[ ] the ceremony at the cathedral included, first, the formal test of the candidate. after making a speech he held a disputation, in which he defended a thesis taken from the laws against opponents chosen from the body of students, "thus playing for the first time the part of a doctor in a university disputation." he was then presented by the promoter to the archdeacon, who conferred the final license to teach civil or canon law or both, according to the student's training. this was done by a formula probably similar to the following, which is taken from a book published in : inasmuch as you have been presented to me for examination in both [civil and canon] laws and for the customary approval, by the most illustrious and most excellent d.d. (naming the promoters), golden knights, counts palatine, most celebrated doctors, and inasmuch as you have since undergone an arduous and rigorous examination, in which you bore yourself with so much learning and distinction that that body of most illustrious and excellent promoters without one dissenting voice,--i repeat, without one dissenting voice,--have judged you worthy of the laurel, therefore by the authority which i have as archdeacon and senior chancellor, i create, publish, and name you, n.n., doctor in the aforesaid faculties, giving to you every privilege of lecturing, of ascending the master's chair, of writing glosses, of interpreting, of acting as advocate, and of exercising also the functions of a doctor here and everywhere throughout the world; furthermore, of enjoying all those privileges which those happy individuals, who have been so deserving in these fostering colleges, are accustomed to use and enjoy. and i trust that all these things will forever result in the increase of your fame and the honor of our colleges, to the praise and glory of almighty god and of the ever blessed virgin mary.[ ] "in pursuance of the license thus conferred, he was then invested by the promoter with the _insignia_ of the teaching office, [the chair, the book, the ring, the cap,] each, no doubt, with some appropriate formula. he was seated in the magisterial chair or _cathedra_. he was handed the open book--one of the law texts which it was his function to expound. a gold ring was placed upon his finger, either in token of his espousal to science or in indication of the doctor's claim to be the equal of knights; and the magisterial _biretta_ placed upon his head: after which the promotor left him with a paternal embrace, a kiss, and a benediction."[ ] then followed the triumphal procession homeward through the town, "preceded by the three university pipers and the four university trumpeters." (d) _a day's work at louvain in_ documents which describe the day's work of a mediaeval student are not common. a ducal ordinance for the university of louvain in indicates the way in which the student was supposed to work at that institution. the tutors shall see that the scholars rise in the morning at five o'clock, and that then before lectures each one reads by himself the laws which are to be read at the regular lecture, together with the glosses.... but after the regular lecture, having if they wish, quickly heard mass, the scholars shall come to their rooms and revise the lectures that have been given, by rehearsing and impressing on their memory whatever they have brought away from the lectures either orally or in writing. and next they shall come to lunch ...after lunch, each one having brought to the table his books, all the scholars of the faculty together, in the presence of a tutor, shall review that regular lecture; and in this review the tutor shall follow a method which will enable him, by discreet questioning of every man, to gather whether each of them listened well to the lecture and remembered it, and which will recall the whole lecture by having its parts recited by individuals. and if watchful care is used in this one hour will suffice.[ ] (e) _time-table of lectures at leipzig_, there must have been some orderly arrangement of each day's lectures as the requirements for the various degrees became fixed; but i have not found an early document on the subject. the statutes of leipzig for give "an accurate arrangement of the lectures of the faculty of fine arts, hour by hour, adapted to a variety of intellects and to diverse interests." they do not always specify the semester in which the book is to be read; in such cases the title is placed in the center of the column. the list includes practically all the books required for the degrees of a.b. and a.m. unless otherwise specified, they are the works of aristotle; but the versions are, as noted on page , new translations from the greek. these translations are praised in no uncertain terms in the statutes. the metaphysic is presented in latin by bessarion "so cleverly and with so good faith that he will seem to differ not even a nail's breadth from the greek copies and sentiments of aristotle." the ethics and the economics are "cleverly and charmingly put into latin by argyropulos;" the politics and the magna moralia are "finely translated by georgius valla, that well-known man of great learning," etc. lectures, it will be noted, began early. the following tabular view is compiled from zarncke, _statutenbücher der universität leipzig_, pp. - . in addition to the "ordinary," or prescribed, books, "two books of cicero's letters will be read on festal days"; and "the greek grammar of theodorus gaza will be explained at the expense of the illustrious prince george." summer | winter | summer | winter | | | a.m. | p.m. | metaphysics. |metaphysics. |posterior |topics ( bks.) introduction |on | analytics. |generation and (porphyry). | interpretation |sense and | destruction. categories. |logic (aquinas). | sensation. |being and | |memory and | essence on six principles (gilbert de la | recollection. | (aquinas). porrée). |sleep and waking.| physics (digest of aristotle by |longevity and | albertus magnus). | shortlivedness.| -----------------------------------| | a.m. |institutes of oratory | (quintilian). physical hearing (sic.) physics? |---------------------------------- reading and disputation by | p.m. candidates for a.b. and a.m. | grammar (priscian). |on the soul ( |on the heavens -----------------------------------| bks). | and the earth. a.m. |common |on the substance | arithmetic, and| of the world logic: summulae (petrus hispanus). | on the sphere | (averroes). | | (sacrobosco). |common rhetoric (cicero |on the orator | | perspective, to herennius). | (cicero). | | i.e., optics physical |on the vital | | (john of auscultation | principle | | pisa). (themistius). | (themistius). |theory of the planets (gerard of | | cremona). | ethics | politics. | economics. |magna moralia, _i.e._, | ethics, abbreviated from | aristotle and eudemus. |---------------------------------- | p.m. | |theocritus. |herodotus. |virgil. |aristotle, problems. footnotes: [footnote : giraldus cambrensis, ed. brewer, i, pp. - .] [footnote : quoted by rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : malagola, _statuti delle università i dei collegi dello studio bolognese._ selections from pp. - .] [footnote : bulaeus, _historia universitatis parisiensis_, iv, .] [footnote : dante, _quaestio de aqua et terra_, tr. a.c. white, pp. vii-ix.] [footnote : document printed by rashdall, ii, pt. ii, pp. - .] [footnote : rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : malagola, _statuti_, etc., p. .] [footnote : _acta nationis germanicae_, pp. , .] [footnote : malagola, _statuti_, etc., p. .] [footnote : document printed by rashdall, ii, pt. ii, p. .] [footnote : rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : document printed by rashdall, vol. ii, pt. ii, p. .] v requirements for the degrees in arts in general, the candidate for the a.b. degree must have taken part as "respondent" or "opponent" (see p. ) in a prescribed number of disputations, and must have "heard" the lectures on certain prescribed books before taking his examination for the degree. (this examination seems, in some cases, to have been little more than a certification by a committee of masters that the student had fulfilled the foregoing requirements.) the candidate for the degree of a.m. must have completed further prescribed books and disputations, and must have "read," i.e., lectured upon, some book or books which he had previously "heard," before taking his examination for the license (to teach everywhere). no general statement can be given as to the required number of disputations; the practice differed at various times and places. the statutes of leipzig required during the fifteenth century six "ordinary" and six "extraordinary" responses from the prospective bachelor. the prospective master was required to declare that he had been present at thirty ordinary bachelors' disputations, and had argued in each one "if he had been able to get the opportunity to argue." the candidate for the license at paris, in , must have attended disputations throughout one "grand ordinary," and must have "responded" twice. at oxford the youth must have taken part in disputations for a year as "general sophister," and must have "responded" at least once, before taking the a.b. or before "determination," which was the equivalent of the a.b. prospective masters must have responded at least twice.[ ] the following lists of prescribed books give a good idea of mediaeval requirements (aside from disputations) for the degrees of a.b. and a.m., at various times and places. the reader will note at once the predominance of aristotle, and the variations in requirements for the degrees. many similar lists might be cited from the records of other universities; but they would give little additional information as regards the degrees in arts. . list of books prescribed for the degrees of a.b. and a.m. at paris, . the following list from the statutes of does not separate the books into the groups required for each degree, but indicates the total requirement for both. {introduction to the categories of aristotle { (isagoge), porphyry. ( ) the "old" logic {categories, and on interpretation, { aristotle. {divisions, and topics except bk. iv, { boethius. {prior and posterior analytics, aristotle. ( ) the "new" logic {sophistical refutations, " {topics, " ( ) moral philosophy: ethics, bks., " {physics, aristotle. {on the heavens and the earth, " {meteorics, " {on animals, " {" the soul, " ( ) natural philosophy {" generation, " {" sense and sensible things, " {" sleep and waking, " {" memory and recollection, " {" life and death, " {" plants, " (?) ( ) metaphysics: metaphysics, " {on the six principles, gilbert de la porrée {barbarismus (bk. , larger grammar), { donatus. ( ) other books {grammar (major and minor), priscian. {on causes, costa ben luca. {on the differences of spirit and soul { (another translation of on causes).[ ] an interesting part of the statute of relates to the length of time to be given to the various books, or groups of books, prescribed. the entire old logic is to be read in about six months (october -march ); the new logic and priscian's grammar in the same length of time; the physics, the metaphysics and on animals, together, in somewhat more than eight months (october -june ); the four books of the ethics, alone, in six weeks; on life and death is to be completed in one week, and several of the other treatises in the same group are to be read in periods varying from two to five weeks. knowledge of these facts renders the list as a whole considerably less imposing than it might otherwise appear. . books required at paris in . in this and all the following examples the books are by aristotle unless otherwise specified. for the a.b.: ( ) grammar: doctrinale, alexander da villa dei. ( ) logic: the old and the new logic, as above. ( ) natural philosophy: on the soul. for the license to teach everywhere: ( ) natural philosophy: physics; on the heavens and the earth; on generation and corruption; parva naturalia (see p. ); on mechanics. ( ) mathematics: "some books"; probably the treatises required at leipzig in . (see p. ). ( ) politics. ( ) rhetoric. for the a.m.: ( ) ethics. ( ) meteorics ( bks.).[ ] . books required at oxford, : for the a.b. (determination): ( ) logic: the old and the new logic (see p. ), and on the six principles. ( ) either grammar (selections from donatus and priscian), or natural philosophy (physics, on the soul, and on generation and corruption).[ ] for the a.b. in (?) . ( ) logic: the old and the new logic in "cursory," or extraordinary, lectures, given by bachelors; introduction, porphyry: on the six principles, gilbert de la porrée; sophistical refutations. ( ) grammar; barbarismus, donatus. ( ) mathematics: arithmetic; computus ecclesiasticus (method of finding easter); on the sphere, sacrobosco.[ ] . books required at leipzig for the degree of a.b. in .[ ] ( ) grammar; priscian (the last two books). [ months.] {tractatus (summulae), petrus hispanus. [ - / - months.] ( ) logic {the "old" logic (see paris, ). [ - months.] {the "new" " except topics. [ - / - months.] ( ) nat'l philosophy {physics. [ - months.] {on the soul. [ weeks- months.] ( ) mathematics; on the material sphere (sacrobosco). [ - weeks.] . books required at leipzig for the degree of a.m. in . ( ) logic {logic of heytisbury. {topics, aristotle. [ - months.] ( ) moral and {ethics. [ - " ] practical {politics. [ - " ] philosophy {economics. [ weeks.] {on the heavens and the earth. [ - / - { months.] {on generation and destruction. [ { weeks- months.] ( ) natural philosophy {meteorics. [ - / - months.] {parva naturalia (i.e., the books on { sense and sensible things, sleep and { waking, memory and recollection, { longevity and shortlivedness). [ - / - { months.] ( ) metaphysics: metaphysics. [ - months.] {astronomy: theory of the planets { (gerard of cremona). [ - weeks.] {geometry: euclid. [ - months.] {arithmetic: common arithmetic (sacrobosco). ( ) mathematics { [ weeks- month.] {music: music (john de muris). [ { weeks- month.] {optics: common perspective (john { of pisa). [ - - / months.][ ] footnotes: [footnote : statutes of .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, i, no. .] [footnote : rashdall, i, p. .] [footnote : _munimenta acad. oxon.,_ i, pp. - .] [footnote : _munimenta acad. oxon._, i, pp. - .] [footnote : the figures in brackets indicate the time to be given to each book, or group of books. the data are from zarncke, _statutenbücher der univ. leipzig._, - .] [footnote : for the requirements in see p. .] vi academic letters . letters relating to paris (a) _a twelfth-century critic_ the pessimist who laments the decay of education, and who feels that its golden age was the time in which he received his own training, or earlier, is a perennial figure in the history of education. the following letter has a surprisingly modern ring. denifle (p. ) thinks that stephen was unable to reconcile himself to the new movement at paris because of his monastic training. stephen's view, however, "was not wholly wrong." compare the letter of peter de la celle to john of salisbury, page . "stephen [bishop] of tournai, in his letters directed to the pope, laments the ruin of the study of sacred literature, of canon law and the arts, and, blaming the professors, implores the hand of apostolic correction." ( - .) to the pope. beseeching his pardon, we would speak to our sovereign pontiff, whose kindness stimulates our boldness, whose knowledge supports our ignorance, whose patience assures indulgence. the authority of our forefathers first impels us, then the disease which is insinuating itself, and which will in the end be irremediable if its evil influence be not checked at the beginning. nor do we say this, father, as though we wish to be either censors of morals, or judges of the doctors, or debaters of doctrines. this burden requires stronger shoulders and this fight calls for the vigorous arms of spiritual athletes. we wish only to point out this distress to your sacred fatherhood, on whom god has conferred the power of checking error and the knowledge of how to correct it. the study of sacred letters among us has descended into the very factory of confusion; the teachers are more watchful for glory than for doctrine, and they write up new and modern summaries and commentaries upon theological foundations, with which they soothe, retain, and deceive their pupils; as though there were not plenty of works of the holy fathers who, we read, put forth their sacred writings inspired by that same spirit which we believe inspired the apostles and prophets when they composed theirs.... public debates are carried on in violation of the sacred constitutions concerning the incomprehensibility of the deity; a wordy, carnal strife on the incarnation of the word goes on irreverently. even the indivisible trinity is divided at the street corners and quarrelled over, so that there are already as many errors as there are teachers, as many scandals as lecture rooms, as many blasphemies as public squares. furthermore, if recourse is had to the courts which are established by common law, either those set up by us, or by the regular judges which we are bound to recognize, there is presented by venal men the tangled forest of the decretals, under the pretext, as it were, of the sacred memory of pope alexander, and the more ancient sacred canons are thrown away, rejected, and spewed out. this confusion being made in the very centre of the wholesome regulations made by the councils of the holy fathers, they impose upon their councils no method and on their business no restraint, those letters having prevailing weight, which, it may be, lawyers have forged and engrossed for pay in their own offices or chambers. a new volume, got together from these sources, is both read regularly in the schools and is exposed for sale in the market with the approval of the crowd of notaries, who rejoice that both their labor is lessened and their pay increased in engrossing these suspicious works. two woes have been set forth, and lo, a third woe remains! the faculties called liberal [i.e., free] have lost their old time liberty, and are devoted to a slavery so complete that long-haired youths shamelessly possess themselves of the offices in these faculties, and beardless boys sit in the seat of the elders, and those who do not yet know how to be pupils strive to be named doctors. and they themselves compile their own summaries, reeking and wet with [their own] further drivellings, and not even seasoned with the salt of the philosophers. neglecting the rules of the arts and throwing away the standard works of the makers of the arts, they catch in their sophisms, as in spiders' webs, the midges of their empty trifling phrases. philosophy cries out that her garments are rent and torn asunder; she modestly covers her nakedness with certain carefully prepared remnants [but] she is neither consulted by the good man nor does she console the good woman. these things, o father, demand the hand of apostolic correction, that the present unseemliness of teaching, learning, and debating may by your authority be reduced to definite form, that the divine word may not be cheapened by vulgar attrition; that it may not be said on the corners, lo! here is christ, or lo! he is there! that sacred things may not be cast before dogs or pearls before swine to be trampled under their feet.[ ] (b) _the monastic view_ to many of the monks of this period study and the search for truth through reason were repellent. in their view the way to spiritual truth was through retirement from the world, and the observance of religious exercises. this is the burden of a letter to john of salisbury by peter de la celle, abbot of a monastery near rheims, in . incidentally it gives his view concerning paris. "peter de la celle to john of salisbury concerning the perils that encompass souls at paris and concerning the true school of truth." his own abbot to his own clerk. you have, my well-beloved, chosen a sufficiently delightful exile, where joys, though they be vain, are in superabundance, where the supply of bread and wine exceeds in richness that of your own land where there is the frequent access of friends, where the dwelling together of comrades is common. who else besides you is there beneath the sky who has not thought paris the place of delights, the garden of plantations, the field of first fruits? yet, though smiling [at these things], you have said truly that where pleasure of the body is greater and fuller, there is the exile of the soul; and where luxury reigns there the soul is a wretched and afflicted hand-maid. o paris! how well-suited art thou to captivate and deceive souls! in thee are the nets of the vices, in thee the arrow of hell transfixes the hearts of the foolish! this my john has felt and therefore he has named it an exile. would that you were leaving behind that exile of yours just as it is, and were hastening to your native land not in word and tongue only but in very deed and truth! there, in the book of life would you be looking, not upon forms and elements, but upon divinity itself, as it really is, as upon truth--eye to eye, without labor of reading, without tediousness of seeing, without fallacies and mistakes of understanding, without anxiety of retaining, without fear of forgetting. o blessed school, where christ teaches our hearts with the words of his virtue, where without study and lecture we learn how we should live happily to eternity! there no book is bought, no teacher of things written is hired, there is no circumventing in debate, no intricacy of sophisms, [but] a plain settlement of all questions, a full apprehension of universal reasons and arguments. there life avails more than lecture; simplicity, more than cavilling. there no one is shut in [i.e., limited in freedom] save he who is shut out. in a word; there every reproach is done away with in the answer given to him who evilly presents an evil life: "depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels;" and to him who sets for a good life: "come, ye blessed" &c. would that the sons of men were as intent upon these better studies as they are on idle talking, on vain and base buffoonery! certainly they would harvest richer fruits, more excellent favors, certainly greater honors and beyond doubt would learn the end of all perfection,--christ,--whom they will never find in these. farewell.[ ] (c) _letters from or to students at paris_ these letters belong to a period covering nearly four centuries. the first gives an opinion of william of champeaux in marked contrast to that of abelard. ( ) a certain d. writes to a certain prior concerning his studies at paris. ( - .) i am now in paris in the school of master william of champeaux, the greatest of all the men of his time whom i have known, in every branch of learning. when we hear his voice we think that no man, but, as it were, an angel from heaven, is speaking; for the melody of his words and the profundity of his ideas transcends, as it were, human limitations.... here, my revered friend, i am training my youth that i may not utterly succumb to those vices which, unless conquered, are wont, as a rule, to overturn this period of life. here i am doing my best to illumine by doctrine and study my untaught mind, emancipated from the shades of ignorance and the sin of the first man, so far as god, from whom alone comes every blessing of wisdom, shall himself deign to permit. because the blessing of wisdom, when sought and acquired with pure interest, is rightly believed and considered by all men of discernment as the surmnuni [bonum]. for, as the apostle says: knowledge without charity puffeth up but, with charity edifieth: for it uproots vices and grafts in virtues; it instructs itself in its duty to itself, its neighbor, and its creator; finally, by its presence, it fortifies and defends the mind, over which it presides in person, against all the ills of this life that come to it from without.[ ] ( ) philip of harvengt to hergald, a student at paris (date between and ) know that i have both read carefully and when read, accepted gratefully the letters which your affection, with memorable feeling, led you to send to me ...because in them i thought i saw evidence of your progress in learning.... just as the queen of sheba is said to have come with a large retinue, that by the sight of her own eyes she might have surer knowledge of those things whose fame she had eagerly absorbed from afar, so you too, drawn by love of knowledge, came to paris and found a much desired model of jerusalem, sought for by many. for here david strikes his harp of ten chords, here with mystic touch he composes the psalms. here isaiah is read and in the reading his prophecies are revealed; here the rest of the prophets present their diverse strains of harmonious melody. here the wisdom of solomon is open for the instruction of those who have gathered from all parts of the world; here his treasure house is thrown open to eager students. here to stimulate so great a concourse of students there is so great a throng of clerks that it vies with the numerous multitude of the laity. happy city! in which the sacred codes are pored over with so much zeal and their involved mysteries are solved by the gift of the outpoured spirit, in which there is so much diligence on the part of the readers, and, in short, so much knowledge of scriptures that it truly deserves to be called cariath sepher, that is the city of letters. therein would i have you instructed like gothoniel, not so much in letters as in the spirit, and so to grasp the scriptures that you may take delight in searching out their inner sweetness.... farewell.[ ] ( ) description of paris about by guy de basoches to a youth who is noble and so like himself as to be a second self, guy de basoches [seeks] to match his nobility of birth by high-bred manners.... my situation then is this: i am indeed in paris, happy because of soundness of both mind and body, happier were you enjoying it too, and happiest had it but been my lot to have you with me. i am indeed in paris, in that city of kings, which not only holds, by the sweet delight of her natural dowry, those who are with her, but also alluringly invites those who are far away. for as the moon by the majesty of its more brilliant mirror overwhelms the rays of the stars, not otherwise does said city raise its imperial head with its diadem of royal dignity above the rest of the cities. it is situated in the lap of a delightful valley, surrounded by a coronet of mountains which ceres and bacchus adorn with fervent zeal. the seine, no humble stream amid the army of rivers, superb in its channel, throwing its two arms about the head, the heart, the very marrow of the city, forms an island. two suburbs reach out to right and left, the less excellent, even, of which begets envy in envious cities. from the two suburbs two stone bridges stretch over to the island and one of them which has been named for its size, for it is great, faces the north and the english sea, while the opposite one, which opens towards the loire, they call the little bridge.... on this island philosophy, of old, placed a royal throne for herself, philosophy, who, despised in her solitude, with a sole attendant, study, now possesses an enduring citadel of light and immortality, and under her victorious feet tramples the withered flowers of a world already in its dotage. on this island, the seven sisters, to wit, the liberal arts, have secured an eternal abiding place for themselves, and, with the ringing clarion of their nobler eloquence, decrees and laws are proclaimed. here the healing fount of learning gushes forth, and as it were evoking from itself three most limpid streams, it makes a threefold division of the knowledge of the sacred page into history, allegory and morals.[ ] ( ) johann von jenzenstein to master benesch of horschowitz, concerning paris. ( .) master bennessius, dearest comrade and friend. if recent doings at paris are unknown to you, if the fecundity of pleasures, the abundance of all things edible, the manners of the men, the bountiful supply of all the sciences, even the clever teaching in very many material crafts,--if you could but see the mere shadow of all these, surely, overpowered by their arguments, you would throw off your sluggishness and generously enter into the aforesaid enjoyments; and your eyes, grown old in old sights would renew their youth in these new sights.... for here (says the writer sarcastically) are distinguished doctors of many faculties, some of whom by their crazy ways of thinking, and still others by crazy ways of acting, others, indeed, by inflicting wounds, and still others by abusive words, furnish enjoyment that is exceeding pleasing; and (he adds more seriously) there are other masters subtly trained in the seven liberal arts, by whose example and teaching the entire earth, like the heavens, is adorned with stars; and some of these masters are illuminated by the three trivials and some by the four quadrivials and some by both the trivials and the quadrivials. now the three trivials are grammar, which teaches clearly the agreement of speech; and starting from that, the youth who holds on to his first teaching makes a beginning whereby he may obtain a deeper taste of the profundities of other knowledge also; the second is rhetoric, which by the charm of its colors adorns as with pearls the subject matter, and ennobles grammar, and instils acceptably into the ears of men that which is heard; the third is logic by means of which the method of skilful deductive reasoning is assigned to the individual sciences, without which the powers of all the sciences are quiescent, and by whose addition all the sciences are regularly organized. (the letter ends with a similar description of the quadrivials.)[ ] . two oxford letters of the fifteenth century ( ) oxford university to the duke of gloucester, acknowledging a gift of books. ( .) most illustrious, most cultured and magnificent prince, the enduring value of the benefits you have conferred on the english nation, and the meritorious deeds of your most powerful highness in its behalf can never die, but, with distinguished fame destined to endure, will flourish with ever-renewed praise and happy remembrance. how delightful it certainly is for us to reflect upon these again and again! among the rest, however, that deed itself redounds to the splendor of your most mighty highness, namely, that after having brought about the repression of heretic plotting against the church of god, you have chosen to reinvigorate the vineyard of the lord, your hand-maid, the university of oxford, with books on all the sciences and virtues, out of which the abundant wine of knowledge and truth may be squeezed by the press of study. for this reason we set forth in this humble letter our thanks, our praise, and our prayers, but we cannot express ourselves adequately. which of the universities has found a prince so munificent, so illustrious, so magnificent?--whose service in the field has ever been successful, whose mind is most liberal, and who displays charity to all, justice to each, and harm to none. what respecter of the wise was ever so pious, what supporter of them so efficient, what patron of the sciences, of virtues, and of books so generous? and by these not only are the hearts of the living enlightened to the glory of god and the advance of virtue, but even more in coming ages will posterity be illumined. can the happy memory of deeds so great pass away? nay, but it will be a benediction forever. a statute has been made in the words of your supplicant, and is to be forever in force, which will never fail in prayers in your behalf but will serve as an enduring memorial. wherefore, although the fame of others may ebb with the flow of time or perish through being overshadowed by the rising of greater men, yet your fame cannot perish under the cloud of oblivion nor can it, of a truth, be obscured by the shadow of greater benefactions. if the great conquests of alexander come to our ears, renewed day by day through the devices of the wise greeks who committed such deeds to writing, how much more will this university, your devoted supplicant, bear witness to your magnificent deeds to the end of time, not only by her prayers but also in her writings? nay, were the tongues of all to be silent the fact itself would bear witness more than speech, the fact, to wit, that one hundred and thirty-nine most precious volumes of theology, medicine, and the seven liberal sciences have been deposited in our library from your own collection, as an eternal witness to your surpassing virtues and munificence. we pray therefore that you may be willing to look upon this university as your vineyard and your handmaid and perpetual supplicant. and may the lord himself most glorious, who chose your serenity for the bestowing of such benefactions, grant to you the fruits of the spirit and guide you to the university of the saints. written at oxford in our congregation in the twenty-fifth day of the month of january. the most humble supplicant of your serenity, the university of learning at oxford.[ ] ( ) testimonial letter for mr. john king of oxford to all the children of holy church, our mother, to whom this letter may come, the chancellor of the university of oxford and the whole assembly of masters ruling in the same send greeting in the arms of our saviour. we believe that we present an offering in the sight of the highest truth, as often as we furnish a testimony of high praise to one excellent in virtue and in knowledge. therefore we,--wishing all whom it may concern to know of the commendable life and the fragrance of honest conversation of our beloved brother, master john king, m.a. and student in sacred theology, a prudent procurator of our university who has filled his office most efficiently; we therefore, as we have said, wishing all to know, as we are bound to do,--and to prevent so bright a light from being hid beneath the bushel of silence,--do bear witness by this letter that, through the commendable merits of our aforesaid brother and his study, he has attained such proficiency that the fragrant fame of his name--which the praise of his excellent action has exalted to the pinnacle of glory with us--could not be concealed: but from the height of its exalted pedestal it has furnished a living example to all scholars for emulation, and a great light to all people for profitable instruction. and so, while adorning our university with his presence and outshining all in the maturity and dignity of his character, he won the love of all by his spotless name. we commend him therefore to your worshipful reverences, earnestly praying that you will show yourselves favorable and kind to him, both out of regard for our university and for his deserts. in witness of which, and that all may know more fully about his laudable character, we have caused this letter to be sealed for said master john with the seal of our university. given at oxford in the congregation-house, february th, .[ ] footnotes: [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, i, f. .] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris.,_ i, no. , p. .] [footnote : jaffé, _bibliotheca_, v, pp. , ff.] [footnote : _chart. univ. paris._, i, no. , p. .] [footnote : _bulletin de la société de l'histoire de paris_, , p. f.] [footnote : _archiv für oesterreichische geschichte_, vol. , p. .] [footnote : _epistolae academicae oxon._, i, p. .] [footnote : _epistolae academicae oxon._, i, p. .] bibliographical note = . additional readings from the sources.= munro, d.c. _the mediaeval student_. (translations and reprints from the original sources of european history, vol. ii, no. .) the student should not fail to procure this little pamphlet, which is a necessary supplement to several of the readings in the present collection. it contains useful explanatory notes as well as important documents. price, ten cents. longmans, green & co., new york city. robinson, j.h. _readings in european history_. vol. i, chap. xix, and especially pp. - . readings on abelard, aristotle in the universities, roger bacon. henderson, e.f. _select historical documents of the middle ages_, pp. - . charter of the university of heidelberg, . = . general references on the history of mediaeval universities.= rashdall, hastings. _the universities of europe in the middle ages_. oxford: the clarendon press, . pages, vols. in three parts. much the best work on the subject; based on the sources. indispensable for reference. mullinger, j.b. _encyclopedia britannica_, art. _universities._ "the first tolerably correct (though very brief) account which has appeared in english." includes university history to . _encyclopedia britannica_ and other encyclopedias. the student who may not have access to works mentioned in this list is reminded that brief accounts of the men and the subjects here considered are often to be found in good encyclopedias. = . bibliographies.= the best single collection of references to the extensive literature of the subject is in rashdall's work, though this does not include books and articles published since . compayré (see below) includes a brief list. references to sources and secondary works on the seven liberal arts are published by abelson; references relating to university text-books of greek origin by loomis (see below). = . text-books.= compayrÃ�, g. _abelard and the origin and early history of universities._ new york: charles scribner's sons, . still the best single text-book for class use. contains numerous errors, which should be corrected by comparison with rashdall. woodward, w.h., _editor_. _mediaeval schools and universities._ cambridge contributions to modern history, i. new york: g.p. putnam's sons. this work, which is still in preparation, will probably supersede compayré. . references to special topics. all of the topics treated in this collection of readings are discussed by rashdall and compayré. page references may be found by use of the indexes appended to their books. =introduction=. on the historical point of view see j.h. robinson, _readings in european history_, vol. i, chap. i; on the place and use of documents, and other questions relating to the study of history, langlois and seignobos, _introduction to the study of history_. =abelard=. mccabe, joseph. _abelard_. a scholarly study, in brilliant style. chaps. i-iv deal with abelard as a teacher. the best biography in english. =john of salisbury=. poole, r.l. _illustrations of the history of mediaeval thought_, passim. national dictionary of biography, art. _john of salisbury_. =university studies=. abelson, paul. _the seven liberal arts_. the best study in english. contains much information regarding university text-books in these subjects. loomis, louise r. _mediaeval hellenism_. valuable information concerning the history and the translations of the works of aristotle, galen, hippocrates, and other greek writers. zeller, e. _aristotle and the earlier peripatetics_. the standard treatise on the works of aristotle, and their history. the student is earnestly advised to spend a few hours in examining such copies of the mediaeval text-books as he may find in his college library. the time thus spent will do far more to clarify his ideas as to their character and extent than much talk about them. old editions, often with the commentaries, may be available; some libraries possess ms. copies. translations of the more important works of aristotle may be found by reference to the library catalogue; among these may be mentioned _the rhetoric_, by j.e.c. welldon; the _politics_, by b. jowett; the _ethics_ (nicomachean), by f.h. peters; the _poetics_, by s.h. butcher. of the _corpus juris civilis_, the _institutes_ have been translated by t.c. sandars; the first part of the _digest_ by c.h. monro. the _corpus juris canonici_ as it was known in the middle ages has not been translated. this is true also of most books on the seven liberal arts. some works of galen and hippocrates have been done into english; but these translations are old, and probably inaccurate. =academic letters=. haskins, c.h. _the life of mediaeval students as illustrated by their letters_. american historical review, - . a brief but important study, from the sources; refers to several of the letters here printed. wild justice by ruth m. sprague wild justice-ruth m. sprague copyright @ tx wild justice by ruth m. sprague wild justice-ruth m. sprague copyright @ tx back cover the court and the eeoc said sex discrimination! belmont u. terminated her anyway! belmont university had always looked upon faculty misdeeds such as child molestation, sexual harassment or record falsification with a tolerant if not blind eye. strange then that the entire administration mobilized to aim its big guns at professor diana trenchant--or was it? the inner workings of administrative jingoism are exposed as a popular teacher is given a termination hearing where the presiding officer is the accuser, the prosecutor and the judge, and the testimony in her defense is ignored. "wild justice chronicles the outrages of one woman's experience with an engaging mix of humor and indignation. the use of fictitious names underscores how the problems are systemic and not merely rooted in the particular persons involved in this `witch hunt'. i hope it will be widely read-- both for its own sake and to encourage the kind of struggle that redirects higher education to serve the people and social justice, however wild!" professor willard miller, university of vermont. copyright page published by t'wanda books, p.o.b. , peralta, nm copyright @ by ruth m. sprague cover artist: david o'vitt . publisher's cataloging in publication data . sprague, ruth m. . wild justice . . fiction. . sex discrimination. . university policy and procedures. . feminists. . lc#: - . isbn - - - softcover author's note it is no accident that women continue to earn less than men. nowhere is this more evident than in the testosterone temples of academia. here, the ceiling is made of plexiglass. although more women are allowed in the classrooms and even into the board rooms, decisions are still made in the men's rooms. more women obtain advanced degrees and achieve faculty positions, but few are allowed into the highest administrative positions. rather, they are found in greatest numbers in the lower paying, most labor intensive positions. civil rights laws connecting compliance with federal grants are blatantly ignored or creatively circumvented by many institutes of higher learning. the courts and the eeoc, weakened to the point of extinction by the regressive administrations of the eighties, are about as effective as warm spit in enforcing compliance. using the double edged sword of coercion and harassment, these institutions of "higher learning" continue to maintain their status quo. this book portrays a few of the artifices they employ. characters, descriptions and locations are fictional, created from the right side of the author's brain. dedication in fondest memory of leah ruth denton, this book is dedicated to all womankind and her supporters who refuse to accept the definitions and limitations imposed by ancient conquerors. about the author ruth m. sprague, ph.d., a native vermonter known to hundreds of her former students as dr. ruth, is retired after many years teaching nursing and medical students. she has published several scientific papers, teaching tutorials and one novel, vermont tales for fools and other lovers. "revenge is a kind of wild justice." --francis bacon wild justice by ruth m. sprague foreplay "you can't be serious," exclaimed diana trenchant, leaning toward the man sitting behind the desk. "incredible! why on earth would i want to fill out and turn in student feedback forms in my own course? all of my semester student evaluations have been excellent." dr. lyle stone, chairman of the nutrition, embryology and radiology department, relished the power of his position as fervently as he detested the acronym, nerd, that had been irreparably attached to it. he passed a small pile of forms across his desk to diana. "obviously you wanted to cause harm to the two other instructors in the course," he replied smugly. his expression and demeanor suggested a small boy torturing a bug and extracting the utmost enjoyment out of it. "harm them?" dr. trenchant laughed scornfully and sat back in her chair scanning the evaluation forms. "you claim i wrote these five which are derogatory toward them and the course. five! over two years and hundreds of feedback forms? how could there be any harm attributed to these particular forms when you know that both of those instructors have consistently received derogatory evaluations from the students since they started teaching the course?" diana held the offending papers out in demonstration toward lyle, indignation rampant in her gesture. lyle ignored her question and picked up two other papers from his desk which he handed to diana saying accusingly, "besides those five, here are copies of two you also wrote concerning the nutrition course. together, these constitute repeated acts of dishonesty which are grounds for termination for cause. "however. . ." lyle tried for a kindly expression and failed, "we are prepared to forget these charges if you resign." "oh, that's the game, is it? no way. i'm going to talk to the faculty ombudsman about this and find out what steps to take," returned diana, hotly, rising from her chair and starting toward the door. "you can't." as diana turned back to look at him, lyle continued with some desperation, "you have no recourse, no appeal. the entire academic council have met and decided already on this course of action. if you do not resign on your own, you will be terminated." "but not without a hearing certainly--according to the faculty handbook. or are you suspending those rights along with my access to the ombudsman?" grabbing up the copies of the forms, diana left the room. as the door closed behind her, lyle reached for the phone and dialed with considerable agitation. "henry, she won't resign. she's gone to see jonathan and intends to make a public mess of it," he babbled hysterically. "calm yourself, lyle. i've already spoken to jonathan and if it comes to a hearing, well--don't forget, i select the hearing panel and chair it. her public mess be damned, all our hearings are closed to the public. get a grip and stop blubbering." give the devil her due chapter it was going to be a perfect june day. already a cloudless, azure sky, promising no hint of rain, arched over a shimmering campus. all shades of green were represented and so was every color in the flowers that lined the walks and burst forth from the beds. in perfect compliment, the lovely old brick and stone buildings sat around the campus, complaisant and secure, full of pride and tradition. the library building, squat and solid, redolent with the collected tomes of the ages, stood as a testament to humanity's progress. works of ancient poets and philosophers, sinners and saints filled the shelves co-mingling with the more recent and modern books. here were the records of man's highest achievements and his inhumanity to man but as yet, this building cataloged few, if any, records of woman's highest achievements and man's in-humanity to woman. the former being seldom recorded or remembered; the latter too usual and customary to remark upon. whistling softly to himself, jonathan bambridge, professor, ph.d, faculty ombudsman left the sidewalk and entered the administration building. he proceeded directly to the vice president's office and entered through a door already open. "jonathan, good of you to come on such short notice," greeted the academic vp, waving jonathan toward the inner office. one wall of the office was devoted to `art'. the entire grouping reminded jonathan of different aspects of the same road-kill. "on a day like this, it is a pleasure, henry. looks like the weather is cooperating for graduation this year." "well, it's about time. two years in a row we've been rained out. drop your bag, grab a cup of coffee and sit down." henry tarbuck, academic vice president picked up his own cup from his desk and went to the conference chairs arranged for conversation in the office alcove. from here he eyed jonathan reflectively. good man, he thought. saved us a batch of trouble by coming to me right off. tarbuck adjusted his six foot two, rather heavy-set frame more comfortably in the chair. young for his position, barely in his thirties, he directed seasoned professors twice his age and experience. this along with his imposing height and bulk had caused some resentment but henry just ignored it. as first assistant to the president of belmont university, he reveled in power and position and firmly believed that those that can, do (like him) and those that can't, teach (like faculty). he covered this attitude with a hearty, down-to-earth, back slapping manner that fooled no one but himself. bambridge joined him in the alcove, holding his coffee cup out ahead of him like an offering. "damn good coffee, henry. must have made it yourself." at fifty-five, henry bambridge figured he'd seen it all and most of the fight had gone out of him. physically, he was the opposite of tarbuck, slight in build and not quite five ten but looked shorter. his features were finely drawn, almost feminine in contrast to the dark, craggy, nearly simian countenance of tarbuck. "let's get down to it." henry tarbuck radiated impatience as visible as the steam rising from newly deposited excrement on a frosty day. for a time, the men went over the schedule of events slated for the hearing. "everything seems to be in order," jonathan suggested. "right, it's a go. i want to tell you, jonathan, you've done a damn fine job so far." henry gestured expansively. "by advising diana trenchant to attend her termination hearing without an attorney, you saved us all a great deal of trouble." the ombudsman acknowledged the compliment with a nod. jonathan knew his job was to provide just such a service to the administration. he understood that the ombudsman's function was ostensibly created to provide the faculty with a neutral source to handle complaints. most times the illusion of impartiality was well maintained, but the reality of the position was otherwise-- it was the administration's ear and eye on the faculty. "just followed your suggestion," jonathan replied, preening self-consciously. feeling himself in the good graces of the vp, he continued. "what's the story here, henry? why is this being handled so harshly? her transgression is fairly innocuous and i'm surprised it's even coming to a hearing panel. why not slap her down or suspend her? hell, it would be less trouble to retire her, she's been here nearly twenty-five years!" henry twitched with ill-concealed indignation for an instant then answered calmly but with some passion, "between you and me, jonathan, the bitch needs a taking down. you know how we've adjusted to federal and state mandates that women be accepted, even encouraged to work and matriculate here. "all in all, it hasn't been a bad deal for us. sure, we've had to raise some salaries but, well, give the devil her due, most women do seem to work hard and get a lot accomplished. they are usually fairly easy to control. most are scared stupid of being called a lesbian and petrified at the thought that this accusation might be spread around among people they know. or, if they are married and obviously straight, plant the suggestion that it might get around that they are promiscuous. it turns them to jelly every time." henry laughed delightedly as he stood up and assumed a lecturer's pose, unwittingly mimicking the profession he disparaged. as he warmed to his subject, he walked back and forth across the office, adding punctuation to his lecture with his body. jonathan watched him intently. "then there are the most enjoyable ones. they're on the make for any man who is looking for an easy lay. they trade their ass for any glory that may fall their way through association. as workers, most aren't worth shit but they do as they're told. have to watch them though because if someone higher than you in the pecking, or ha ha, pecker order, comes along, they leave you cold. "now, so-called liberated professionals, feminists, may become a focus for women's groups on campus. they get a name for being champions of women's causes. however, jerk their chain and they are a hodgepodge of insecurities. they have worked so hard to attain their position and the prestige and power that goes with it, that they are our best allies against women's movements and demands for equal wages, in short, any kind of problem we may encounter." "how can that be, henry?" jonathan was finding the impromptu lecture not only informative, but very interesting. "we just put them on committees or hearing panels such as the one coming up. in appearance, we are being fair by having women represented, not just women, but women who are vocal regarding their movement. actually, because they want so much for themselves, they are easy as hell to buy. we provide perks that make them feel important. they get invited to presidential teas, trustee cocktail parties-- anything that puffs them up, makes them feel good--that's the carrot. "the committee chair lets them know how to vote and how well pleased their dean will be with them and voila! believe me, they well know how bad it can get if they fall out of favor with the boss. if this isn't convincing, just indicate to them that they can be made to appear mentally unstable or morally deviant--that's the stick. "very few women fight back or quit a committee even if they become uncomfortable with what it is doing. most just keep their heads down and hope nobody finds out how they voted. i've appointed three women to the trenchant hearing panel. two of them are younger women hot to trot up the academic success ladder which i just happen to be holding." henry paused, preening himself with obvious relish. eager for more of this fascinating information, jonathan queried, "what about diana trenchant? she doesn't appear concerned that everyone would know she committed a crime. she refused to quietly resign claiming that the accusations are false and apparently is going to put on a defense at the hearing." "defense! ha! it won't amount to bug dust. i chose the panel and i shall chair the panel and the panel will vote to terminate her." henry was becoming very agitated. his pacing was now fast and choppy. "she's one of those trouble makers who do so well in their job that it's hard to find a reason to get rid of them. it is vital that we hold this hearing and terminate her. we must provide an example." turning back toward the table, henry started to shuffle the papers busily. "we've gone over most everything in the handbook on procedure and as far as i can see, everything is proper. what do you think?" jonathan, who was holding a copy of the faculty handbook and studying the tip of his left shoe, shook his head in agreement. "it all appears to be absolutely correct so far." "fine. now i'll expect you to be available during the hearing in the waiting room. this is just for appearance, for extra insurance. things have a way of getting screwed up where she's concerned." hoping to reopen the informative flood gates with a smattering of devil's advocate, jonathan observed slyly, "you know, henry, her personnel file was rather impressive. she appeared to have been an capable technician, an excellent teacher and received high performance evaluations. no complaints for being late or absent from work, no reports of drink or drugs. . ." again the vp became agitated. this time he grabbed his cup and went to the coffee maker. "she gets people stirred up. that's where problems arise from--those unexpected, unknown sources. no administrator can prepare for those kind of events. for instance, a few years ago a student under her influence embarrassed jimbo jones--he was nerd chair before lyle--and put the department in an uproar. . ." jimbo jones, chairman, six nerd faculty members and two graduate student teaching assistants occupied the conference room at the weekly departmental meeting. over the general murmuring and grumbling of a discontented faculty, peter, the departmental mouth said, "we ought to get a higher percentage raise, jimbo. every year you tell us the same thing. times are tough, the legislature won't spring for a decent appropriation. the dean can't. . ." "i know that and i've been thinking how i could cut the roster and have a little more to share among the rest of us. if you agree, i think it's time we let diana trenchant go. last year i had to give her a whopping raise while the rest of us had to settle for the usual %, and ted at the affirmative action office says we've got to give her more again this year and then still more until she catches up to or surpasses fred's paycheck. "of course, it means that you will have to share fred, our only other technician, do your own research or get a grant and hire your own technician." most of the people in the room moved uncomfortably in their chairs looking down at the floor or out the window. looking anywhere but at each other or jimbo. "it's settled then, we let her go?" jimbo broke the silence. "no one opposes? all right then, it's. . . "i don't know too much about these things," came a hesitant voice from the back of the group. everyone turned around to look at the young graduate student, holly preston, who had spoken. in a voice getting stronger all the time, she continued, "as i say, i don't know much about this, but i thought when someone was fired that there had to be cause. that is, that they were not doing their job properly or whatever. "since i've been in the department, i have been impressed with diana trenchant's hard work and knowledge. i've gone to her often for help. what reason will you give for firing her, dr. jones?" a taut silence descended upon the room like a malignant fog. then, an angry, red-faced jimbo jones glared at holly, declared the action tabled and adjourned the meeting. the nerd faculty judas goats shuffled out sheepishly, having been well and truly sheared by a lamb. chapter vp henry tarbuck closed the file folder then shifted his bulk to place it on a nearby table. his expensive chair started to groan in protest then as if remembering how much it cost, only murmured quietly. "we must be careful that this hearing gives all the appearances of being completely fair, especially after the disaster in lyle's office." jonathan leaned forward and deposited his now empty cup on the stand beside him. "yes, i heard about lyle bungling that one. first he yelled at her so loudly that the secretaries in the outer office left in embarrassment and then was stupid enough to tell her in front of witnesses that the hearing panel was only a formality and that she would be terminated anyway." the vp shrugged, obviously irritated. "admittedly, he pushed too hard. it came as a shock to him that she would refuse his demand that she resign. he lost his cool and tried to bully her into it. he's new to this, taking over as he did such a relatively short time ago from jimbo." "well it does appear that he had problems with her. i do see that she appears to have a propensity for causing discomfort, but other women, and men too for that matter, have been troublesome. why the excessive anger toward her?" "first off, jonathan, the anger is not excessive, it is justified," henry retorted testily. "yes, we've had critics, annoying critics, but when we offered them some redress, they were grateful. she, on the other hand, considered every concession we made as `a day late and a dollar short'--utterly maddening! and what really frosts everyone's ass is that she is just as recalcitrant when she argues on behalf of someone else. who the hell is she to care if someone feels unfairly treated by us?" "well, of course i'm still using the only frame of reference that i have which is her personnel file and from what i can see she was as much `sinned against as sinner'." "that might have some validity up to the point where she openly and publicly challenged the president of this university," retorted henry waving the file he was holding in jonathan's face for emphasis, "but not anymore." "you mean she picked on the pope, henry?" chapter john t. pope had been president of belmont university for nearly twelve years. because of his belief in his own infallibility, he soon became referred to as the pope. he greatly increased the senior administrative staff which now occupied one whole wing of the administration building. this wing was known as the vatican and when a person spoke of kissing the pope's ring, it was well understood what part of the pope's anatomy they were referring to. the slew of vice presidents, associate vp's and assistant vp's around the president were soon called the vee's. most people believed vee was short for vice president but insiders knew it really stood for vestigial virgins. he located the personnel office close by the vatican. it was the administration's muscle and the buffer between it and the so-called support staff. patterned after the military, it was directed by, and key positions held by former military men. the military analogy persists throughout the university structure. upper administration and faculty are designated as officers. in order to insure staff cooperation, president pope had created a company union called the staff association. to keep tabs on the members, he appointed the director of personnel an ex-officio member. the current director, greg harrison, attended every meeting, answered questions, directed staff activities and channeled them into acceptable areas. "yes, i do," henry continued glowering. "a year after trenchant got on the staff association, she was elected its chair and that body turned from being a very convenient rubber stamp into a cohesive, confrontational group of people. she was reelected unanimously for a second term and during those two years she managed to upset nearly everybody in the vatican--especially, the pope. it seems, from what i was told when i was appointed academic vp, that during this time a great deal of energy was directed toward damage control. "nothing worked with her. all the tried and true methods of threat or blandishment had no affect. she didn't seem to notice or understand that if she played ball she would become more important than the staff she represented. "she and the staff association encouraged the rest of the staff to bring problems to their office. we had almost daily calls from the attorney general's office because she advised women to make complaints if they were discriminated against or harassed. she even boxed in mark, the university attorney, and just four years ago, she made a shambles of personnel by kicking greg, the director, out of the staff association. "and that's not all. under her direction, the staff association started to by-pass personnel altogether. they investigated several grievances and represented the grievers they felt were abused by the system. "they started a staff newsletter to inform everyone about their rights-- especially concerning sex discrimination and sexual harassment. the staff was told to stay away from the affirmative action office, which was described as a tool of the personnel department, and take their complaints directly to the attorney general-- they even printed her phone number, for christ's sake. . . . "trenchant and a committee met with a federal eeoc investigator. he was presented with a list of staff and faculty positions with a notation of the total number and how many were held by women. the investigator was here to make sure the university was in compliance for a million dollar federal research grant." surprise suffused jonathan's face. "how did she get that information, henry? i thought that was one of our better kept secrets." the vee exploded. "we were exceedingly careful never to publish anything like that. members of the staff association went through the campus directory to compile the list. took a lot of time, but they kept at it." "sonofabitch!" "yeah," agreed henry. lyle gave her a faculty appointment to get her out of staff politics. he had her teaching every semester with the hope that she'd be too busy to cause anymore trouble. next thing we know, she's threatening to sue the nerd for plagiarism. you know the rest and we have just time enough to get ready. use the facilities if you need to." he pointed in the direction of an adjoining washroom, then opened a closet door and removed his cap and gown which he laid across the table. jonathan opened the case he had brought with him. as both men donned their robes, jonathan asked, "why is the trenchant hearing being held so soon after graduation?" "we wanted to wait until the students left, of course. they've been pestering us with petitions in support of her and we sure don't want them around during her hearing. also everyone wants to leave as soon as possible for summer vacations, jonathan. we want this mess cleaned up before we leave." "well, my station for the grand march is west campus. yours?" fully garbed in medieval academic splendor, jonathan paused by the open door. "my department forms up in front of the library. see you next week." "right." the two men left the office together then separated at the founder's statue to reach their appointed destinations. what a farce, ruminated jonathan as he made his way between the colorful plantings bordering the walk. shakespeare would have loved it. much ado about nothing and a tempest in a teapot. what a hoot, making all this fuss about seven student feedback forms. nobody ever pays any attention to them yet suddenly they are so important. hard to figure a valid reason for such violent reactions from the vee. just a couple of years ago, professor beand was convicted of child molestation. he was suspended for a few months but they took him right back with no loss of pay or position. and then there was that dean in the history department who altered faculty promotion papers. nothing happened to him. i remember one of the vee's saying at that time that he shouldn't be disciplined for it because other faculty had done far worse things and were not punished. that's sure true. i remember several incidents involving students, alcohol, drugs. . .all swept quietly under the rug. it's obvious what is going on here. lyle needs to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for those two new faculty he took on so they can be reappointed and tenured. if he can pin some of their negative critiques on diana trenchant, he can argue that all the years of bad critiques are suspect and nullify them. and, of course, henry and the rest are going along with it out of revenge--they are just plain pissed off because they couldn't win her over with snob appeal. she scorned them, their exalted positions and their offerings. that's it, i bet anything that's it. silently apologizing to william congrave, jonathan paraphrased, "heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned nor hell more fury than a good 'ol boy scorned." the medical student that wrote the open letter to the pope was right--this hearing is an administrative gang bang. jonathan was soon joined by others in brightly colored or richly black gowns. peacocked with the educational badge each had attained and crowned with a mortar board which got its name from a board used by masons to hold cement. how appropriate that it is worn on the head. commencement--a colorful, glorious grouping traditioned by time. all nicely covering the decay and tarnish of some of its stewards. the hearing - day chapter "the hearing? oh yes, that is being held in this room right here," advised lorraine debeau, head custodian of howard hall. diana trenchant and her witnesses had arrived early. one of the witnesses asked lorraine where the group might wait. "there are two rooms i was told to open. this is the best one right opposite the hearing room," she offered, walking ahead of them into the room, proud as a general leading the troops to battle. i'll give you guys the best one since you are here first and because of what you are doing." as she turned to leave the room, she put her hand on trenchant's shoulder. "hey, good luck. you know, you are the only person that ever tried to help us custodians get a fair shake. when you were head of the staff association, you made those guys in administration treat us decent." the six witnesses and trenchant spread themselves out comfortably on the plush sofas and soft rug as individual preference dictated. good feelings washed over them, mixed with pride and determination. it was as if their cause, their righteous quest, had been anointed by a high priestess. "it's nice to have friends in high places," commented andrea, looking around appreciatively. they were in a large, rectangular room outfitted as a lounge. at the front facing the entrance hall, the walls gave way to glass, so it was something like being in a fish bowl. someone suggested shutting the curtains but helen objected. "no, don't. i want to watch for them to come in. i'm going to take their pictures." there was general laughter at this and andrea slapped her on the back, "go gittum, helen." roz advised the other witnesses not to be intimidated by the panel. "hey, i've known most of them for years and they are no better than we are." she had held a full time job at belmont for nearly two years. roz had been around and was no spring chicken so the group nodded and took comfort from her. she, like some of the other witnesses, was also taking courses in the nursing school. one of these courses was taught by diana trenchant. "look, here they come now," helen yelled as a group of men came into the hall through the open front door. she grabbed her camera and shot out of the room. one of the men broke from the group and came into the witness room saying loudly, "who are you and what are you doing in here? this room is reserved." "we were told this was a witness room and we are witnesses," said roz, flatly. "who are you?" glaring at roz and throwing his entire body into an intimidating pose, the man said angrily, "i am the academic vice president, henry tarbuck, and i reserved this room for the university witnesses." "that's ok then," said roz cheerfully and completely unimpressed. "we are university witnesses. diana stepped forward. "is there a problem?" "oh, it's you. you were supposed to go to a room upstairs." "we asked and we were directed here," interjected roz. smiling up at henry innocently, she continued in a child's sing-song voice, "finders, keepers." "well. we'll see about that," was the disgruntled, graceless retort. as he turned to leave trenchant stopped him. "i have requested an open hearing which you have denied me. i again ask that the hearing be open." "no, absolutely not. the hearing is closed." "a closed hearing is to protect the rights of the accused. as the accused, i waive that consideration and again request that the hearing be open and that any person who wishes may attend." "no." the vee closed the door of the witness room behind him with a indignant slam. "now there's a sweetheart," murmured roz. "hey, did you guys notice we got our own phone in here? an obviously annoyed henry tarbuck sought out the custodian, lorraine. "i ordered that downstairs room to be held for the university's witnesses," he barked at her. "not me, you didn't. i was told to open two rooms for the hearing witnesses. that's all." lorraine, all four feet of her bristling, stood up on her toes and duplicated the vee's tone, jaw to jaw. always outmatched when encountering any female who did not smile, cringe, grovel or otherwise conform to his `typing', henry turned away from her and fumed his way to the hall phone booth. reaching his secretary, his tone took on the whine of a young boy. "lynn, something terrible has happened. that woman took the good room, the one with the good chairs and the telephone. i'm using the booth in the hall! how could this happen?" "i don't know, henry. i told the custodian over there to reserve the two rooms as you directed me. i don't recall that you gave me specific instructions as to which room was for which group." "i assumed th. . ." henry broke off as he caught sight of the dean and two medical school faculty coming in the door. "i'll get back to you and get this straightened out. got to go. "right this way, gentlemen. we've had a slight mix up in the waiting rooms and i apologize in advance for any inconvenience it may cause. i'm going to have a phone put in soonest and some decent chairs!" still talking, henry led the men upstairs. downstairs, helen returned from a self appointed scouting mission, breathless and amused. "oh," she panted, "you should see the room they have. it's a lecture hall--hard chairs and blackboards all around. we sure lucked out by getting here first." "we sure did but our luck was in having lorraine as custodian in charge. obviously, we were supposed to get the upstairs one and i'll bet you dollars to donuts that it's been bugged," asserted roz. helen had recovered her breath by now and readily agreed. "yeah, i bet. you know that vee, jimbo, was so threatening. i took his picture and he came right up to me and demanded to know my name and what i was doing there and. . ." "oh, he's a pain in the ass all the time," roz interrupted. "he was bad enough when he was chair of nerd but now that they kicked him up to a vee, he's insufferable. drinks like a fish. did you tell him?" helen laughed. "no, i just yelled, `press', at him and got the hell out of there. "just a moment ago, outside, i got a good shot of three guys that were just coming in. i think one of them was dean broadhurst. one of the guys with him saw me and covered his face-- just like you see the crooks do on tv when they're taken to court." james, the one male witness, came in with jean and andrea. they were laden with dunkin' donut bags, coffee cups, milk and soda. it was well past the time set for the commencement of the hearing and the six women and one man good naturedly sat down to await the pleasure of the vee. noblesse oblige never had functioned at belmont and they didn't expect it to start now. upstairs, things were gradually getting sorted out. harried custodians had removed or stacked most of the student chairs and brought in plush seats. a phone had been located trailing a long, snake-like extension cord that stretched out the door and back along the hall to the office it had been liberated from. the university caterers had brought in a coffee, tea and danish service which was in the process of being depleted by the administration's witnesses. henry tarbuck worked the room, spreading ersatz charm like a bee pollinating from flower to flower. chapter the door to the hallway opened suddenly and henry strode in. he looked at diana trenchant and gestured toward the hearing room. "we're ready for you now," he announced with all the smarmy triumph of an interrogator leading the way to the torture chamber. the accused stood up. in silence, the seven witnesses grouped around hugging her and each other. the vee watched, disgust thick as mildew around a neglected sauna, covering his face. disengaging, trenchant started for the door. "here, take this with you just in case you lose your perspective and need to find it," urged james. he shoved an x inch piece of white cardboard into her hand. on it, printed in large letters, was the legend: beam me up scotty. there's no intelligent life down here! the hearing room was about feet square with no outside windows. the front, facing the hallway contained the door. the rest of the front wall was glass, similar to the neighboring witness room, but here the curtains were tightly closed as if the room was ashamed to reveal what was to take place inside. a large table nearly filled the room, and seated along the far side of it, nearest the front of the room, sat four members of the hearing panel. at the head of the table, with his back to the blinded glass wall, henry had enthroned himself. diana was curtly directed to a seat also on the far side of the table at the back of the room. there were several chairs between her and the panel. across the table from the panel sat janet parks, the court reporter, with her back to the door. she was accessorized with a recording machine beside her and a backup tape recorder on the table. janet, as her profession demanded, tended to fade into the woodwork. dress and manner were subdued to the point where she became nearly invisible--but not to diana. she saw kindly eyes surrounded by a round face that wanted to be jolly and laughing. she saw a possible relief from the dominant accusing eyes. not an advocate perhaps, but at least neutrality. an empty chair sat drawn up to the table beside janet and there was another empty chair further down the table opposite trenchant. the entire setup of the room was intentionally choreographed to promote psychological terrorism. diana trenchant and her witnesses would be interrogated by the panel while sitting in the chair beside the court stenographer directly across from the panel. the administration's accusers would sit in the chair which was directly across the table from diana trenchant. except for when she would be testifying, diana was seated at the place most distant from the door. alone. diana trenchant sat down in the assigned seat and arranged her note pad and documents for easy access. for the moment, the panel was huddled together whispering so she took the time to organize her thoughts and chill out the mounting apprehension. here she was, sixty years old, twenty five of those working at belmont, with never even as much as a traffic ticket citation, facing a university hearing panel. here she was--accused of forging seven student feedback forms. the lump in her stomach and the one in her throat were trying to join together and drag the rest of her down into a black, empty tunnel of fear. resisting the pull, she looked around the hearing room and met the eyes of the stenographer who smiled at her encouragingly. janet parks had attended many hearings. her job was to faithfully record every spoken word on her transcription machine. most of the time, she plied her trade in the courts but occasionally she was called out into the private sector. she had seen a lot of people on trial and her observant eyes took in every detail. the configuration of the hearing room had not been lost on her so when she met the eyes of the accused, diana trenchant, she felt a tug of sympathy. she noted diana's pale, drawn features and erect bearing. here was a woman, thought janet, who would never use makeup or any other cover up. she has such a direct, honest look it's hard to believe that she is the one in trouble here. as diana's eyes returned to her notes, janet looked at her more closely. not terribly well groomed, she thought, noting the slacks with casual blouse and jacket. janet recalled that diana was wearing jogging shoes when she walked in. obviously, she wore her cloths for comfort, not for adornment. janet continued her inventory: mousy brown hair--no style, blue eyes. tired blue eyes. lots of wrinkles, those badges that life awarded to survivors. must be pushing along into the sixties. wonder what she sounds like. hope she's not one of those squeaky kind. oh, oh, the head cheese is about to start--get ready. henry tarbuck consulting his notes then stated that the dean had accused diana trenchant of creating and submitting fictitious student feedback forms. "responding to the dean's charge, this committee was formed and i will now introduce them. on the end is mr. frank anuse, director of the informational studies unit." the vee looked fondly at frank who nodded his bald head in acknowledgement. a tall gangling bean-pole of a man. his head, devoid of any sort of demarcation between face and pate, appeared to float above his body like some sort of alien spacecraft. they had gotten together over drinks the day before and decided that they would play good cop, bad cop at the hearing. he, as chair, would affect neutrality while frank could go after diana and her witnesses hammer and tongs. if anyone on this hearing panel was more anxious than himself to smash this woman, it was frank, mused henry. he had good reason. it was about three years ago that. . . affirmative action officer, kevin goodman, sat in his office reading a letter that had just come in the campus mail. kevin, a black, realized that he had been awarded this position because of his permanent tan. he had thought when he agreed to take the office that he truly would be allowed to enforce federal mandates. now, two years into it, the bubble had long since burst. his office was there, it appeared, only to satisfy the law that such an office be maintained. however, deans and directors of departments seldom did as he directed and if he went to the pope, well, he found out pretty quickly that did no good. he was actively seeking another appointment at a more enlightened and humane university. enough was enough, but while he was still here, he would do the best he could or was allowed to do. he smoothed the pages of the letter flat and reached for the phone. "professor anuse? kevin goodman here. affirmative action office." "yes. what can i do for you?" "i have a complaint regarding your hiring process that i'd like to discuss with you at your earliest convenience." "now's fine. what's the problem?" "it's alleged that you will not interview or otherwise consider males for positions in your division," kevin said, carefully. "can't interview or consider anyone who doesn't apply for a position, can i. shit! men just aren't interested in the jobs in my unit." kevin blinked and cleared his throat. "ah, well, i called the personnel office and they informed me that they had sent you a file of a male for the last two positions you posted. i was told that you did not interview him." "could be, i suppose. probably he didn't qualify." "personnel says that he is very well qualified." frank anuse made a face at the telephone. the supercilious bastard, he thought. who is he to check up on my hiring? "they do, huh." frank's predilection for hiring only women, preferably young, was well known throughout belmont. he laughingly referred to himself as the sheik and the girls as his harem in conversations with his male colleagues. his girls referred to him as jack the ripper. turnover in his department, in all senses of the word, was active. "yes," kevin continued. "in light of this complaint, my office will have to review the records of all of your hiring for the past two years. would you please have this material ready for my assistant to pick up tomorrow?" kevin spoke firmly, looking down at his crossed fingers. "all those files? christ, you think i've got nothing better to do than. . . who in the hell made this complaint, anyway?" "the letter came from the chair of the staff association, diana trenchant. evidently several complaints have been brought to her attention." "she can go to hell and you too, for that matter. what business is it of yours who i hire?" "federal law prohibits discriminatory hiring practices. this university has to comply to receive federal grants. my job is to see that the university is in compliance." "bull, everyone knows that just applies to women and spa. . ., er, minorities." "that is incorrect, mr. anuse. anti-discrimination laws apply to anyone who is being discriminated against. please have those files ready for pick-up," said kevin and firmly hung up the phone. frank looked at the phone for a beat and then walloped it to get a dial tone. he punched in the number for mark rogers, the university attorney. reaching his party, he said, "mark, what do you know about the bitch chairing the staff association?" chapter . . ."and sitting next to ed is esther rondell, agriculture." frank beamed at esther who simpered in return. a large woman, esther wore her white hair in an old fashioned pug at the back. she had been at belmont longer than anyone could remember. she dressed conservatively and was always on university committees. esther was at the forefront of every woman's movement on campus. she was quick to rush to any woman's defense and agree that yes, they were badly treated. this allowed her a podium to broadcast how badly she was used by the university. with all her experience, with all her hard work, she was shafted at every turn, was her cry. any serious group of women who might band together to effect change were usually derailed by her and the administration loved it. an unsuspecting woman who confided in her thinking she was a fellow sufferer found to her sorrow that esther was only out for esther. any confidence given her was nearly always violated. this queen bee just shrugged and stung them to death. a cinch, thought henry. "then professor jane astori, physical therapy." beside esther, tiny jane appeared almost doll-like, even though she was only a little shorter than average. her blond hair was worn long and fastened with a barrette at the back. it swished like a horse's tail whenever she moved her head. at , she had attained her goal of becoming a professor and now had her sights on the department chair. she was adept at playing the system. a political pro. "last, but not least, here beside me, is annette pringle, zoology," finished henry. annette nodded in recognition of the introduction and then turned her eyes again to the stack of papers in front of her. she was scared. it was her first committee assignment since her appointment as assistant professor at belmont and she didn't want to be here. everything was wrong about this hearing. it was plain as could be that trenchant was being railroaded. nobody at belmont ever considered student feedback forms anything more than an exercise in futility. what a nothing, inconsequential charge--yet here she was with the rest of the panel who all appeared to think this was the most serious crime since the holocaust. annette hadn't dared to refuse henry's request after the way the vee had questioned her. he had come unannounced to her office to ask her to serve on this hearing panel. he explained to her how important serving on university committees could be and how they beefed up a curriculum vita. then, right out of the blue, apropos of nothing he had said, "i understand you and your friend, joan, live together." it could have been just an innocent remark, but annette, with years of suspicion and threats to remember, didn't think so. he knows, she thought and the thought stuck in her throat and choked her with fear. her weak protests that she really didn't think she had experience enough yet to qualify for the panel had been swept aside and here she was. henry's thoughts were similar. he smiled in triumph. it really paid to check people out carefully. you could find out the damndest things. things people were afraid of getting out. things henry could used to control them. still smiling, he turned to the papers before him and in rapid order, introduced into evidence, medical school dean broadhurst's letter of charges, a memo from the chairman of nerd, dr. lyle stone, and the two files containing the material sent out from belmont to the document examiners. "these are the items," the academic vice president and chair of the hearing panel committee asserted, holding up the files, "that the hearing is about." "we will commence by having the university's witnesses sworn in by the court stenographer. the committee will then examine each of the witness, then the accused may cross examine them. "after all our witnesses have testified, trenchant may examine her witnesses and the committee will cross. are there any questions?" "yes." diana said firmly. "you have said that the witness are to be sworn by the court stenographer and i have no objection to that. however, i want it in the record that i was told both by the ombudsman and by you, mr. chairperson, that this would be a typical administrative hearing and that witnesses are generally not sworn. when they are, it is done by one of the hearing committee. "i was further told that recording of the hearing would be by tape recorder. i find that neither of these two things are true. "in addition, i want it recorded that i have requested several times that this hearing be open, and the chair has refused. the attorney general's office has asked to be allowed to send an observer to this hearing. their request was denied, but they were promised a complete transcript of it." "ok," henry brushed aside diana's observations as if they were of no import, and continued, "we'll call our first witness." henry rose and went to get the lyle stone, chair of the nutrition, embryology and radiology department--nerd. lyle was seated directly opposite trenchant and was sworn by the stenographer. under questioning from the committee, he gave his name and position. dr. lyle stone was a man totally driven by ambition. he treated people on two levels. if he needed something from you, he was most decent, even kindly; if not, he ignored you. quick to anger, he rarely checked facts. he took good care of himself, and at the age of , he regularly worked out at the gym and was seldom sick. he was, however, short. shorter than the average man, he tried to make up the height with bluster. this gave him not only a banty rooster approach to life but also may have been why he resembled one. "how did you become aware of the issue that this panel is investigating?" henry continued. lyle testified that two years previously, dr. randy fecesi had come to him with two medical student feedback forms which he had found. "students are required to fill out and bring to the nerd office a questionnaire type form that critiqued each of the faculty in each course and the course itself," he explained. . . student feedback forms were initiated at belmont in the middle sixties. they were designed to allow the students to evaluate faculty and courses in response to student demand that they have a voice in their education. although the professors of each course at belmont routinely handed the forms out and collected them, they were never taken seriously by any department or dean unless they were uniformly derogatory to a course or professor and sometimes, even then, they were ignored. mostly, they were treated as a joke by the departments and a lost cause by the students who never saw any changes made as a result of their suggestions. the joke was propagated further when some wag arbitrarily added mur between the s and ff, creating the adjusted acronym, smurff, from student feedback form. from that time on, the forms were printed on blue paper. ". . .randy said that he had found a smurff for the radiology course this year and one from last year that didn't look right to him. he and dr. heathson, who teach the course, wanted me to send them for handwriting analysis because he thought they had been written by trenchant." lyle went on to explain at some length that dr. randy fecesi and dr. ian heathson were young faculty who were trying very hard to make the radiology course more modern and sophisticated. these efforts, he asserted, were thwarted by trenchant and there was controversy and conflict because of her. . . when lyle stone succeeded jimbo jones as head of nerd, he brought his post doc, ian heathson with him. no one on the nerd faculty was consulted and all of them were very upset that they were given no voice in a faculty selection. they soon learned that ian was a special friend of their chairperson and quickly discovered that it was not wise to criticize him in any way. ian was a real nice, friendly fellow, fairly adept at his research specialty, nutrition (which was also lyle's) but lacking knowledge and understanding of radiology. lyle put him in charge of the radiology course given to the freshmen medical students. this act was similar to throwing a child into the water and expecting it to learn to swim. diana had taught the lab portion of this course for several years. ian didn't learn very quickly. he tried, you have to give him that, but he was way out of his depth. the students, as kindly as possible, turned thumbs down on him. not only that, but on their smurff's, they were highly critical of the lecture portion of the course, which ian conducted, while praising trenchant and the laboratory, especially the laboratory manual which she had written. the manual had been written out of desperation by trenchant on her home computer. over the years, the radiology lab manual had degenerated into such a mess that it was difficult to use and impossible to understand--especially when most of the pages were unreadable. this was before the department obtained a copying machine and still used the old fashioned stencils. so diana wrote and illustrated an entirely new manual and she registered the copyright on it. she offered this finished manual to ian at no charge for use in the course and he grabbed it like the drowning man he was. the students had made their disgust well known to him and he realized that he did not have the knowledge or experience to produce an adequate laboratory manual in radiology. things got better in the course. ian was improving in his knowledge and lecturing. there was excellent cooperation between him and trenchant. that is, until randy fecesi was brought in. randy came with perhaps even less ability in radiology than ian, but where the students were sympathetic toward ian, they were pissed off by randy. the smurffs they wrote concerning him were not kind. many reprimanded him for things he had said in lectures which were contrary to what the students read in textbooks. hurt, angry and unable to get at the students, he turned on trenchant. at first, ian tried to stay neutral but eventually, randy convinced him that the course must be reorganized and they had to start by redoing the laboratory manual. his solution was to change the only part of the course that really worked! chapter "now what did you do with these smurffs that dr fecesi brought you?" questioned henry. "at first, i just thought about them. then i took them to jimbo jones who was chair of the department before me. "i thought he might have some idea of what should be done and he, of course, knew trenchant since she had been in the department during his tenure as chair." lyle continued, shifting in his chair so he appeared taller. "jimbo immediately took them to mark rogers who is the university attorney and mark sent them out for analysis. "i looked through other smurffs and picked out a couple that seemed strange, that didn't seem to me to be what students would write, and jimbo found a couple in the nursing course and all those were sent out to the examiner. "the document examiners reported that, to the best of their knowledge, trenchant had written the smurffs we had sent them so i went to you, henry, to the administration, and it was decided that i meet with her and give her an opportunity to resign. when she refused, i wrote the dean and he initiated the termination for cause action." henry appeared pleased, consulted his notes and asked if lyle could explain trenchant's conduct. certainly, lyle would be happy to. his eagerness to answer this question lent strength to a skeletal system already overtaxed with maintaining a taller posture. "it had to do with the problems in the radiology course. ian and randy were trying to make the course better. she fought them on everything and finally she quit the course--said it was too much along with her other teaching responsibilities. it was about a year ago that. . ." randy called another meeting to discuss the radiology course changes. ian attended reluctantly. he was not convinced but randy swept him along and randy had lyle's approval. all ian had was a poor track record teaching the course. randy delineated the changes he was going to make in the manual. the first one was that trenchant's name would not appear on it. instead, it would be the product of the course directors, ian and randy. he was quietly and firmly told by trenchant that he did not have her permission to make any changes. the manual was copyrighted by her and would stay that way. he had the option to either use it or not, but he could not change it as he was indicating. as for legitimate suggestions or ideas, she would certainly, as always, welcome constructive criticism and make the necessary changes herself. this was not an arbitrary determination by trenchant. her manual was written expressly to teach a circumscribed area of the course. it did not pretend to be otherwise. even though more emphasis was to be given to recent developments in the field, the radiology course must still devote a great deal of time to the basics. this was because the students had to be prepared for the courses to follow. randy announced that he would use what he wanted, as he wanted and the meeting broke up. the accused was busy in her office when lyle burst through the door in his customary manner of no manners. "what do you mean telling randy and ian that they could not use the manual and make the changes they want in it?" he yelled at her, continuing with threats of what would or might happen if she didn't do as she was directed. when trenchant was finally given a chance to answer, she told him simply that the manual was copyrighted and that she had told ian and randy that they were free to use it or not as they chose. they were not to edit it or change the authorship, however. when his browbeating failed to move her, he left. within the hour, jimbo accosted her in much the same manner. becoming a vee had not changed jimbo. he was still unable or unwilling to govern his temper. "you cannot claim copyright to the radiology manual because it is illegal and the university will sue you and put you in jail." after he had stopped yelling, trenchant told him the same thing she had told the others. he left and went into lyle's office where they were joined by ian and randy. it was decided that they would retype the radiology manual using as much of it as they wanted. "to hell with that trouble-making broad," was the decision of the assistant vice president for academic affairs of belmont university. this was done. without permission, they used large portions of the manual in the fall radiology course, giving no credit to its author. diana was not the only author so honored. in the manual, and in other material that these men put together to teach the radiology course, complete excerpts were taken verbatim from four standard radiology texts. no source was cited. no author was credited. also, an entire atlas on radiology was photographed. several copies of these photographs were made and put out in the lab with absolutely no credit given to its authors or publisher. at least one medical student was incensed by this. he or she wrote to the publisher anonymously. the accused learned through the student grapevine that the department got into serious trouble because of this and that dean broadhurst was furious. lyle blamed trenchant for blowing the whistle, conveniently forgetting that it was a student who had written the letters. chapter lyle droned on and on with a litany of sins attributed to diana trenchant, carefully circling the truth. "whatever problem the department had, she was usually responsible," he asserted. the folds of paper falling from the court stenographer's machine stacked higher and higher. janet was beginning to look very tired. the `suspect smurffs' were introduced and lyle identified them. "yes," he intoned, "when i spoke to trenchant and told her she had the option to resign and nothing further would be said or done to her, i gave her all of the handwriting evidence, all of these smurffs, at that time." now, henry allowed questions from the rest of the committee who started to slowly wake up after enduring lyle's long and repetitious testimony. nearly minutes was spent answering their inane questions regarding how many courses were involved and who found the `suspect' critiques. most of their questions had been answered previously in the material given them-- the dean's letter and lyle's memo. esther, however, alertly noticed that some of the smurffs in question had no dates and inquired how these could be said to come from a certain year. the answer given was a model of obfuscation. lyle replied, "the critiques from those two years came in a packet to me from randy and ian. those were the years that trenchant was indeed involved in teaching this course." satisfied with the answer apparently, esther questioned why one of the suspect smurffs had a note stapled to it. diana sat up in her chair. this was a question she wanted answered. lyle replied that it was a note from trenchant and that he had stapled it to the evaluation prior to sending it off to the handwriting analyst. none of them questioned why a note in trenchant's handwriting was made a part of the document that the analysts were to analyze for authorship. annette wondered if she understood correctly. did lyle say that he kept all of the critiques in his office? when lyle answered yes, she asked how it would be possible for diana to submit falsified ones. the silence in the room was deafening. janet, lifting her hands from the keys, massaged her fingers, the suggestion of a smile floated mischievously over her face. panel member anuse finally came to the rescue with a cuing question and a long discussion ensued as to how smurffs were handled in the department and what happened to them. many of the answers give by lyle were false. diana made a note of these. the chair now looked expectantly at professor jane astori. so far things had gone very well. everyone had been on cue and except for those two surprise questions. . .well, they were fielded quite adeptly. his chest expanded with pride in his ability to bring this thing to a smooth conclusion. now it was time for jane to ask the questions that would delineate the magnitude of this crime. that would certainly figure in the attorney general's evaluation of the hearing. "since all of the comments on the suspect smurffs refer to randy," jane began, "i'd like the details of how this could impact on ian." well, jane had come through all right. a little too direct for comfort but then, she hadn't the gift of subtlety that he, henry, had acquired. at any rate, lyle was well prepared and the gates opened and the ian story poured forth. how hard he had worked at the course. what it had cost him in research time and time away from loved ones. in answer to further questions from jane, he covered everything. all the trips to the dean's office in ian's behalf. he emphasized that the disparaging student critiques suddenly got better when trenchant was no longer in the course. over and over, he stressed that it was all the faultfinding smurffs that were coming in that were the problem. what was the reason for it? he, lyle, felt that ian was doing a fine job. well, the situation had caused them many a sleepless night. and on and on. . . several times jane tried with her questions to bring lyle back to saying how the smurffs in question, the ones he thought diana had written, hurt ian. henry had impressed on her that it was important that lyle be given the opportunity to link the harm caused by trenchant to ian as well as randy. whatever the reason, lyle was acting awfully dense, she thought, or else he thinks it's vital to get all this other stuff in first. i've certainly given him the question often enough, let someone else try. she put down her notes, leaned back in her chair and nodded to henry that she was finished. frank anuse took over the questioning. he wanted to know the reason that ian's smurffs got better when trenchant was not in the course. "well, you see, these suspect smurffs in those packets there, these few are just the tip of the iceberg. diana trenchant, during the years she was in the course, influenced the students to write bad evaluations about randy and ian." there it was. stark and real. diana was not just accused of creating smurffs--she was accused of witchcraft. jane jerked upright in her chair and stared at lyle aghast. was he really accusing diana of that level of control over medical students? preposterous--one woman, all by herself, had influenced hundreds of medical students over a period of years to do as she dictated. there's more to this than i've been told. . . this isn't about forging seven smurffs. what on earth is going on here, she pondered. . . finally, henry noticed janet who had been trying to get his attention for some time. "we'll take a ten minute recess and when we come back, trenchant may cross examine dr. stone. you may leave the room. i'll summon you when we are ready," he ordered, taking in janet and diana with the same disdainful glance. the committee huddled and lyle stone joined them. so much for impartiality. janet and diana left, both breathing an audible sigh of relief as the door shut behind them. stopping at the soft drink dispenser, the court reporter glanced around carefully then said sotto voce, "what a farce. unbelievable." chapter the ten-minute break had stretched to twenty before henry and the panel finished going over their notes to make sure they had brought out everything that mark, the university attorney, had advised. diana and janet were called back and diana began the cross examination of her department chair, lyle stone. she asked him first to confirm a sentence written in his memo to the dean and which he had testified to before the break. "yes," lyle answered, "i did write in the memo to the dean and also testified that i gave you all of the documents used in the handwriting analysis." diana held up several sheets of paper from the evidence packet on the table. "i have found documents dated nearly twenty years ago in this material the committee has introduced as that sent to the document examiners. these were not in the material that you gave me. so your assertion that i was given all of the documents is incorrect." henry searched quickly through his copy of the evidence that had been sent to the document examiners as standards. good god, he thought. what is this creature doing? come on lyle, don't let her get the best of you. ah, much better, henry observed happily to himself as lyle started tap dancing around her question. instead of yes or no, he would repeat at length some of his previous testimony with added embellishments and avoid answering. by persistent questioning, diana established that he had stapled her brief note to one of the `suspect' smurffs before it was sent out for analysis. but it was like pulling teeth. he kept reiterating that it was stapled to a `suspect' evaluation, so it would not get lost. patiently, she repeated her question, finally wearing him down. "were the document examiners given this evaluation with the note stapled on it as one of the `fictitious' critiques?" "yes, they identified that critique as having been written by you." "no distinction between the note and the critique was given them-- according to their report, is that correct?" "i guess so, yes." using a sketch of the nerd office, trenchant ran lyle back through his previous testimony of how the blank critiques, the smurffs, were given out, how they were collected and what happened to them afterwards. from her intimate knowledge of the operation, she was able to reveal most of the lies he had told of this process when the committee was questioning him. jane was listening carefully. slowly, there evolved the information that this whole evaluation process was sloppy and unreliable. that it had indeed, been this way for years. given that, she thought, how could he claim that such a high reliance was put on smurffs when assessing faculty for reappointment? lyle admitted that students had scant desire to complete smurffs. they considered it a useless effort since little or no attention had been paid in the past to their comments. "to force compliance," he explained, "students were told that unless their name had been checked off on a list in the secretaries' office, they could not receive their grade for the course from the dean's office. most students bring in completed evaluation forms, place them in the box provided and check off their names. some merely come in and check off their names, eschewing the forms," he finally admitted with obvious reluctance. this certainly puts a different light on things, jane noted as she jotted down the information being squeezed out of lyle by diana. she carefully registered in neat script: . that the blank smurffs were left out in the open for days, sometimes weeks so any body could have had access to them . that the completed smurffs left in the box, supposedly by radiology students, were separated and given to each instructor; the course critiques went to ian and randy . no tabulation of the number of critiques was carried out . anyone could come in (etc.) . since the critique form (etc.) . most of the submitted critiques were not dated the accused was left out of course planning meetings when ian and randy met with lyle, contrary to what he had just told the committee. none of the documents he had sent to the analysts contained anything detrimental to ian heathson, as claimed in his memo to the dean. she re-read what he'd written in the memo, "these fictitious student critiques were very detrimental and personally injurious to two junior faculty members." under trenchant's quietly relentless cross examination, lyle became flustered. first he claimed that perhaps his language had not been perfect in that phrase but what he meant was that, "manipulation of critiques in general would be detrimental to any faculty member." trying to bring him to the point, trenchant read from a signed, dated student critique that had not been deemed `suspicious' by lyle. it had been submitted during the same period as the `questioned' critiques. "quote: `i think randy needs to be more than one page ahead of the class in understanding the material. how can you teach what you do not know? i was also offended by the so-called anthropological function' (he gave) `of the female breasts. i am familiar with some of the literature which support the statement in the handouts,' (in a lecture, randy had emphasized that the primary function of the female breast was to attract a mate) `but was not aware that the naked ape, penthouse magazine, playboy magazine and so forth were regarded as competent medical school publications. the underlying tragedy of this incident is that it demonstrates the ease with which non-scientific hypothesis are disseminated without any thought. this, i think, is a poor reflection on the department and the faculty.' unquote." diana continued, "this is what i would call personally injurious but i do not see this student critique among the `suspicious' ones--the ones sent out for analysis." henry started to sweat along with lyle who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, his tone hostile. he dodged and refused to answer directly a question asking if he always sent suspicious critiques for handwriting analysis, claiming that in this case, one of his junior faculty had asked him to. jane picked up on an item of special importance, and extremely relevant, underlining it several times on her note pad. because of the negligent handling of the critique process, there was no authentic chain of custody maintained! in addition, neither the smurffs alluded to as `suspicious' nor the so-called handwriting standards were ever authenticated. according to the testimony she had just heard, each of the so-called `suspicious' critiques had been discovered when the finder was alone. furthermore, lyle could give no proof that any of the `suspicious' smurffs he claimed were found, had ever been placed in the return box provided for the students. in fact, except for the few critiques that were signed, there was no evidence that any of the nearly two hundred uncontested critiques relating to the radiology course were even submitted by the radiology students! jane was simply astounded. in all of lyle's testimony, he had offered no witnesses or evidence that could confirm his testimony that students had been manipulated by the accused. witchcraft was insinuated, but never proven. henry was rapidly becoming unglued. noting lyle's declining control and fearing an incipient outburst, henry interrupted and declared that they would now take a lunch break. how could that idiot sit there and let himself give away that kind of detail on how smurffs were handled in his department? henry knew that this was having a deleterious effect on the panel and he knew that he'd better set things straight while there was still a chance to cover up. chapter lunch was catered in the upstairs witness room as the prosecution, henry and the panel, huddled to socialize and discuss the morning events. henry and frank anuse excused themselves after the meal and adjourned to the men's room to plan strategy. "we can't say too much to the women now with the other witnesses around but when we get back, you take esther out somewhere and i'll handle jane. annette's no threat, we'll forget her. anyhow, explain how all that bullshit about the chain of custody doesn't have any bearing at all. everything rests on the document examiner's evidence. nothing else counts. got it?" "no problem, henry. i'll set her straight," anuse said reassuringly. "christ, diana really stuck it to lyle, didn't she?" the defense huddled too. they went as a group to the nearby cafeteria. everyone took the trouble to keep the conversation light and encouraging. they were convulsed at the reaction of the court stenographer which diana related to them. "she's probably attended a great many hearings," offered helen. "what happens in the cloistered halls of belmont u. would be a bit foreign to her." even though it was practically certain by now that they would not be needed to testify until the next day, they all elected to stay. "hey," roz insisted, "we want to be here for you and each other. it's bad enough that you have to face them alone in that hearing room." "you guys are the best, you know that?" diana said, fondly. "after the hours spent in that room its such a relief to hear human voices again." when the hearing resumed, henry cautioned diana about taking too much time and to stick to the issues. we are only here to listen to information directly concerning whether you forged those smurffs in question. you have wasted too much of our valuable time talking about non-related issues." and you, you pompous old windbag, encouraged that witness, lyle stone to go on and on for hours on unrelated issues yourself, thought janet, sneaking a quick, compassionate look at diana and flexing her fingers in preparation for the next words. diana almost snorted aloud at henry's admonition. composing herself, she said, "i'm finished with my cross examination of lyle." frank anuse immediately asked, "lyle, if it is demonstrated that a faculty member falsified information concerning another faculty member using smurffs, do you consider that to be amoral and unprofessional?" "yes. we are assuming that honesty must prevail among peers and co-workers." "that's all for now." "i have just a couple of questions on recross," corrected trenchant. henry, caught with his mouth open about to hastily dismiss lyle glared malevolently at her. she smiled back at him then turned to lyle and asked if he insisted that all faculty be honest. he avoided a direct answer. "well, no one thinks dishonesty is a good thing, at least i don't think anybody does." "i just wondered why you didn't take similar action, that is report to the vice president and bring charges, when the recent blatant plagiarism of ian and randy was brought to your attention," diana said. henry, forgetting his assumed role as neutral, quickly snapped off, "we really must keep the testimony on the issue." diana smiled grimly. "thank you. i'm finished." henry quickly excused lyle and announced that the next witness would be the document examiner and rose to get her. after the door closed behind him, the room was quiet. its occupants sitting in silent contemplation. chapter something had to be done. the group gathered in the conference room were all in agreement on that--but what? the problem was two-fold: what to do about the possibility that trenchant would bring a plagiarism suit against the department, and how to wipe out years of bad smurffs for ian and randy. "you realize that we could just get rid of her by invoking the clause in her contract that designates she's first in the department fired if the department has financial problems?" "that wouldn't help much, she could still sue for plagiarism. if we fired her, even justifiably, the papers would play the plagiarism stuff up." "there is another way--by discrediting her first and making the student evaluations invalid." "how!" "during my last trip to new york, i heard about some special services that were available." "special services? you mean a hit man? that wouldn't help the evaluations." "no. something else, entirely. give me a few weeks and then follow through with what you are presented with. it may be expensive, though. can i count on some help in that direction?" "no problem. you come through on this and we'll give you all the help you want." the others present nodded in agreement and the meeting ended. he could hear the phone ringing in anderson's office. ah, there he was. "andy, no names, please. i'm on the office phone. you recognize my voice? "yeah, sure. how they hanging?" "remember our conversation where you told me about the special services guy? "yeah." "can you put me in touch with him?" "yeah." "thanks, later." he got to the appointed restaurant early and asked for the booth reserved for smith as he had been instructed. it was amazing how those new york city taxi drivers knew a hole in the wall place like this. soon, he was joined by a well dressed, obviously well educated man who ordered drinks for both of them. "i understand that you have need of our services. how may we be of help?" "i need to have some papers forged. it has to be a foolproof forgery that will not be exposed if the papers are examined by a handwriting analyst." "that will be expensive, but not impossible. we charge by the number of words and the number of papers or documents you need." the price of each was then given. "whew, that is steep." "yes it is. but you want foolproof. ordinary forgers are a dime a dozen, but we employ only the most expert. these are people who are trained in document examination. they know what a document examiner looks for and what tips them off to call something a forgery. for example, if a person is trying to disguise his or her handwriting, they make it bigger, wider, smaller or larger. "our forgers, as trained document examiners, look for unique or individualistic handwriting characteristics and make sure these are included in their forgeries. they first find all the characteristics, even the microscopic ones, of the individual's handwriting just as a document examiner does. then they utilize this knowledge in making a foolproof forgery. "all this takes time, of course." "how do you recruit these people? i should think it would be difficult since they work fairly exclusively for attorneys or police, don't they?" "well, i certainly can't share our methods but i will remind you that money talks. these people are paid very well for what they do and they know they are protected. i hope you are not so naive that you believe all lawyers and cops are honest! "they are easy to recruit because they may have worked for years for very little. that's why to get the best, you have to pay for it." "ok, here's what i need. i was hoping to have a dozen or so of the following messages copied onto these blue forms, but i'm going to have to settle for these three short ones. "i understand from the man that introduced us that this will never be traced back to me?" "correct. i am only a broker. i do nothing criminal--you do nothing criminal. the forger never sees either you or me. someone else takes the material to her or him. that's another thing that makes our service so excellent. i will use a former document examiner who is the same sex and about the same age as the person you want blamed for these documents. "now, the first thing we need is as many examples of this individual's handwriting and printing that you can get your hands on. we want originals, not copies. however, be sure you make copies since you will not get the originals back. they will be, `consumed' perhaps is the best word for it, in the forgery process. most commercial document examiners will accept copies of standards to work from and this is to our, and your, advantage. you might get one sharp enough to be suspicious if given enough original standards to compare with our forgeries." the waiter never came back to bother them. they sat in the secluded booth and planned out the three documents to be. a few weeks later. . ."mr. smith? yes, thank you for returning my call so promptly. yes, the merchandise was as you represented. the professionals have authenticated it." he listened briefly, then said, "we are going to need two more. i neglected dates on the previous order and we have to show repetition of this practice. "all right. i'll meet you there in one hour with the accessories and balance of payment for the previous order." after hanging up the phone, he opened his briefcase and extracted a small packet of bright blue, belmont student feedback forms and a sheet with the typewritten messages that had been created to be forged onto them. he looked to see that the rest of the contents were in place, then returned everything to the briefcase and left the room carrying it. the document examiner was seated, sworn and proceeded to give her qualifications which were concerned with her training, the number of years in the profession and clients. alice stebbins was quite short. her features gave her age as around fifty and holding. she dressed severely, in browns and blacks which made her look perky and birdlike. peering at the hearing panel over her half glasses enhanced the bird image, but it was destroyed when she opened her mouth. her voice, far from a peep-peep one might expect, was deep and strong. she had learned well that when one was giving expert testimony, one presented a confident, assured bearing. further questions from the chair led her through the evidence and she readily identified all but two of the seven `suspicious' critiques as being written by trenchant. her language was laced with the correctness of one accustomed to giving court appearances. she prefaced much of her testimony with the caveat, `in my opinion'. her attitude of selfassuredness belied this qualification. "also, in my opinion, those two most probably were written by her. certainty was not possible since they contained printing and i was not given enough or recent enough exemplars of dr. trenchant's printing." using two large easels, she demonstrated various letters and combination of letters photographed and enlarged from the standards or exemplars and from the `suspect' documents. this kind of testimony was familiar to janet. she faithfully recorded the words being spoken and knew that standards or exemplars are writing and printing that are authenticated. that is, that are definitely established to be written or printed by the person in question. customarily, they are taken in the presence of the document examiner so the examiner can swear to their authenticity. using these visual aids, the document examiner pointed out the similarities existing in the way the letters were formed--making her case that the documents in question, the `suspect' smurffs, had indeed been written by trenchant. clearly, her presentation was well done and the panel was most engrossed and fascinated by the process she delineated. the panel was eager to question her further. like most professionals, they were deeply interested in a discipline they knew very little about. "is handwriting analysis reliable?" anuse knew what her answer would be and wanted to pin this down first, but the question backfired on him. "yes," she answered confidently. the panel hassled her for specifics. these were researchers who were consistently challenged to prove or disprove their own theories and then defend them. statistics were their life. "how have you measured your success rate, what percent of the time have you been right?" they questioned. "in other words, have the courts accepted my qualifications?" "no, not qualifications--evaluations. how many times are you right and how many times are you wrong?" "it isn't looked at that way. the judge or jury look at the whole case, not just your presentation." "i understand that the courts allow your testimony. i want to know the percentage of error in your analysis," asked jane astori, leaning forward. "none." "none? has this ever been calculated?" demanded esther rondell. "no. but there is research going on." jane and esther looked at each other in blank astonishment and then back at the document examiner, disdain and disbelief fighting each other for expression on their faces. attempting to save the situation, anuse asked if the courts accepted handwriting analysis to be as accurate as fingerprints. her answer dripped confidence. "yes." janet sensed that the women on the panel were not about to let this polite exchange continue. the very forces at work over the eons that compelled women to defer to men, rewarded them for fearlessly attacking other women. the confident, assertive demeanor manifested by the analyst would not have been questioned coming from a man, but they would not let a woman get away with it. she knew from countless demonstrations she had witnessed that women may band together at times with the force of a mob to attack another woman. this behavior was and is still produced by the same motivation. men in power foster it and reward it. esther began the attack. "there are many letters on the display you have shown that are very different from the standards. the t's look very different." "what t?" "those." pointing, "those t's have a straight. . ." "certainly some letters will be different, but with my training, i am able to see similarities you are missing," alice stebbins replied, confident of her own superiority. "if there is a large sample of writing you may be able to see differences in each letter. the samples given me were so small that this was not the case, however, i did have enough material to compare with the unique handwriting characteristics shown in dr. trenchant's standards to make a positive identification." "how consistently do other document examiners agree with you or agree with one another?" this from annette. "i don't know." "do handwriting examiners oppose each other in court?" "i don't know that. i suppose you could find anyone to do anything. assuming that there are two document examiners, it would depend upon which one makes the most persuasive argument." "i see," jane's smile was victorious. "it's not a question of being correct in your analysis as much as your ability to make a jury think so." henry hurriedly asked loudly, "i understand you are court qualified. what do you mean by that?" "every time i have gone into court, my qualifications have been accepted by the court. i have never been denied. that is what is meant." the chair indicated to trenchant that she might ask questions of the document examiner. first, trenchant confirmed all of the documents given the examiner and again made the point that many of these had not been given her before the hearing as had been sworn to by lyle and also written in a letter to her by the chair. she next established that all of the exemplars that the analyst worked from were copies. continuing her questioning of the witness, she asked, "you must be aware that people in your profession pretty much insist on seeing original standards?" alice dodged adroitly. "i saw the originals of the questioned documents." trenchant pursued. "but only copies of the standards." alice allowed, "correct," to escape between clenched teeth. "you have been testifying throughout saying that i wrote the standards you used. i put it to you. is this something you were told, or do you know of your own knowledge that i wrote those standards you used to compare with `suspect' smurffs?" "what was that?" anuse interrupted. "i'll ask the question again. please let the witness answer. specifically, did i write those standards in front of you so you know positively that they were written by me." "no. i assumed that the exemplars that i was given were authentic exemplars or standards of your own writing." "just as you assumed that i wrote the questioned documents?" diana paused just long enough for that to sink in, then asked, "it has been pointed out that some of us see many dissimilarities in the exhibit you have shown us. don't these carry any weight?" "if, in my opinion, the similarities outweigh the dissimilarities, or vice-versa, that would be the basis for my opinion," alice answered, then forcefully added, "my opinion is based on training, not assumptions." "thank you very much, ms stebbins. i'm glad that we clarified that the standards were assumptions." anuse promptly went into a damage control frenzy trying to destroy the point made that the exemplars were not authenticated. he would probably have succeeded had not the examiner been so haughty, so confident. at least three of the panel were not convinced by her testimony. janet chuckled to herself. she didn't particularly like the fact that many women never figured out their intolerance of their own sex, but she was delighted to see anything working in diana's favor. evidence was evidence and courts made it clear that you couldn't manufacture it. evidence had to be proven authentic. she knew that a judge would throw this case against diana right out on the testimony of this document examiner. there was a delay while alice stebbins was escorted out. during this time, janet rested her fingers and recanted her previous thought. actually, she amended, it would never have gotten this far. it would have stopped back when it became obvious that there was no chain of custody established for the seven `suspect' smurffs. chapter henry called the dean of the medical school, sam broadhurst, md, and asked him to identify himself and his position at belmont for the record, as the witness before him had done. the dean was a swarthy complected, strongly built individual. at , his reputation as a ruthless administrator was well known. just as well known was his reputation for fairness. where he was faulted was the way he backed up, no matter what, the medical school chairmen (there were no women) who along with him were called `the boy's club' by the rest of the medical school faculty. the boy's club often went on retreat. at these meetings, held in luxurious surroundings, policies and plans were decided and everyone fell into line, or else. there were those among the faculty that believed that sam broadhurst demanded from the chairs, and took himself, an oath in blood. this was because they invariably backed each other up publicly even though privately, they didn't. henry knew that the dean was not happy with the way the trenchant situation had been handled. the dean was royally pissed that lyle had gone over his head to mark and himself instead of keeping the matter in the medical school and dealing with it there. he was further incensed that they had decided to charge diana and terminate her before he was even apprised that the situation existed. by the time he was brought into the process, it was to late for him to do anything but go along with it. so henry wasn't surprised when the dean made it quite clear that he was not consulted until the central administration had already decided to terminate diana. this was so obvious that everyone in the room realized that he was just doing his job within the system but that didn't mean that he liked it. having thus vented his spleen about the way the affair had been handled, dean broadhurst clearly and forcibly added his opinion to that of lyle's in almost a carbon copy of lyle's relevant testimony. clearly and succinctly without the wandering, self serving side trips taken by lyle, the dean cast the party line with all the skill of the accomplished angler he was. all right. well done, thought henry, with transparent relief. at least things were going all right thus far with this witness. esther took over the questioning and asked, "would five or six smurff critiques out of around have enough weight to influence your process of evaluating faculty performance in a course?" the dean sidestepped, "the ones in question were pretty damning comments." esther persisted, "have you seen the other evaluations? i mean the ones that are believed to be authentic student feedbacks?" here dean broadhurst intentionally contradicted lyle's testimony. "no. the student comments are summarized by the department secretaries and i see the summaries. there is also a summary of the positive and negative comments and a summary of the numerical evaluation." jane looked at henry to see his reaction. she remembered that lyle had testified that all the smurffs were given to, and reviewed by, the dean. perhaps, sam broadhurst thought to himself, it is all i can do for her. the panel has the information, if they choose to hear it. if there was manipulation of the evaluation process, it wasn't a product of five `suspicious' ones out of some two hundred that were considered valid. statistically, the evidence stunk and he knew it. he also knew a lot more. two of his children had gone through the medical school when diana taught in the radiology laboratory. the dean remembered the many occasions he had seen fit to compliment trenchant on her teaching, saying that he was giving her this critique first-hand from one or the other of his children. perhaps, thought the dean, if witchcraft was the real charge, the panel would insist that it be proven. or maybe not. the administration appeared to be out for blood and he was sure that lyle was still licking the wounds of a few short months ago. . . he had lyle on the carpet. he had summarily called him down to his office to read him the riot act. "here are the letters i've received from three top publishers of medical texts. each one of them protests the plagiarism that a medical student told them your people have committed in preparing course material. "i went to the radiology lab after i received the first letter and talked to some students. although no one wanted to admit to contacting the publishers, they did show me the areas in their manual and notes that had been copied directly from different texts without citation. "they also showed me the notebooks filled with diagrams that had been copied from a published atlas. again, nowhere in the book was there any mention of, or credit given, to the source. hell, your guys didn't even get permission to photograph the material!" the dean continued telling lyle that quite a sum of money would have to change hands with the publishers to keep this thing quiet. "it must be her," lyle whined when he could get a word in. "she must have put the students up to writing the publishers." the dean knew who he meant. lyle was a chronic complainer. "did trenchant put your boys up to plagiarism too?" ridiculed the dean. "i understood from you that she was no longer in the radiology course." "she's not, but the students from previous years have told this year's students about her and they all go to her when they don't understand something. "she's really a menace to randy and ian. one day she even got a classroom and held a review just before an exam. i got wind of it and sent ann biggot to audit. ann said that most of the radiology class showed up. the students told ann afterwards that they had been the ones to ask for the review. "now you know how that must have hurt ian's feelings. his reviews were only attended by a handful of the students and no one came to randy's." "you should be able to handle a situation like that. tell her to stop it if you think it undermines your faculty." lyle was not a happy camper. he left, enraged. as soon as he reached his office, he called for ian. "ian, i know you've got a lecture in a few minutes so i'll be brief. after the lecture, i want you to tell the students that they must not consult diana anymore because she is not involved in teaching radiology and is much too busy to be bothered. also, you lay it on the line about your job. you tell them that unless your critiques improve, you are out. work on their feelings. most of the students like you and would hate to have you lose your job on account of them. "after you finish that, you and randy get in here. i want to talk to you both about that lab material you plagiarized." when the panel had finished its brief examination of the dean, diana simply said, "i have no questions." she understood the constraints he was under and appreciated how much he had tried, in spite of them, to help. he had given the panel some vital information. the question was, did they hear it? dean broadhurst was excused and the next witness was called. chapter randy fecesi sat in the witness chair and raised his hand for the oath with alacrity. he was going to enjoy this. a wispy, rather nondescript person, his main aim in life apparently was to live up to his name. he sported a crew cut which bristled, much like his ever present bad temper, above bright beady eyes which were forever darting around undressing every female in sight. although he had some talent in research, having received a sizable grant, his conceit and arrogance got in the way of establishing a rapport with students. it also prevented him from really understanding how very little he knew about radiology. henry had spent a great deal of time with randy preparing him for today. it had been a harrowing ordeal. perhaps the actual testifying would be more harrowing, henry thought as he nervously reviewed to himself what he had learned about randy from lyle. randy had come to belmont from a college in ohio having sufficiently outstayed his welcome there. as is true in most college administrations, faculty sexual misconduct was considered mere professorial peccadillo and was studiously overlooked. if a woman student appeared to be on the verge of making a fuss, administrators had a remedy called `the grievance procedure'. administrative personnel talked to the woman and were able to subtly or directly lead her to understand that problems would arise in her matriculation if she persisted with charges of sexual harassment or rape. if this didn't work, a brief investigation identified her friends and she was appraised of situations that might affect them should she remain recalcitrant. most didn't. this was all done under the aegis of academic freedom, mused henry. the principle of academic freedom evolved years ago. it sheltered serious scholars from the whims and avarice of the shifting politicians and their politics. now it was made better use of. we administrators use it as a tool to circumvent trouble. nearly all institutions, battling the emergence of women and other minorities into the collegiate arena, use it to maintain the status quo and rightfully so, henry decided. academic freedom was used to shield the many ways we avoid compliance with both federal and state laws. if we opened ourself to public scrutiny, we'd never get anything done. universities are, were and should be a law unto themselves. they can tolerate only those who are willing to make sometimes painful compromises. those who could not, and were compelled to fight for so-called human rights and the original meaning of academic freedom, soon left or were not reappointed. randy fecesi was, despite his foibles, a prime commodity. he was funded. this made him much sought after since colleges were looking to capture research dollars. there was good reason for this, henry noted. because it paid better, colleges and universities had stopped putting the emphasis on teaching and instead, looked for research potential. this meant that candidates for a tenure-track position were not looked at for their teaching experience but for their ability to bring in research dollars. competition was fierce among these institutes of higher learning and much was done to attract suitable candidates. headhunting became a profitable business in academia. for the last ten years, teaching had taken a back seat at belmont. crowded classrooms attested to the lack of adequate teaching space. much of the space formerly assigned as classrooms had been rebuilt into laboratories. at the medical school, prospective recruits were lured by promises of plenty of laboratory space, unremitting stroking and very light teaching duties. the reality was that once the entrant was hired, adulation ceased. for randy, this was a problem. in addition, he hadn't even tried to clean up his act and lyle did nothing except encourage him to be pond scum, thought henry. randy expected the medical students to worship him and instead they found him appalling because of his lack of expertise in the subject he taught and for his repeated, haughty demonstration of it. having his way with women took a beating too. usually, he ignored any female who didn't fit his image of perfect enough for him to notice. however, if he needed something, he would approach these females in a sexual manner and was usually rebuffed. since lyle had already established trenchant as the whipping girl of the department, randy readily fell in with this designation and laid all his problems at her door. when she refused to photograph the pictures in a radiology atlas, he was furious. he ran to lyle and claimed that she was obstructing his efforts to modernize the course. he neglected to tell lyle that she had said she would be willing to do it if the publisher gave written permission. lyle, of course, encouraged him to proceed with his innovations and just ignore her. randy took this to mean that he had carte blanche and it led to his plagiarizing her laboratory manual as well as the published texts and atlas of other authors. henry brought his attention back to the hearing just as jane was asking randy to explain how he had found the `suspicious' critiques. he answered, leaning forward toward her in his eagerness and excitement, "in looking through the student critiques i found these that didn't seem to be right. that is, the comments were not expressed the way a medical student would. "i also saw that the handwriting was different. not the way students write but like the handwriting of old people. so then i went back and looked through other years for similar handwriting." he explained that he, randy, had found all three smurffs which he had brought to lyle and asked that they be sent to a document examiner because he thought these were written by trenchant. responding to a very leading question from anuse, randy agreed, "yes, these evaluations had been very harmful to me in that they tended to undermine my confidence in my ability to teach radiology and could affect my reappointment." esther broke in, "five evaluations out of nearly ?" "well most of the were pretty bad." suddenly realizing how this sounded, he quickly amended, "you see, it was the kind of comments that tipped me off that they were not real student feedbacks. they didn't sound the same. she was making these kinds of comments to the students--exerting influence on them to write the derogatory remarks. that's what was undermining my confidence." anuse brought him sharply back out of harm's way by asking if there had been trouble between him and trenchant. this opened a floodgate of accusation and crocodillian remorse. he had no idea why she would be so resentful of him since he had gone out of his way to be nice to her. "once, i even complimented her on the cute sweater she was wearing. instead of acting normally, she complimented me on my cute shirt. go figure!" pressed to answer what he thought might be her reason to sabotage him with fictitious student evaluations, he lost it. although he had been carefully coached by both the chairman of nerd and the university attorney, all that training went out the window. the mask slipped and his answer was pure, vitriolic, undiluted, vintage randy. perhaps it was because he sensed a kindred spirit in frank anuse. "well," sneered randy, "you know broads, they get crazier than ever at that age and. . ." oh, god, thought henry and nearly shouted, "it's getting late," over the rest of what randy was about to say. "this would be a good time to adjourn for the day. all right?" he glanced around quickly, stood up and was halfway to the door before anyone could disagree. damned idiot, he thought to himself. he'd see to it that this boy got a talking to and had his priorities straight as well as his head before he came back the next day. henry kept his bad mood at bay with difficulty during the drive home by thinking only of his comfortable chair and a huge drink. . .or two before dinner. he had just entered the door and placed his briefcase on the hall table when his wife's voice floated down the stairs, jarring the hell out of him. "that you, henry? hurry up now and get dressed, we're due at the bakers in half an hour." henry groaned. "not tonight, shit!" then almost immediately, he recollected that the bakers were giving a party and it was most important that he be present. no help for it, he'd have to bite the bullet. casting a fond look at his lazy boy as he passed the entrance to the living room, he ascended the stairs feeling like a doomed man mounting a scaffold. "you look like death warmed over," his wife, kate, announced caustically, as she met him at the top of the stairs. you're no raving beauty yourself, henry thought. kate was an athletic, slender woman of forty-two. she neither thought herself beautiful or required that others did. henry often lamented the fact that with all the money they had, she could afford to go to one of the many body shops and get some or all of her sagging flesh lifted, but kate opted to live naturally and age gracefully. he was continually after her to at least wear makeup but she adamantly refused. when they were married, henry didn't mind the over a decade age difference between them. kate was an exciting woman-- an exciting, rich woman. her money had been the deciding factor in asking her to marry him and it was one reason he stayed married to her. the other was that he basked in the prestige her place in society lavished on him. "go on in and get your shower and hurry up. we're going to be late as it is." "oh, hell, it doesn't matter if we're a bit late for this. everyone understands that i'm really busy with this damned hearing," henry grumbled as he made his way to the ornate bathroom. when he entered his bedroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel, kate called through the connecting door from her room to ask how the hearing was going. her innocent question brought the whole disgusting mess back, along with the foul humor that went along with it. henry set down heavily on his bed. "what a day. you wouldn't believe the absolute stupidity of that nerd chairman and his little boy bad, fecesi. you'd think after all the trouble they took to have this hearing take place that they would at least be prepared. but no, lyle couldn't even remember how many smurffs were involved--two or three. as if that wasn't bad enough, he let that damned woman, trenchant, tie him up in knots on cross examination. "then fecesi testified. he's the guy that actually found these suspicious smurffs and i was told that he'd been well coached. mark and lyle both had gone over and over his testimony with him. the trouble is, the guy is the pits. a horny, crass bastard if i ever saw one. he put on a world class demonstration of constipation of the brain and diarrhea of the mouth. if i hadn't adjourned the hearing when i did, there's no telling what else would have come out of that foul throat of his. "now, add to all of that, those stupid broads on the panel got teed-off at the document examiner and apparently aren't convinced now that trenchant wrote those evaluations at all. the only one i can depend on is frank anuse." henry buried his head in his lap and massaged it with both hands. kate looked at him without pity. "serves you right. you and the rest of those sanctimonious bastards trying to railroad that woman. seven smurffs, for god's sake--it's a greater crime to spit on the grass. "as for fecesi, he's got his brains in his crotch just like the rest of you. the only difference is that he doesn't pretend otherwise--he's a little too direct for you, isn't he? "since this whole thing started, i've had more people ask me what the real reason is for going after diana trenchant because they just can't believe the smurff crap. everyone on campus knows the smurffs are a joke. nobody, but nobody takes them seriously." henry defended himself vigorously. "well, it is serious and the smurff thing is not all there is to it. that woman has been using her influence over the past three or four years to injure the other faculty in the radiology course," henry defended himself vigorously. "influence? a lecturer with influence? who did she influence, the dean? the pope?" "no. the students. that's why these guys in the course were so hurt by all this. their yearly evaluation by the students--nearly all the student feedback for them, and the course they directed, were really bad. and, it's her fault. she manipulated the students to write those bad critiques." "pshaw. she manipulated medical students? since when? you know, henry, you can't have it both ways. you claim that your witnesses are stupid and loathsome, then blame trenchant when the medical students agree with you." "you just don't understand. she had a chance to resign and didn't take it. now i'm the one in charge of giving her a fair hearing and i'm not getting any cooperation from the very people who want to get rid of her." "fair hearing, henry? at belmont, that's a contradiction in terms and you know it. hurry up and get dressed. i'll get the car and meet you out front." the hearing - day chapter all of her witnesses were waiting in a high state of excitement when diana reached howard hall the next morning. "roz came in early," she was told. "she wanted to be sure we got this room again today." roz brushed aside the praise, "hey teach, i've got some great news. the rest of the class is kicking in to make up for what we lose in wages by attending the hearing." diana was delighted. the fact that many of her witnesses were losing time at work to help her had caused a nagging pain of remorse. already, most of them had lost a day's pay just sitting around waiting to testify yesterday. while her witnesses occupied themselves in various ways-- studying, reading or conversing quietly, diana sat down on the couch, closed her eyes and sought to compose herself. even though the panel had instructed her to be there at nine with all her witnesses, one never knew when the hearing would reconvene. good news indeed. what great people these were, she thought. when the whole mess happened, this class of some two hundred nutrition students had rounded up hundreds of signatures for petitions sent to lyle, sam and the pope. many of the students had gone to them in person to plead for justice. although most of the students were in the nursing school, some came from the colleges of agriculture, arts and science and special education. collectively, they had filled out and filed more nominations for me to be named teacher of the year than had ever been received before for one teacher. they were devastated when the committee receiving these nominations threw them in the wastebasket, following the instructions of henry tarbuck. then there were some that went as a group to beg help from the `minority vp'--dan field. dan talks a good game against discrimination and even pretends to speak for the black community. he's a brilliant, fascinating lecturer, a perennial favorite with the students. they considered him to be the most impartial, open-minded administrator they had ever known. his feet of clay surprisingly revealed when he washed his hands of the students pleas and sided with the administration, telling the students who petitioned him for help that i am a criminal. at least the blacks on campus weren't surprised by this. they had long ago discovered he was not only a smart cookie, he was an oreo. but, diana mused on gratefully, dan was the exception. many pleaded on my behalf. someone once said that all it takes to stop evil is for one good man to speak up and many good men, and women, did just that. they spoke up for justice and fair play. they argued with administration officials, citing example after example of male faculty misconduct over the years that had gone nearly unnoticed and never punished. they asserted that a witch hunt would hurt the belmont image and reflect badly on all who worked there. they all knew what a farce the smurffs had always been and all this fuss over seven? sure, evaluations were used at times by administrators as justification for not reappointing a faculty member, but even then, there had to be a preponderance of negative evaluations. it was of no avail. the administration was adamant. so much for wise sayings but the fact that some people did try was heartwarming, diana thought. roz broke her revere, gently. "it's time, diana." was it her imagination or was the panel friendlier this morning, diana mused as she entered the room and took her seat. i do believe besides saying good morning, most of them smiled at me. maybe things are looking up. a chastised randy returned to the witness chair. he looks ridden hard and put away wet, thought diana with amusement. responding to a question from annette, he avowed that, "the year that trenchant didn't teach, we rewrote the lab manual. we didn't use any material from the manual written by trenchant." when all on the panel had indicated that they had no more questions to ask him, henry asked diana if she wished to question the witness. to himself, he added, god help us if the little twerp doesn't do what he's been told. mark had assured him that he and lyle had a good long session with randy and felt that he had now seen the light and would behave properly. "yes, please. i'm confused, randy. you have said that you saw one evaluation that appeared to be more directed toward one year than both years. you answered that this was one of the reasons why you thought it was suspicious. "now these evaluations have no dates on them. is it not possible that both are from the same year?" "no." "how do you know that?" "because i don't remember which one was from which year, but these are from two separate years." "did you mark them." "no. i picked one out of each year's evaluations." "but you don't know the specific year each came from?" "no." with further questions, diana established that from the time the evaluations had been given to randy, they had not been safeguarded in any fashion. sometimes they were in a file cabinet, sometimes on a bench or table in his lab. at least twice, they had left his possession when the secretaries had called for them to use in tabulating the synopsis for the dean. it appeared that there was some confusion as to when he took the `suspicious' documents to lyle. "i don't know the exact date. certainly after the second year i was in the course--january or february." "lyle said it was a year later than that. he said it was last year," pressed diana. interrupting imperiously, anuse jumped in to lead him with careful questions in a direction away from that subject. when he finished, diana summed up his testimony. "the `suspect' evaluations were not dated. you testified that you didn't know which one came from which year. you have no idea if all or any of the remaining evaluations are authentic, is this all correct?" randy nodded glumly. when diana again referred to lyle's testimony that randy had brought the critiques to him last year, anuse again interrupted. this time trenchant held her ground and forcefully turned toward him saying, "excuse me. i believe this is my time to examine this witness!" "now, randy, you have stated that none of the material in my laboratory manual was used by you to create the manual you used last year when i was not in the course. do you want to change that answer?" "no." the accused held up two large manila envelopes, thick with their contents, saying, "i have here a copy of my manual and the one you prepared. clearly marked are the parts in your manual that have been lifted verbatim from mine. "in addition, i have given the references of whole paragraphs that you have copied from published radiology text books and used without citation in your manual. "i am prepared to offer this to the panel as evidence that you are not telling the truth." "this has nothing to do with the termination for cause action that this hearing is all about," interrupted henry. "you must keep to the subject." how did i ever get into this fix, he thought. aloud, he continued, "since this material does not bear directly on the matter at hand, it cannot be allowed into evidence. please continue." "i have no further questions." whew, she gave up. henry wiped his brow. that was close, i figured she'd keep picking at him until he blew up and spat- tered all over the room. hurriedly he said, "you're excused, randy. please tell ian to come in before you leave." randy shared in the relief felt by the chair of the panel. he ran lightly up the stairs to the witness room. "you're on next, ian." he was surprised when ian fairly catapulted out of the room, grabbing his arm as he passed and nearly hurled them both down the stairs. "what in hell is the damned hurry?" safely away from the second floor, ian steered randy into an alcove from where he could see the stairs. "that mark! honestly, randy, he's been driving me crazy. talks a blue streak all the time. ask him the date and he'll discourse for hours on end before he gets to the point. holding any kind of a conversation with him is as impossible as stopping a hurricane by shouting at it. "i kept trying to get away. once, i said i had to take a piss and the son of a bitch came along with me, whizzing away in the next urinal, without missing a word. i tell you, the man should be muzzled." "well, it looks as if he isn't going to follow you into the hearing room, ian. calm down. they're waiting for you in there." "yeah, in a minute. tell me first, randy, how was it? anything i should watch out for?" "nada." randy had regained his usual swagger. "not a thing, old bean. between us, we'll give the bitch the old one two. . ." "we're waiting for you, ian." henry said from the doorway of the hearing room. "oh, right. i'm coming right along. just had to get things straight about who takes the review session today since i could be tied up here, " blubbered ian, apologetically. as he reached the door, he turned and looked back up the stairs apprehensively. seeing no one, he breathed a sigh of relief and entered the hearing room. ian heathson was of average height. his most striking features were his mop of blond hair and pale blue eyes which flitted about, examining the room, looking everywhere except at diana. when asked to substantiate the testimony of lyle that he and randy had found `suspicious' smurffs, ian told a slightly different story. he hadn't found any himself. randy had found them. "he showed them to me and i was flabbergasted. i had no reason to suspect that something like that would happen." having said that, he reversed course and said, "i always thought there was some kind of manipulative action going on with the students, because we used to get critiques that were totally inconsistent with what we were doing in the course. so we always felt there was something going on." when henry asked what he did next, he stated that randy had brought the `suspect' smurffs to lyle and, "indicated our concern." given the packet of smurffs that had been sent to the document examiners and asked to identify them as the ones found, he said, "i can't remember, i didn't memorize them." when asked how he got along with diana, he admitted that, "they got along fine until the year randy. . ." stopping abruptly. . . "well, i noticed problems all along." esther, who had apparently read the complete set of student evaluations for the years in question, entered as evidence by diana, suggested that his evaluations had become more positive each year before randy came into the course. he professed to not knowing for sure, but thought, "the first year i taught was not good, the second year, considerably better and the third, a hair better, not much. "the fourth year, well. . ." easy now, ian, thought henry, that was the year that randy started teaching. as if he had heard henry's silent coaching, ian testified as if his life depended upon it--his professional life did. he told a long heart-wrenching tale of the terrible student evaluations he received in the radiology course. he had very nearly not been reappointed a couple of times but lyle had fought for him. over and over again, at every opportunity, he came back to the years of deleterious critiques passed in by the students. obviously, this had to be because trenchant manipulated the students. "some of the things commonly written on the critiques were, `why isn't she lecturing?' `course is totally disorganized' and this is wrong because i am not a disorganized individual; the course is very well organized." "did you ever have her lecture to see what the students' reaction would be?" asked jane. "we'd talked about it," he replied. ian continued, "along with the many comments to have her lecture, the students wrote how she was the only one who knew anything about radiology and that randy and i should get out of the course and let her teach it. as i looked through the smurffs these comments just jumped out at me. when i was a student, i never wrote such things about my professors." there was, however, a change in the critiques the year the accused was not teaching the course. "a complete flip-flop, ian asserted. "the students liked the course and the people who taught it." henry ducked his head and smiled grimly thinking that these `flip-flop' smurffs would damn well not be seen by the panel, i'll see to that. ian is really stretching the truth here since those smurffs he's talking about are more flop than flip. true, the students didn't lambaste ian and randy that year as they had in the past, however, in a way, they were just as bad. nearly every critique carried the name of the student and the date. the few comments they contained were bland almost to the point of being insulting. most of them contained no comments, as the student just checked off the `average' number for each category under evaluation. those that contained comments were all typed. well, if the panel or diana asked to see them he would simply say that they had no bearing on the issue. henry returned from his reverie just as ian was saying ". . .there were even some smurffs submitted by the students for diana, which i couldn't figure out why since she wasn't even teaching the course this year." ian carefully did not mentioned how this year, as lyle had directed, he had begged and implored the students to write favorable reviews on their evaluation forms since his job depended on it. . . it was time to do course evaluations again. a great many of the radiology students were unhappy that they had been told to avoid contact with diana who had helped them a great deal during the past few months. they were told she was accused of doing some terrible thing but that it would be forgotten and forgiven if they as a class returned positive critiques for the course. they also heard ian's sad tale of imminent loss of job and how he had just bought a new home ad nauseam. the class officers discussed the situation and offered the following advice to their classmates at a hastily called meeting just prior to exams. "don't write your radiology critique out of anger, even if you feel angry. we don't want to cause her any more problems. "write anything positive you can think of and leave it at that. ian has tried hard and none of us want to hurt him. also, use a typewriter and keep a copy. none of us wants to hear randy fabricate results to his advantage. "as most of you have heard, no medical student will be allowed to testify for her, or for that matter, even attend the hearing. since many of you have indicated you want to do something, just remember that we've been officially told to cool it. the reality is that our future could depend on not rocking the boat too much. "peter is starting a collection to be given to her anonymously. at this point, it's all we can do. i'm sure she has additional expenses because of all this. i wish we could tell you this is fair and courageous. we can't. she is going down the drain, but it won't help if we go down with her." susan anders stood up. "i hear what you're saying and agree for the most part. however, as one individual, i just had to do something--this is such a vicious attack on her. i have written and mailed a letter to the pope which i signed and am solely responsible for. in other words, none of you are involved if there is any reprisal because of it. in it, i expressed my displeasure and labeled the prosecution of diana an administrative gang bang." the class applauded. chapter now it was diana's turn to ask questions of ian. "you told us that when you examined your smurff critiques that some just `jumped out at you'. it would seem that had it been up to you, quite a few smurffs would have been sent away for analysis." "no. all kinds of things were written that made me think that something was wrong. i couldn't understand it but i didn't go back through the old critiques and try to pick them out." "but randy did. is that correct?" "yes. he told me he had found three smurffs among the radiology critiques that he thought were in your handwriting." suddenly going from sober to smirk, ian finished slyly, "and he was right." ignoring the obvious baiting attempt, diana continued. "when you were referring to the critiques that jumped out at you, i take it you meant all the smurffs--not just the ones in evidence called `suspicious' critiques?" she indicated the folders containing the material that had been sent to the document examiners. "i mean the actual student critiques. they basically have the same kind of comments as those," replied ian pointing to the folders. "then you don't agree that the reason these `suspicious' critiques stood out was because they were so different? isn't that the reason you took them to lyle?" "randy did that. i didn't go through all of them as he did, but he showed me the ones he picked out and they were pretty much the same as all the others--basically not good." "now which one of these critiques, these in the packet b, are you saying were very detrimental and personally injurious and caused you undue harm.?" "i haven't read them. i'm talking about all the critiques in general." "then you are alleging that i wrote all the critiques?" "no. a psychologist would find that a person would have to have mental problems to sit down and write all the critiques like that. what i'm saying is there is other evidence, probably intangible, that a seed was planted in a student's mind, and that seed was portrayed in some of the comments that they wrote on their own." still trying to get the question answered, diana asked again, this time reading from the memo from the dean. "the dean wrote that i am, quote, `accused of creating fictitious student critiques which were very detrimental and personally injurious to two junior faculty members' unquote. "so i am asking again, which one of these have you selected to . . ." oh, oh, ian's in trouble thought henry interrupting quickly with, "have you seen this memo, ian?" "no." the chair handed a copy of the memo and the packet of `suspicious' critiques to ian saying, "he has not seen the memorandum you are referring to." to himself, he said, come on ian, get it together. this is dangerous ground. ian read the memo and then looked at the critiques. "well, there are things in here. . .randy's and my teaching effectiveness down to and yours up at . a comment that you are an excellent lecturer. this one has to do with sexism. . . i don't know about that. "now i haven't gone through these. these are things that randy found, things he pulled out and brought to my attention." "when was this?" queried diana "oh, i can't recall the exact date." "according to this memo that you say you haven't seen, lyle has written that during the early part of last fall, you came to him with two critiques-- now, i assume he means three--does that. . ." "that sounds reasonable, but i don't remember exactly what month it was." "was it before or after the problems that you had with publishers regarding copyright infractions in the radiology course. . . the year i was not in it?" henry felt as of he had been punched in the stomach and the gasp of surprise escaping from his lips was audible to everyone in the room. before any of the panel could react, trenchant held up her hand in a gesture universally representing stop. "let him answer the question," she insisted. my god, the bitch has pinned him and i can't think what to do to stop this. come on, ian, deny knowing anything about what she's asking. think what you're saying. henry started to sweat. ian seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "before or after? jeez, i don't remember." "was it right around that time, perhaps?" "i really don't remember. the copyright infractions happened last fall-- actually during the first week of classes. so i don't remember for sure, but i think randy came to me after that with these smurffs." good lord, the asshole is admitting to plagiarism. henry found his tongue finally. "the reason we are here has to do with these `suspect' evaluations and irrelevant matter should be left out," he protested with a warning look at ian. interesting, thought diana. it's ok to bring in anything that is derogatory or even believed to be derogatory about me and my casting spells on the students, but anything about their admitted dishonesty is verboten. beam me up, scotty. . . she turned her attention back to ian. "just a few more questions. you have said that randy picked these evaluations out, and i see no date on them. do you have any idea of the year they refer to?" "i assume that they were the smurffs that he had received recently. but i'm not sure. we just keep them all in one pile." "now, usually after the students have handed in their smurffs is it not correct that you are given yours and the course critiques and you keep them unless lyle wants the secretaries to summarize them for the dean?" "right." "that is all i need to ask. thank you." there was a short break while henry dismissed ian and called the panel into a whispering huddle with him. looking up, he addressed janet and diana, almost as an afterthought. "you need not leave the room, we will be finished in a few minutes." i've got to set these people straight after what has just gone down, he thought. we're calling her next and they have to be warned not to pursue red herrings. chapter after the formalities of swearing in were completed, the `suspect' evaluations were identified as being contained in packets called exhibit and by the chair and diana was asked if she wrote them. following her denial, henry asked her why `they' would suggest that she had. she answered that she had no idea. damn her, thought henry. she won't rise to the bait. next, the chair turned to exhibit , which he identified as some of the standards used by the document examiners. apparently, he had heard and taken note when trenchant had made a point of the fact that the so-called standards were copies. "one is an original, here on top--the rest are copies." then he continued, obliquely, asking, "have you seen these before?" "since these exhibits were passed around and discussed yesterday," trenchant answered, "i have seen something that appears like this. "if you are asking if i wrote them, the answer is that i couldn't say. the one original in the packet looks like my signature but there is no date on it. i don't know when it was written and do not recall writing it. "these others show dates of a long time ago. we're in the late eighties now and these are dated ' , ' . . ." "we have some dated more current that the document examiners used. i can send over to mark's office for them." "oh, you have additional evidence that i was not given before the hearing? is that correct?" "no. well, i mean no one has looked at it. no one on this committee either. this was handled between mark and the document examiners. i will call mark right now and have him bring them over." henry left the hearing room and headed up the stairs to the witness waiting room where mark was standing by for just such emergencies. you'd think we were the ones on trial, he grumbled to himself. why does she persist in this inane manner when i've got everything so well planned out? "mark, trenchant's called us on the remaining standards that you sent but that we decided not to include in the material we gave her. please go and get them and bring them to the hearing room as soon as possible." as the men descended the stairs, mark to leave and henry to return to the hearing, mark asked, "how did she find out about them, henry?" "she was making such a fuss about all the standards having dates so far back that she couldn't identify them and the panel apparently thinks this is a valid reason why she won't identify them. i had to say the document examiners had more recent samples of her handwriting or. . ." henry broke off quickly as helen came out of the room used by diana's witnesses at the foot of the stairs. "hi, guys," greeted helen placidly. "how's it going? are you on a break?" spare me these emancipated females, thought henry as he angrily ignored her, waived goodbye to mark and reentered the hearing room. congenial old mark, badly in need of a conversation fix after ian had left, approached helen with a wide smile. "no," he said to her, "henry just had to step out for a minute so he could tell me something he needed me to get for him. "i'm on the way over to the admin building right now. you must be one of the witness for diana. sure hope this isn't too traumatic for you all. it really is a terrible thing to have happen at belmont and i'm sure that as much as you all must like diana and want to help her that as soon as you understand the preponderance of evidence against her, you'll decide. . ." strange woman, he thought, as helen went back into the waiting room and firmly closed the door. oh well, i might as well go over and get that stuff for henry. inside the hearing room, henry had ruled that they would go ahead for now and introduce the material when it was brought over. continuing her challenge, diana said, "i repeat again, this is evidence, this is material that was sent to the document examiners that i have not seen. is that correct? even though you and lyle have both assured me that i was given all the evidence?" "well, that only meant that you had all the material sent at that time. this is additional information that the document examiners brought with them." "material that i was not privy to and had no opportunity to question the document examiners on! i consider this most unfair." anuse smirked. "well," henry replied, "you will see it presently so that's all right. the committee may now ask additional questions." esther wanted to know what was going on in the department. "we have heard from lyle, ian and randy. what is your perception?" damn the woman, fumed henry. i purposely warned her against asking that kind of question. he turned his full attention on diana's answer. "i will confirm first that there were problems. when i was in the course, i objected to using published material without permission from the publisher and credit to the author. "i also refused to allow them to use the manual i had written and copyrighted, which they wanted to present to the students as their own after they had added to it. "i was ordered to do this by lyle and when i refused, i was threatened with a lawsuit and then told that they would take what they wanted anyway. "when i first wrote the manual, i offered it free of charge to ian for the course. he was delighted and most grateful that i had undertaken the project. the manual was well accepted by the students and was used in the course for two years. "i had no objection to it being used the next year-- the year i was not in the course. but, i would not allow them to revise it or steal it." diana trenchant went on to explain that her manual was strictly concerned with basic radiology information; information that would prepare students for the more demanding courses in radiology therapy that they would encounter the next year. "one year, i audited those courses so that when i wrote the manual, i could make sure that students would be well prepared for them. "there was never any question that i supported the presentation of experimental material in addition to the basics contained in the manual. actually what they proposed adding to the course was not new. we have been doing this for several years, before randy came to nerd, using legitimate reference material obtained from publishers." "was there any connection between all this and the alleged fictitious smurffs?" pursued esther. "it does seem rather strange to me that they suddenly appeared at the time ian and randy were facing copyright infringement charges--according to ian's testimony. diana continued by telling the committee that there had been no problems until randy had come into the course. when she worked with ian, things went fine. they conferred and cooperated with each other. ian's evaluations gradually got better. "after randy came in, i was left out of the loop. he, ian and lyle made decisions and i was not informed. for example, two years ago, randy was made co-director of the course with ian. i was not told about it." the door to the hearing room opened and mark's head floated through the opening. ah good, thought henry, just the kind of distraction i need to stop this line of questioning. "we will now introduce this material," he said as he got up to take the large brown envelope mark produced in the doorway. "the dates on these documents, used as standards by the document examiners, are more recent." smugly, he handed copies of these documents to each of the panel members and then to diana, keeping one set for himself. "these documents appear to be copies from personnel files," observed diana, looking at the chair for confirmation. "yes," henry confirmed. "they were taken from your personnel file and sent by the university attorney to use as standards." "then i would like to see the release i signed so that this material could be removed from my file," demanded trenchant. "release? no release was necessary," henry looked puzzled and frowned with annoyance. "mr. chairman, you have made note several times that this termination hearing is justified by a certain paragraph in the faculty handbook," diana replied firmly. "in that same handbook, there is a paragraph stating that no material shall be removed from a faculty person's file without the permission of that person. if you have a handbook here, i will find the exact wording and read it to you." "oh, i know what you are referring to and that does not apply in this case," henry ruled quickly and then turned to the panel and said, "we must get on with it. are these your handwriting?" "i don't know. these are copies. copies are suspicious." anuse interjected demanding to know why. diana explained to him that she had done a great deal of research, since she had first been charged, into document examination. accomplished document examiners insist on original, authentic standards. except for a couple, all of these so-called standards are copies. in addition, as you will recall from her answer to the questions i asked her, the examiner you engaged admitted that she did not know of her own knowledge that i had written the standards she used. "a competent examiner would have the person in question write the standards in his or her presence. that way the analyst is unbiased, and can swear that the standards are authentic. "i also learned that one should never identify copies as one's writing because copies may be altered and recopied so the alterations do not show." "now these came from the administration and you certainly can't think that any alteration went on," scoffed anuse. "i certainly can think it's possible. just as i know it's possible to forge handwriting so even the experts cannot tell." "no, that is incorrect. the analysts testified that she could tell forgeries." "she also testified that i had written these `suspect' evaluations but admitted that she had not authenticated the standards used nor insisted on original standards. "as far as believing that tampering could be done, i remind you that one of these `suspect' documents was tampered with and lyle admitted doing it." "what!" blurted henry, "what. . ." "this one here." the accused held up the evaluation that had a three word printed comment on the course. stapled to it was a note reading, `lyle, have a happy christmas, diana'. "this was given the document examiners as `suspect' evaluation # , yet clearly lyle knew that he had prejudiced it by putting six additional words on it that he knew i had written. this is original writing on christmas paper and not part of this evaluation, yet from the report the examiners made, it was treated as part of a `suspect' document." henry quickly told janet that she could stop taking notes while the committee huddled off the record. feverishly, he opened the analyst report and scanned the relevant paragraph. after a few moments, henry and frank anuse exchanged glances. anuse nodded and henry told janet they were back on record. immediately, anuse sarcastically claimed that he didn't under stand what all the fuss was about. he could see no tampering. trenchant explained again. "it is obvious. a known standard is affixed to an unknown document. it is made a part of that unknown document." anuse seemed to deliberately misunderstand. he continued this over and over, taking different tacks but essentially he was bent on wearing diana down. careful, thought henry. a court would say anuse was badgering the witness. henry knew this was not proper questioning, it was arguing, but he let it continue. "oh," anuse would say in an annoying, baiting way, "it was not altered since lyle had stapled it there so it wouldn't get lost." and "i don't understand where you have a problem with this." after several minutes of this, he dismissed the whole complaint. scathingly, he said that it didn't matter since the whole document had been written by trenchant anyway. the document analyst had said so. "yes they had," diana agreed. "despite the fact that there were three printed words on the smurff. the writing they identified was only on the slip of paper that lyle had attached. the panel was silent. trenchant addressed them. "when i was first charged with writing these critiques, i spoke to a few professional document examiners. right off, i discovered that i could not afford to hire one to do an unbiased analysis. however, they usually were willing to answer general questions on the phone for a small consulting fee. "in talking with them and reading the material they suggested to me, i came away with some interesting information. none that i talked to felt they were infallible or claimed that handwriting was as unique as fingerprints, but they enjoyed the benefits of that illusion. "both tape recordings and polygraph (lie detector) evidence is not allowed in courts. the so-called expert testimony of doctors, psychiatrists, as well as various technical expertise such as fingerprint and document analysis is. deus ex machina is evidently not looked highly upon by judges, possibly because they allow no other gods before them in their courtrooms. "court certification of a document examiner means that the court has accepted their training and experience. this is seldom checked and is fairly loosely defined by the profession itself. it does not indicate a perfect batting average for the examiner. "most analysts that i contacted said that if they were hired in this case, they would want to examine all of the critiques-- not just the handful picked out by nerd. there is always the chance of there being another individual with similar handwriting in that many samples. "they admitted there were people capable of forging the handwriting of another person. they directed me to check out the literature on the hitler diaries and the more recent white salamander papers. what these two cases had in common was that the best, most expert document examiners in the world were fooled. because these were sensational cases, they were highly publicized. most forgeries get little or no attention from the media but the fact remains that a good forger can fool highly qualified document examiners. "oh, yes. there is one more thing i want to question here since most of the documents you have listed as so-called standards are copies. these copies are mostly memos addressed to people in the department. if they are authentic, why aren't they originals? if i had written and sent those, it would have been the originals-- if i'd made a copy it would have been kept for my files." my god, henry screamed to himself, why do i let her go on with this? well, of course, it's because those women are listening and look interested so i don't dare cut her own testimony off too often. they were not happy with the way frank was badgering her and i didn't want to alienate them any further. aloud, he said, "does the panel have any more questions?" getting no response, the chair called a short recess. when diana entered the waiting room, her witnesses gathered around, full of support and questions. "all in all, it went pretty well," she told them. "the real victory was getting out of there without throttling frank anuse. he asks question after question always discounting your answer. he doesn't come right out and say you're lying but it is implied in his manner. "the rest of the panel aren't bad. esther gets a little mixed up in what she wants to say at times and is a bit hard to understand, but she appears to be trying to be fair. i think the other two women on the panel are more sympathetic toward me now. "it isn't much fun, but you shouldn't be in there very long, so that's some compensation." "they were at you for a long time," sarah's voice quavered ever so slightly. "yes, but i'm their designated criminal. i really don't think they will treat you badly, but if they do, get up and walk out. i mean that, it goes for all of you," trenchant said firmly. "there's the summons. go in there and give 'em hell, andrea. it's party time," said helen, patting them both on the back as they left for the hearing room. chapter andrea stern was barely sworn when esther demanded, "are you a medical student?" then, suddenly realizing that she had spoken out of turn since it was diana's prerogative to question her witnesses first, she apologized. trenchant immediately asked andrea to give her name and occupation for the record. replying to further questions, andrea testified that she had known diana for many years and had rented a room in her house for six of them. she attested to the overall integrity of trenchant. boldly, mincing no words, she fixed the panel with a friendly smile and continued. "i think these charges are ludicrous, for two reasons. one is that when diana trenchant has a problem with someone, she marches right up and tells them. she is very forthright and would not do anything devious or underhanded. the second reason is that she has always had a high opinion of academic honesty." a young woman of exceptional intelligence and ability, andrea had graduated from belmont, summa cum laude, with a ba, after completion of a double, self-designed major. because of her great love and knowledge of books, she found employment in the library where she soon became indispensable. there were those at belmont who recognized and revered exceptional ability and were not threatened by it. on being questioned as to what she knew about work conditions in nerd, she observed that from what she had heard from diana, it wasn't a very happy place to work. directing her answer toward trenchant, she divulged, "you were not my only source for this information. my aunt works in the department and i heard from both of you enough to form that impression. "just last month, my aunt told me that you may have been given an excessive course load in an attempt to break your spirit or drive you out of the department, much in the same way that she was given a very minimum salary increase, in an attempt to get her to move on." andrea continued by confirming that the laboratory manual that had been used in the course for two years was indeed written by diana in her own home, with her own equipment and on her own time. she, andrea, had witnessed this and had helped with the proof reading. feigning a bored expression that he did not feel, henry asked if she had any evidence specific to the critiques in question. "no, nothing specific, except if she were out to discredit someone on the faculty, she would certainly have brains enough to do something effective--not play with smurffs," andrea delivered, with a chuckle. then she continued in a serious, almost censoring tone, "i'm surprised that you actually take this charge seriously. you should have better sense. the whole campus is laughing at you." as henry seemed on the verge of apoplexy, anuse quickly asked who her aunt was. andrea looked directly at him and answered, "dr. biggot. she teaches nutrition to the freshman medical students." esther wanted to be clear. "your aunt confirmed in both cases, hers and trenchant, that this was an underlying way of getting rid of them." "exactly. she felt that they were not welcome in the department and that this was a way to encourage them to move on." "now, we'll have no more of this," henry interjected, "we really can't take second hand information here. i have already warned you people on the panel about this." "all i did was have her repeat what she'd said already," esther squeaked, "i didn't ask the question." henry was not pacified by her remark. more information positive toward trenchant was being presented then he was willing to hear--or then he wanted the panel to hear. he turned to trenchant and said harshly, "your witnesses must address the charge here. since this witness does not have any information directly relating to that charge, she is excused." andrea glanced at diana who nodded, then smiling brightly, she thanked the panel for listening and left the room. "eventually, i will call witness that will speak directly to the charge you refer to. right now, since you have allowed massive testimony against me that had nothing to do with the specific charge you keep referring to, i mean to respond to all of those allegations. "you wrote me a letter which i have here, saying that the hearing would not be conducted with strict rules. you stated that i could present anything that i deemed important and that is what i am doing. and, in a much briefer manner than you have presented the evidence against me. i'll remind you that you allowed plenty of hearsay testimony when your witnesses were testifying." henry let out an exasperated breath, turned toward the panel and said, "i think we'd better break for lunch and discuss how much of this irrelevant material we are prepared to listen to. we also will have to consider having ann biggot testify and bring lyle back. we cannot let these unsubstantiated charges stand." at the word lunch, the stenographer packed up her gear with alacrity and headed out the door closely followed by trenchant. no words were exchanged this time, just a mutual groan of relief at their escape. chapter lunch was again catered to the upstairs witnesses' waiting room. a rather pensive panel gathered around the table to help themselves to sandwiches, fruit, cookies and a beverage. henry had the floor and continued to speak while they were getting their food. "there is a limit as to how much of this insignificant twaddle we should allow." "i agree," frank anuse said, firmly. "we should tell her that we will hear no more testimony from these witnesses of hers unless it bears on the specific charge--she did write and submit those evaluations. the document examiner was certain of it." "well, i don't agree," jane spoke sharply. "i, for one, didn't find that document examiner particularly convincing." "how can you say that?" anuse blurted. "she had impeccable credentials. she's allowed to testify in court. never been refused, she said. mark told us that handwriting is as exact and individual as fingerprints." "i'm not convinced," returned jane. "she had no independently researched data on her success vs failure ratio. you heard her say, `in her opinion,' she was % correct. bull. nobody's perfect." glancing at the two other women, henry observed them nodding their heads in agreement. trenchant had made some other good points, he thought. she picked up on the lack of original standards and cited that rule in the faculty handbook that forbade an individual's personnel file from being revealed to others without the individual's permission. damn the woman. this hearing was supposed to be a lead pipe cinch and all it had been so far was trouble. i'd better call for mark to come over and talk to them. perhaps even have him testify. mark could say the right things to bring the women around. . .if only he didn't bore them to distraction first. as he walked toward the phone, he couldn't help but feel a bit chagrined that his own letter had been read back to him--the one he'd sent trenchant outlining the rules for the hearing. he had meant for it to be intimidating. didn't think she'd find anyone who'd dare to testify. downstairs, diana and her witnesses were lolling about in comfort, eating and drinking the results of a macdonald's run that roz and helen had made. she had been telling them about lyle's testimony when james suddenly jumped to his feet crying, "say again!" repeating herself, diana asked, "what's the problem." "no problem. you said he testified that the new evaluation forms were sent up from the dean's office on the tenth of december last year, right? and he found the `suspect' evaluations sometime during that same week?" "that's what he said. what is it, james? you look so excited!" " don't you remember? don't you remember what happened to you thanksgiving day last year--the injury to your wrist, your right wrist? you weren't writing anything until a couple of days before christmas and even then it was painful for you. you were wearing that wrist support all the time for well over a month." "my god, i had forgotten that. are you sure of the dates? i just remember the december labs were hell because i couldn't do the boards." "absolutely. i remember coming back from spending thanksgiving at home and you were soaking your wrist which was all swollen up and remember, you wore that brace and couldn't write and. . ." "i remember the wrist brace," cried jennifer. "you had me write things on the board for you at my lab because you couldn't." "me too," chimed in roz. "james, jennifer, roz, will you tell that to the panel in addition to what you already plan to testify to?" "sure, no problem." "betcherass!" "that will really give this charge against you the deep six along with sarah's testimony," roz said excitedly as the whole bunch of happy people left their food and joined each other in a wild victory dance. premature for sure, but the powerless and the innocent naively take their joy where they can find it. when the hearing commenced again, the panel appeared subdued, and listlessly turned over pages of notes as henry told diana to call her next witness and cautioned her that, "they should be addressing the specific charge here." "just a moment," jane demanded. "before we have the next witness, i'd like to ask you a question, diana. you said earlier that you were not free to call witnesses from your department. why?" trenchant, who was on her way to the door to get her next witness, paused and said, "they asked me not to. they felt it would be impossible for them to testify since they most probably would contradict their chairman." "you are saying they are afraid to testify?" "that's correct. just like you saw jean was. her knowledge and belief in me was the only thing that made it possible for her to overcome her fear of losing her position. "it is much worse for people in my department and for that matter for medical students who have not been allowed to testify. things can be made very difficult for them." esther pursued, "are you stating that lyle has discussed this case with the department?" "oh, yes. very definitely. after he accused me, he went in to ann biggot's office and told her. my job was offered to two people in the department around the same time. lyle has told others besides me that this hearing is only a formality. remember, he's the one that decides the raises." "what sort of thing could people in your department testify about?" "they could substantiate what i have said about the negligent, careless way the evaluation process is carried out and how little import is placed on it. they could confirm that the evaluations were often laying around on someone's desk or in the secretaries' office. "they could explain that the evaluations got mixed together from year to year and unless one happened to be dated, there was no way to separate one year from the next." "they could tell you the reason for the problems that occurred in the radiology course and affirm that my manual was plagiarized. "being right there where the business of the department is carried out, they could tell you that one of lyle's first acts when he came into the department six years ago was to eliminate my position. when i protested this act of discrimination to the attorney general's office and they brought charges, he claimed that he had only told me that he would keep me if he had the funds. . ." "you are saying. . .you are painting a picture of suspicion and allegation that are hearsay and unsubstantiated," anuse interrupted, bald pate aflame with anger. "correct. and we've heard tons of unsubstantiated hearsay in testimony from previous witnesses." "that doesn't matter. we are only interested in these documents, nothing else. those are side issues and not a part of this investigation." "they most certainly are a part of it. if what you say is true, the dean would have just written one sentence in his letter. he would have written, `i want her out of here because. . . .' instead, he wrote two pages filled with unsubstantiated hearsay and charges of insubordination and dishonesty based on lyle's accusation and i want to answer them!" "nonsense, the charges are clear. you forged seven smurffs. the rest was only a chronology of the events." "but the chronology is untrue and biased." "no. everything is based on the testimony of the handwriting witness, we just filter through the rest of the material." anuse turned to the chair, a bored look on his face. "we waste time with this useless trivia." he had just spent the last few minutes in full sneer, trying his best to beat trenchant to her knees with the sheer force of his position of power. forced to desist by the negative vibes he was getting from most of the panel, he took refuge in assuming the victor's pose. "the panel asked the question, `why didn't i have witnesses from the department.' i merely answered it," retorted trenchant, pugnaciously. "call your next witness." henry fairly bellowed as he tried for the last word. "i shall, but first i want to point out that the charges against me contain the words taken from the faculty handbook, `serious breaches of generally accepted moral standards in the profession. . .' "i submit to you that the copyright infringements committed by ian and randy were also serious breaches of generally accepted moral standard in the profession and chairman lyle stone condoned them. "now i'll get my next witness." said diana, heading once again for the door. james prouty walked into the hearing room and looked around. "take that seat there, please." henry motioned toward the seat opposite the panel. "oh," said james, in a surprised tone of voice. "i understood from someone who had testified earlier that the witnesses sat across from diana." "well. . ." the chair cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. "things get shifted around, you know. sit right there and be sworn in." that james, thought diana, barely stifling her laughter, trust him to say something disconcerting. he knew darn well that there was a different seating arrangement for the two sets of witnesses because she had told him about it. under questioning, james prouty said that he had rented a room in diana's home for four and one half years. he could and would affirm that she had written a radiology manual at her home computer. he could also confirm the great animosity held against her by the former chair of nerd, jimbo jones, who was now one of the many associate academic vice presidents. james had been a work/study student in nerd and had heard jimbo yell and verbally hammer at diana any number of times. "as you all are aware," james said, smiling at the panel, "besides the five medical student smurffs, there are two smurffs that dr. jones is said to have found in the nursing nutrition course that he lectures in." "and that the document examiners are sure diana wrote," anuse crowed, breaking in triumphantly. "but all this tells us nothing new concerning the charge. this is repetitive, time wasting information. mr. chairman, may we get on with it." "james, were you living in my home last december?" "yes, i was." "would you please tell in your own words why i could not have printed or written the two `suspicious' evaluations found by lyle who claims they were written and submitted by me that year?" james turned his agreeable, smiling face once more toward the panel and said clearly, "because you sprained your right wrist and were unable to write or use it until shortly before christmas day, the th." "how do you confirm that i could not write?" "several ways. for example, i saw the swollen condition of your wrist daily and observed your limited use of that hand. telephone messages for me were left on the printer when they used to be handwritten in notes." leaning toward the panel, james confided, "you see, she could one-finger the computer keys with her left hand. "i filled out the order forms for her children's christmas presents that year since she was unable to write enough to complete them. "around the nd or rd of december, she could use her hand well enough to write the checks for her bills. it was painful for her and she had some difficulty doing this. we made a joke of it--whether they would turn off the electricity or telephone because the signatures on her checks were not at all like her normal signature." questions exploded from the panel like hail on a tin roof. "was her wrist wrapped?" "did she have a brace?" "did she see a doctor?" although diana had not completed her examination of her own witness, the panel jumped in and took over the questioning. henry, feeling decidedly undermined by this testimony, decided not to interrupt this flurry of out-of-order questioning. he realized that this tactic of interrupting greatly hampered the smooth flow of information a witness had to give. it also served to confuse the witness since questions were coming from more than one panel member at a time. he decided that he would not stop it. he never paused to think that the transcript of the hearing would show that diana was interrupted in this manner more than twenty times. this would become significant when the attorney general made the report of her investigation. james waited until the panel ran out of questions and started to look sheepishly at one another, then he said, "yes, her wrist was wrapped. she did not see a doctor but was treating it herself." now the panel turned its attention toward diana in one of the frequent times they questioned her in front of a witnesses. "when did you write the christmas note to lyle, then?" this question directed at diana came from esther. she answered firmly, "the twenty-fourth, the day before christmas. it was still painful for me to write then and i was still wearing the brace. as you will observe, it is a very short note." well, this is not getting us anywhere, thought henry, and i'd better put a stop to it. "i fail to see what all this has to do with the charge," he complained, petulantly. diana was ready for that one and answered succinctly, "according to lyle's testimony, he received the unused student evaluation forms for that year from the dean's office on the tenth of december. lyle testified that they were given out to the students the same day. he could not remember the exact day that he claims to have found the `suspect' evaluations, but he did say that he found them sometime during the same week. during that time i could not use my right hand and i was not doing any writing, or printing for that matter." "oh." the sigh that went with it escaped before henry could even realize the `oh' had departed from his mouth. he looked frantically at anuse who appeared to have lost it and just shrugged his shoulders at henry's glance. wanting to spare james, if possible, from attack by either henry or anuse when they recovered from shock, diana quickly said, "thank you, james." as soon as james had left, diana continued, "before i get to the next witness, i refer you again to this memo." trenchant replied. she held the paper aloft in her hand. "contained in the memo lyle wrote to dean broadhurst is the assertion that on march seventeenth, he `discussed the charges with me and recommended that i resign.' this is patently false. he accused. he demanded. he was angry. he yelled. he said, `you must resign, you have no recourse. the president, the vice president and the academic council have met and demanded your resignation.' he would not listen to me. he repeated several times that i had been nothing but trouble to him ever since i took him to court six years ago. "he was abusive and he was angry. he said nothing about a hearing. when i got a word in edgewise, i told him that i was going to contact the ombudsman and he said that i couldn't--that i had no recourse. "later on when he finally stopped yelling and heard me deny his charges, he told me that since i would not resign, there would be a hearing but it wouldn't matter. it was just a formality. i would be terminated, no matter what." "you should have brought that up when lyle was here so we would have his response." henry returned vigorously. i have to get on top of this hearing and stay there no matter what, he thought. "should i have? i'm not a lawyer and i'm not trying to be one. the university ombudsman told me not to have a lawyer present. he said it would just anger you and turn you against me. he advised me to prepare my case well and present it in good order and that is just what i am doing. "right now, i am telling you my side of this story. you have been listening for hours to the nerd's allegations and i have the right to respond. at the beginning of this hearing, you announced that the panel would question its witnesses and then i would cross examine them. you never said anything about debating them. you have already heard from lyle. again i remind you that your letter to me, sent in advance of this hearing, contained nothing about specific order of presenting my evidence. should i read it to you again? you are trying to introduce new rules in the middle of the game." "mr. chairman, i think that we must ask lyle back here to clear up these fabricated charges we have been hearing," said anuse in a bored tone. he made a note and then looked toward henry again. his look plainly said, ignore her. "yes," the chair agreed. then offhandedly, as if he had not heard a word of her argument, he said to diana, "call your next witness." jane watched the interchange between henry and anuse with disdain. they are in league together against diana, she thought and this testimony has thrown them for a loop. they are going to have to start considering the information we are hearing in a professional, impartial manner now. they have got to concede that these charges by nerd may be false or at the very least, unsupported by real evidence. so many things about this hearing are strange. i've noticed that although the charge against diana, initiated by lyle, specifically related to the five `suspect' medical student evaluations, three other documents were sent to the document examiners and were marked as evidence, she mused. no one has questioned how these other documents were deemed `harmful to two young faculty members', as lyle claimed in his charges. according to the dean's letter, two are `suspect' smurffs from the nursing nutrition course and the third is a printed note found by one of lyle's closest friends. the explanation for the note henry gave us was that when lyle told his friend what was going on, she `just remembered' a note found in her mailbox last year that she thought was `suspicious' so they sent that to the document examiners as well. the examiners concluded that one of the nursing nutrition evaluations was written by diana. the other and the printed note they were unsure of. i'm beginning to feel like alice in wonderland. jane rubbed her eyes and studied her notes again. how do they expect to prove that this hodgepodge of unrelated evidence threatens two men who only teach in the radiation course? chapter when the nursing students heard that some of their evaluations had been sent off campus, in defiance of an explicit ruling pertaining to student confidentiality, diana was blitzed with students clamoring to testify at her hearing so they could protest this indecency. as a group, they obtained hundreds of signatures on a petition requesting the a.c.l.u. to take up their cause. the a.c.l.u was most sympathetic, but on finding that the evaluations sent were not signed, felt there was nothing they could do. the students argued that since the administration put such emphasis on handwriting identification, it might use this method to identify the writers of smurffs, which were supposed to be anonymous. the group sent a strong letter of protest to the pope and continued their campaign across campus. one of the leaders of these concerned students, jennifer glass, was the next witness for diana. jennifer glass worked in a downtown social service agency full time. she was taking the nursing nutrition course under the continuing education department. a rather large woman of thirty, she dressed well and showed no embarrassment or nervousness. she was educated extensively in new york state schools and had graduated an education major. erudite and accomplished, she faced the panel with a most positive sense of anticipation. "yes," she answered the direct examination question posed by diana, "i am in your nutrition lab and i have talked with you extensively about the way evaluations are handled in the medical school. "i came to you first to complain, thinking that the department was lax leaving them around in the lecture hall. i or anyone else could have filled out any number of them, since we were told to leave our finished evaluations in the nerd office. i was disturbed that the students were not taking them seriously. it seemed to indicate to me that the nutrition course was not considered important enough to be properly evaluated. that bothered me. "you assured me that the evaluation process wasn't unique to the nursing course and took me to the nerd office to see how the medical students evaluation was conducted. "i was appalled. throughout my training, it was stressed how important the process is. at the colleges i attended, they were taken seriously--a representative from the student government would sign out the required number of forms from the administration official and bring them to the classroom. "all teachers or instructors had to leave the room while we filled out our evaluation. they were collected, counted and brought back to the administration official. the data was given to the instructor but never the evaluations themselves because student confidentiality was considered to be an important step in the process. "in contrast, at belmont the evaluation process is a joke-- even the, er, enriched acronym, smurffs, this university has chosen to call the evaluation forms for student feedback attests to this." "were you ever given specific instructions relating to the evaluations?" asked diana. "yes, dr. lyle stone, at the beginning of the course, told us that there would be evaluations periodically and that it was very important for us to fill them out since they would provide feedback on the course content and the instructors. he also stressed that they would be confidential. "i remember being impressed, thinking, oh great! then instead of a proper evaluation procedure, the forms were left in piles at the end of rows to be filled out during the lecture or taken home to do. just get them back before the end of the week, they told us." "did you ever initiate a conversation with lyle stone regarding how you felt about document examiners and student confidentiality?" "yes, right after the lecture, the first part of this may, roz peel and a couple of other students and i went up to him after lecture. "we told him that we were concerned that our student evaluations, which we had been told were confidential, and which we had been told had a specific purpose, had been sent outside the university without permission or knowledge of the students." "would you be referring to these documents?" trenchant got up from her chair and walked around the table until she came to where jennifer was sitting and handed her exhibits and --the smurffs jimbo jones was reported to have discovered. "yes." "what happened then?" "he said that no student evaluations were sent out and that our confidentiality had not been breached. "i disagreed with him and said that i had seen copies of those evaluations and the report of the document examiner. he started yelling then and became very defensive. he said that the only evaluations that were sent out had been written by you. we said that if he knew that, why send them out. then he got abusive of you and said like you were crazy to do something like that. he said that they sent them to a document examiner because they knew you wrote them. he said he would never do that with any evaluation that a student made out." "can you recall anytime during the first semester that i had an injured wrist and couldn't put instructions on the board?" "yes, it was in december--exam week, the th through the th. i did some of it for you." the panel started to bombard jennifer with questions. good, henry thought, apparently they aren't interested in her direct evidence relating to the incapacity of diana as they are totally ignoring that testimony. instead, they are giving all indications of being hurt by her denunciation of the way the evaluation process is carried out at belmont. a typical faculty reaction, henry chuckled to himself as he listened. they aren't asking questions, they're defending our evaluation process by giving long speeches. here's anuse explaining at length that the university takes student confidentiality very seriously and pays a great deal of attention to evaluations. he's trying to stroke the witness into backing off from some of her allegations and it appears to be working. . .no, not any more, he went too far. jennifer was quite sharply reminding frank that she had written her concerns to various administrative officials around campus and the fact that student evaluations had been misused had been confirmed. i'd better help, thought henry. "you must understand that lyle stone had to give the answers he did because by that time he knew the results of the examiners report and anything he said was referring to that." the witness, however, remained adamant. it was her distinct impression that stone had already convinced himself that diana had written the critiques before they were sent to the examiners. the witness, however, remained adamant. it was her distinct impression that before they were sent to the examiners stone had already convinced himself that diana had written the critiques. henry was massively uncomfortable with what this suggested. it wouldn't do to have the panel hear much more of this. he commenced another long speech, explaining that lyle couldn't have said anything like that because it was not lyle stone that sent the `suspect' smurffs out--it was mark, the university attorney. "so you see, you must have misunderstood," he concluded, patronizingly. before the witness could respond, anuse professed not to understand why it made any difference how the evaluation was conducted. he went on and on in this vein in a querulous, whining voice. once he had wound down, esther started to muddy the waters because she didn't understand what was sent out and when. "are you saying all the smurffs were sent off campus?" she asked. "no, the discussion is about these `suspect' evaluations," explained jane, indicating the exhibits. "well, that's all right then," esther explained in a motherly tone to the witness, "those smurffs never left. the examiners came here yesterday and looked at them." esther had become more of a space cadet than ever, thought jane. and obviously, henry and anuse are disturbed by this. stupid broad, thought henry. he signaled janet that the hearing was off the record and gathered the panel into a huddle to straighten out esther before she did some real harm. when the hearing reconvened, all the players went round again with paternal and maternal advice. rather than asking for information from the witness, they took turns telling her that she hadn't heard what she was testifying about. obviously, she was mistaken. "now, i'm sure you see that no one was trying to attempt to have any student identified by having a document examiner look at these," cajoled anuse. "that's what you say. but i think what you have done is illegal. i really think it is illegal and if i find a way to do it, i am going to stop it. . ." anuse tried to interrupt, but jennifer was on a roll. "we had an oral contract. dr. stone stood up in front of the whole class and told us what the evaluation forms were to be used for. and they weren't, they were used for something else and that is not right." henry was stung into action. he interjected to assure her that she must not worry because the administration would never violate a student's confidentiality or go back on its word to them. he thought he was pouring on oil, but jennifer knew bullshit when she heard it. "i don't believe it," asserted jennifer stoically. diana took this opportunity to reinforce jennifer's testimony with another example of the kind of honesty and fair play that the administration practiced. "you are arguing with my witness, not questioning her. she has good reason for her belief. when i came into this hearing, it was with the assurance from my department chairman and the chairman of this panel, both senior administrators, that i had been given all of the material that would be presented as evidence relating to the handwriting examiners. "this proved to be unequivocally false. the evidence you have introduced, mr. chairman, contains many documents that were never given to me to examine before the hearing." this started another bout between diane and anuse, who apparently able to read lyle's and the chair's mind, kept insisting that what lyle and henry meant was that diana had been given all of the material available at that date. henry rushed in to agreed that yes that was what was meant. "lyle gave you everything he had at that date." "then it was incumbent upon this committee to see that i had all of the evidence before the hearing." "but," protested the chair, "we didn't get all the evidence ourselves until today." "then it shouldn't have been presented until i had an opportunity to examine it! i am finished with this witness." henry quickly announced that there would be a break. when they were back on the record, henry announced, "once the witnesses for diana complete their testimony, we will call lyle back to clear up the misconceptions this last witness has introduced. also we will call ann biggot, and mark. . .," to straighten out the panel on the document examiners, he thought to himself. he continued, "while we are at it, we should probably hear from jimbo." apparently, thought jane, if he hears anything contradictory to what he's already established as correct, someone has to come back and explain it away. chapter the next witness was roz peel. throughout the ordeal of the hearing, roz had been the sparkplug of the outfit. her high spirits and unquenchable optimism lifted the whole group of witnesses. here was a young woman who had known severe adversity in her life which she had battled and continued to battle. few knew the particulars because she was a very private person. she didn't feel that anything was accomplished by bleeding all over other people about her own troubles. it was much better for her and others to be positive and upbeat. when she identified herself and was sworn, she told the panel that she was a full-time student in the college of agriculture and worked part-time at the belmont print shop. a petite woman in her late twenties, she sat back in her chair, larger than life and twinkled merrily at the panel. her good humor was so contagious that the panel, as one, smiled back at her. she readily confirmed the testimony of jennifer, announcing clearly that she was present when the conversation with lyle took place. "he said many times that no student evaluations had ever been sent to the document examiners. when we asked him how he knew beforehand that none of the ones he was sending were student's, he replied that he knew who had written them before they were sent away to be analyzed." diana asked her to think carefully, "are you sure that he meant that he knew this before the documents were sent and not as a result of the report of the document examiners?" roz's reply was good natured but firm. "yes, i am certain. we asked him the question several times because we found his answer a little odd, i mean, why would he bother to have them analyzed if he knew who wrote them? "he said clearly, more than once, that no student evaluations had been sent because he knew beforehand who had written the ones sent." "did he have any opinion on why i would do such a thing?" prompted diana. "he said you had a psychological problem. he inferred that you were sick but he was not a psychologist so he couldn't define it." "how did he conduct himself during your conversation?" "he was very angry and seemed threatened by us. i backed away many times when he raised his voice and shouted. i thought it was a little strange that two undergraduate women would be a threat to him--maybe he needs psychological help!" roz turned to the panel with a big smile to share the joke with them. diana placed her hand firmly against her mouth and looked down at her notes until the bubble of mirth that threatened to overcome her had dissipated, then continued with her questioning. "on a different subject now--do you have any contact with medical students?" "yes. working right in the medical building as i have for the last three years, i get to know a lot of them." "last year, during the first semester--that would be from september through december--do you recall any impressions you might have gotten as to their feelings about the radiology course?" "yes. they felt that the professors knew very little about what they were teaching so it was a waste of time to go to lectures." "now," interposed henry, "we are getting into secondhand information and we should be hearing from the medical students themselves." "fine," rejoined diana. "if you can get them over here, do that. i would be happy to have them testify. "in the meantime, you wrote in your letter to me that i could present whatever i felt was germane and since the medical students are not allowed to come, this is the best i can do." "it will be noted that it is secondhand information," said henry haughtily. he pretended to appear unconcerned with the testimony and adopt anuse's strategy of ignoring anything diana might say that was bothersome. "i agree. the testimony should be labeled clearly as secondhand." diana pounced on henry's depiction of roz's testimony. "now let us go back over the testimony your witnesses gave which alleged that students had been manipulated for years by me. let us get all of the student evaluations for all of the years, that your witnesses testified to, but never produced. let us get all of the prior information out into the open and let's honestly label it for what it is--secondhand information." henry rolled his eyes back in resignation, "get on with it." "thank you. roz, during the three years that you knew freshmen medical students that were taking the radiology course, did you ever hear any of them say that i had tried to influence them in any way or told them how to write their evaluations?" "certainly not!" roz was very firm on this. "if they could be such pushovers as to be influenced by a non-tenured faculty member, the university should reevaluate its admission policy." "thank you, i have no more questions." henry knew he had to make a desperate attempt to trip up the witness in semantics. always before, this had been the purview of frank anuse but this time frank sat silent, and for good reason. he had known roz for some time and was not about to go for two out of three falls with her. "you must be aware that there was no way in which your evaluations could be tied to a specific student because there was no student handwriting sent," challenged henry. "how was it known that no student handwriting was sent?" questioned roz, serenely. "i just want to assure you that no student handwriting was sent." a flush began to appear on his brow. "are you trying to say that no student standards were sent? if so, i understand that. but smurffs with student writing on them were." "yes, smurffs were sent, but there was no way in which one could identify them." henry was unaware that he had caught himself in his own semantics and made an interesting admission. roz wasn't going to let up or get sidetracked by it from the main argument. "that is not relevant to what we are discussing. it was wrong to send those evaluations, whether so-called standards of ours accompanied them or not. because technically, that was our writing." henry slumped in his chair in desperate need of an antacid, as the others on the panel asked questions relating to the nursing nutrition course. suddenly frank anuse leaned forward and interrupted the questions. "do you remember a time when diana had a sprained wrist?" "yes. she sprained it late in november and some of us helped put notes on the board for the final labs in december." blocked on that issue, anuse tried to maneuver her into agreeing that it should be wrong for anyone who was not a student to fill out evaluations. "it could be very harmful for a faculty person, couldn't it?" "two evaluations out of two hundred?" twinkled roz. "i think they would have survived. but to more fully reply to your question, it has not been proven that the evaluations in question were not filled out by students." "oh that's because you haven't heard some other testimony." anuse said happily and firmly back in control. "i agree that i have not heard all of the testimony. however, if that testimony was important, and it must be since you appear to believe it, why wasn't the hearing open as diana requested? if it had been, i would have been here to hear the testimony you put such stock in and would be able to evaluate it for myself." chapter professor diana trenchant was sitting at her desk preparing for the evening laboratory. roz had just left with jennifer to talk to as many students as they could find. it had been jennifer's idea and she had brought roz along to help talk diana into it. ever since jennifer had asked her what was wrong and diana had explained and shown her the copies of the smurff's she had been accused of writing, jennifer had been pondering what to do. she was older than most of the students and had seen enough of life to know that one had to fight or be trampled. she didn't want to see a good teacher trampled. "you mean they have accused you of writing these and demand that you resign?" she was dumbfounded. after she had looked at them more carefully, she asked, "is this all of them? five medical radiology and two nursing nutrition?" "that's it." "this sucks! and this paper is the graphologist report?" jennifer used the scientific designation, graphologist, rather than the term document examiner. "look here, these are what they call standards, did you write these?" "i could have, i suppose, but the dates on them are so long ago that i just don't remember for sure." "well, two of these evaluations are printed. there is no printing among the standards. look, i know a little about graphology and i know that they can't compare printing to writing standards. this looks like a setup. we need to put a crimp in lyle stone's tail. it's unconscionable that he would send student evaluations to a graphologist." later, when roz had come in, she had asked diana if they could tell the other students in the class about the two nursing nutrition smurffs. "we'll ask them to come up and see if they can identify if they wrote these. then we'll check with the med students and have them do the same. somebody must have written these and we need to find out who." diana agreed but only if no pressure was put on anyone. "this must be absolutely voluntary. i will copy some completed forms from last year's class and put them with these two to be identified. no one will know which two are critical." later in the day, several groups of students had wandered in to look at the pile of evaluations, shake their heads and wander out again. that is until jenny smythe bubbled her way in. jenny was from england. her husband was a doctor associated with the medical school and she was continuing her education while he was posted here. she pounced delightedly on one of the forms, "this looks just like sarah's writing. sarah and i sit together at all the lectures and i've seen her handwriting so many times. i'll go get her!" and jenny was off with that efficient british walking gait that one associates with woolen socks and moors. the next day, sarah appeared at diana's door, tentative and a bit apprehensive. sarah was a shy young woman barely out of high school. raised on a farm, she had not yet assumed the mask that so many of her more sophisticated classmates wore. "jenny said i should look at some evaluations because you have some trouble because of them." "yes, thanks for coming by. they are on the bench there." diana pointed. sarah put down her books and started to look through the smurffs. "jenny's right. this one is mine." sarah said, mournfully. "i was so hoping it wouldn't be." she handed diana one of the forms. it was one of the two that had been sent for analysis. with this proof that the graphologists had erred, diana's hopes were raised and then quickly lowered when sarah declared that she was afraid to testify at the hearing which was to be held soon. she was apologetic about it. her folks had told her not to get involved; that it might mean trouble for her if she admitted to what she had written. roz and jennifer, by this time, were well into their campaign protesting the sending off-campus of the student confidential evaluations. they were unhappy that sarah wouldn't testify, but they respected her feelings. later on in the week, sarah appeared at diana's office door again. "you know," she said softly, "i think my parents are wrong on this. i wrote something that got you into trouble and i should stand up and admit it. only, i'm so scared. but i know i have to do it. "i'll go to the hearing but that's all i'm going to do. i don't want to get mixed up any further in this and i don't want anything at all to do with those. . .those. . .graph whatever people. you know, whoever it was that said this was your writing is nuts. . .i wrote this." sarah shuffled carefully into the hearing room, shaking with an advanced case of stage fright that threatened to upset her very balance. as she had told sarah she would, diana got up from her chair, walked around the table and stood beside her after she had been identified and sworn. "did you take the nursing nutrition course last school year, sarah?" "yes." "and did you make out a course evaluation for dr. jamison jones?" "yes." "is this that evaluation?" "yes." diana turned to the panel. "this witness has just identified this evaluation from your evidence packet c, exhibit four." before diana could continue, the panel erupted in a veritable frenzy of questions, all talking at once. "what is that number?" "what was she handed?" "what is written on it?" when there was a pause in the clamor, sarah, holding exhibit four said again quietly, "yes, this is mine." "this is not one that went to the document examiners, right?" henry was frantic. "the witness has just identified document number two of exhibit four," repeated diana. as the panel again started to question sarah, henry struggled for control. face blanched, hands compressed into fists so tightly that the nails bit into his palms, he listened powerlessly as esther got the first question out. "sarah, how can you be sure that this is yours?" "because i recognize the handwriting; i know what i wrote, that is why." "i'd like to conduct the examination of my own witness, if i may," snapped diana as the panel broke out in a flurry of questions after esther's initial one. this angry outburst shocked the panel into silence, temporarily. in a more relaxed voice, diana nodded toward them and said, "thank you. now, sarah, have you been pressured in any way to make this identification or have you been promised anything for doing it--by me or any other person? remember, you are under oath to tell the complete truth." "no." "thank you. i have finished the direct examination of this witness." "may i see packet c to make sure i understand," said a very flustered henry tarbuck. esther started in on sarah. even though sarah had given her class and student status at the beginning of her testimony, esther asked for it all again. perhaps she thought diana was ringing in an impostor. others on the panel took over as esther paused for breath. sarah carefully answered each question, becoming confused only when two or three questions were thrown at her at the same time. she established who she was and how she had found out about the "whole business." "tell me again when you took the course?" "is there a date on the form?" raising his voice in the way that men will in the presence of women as an effective way of silencing them and holding the floor by intimidation, anuse drawled conversationally, "what you claim is interesting. this document was identified by the document examiner as being written by dr. trenchant." he fixed sarah with a patronizing grimace. his attitude plainly said i don't believe you, little girl. sarah replied, "i know that." "well, we should see a sample of your handwriting." "you have a sample. it is right there on that paper i identified." "no, absolutely not. it cannot be. you have made a mistake. that smurff has been identified by experts as being in diana's handwriting." "we'll take some of your writing to the document examiner. that will settle it." esther beamed at having such a great idea. "no. you already have a sample of my writing. i won't have anything more to do with those people. look how they made this mistake. i don't like how those people are." sarah did not have much faith in document examiners--she of all people had reason not to. "well, we can do nothing here with this. it is just hearsay or. . ." frank's voice trailed off as he looked to henry for a ruling. frank anuse is trying to sweep the evidence under the rug, thought jane. he came into this hearing with his mind made up. any attempt henry and anuse have made toward impartiality is a sham. diana addressed the panel, speaking forcefully. "sarah has identified the evaluation under oath. you have that document as a sample of her handwriting. i think that is sufficient and you are upsetting her with your badgering." "well, the analysts are convinced that you wrote it." anuse had turned ugly again. "handwriting evidence is not always conclusive," retorted diana. anuse turned his hostility toward sarah. "how do you recognize that as yours?" ignoring the fact that this had been asked and answered. patiently, sarah said, "because it is. it looks like mine and that is what i wrote." henry made a monumental blunder and didn't realize it until it was too late. after consistently arguing that the university would never send student handwriting off campus to a document examiner, he proposed just that! "we have samples of your handwriting in the university files that we can send to have checked," he threatened. "no. you cannot do that with student files. you have no right to send my records away like that. you already have sent my smurff and you have that as a sample of my writing if you need it." "are you afraid?" henry tried for intimidation to cover his faux pas. "of what?" "yes, i'm afraid. i'm afraid of who's on the other side of this. i'm afraid of who is lying about dr. trenchant and what could happen to me for coming here to testify." once again, anuse led her through questions, to explain how she had seen the copy of this evaluation. finally he said, "and what did you think when you saw it?" her answer, delivered in a soft but firmly decisive tone, landed like a bombshell in the midst of the panel. they sat in stunned silence for a beat and then the chair abruptly dismissed her. "i was shocked," sarah said, earnestly. tears, long held back now slowly slid down her face, marking the planes and valleys with ripples that winked on and off reflecting the room lights "and i didn't want to even say it was mine. but i did, because it was." diana left the hearing room shortly after sarah to ask helen, her last witness, to come in. the whole group was in the hallway gathered around sarah as she came out of the hearing room door. "what did they do to her in there," demanded roz, angrily. "they were pretty nasty. they fired questions at her so fast that she didn't understand what they were asking half the time. they all but called her a liar, poor kid," answered diana. helen came over. "you tell them i'll be in just as soon as sarah is calmed down. sadistic bastards!" chapter diana returned to the hearing room alone and sat down. addressing the panel, she said firmly, "my next witness will be in shortly. she is helping sarah because you upset her so much." anuse and henry looked pleased. the women were anxious and concerned except for esther who appeared puzzled. shortly thereafter, helen schauer marched into the room and took the witness chair as if she owned it. her teutonic ancestors would have been proud. helen, at age thirty, considered herself a responsible adult. she owned property and was very serious about her abilities and her nursing studies. she had begged diana to let her come as a witness. a little taller than average, she was a strong looking woman. blonde hair framed a face that, while not beautiful, reflected a healthy radiance that enhanced her image of strength. now, sitting there, exuding confidence, she gave her name and was sworn. her testimony should have been important, but diana wasn't too certain that the panel would listen. it backed up what roz had to say about the feelings of the medical students concerning the radiology course. the most diana hoped to accomplish from this testimony was to have the committee order nerd to make available the course and instructor evaluation for the previous year. that was the year that lyle had claimed the students loved the course and the instructors. that was the year diana did not teach in it. "are you acquainted with any medical students who took the radiology course this last year?" questioned diana. helen testified that two of the rooms in her home were rented by medical students. "the gist of the conversation around our dinner table was that they felt the course was a complete waste of time. `most of the year, it seemed as if we knew more than the instructors,'" she quoted one of them as saying. jane couldn't wait for diana to complete her questioning of helen and broke in with, "would the students come and talk with us?" she pretended to forget that medical students were not allowed at the hearing. "no. medical students were told they should not testify. they did request that i tell you that both she and my other roomer gave a bad evaluation of the course in the smurffs they filled out this year. they hoped that by doing that, the course would be changed and improved for the students next year. you have been told that all the evaluations were positive that year." henry appeared to misunderstand. "if they didn't think their evaluations were done correctly, they should go to the dean." he said to helen, severely. "huh? i didn't say anything about them feeling their evaluations. . . what do you mean?" "if there is a problem with their evaluations, they should go to the dean." "i didn't say there was a problem. i don't know where you are coming from. i will repeat what i said since it appears that i have been misunderstood. they told me that they had filled out a very negative evaluation on the radiology course, and that they knew that others in the class did also because there was great dissatisfaction with the course." henry immediately reminded the panel members that this was all hearsay. it will be trouble, he thought, if anyone on the panel asks for the smurffs for the year diana didn't teach that course. lyle doesn't want them seen and for good reason. he and his boys have perjured themselves. no one seemed to have any more questions. even anuse appeared wary. this was one witness that they weren't going to confuse. she not only had both feet planted on the ground, she looked as if she'd enjoy planting the panel under them. noting that there were no more questions coming, diana thanked her and said, "looks like we are finished with you, helen." "you may be finished with me, but i am not finished with you!" she took in everyone in the room with that remark, surprising diana as much as anyone on the panel. even janet looked up with a startled expression. one could almost hear the horns of the valkyrie sounding as a brunnhilde spirit sparkled in the body of this nursing student. "i am concerned and distressed," she continued. "first, for how you treated that young woman who testified before me. i have known sarah for several months and she is as honest and sincere as anyone i have ever known. "you know what she told us when she came out? she said you didn't believe her because you had already decided on the basis of the graphologist's report. she said it wasn't fair. that person swore only to an opinion. she, sarah, had sworn to a fact. "also, from what the other witnesses have told me and what i have just experienced myself, i don't believe you want to find out the truth. you just want to terminate our teacher. "no, i am not finished yet." helen held up a warning hand to henry who was about to protest, palm flat out like a traffic cop. "i have a ba in german and i am working toward a ba in nursing, and i am disgusted, i am really disgusted at what happened with my nutrition course evaluation. despite what we were told in the classroom concerning the use of the evaluations for the course and professors, they were sent off-site to a graphologist. . ." "only a few, there were only a small number," insisted henry. good lord, he thought, abashed, i never should have admitted that any were sent. "so what! maybe mine was one of them. you shouldn't be breaching student confidentiality to expedite some personnel matter. and let me tell you, i'm not the only one in the class that feels that way. you have deceived us and we will not fill out any more of those forms unless we are forced to." "but you must understand," urged esther, "no other writing by students went out at the same time. there would not be any chance that anybody would know who was the person who wrote them." esther really was out of it, thought annette. "that is totally irrelevant." helen replied firmly. "the point is our confidential evaluations were sent off-site. i think a lot of damage has been done. it is unconscionable. if we ever do fill out another evaluation form, it will be completely sterile so it can't be used to hurt anyone by an irresponsible administration. that is what many of the med students did in their last evaluation. they just marked everything average and typed all comments. that is why you haven't seen any of their smurffs from that year." "thank you, helen." diana stood up and walked around the table to open the door for her. "we'll take a short recess," henry announced. during this recess, he told the panel that he had decided to adjourn the hearing until the next day. henry had just reached the hallway of his home when the phone summoned him with its strident demand to be answered. loosening his tie with one hand, he picked up the instrument with the other, "yes, hello, tarbuck residence." "ah, good. you're home, henry." this superb example of deductive reasoning delivered in the imperious manner of a self-appointed earth-god could only be the pope. "yes, how are you, john?" henry had pulled off his tie and was settling himself comfortably in the chair next to the phone. "sorry i missed you when i returned to the office, but we decided to adjourn early so i did a few errands i've been putting off and then i came home." "no problem, henry. i just wanted to check with you to see how things are going. mark said there was a bit of a dust up over the file material he sent the document examiners as standards?" "yes. trenchant is making an issue of every little thing she can think of. actually, i think she must have some outside help-- someone is advising her. perhaps even someone at belmont." "giving you a lot of trouble, is she? slap her down, henry, slap her down. we've got her good on this one. mark tells me the document examiner was one hundred percent sure that trenchant wrote those things," the pope boomed expansively. "that's correct. the only thing is the three women on the panel don't place much confidence in the examiner's ability and right now they aren't accepting her testimony. besides that, trenchant has a student witness who claims that she, the witness, wrote one of those smurffs our analyst said was written by trenchant." "my god. that doesn't sound good at all. i thought mark said handwriting analysis was as foolproof as fingerprints." "well, that's the legal argument lawyers use. apparently, they aren't. trenchant gave us two cases as examples of these so-called experts being fooled. one was concerning the hitler diaries and another she called the white salamander affair. she also listed several other sources for the panel to check on." "what are you going to do? you've got to whip that panel in line and do it fast, henry, we're in this thing too deep to back off now." "i know, and i'm on top of it. mark is going to testify concerning his experience as an attorney with handwriting evidence. also, i've ruled most of trenchant's testimony and that of her witnesses hearsay. that cuts out a lot of potentially damaging information. "did you know, john, that those two guys who brought the complaint against her in the first place had plagiarized several textbooks as well as trenchant's stuff and that both the dean and lyle stone knew about it?" "penny ante stuff, henry. everybody copies material for their courses. that's why every department has a copying machine." "well this sure sounded serious. they photographed a whole atlas and presented it to their class as their own work." "so? it's just trenchant's word, isn't it? who's going to believe she isn't just indulging in sour grapes?" "the whole panel, that's who. that stupid son of a bitch, ian, admitted to it." "don't worry so, henry. surely you can explain that away as a misstatement on his part. he can just say that he didn't understand the question and. . ." "i've already done that with the panel but i can't keep up forever explaining away every boner they pull. i've got to call lyle back to testify again and the panel wants to hear from one of his faculty, ann biggot, and from jimbo as well." "what can i do to help you, henry." "get on their asses, please, john. those dilettantes in the medical school just made a very poor showing. they weren't prepared or. . .would you believe, john, that lyle couldn't even remember how many smurffs he was given and the dean contradicted a vital part of his testimony. both ian and randy stunk. please, lower the boom on lyle and the others slated to testify tomorrow. they have got to do their homework." "i'll get right on it, henry. don't worry now. just remember that we can keep everyone--reporters, local, state and federal-- out of our business simply by claiming academic privilege. there is nothing we can't explain away. nothing we can't make disappear if we need to." "ok, john, and thanks." "right. good evening, henry." henry hung up the phone and stretched. strange, he thought, sniffing the air experimentally, i don't smell anything cooking. wonder if we're going out for dinner. for that matter, i wonder where kate is, haven't heard her moving around. oh, well, she's probably in the back yard. resigning himself to the distinct possibility that he would have to get ready for another night out, he went in search of her. the kitchen first, he decided. i'll grab something out of the refrigerator to eat and. . .what's this note on the table? henry started to read it and then sat down heavily in a nearby chair to finish reading. "be damned," he breathed. "she's left me." the hearing - day chapter the next morning, the panel members looked relaxed and confident. henry hoped there would be now more gaffes, especially since the pope had gotten after them. he congratulated himself for thinking to ask. he knew from experience that the pope could be very persuasive. the first witness called by the panel was the university attorney, mark rogers. he entered the room, spoke to everyone there, addressing them by name, and took the seat indicated just across from diana. mark would never be called handsome. he carried a bit too much weight in his face for that. he was, however, garrulous. this part of his character endeared him to the administration that he served so well, since his long winded approach to any problem brought to him, bored most people to death before they got any answer. this saved the administrators the problem of dealing with most complaints brought by faculty and staff. if the administrators wanted some legal answers, they contacted a real lawyer, usually simon murrain, from a high priced law firm in town. mark had never had any success as an attorney in the real world, but here in the cloistered world of academia, he flourished. in the rapidly changing meaning of words, mark knew which side of the butter the bread was on. he could lie or tell the truth with the same absolute conviction. and now he was giving an ample demonstration of this to the panel. he knew that he had been called in because henry was terrified that the document examiner's evidence had been overturned by the defense testimony. he also knew that the three women on the panel were not disposed favorably to the analyst who had come to testify. well, by golly, he thought, old mark will put out the fire. in answer to a simple question, mark replied by starting from when he graduated from law school and tracing his entire career. along the way, he revealed, he had discovered these particular document examiners. for all his verbosity, he was convincing. henry was pleased. after all, he was an attorney. who would know better how courts and evidence worked than an attorney? then too, mark had been the one to send the `suspect' evaluations to the analyst that he, himself, had recommended. mark had ordered the material from diana's personnel file, so he could attest to the legality of it. jane observed that the other members of the panel, immersed in his tale, seemingly failed to realize that he confirmed several interruptions in the chain of custody of the documents he was referring to. most notable was when he was asked to identify the various packets of handwriting evidence that was marked as exhibits for this hearing. he either, "hadn't reviewed them closely enough to determine. . ." or claimed that he "honestly didn't recall who i received the note from (the note lyle's friend had found `strange')," as answers to direct questions from the panel. henry, hoping to create some clarity, put the finishing touches on the breaks in the chain of custody of the `suspect' documents that were being discussed. "oh, the problem here must be because some of the packets have been separated apart." jane noticed that mark also had only vague recollections as to when all these things took place. he prefaced every phrase with, "to the best of my recollection" or "at best i can recall," in proper attorney fashion, proving that he had, after all, gotten something out of law school. having agreed, with henry's prompting, that he did remember getting five radiology smurffs from lyle, two nursing nutrition smurffs from jimbo, he was handed a note, referred to as `lyle's friend's strange note' by henry and asked, "and did you also sent the document examiners this note?" "this would appear to be the original note; the only thing that i have seen is a copy of this note. i don't believe until now i had actually seen an original." good lord, thought jane. surely someone should question this. the document examiner testified that all the `suspect' documents were originals and now mark, the guy that sent them to the examiners, is saying he has only seen a copy. he's vague and unsure of most everything he claims he was involved in and most of his evidence is what someone else told him or that he `had assumed'. this was the kind of testimony that henry had been so critical of when the defense witnesses were examined, calling it second hand information. apparently, coming from the university attorney, it is considered to be all right, jane commented to herself. at one point, with help from henry, mark brought forth information that jane thought might be triple hearsay. he said, "i remember now that jimbo told me that lyle told him that lyle's friend had found the note." not a voice was raised in complaint from the panel. and not from me either, thought jane. i'm not sticking my neck out when a lawyer is testifying. henry appeared to be pleased. mark had done well enough even though he had been a bit shaky on dates. anyway, the panel didn't seem to notice. he had established handwriting analysis as nearly infallible--not by evidence, not by proof, but solely because he said so. he was pleased when cross examination by diana was continually broken into by the panel. as a result of this, the question of the dates when these things happened was never really established. as things stood, lyle, randy and now mark had all given conflicting dates concerning when these documents were sent out for analysis, when each received them and what each received. however, under tenacious questioning by diana, mark divulged that the `strange' note, apparently sent as an afterthought, had only been looked at by the examiners the day before coming to testify. that was why he had only seen a copy of it since the original was given to them on their arrival by henry. their opinion was not conclusive, but they thought it probable that diana had printed it. they were wise to vacillate on this, mark observed, since their supply of printing standards was very limited. because of the way mark presented this, the panel was left with the impression that had there been enough standards, the document examiner would certainly have found that diana had printed it. an angry exchange occurred when diana protested strongly that here was another piece of evidence that she was surprised with after being told that she had received all of it. henry smiled vacuously and said, "it was introduced yesterday." "i never saw it." "it was in the analyst's report for you to see." "now you tell me." "you could have read it anytime." "when? every time there was a break, you shooed me out of here." "we needed this room to confer." anuse broke in to hammer home another spike of explanation in the maze of questionable activity engaged in by the administration. "mark, from a legal point of view, can an employee's personnel records be sent out for this type of analysis without the individual's permission or verification?" mark answered, again with the qualifier, which was not deemed noteworthy by the committee members. "in my opinion, they may not be used for just any purpose, but they certainly may be used for those purposes." well, sure. ask the guy who did it if it was all right. some legal opinion! thought diana. it was, however, the benchmark, the criterion of the prejudice exhibited by the hearing panel throughout. the attorney general, after her investigation was complete, wrote in her report that, ". . .the panel utilized a procedure in which guilt was not investigated, but assumed. the university placed the burden of proof on diana trenchant to prove she was innocent, but denied her the evidence to do so. "in fact," the a.g.'s report continued, "the process was so fundamentally unfair and reflected such an aggressive determination by the university to discharge her, that its actions have strengthened the inference of discrimination." chapter after mark had left, associate academic vice president, jimbo jones was sworn. he had held the chair of nerd for many years, then when lyle took over, jimbo was moved to the central administrative post. henry smiled wryly, hoping for the best because no matter how poor a performance was turned in by senior administrators, they were never fired--they knew where too many bodies were buried. they were kept around and use as needed to plug gaps and cover asses, especially their own. . . having few duties as a vee, jimbo lectured, teamed with lyle, in the nursing nutrition course. he used to refer to them as a dog and pony show. the students thought of two other animals that would have described the situation better, since neither man was greatly liked. this was mainly because both had a low opinion of undergraduates, felt it was beneath them to lecture at this level and didn't try to hide their opinion from the students. lyle and jimbo gave these few lectures because the university policy of increasing administration personnel and research faculty while decreasing teachers had decimated the ranks of competent instructors. upper level administrators like jimbo were paid in the six figure category. a few professors received fifty grand a year; most substantially less. a limited number of excellent teaching faculty worked their butts off teaching course after course for peanuts. the ever burgeoning, corpulent administration and research people had light duties and lots of play time--to say nothing of having the money to play. at the time diana was employed at nerd, it was not unique for the research professors to spend one or two afternoons a week on the golf course, lake or ski slopes. any research accomplished mostly fell to the technicians paid by a grant or the university. citizens who donated money for research into various diseases would be astonished to discover how little of their money went into the research, and how much went into paying administrative salaries. at belmont, friday afternoons turned into happy hours as medical research professors with their light teaching loads relaxed together in the conference room recuperating for the weekend. when jimbo was asked to identify the two evaluations-- these being the two from nursing nutrition that lyle had said jimbo had brought to him, he professed not to recall how they were found or where. "i don't remember if i found them or who found them," he stated. "i have seen them before, but i don't know who discovered them." henry started to get nervous. this damn jerk who found those two smurffs professed no recollection of it. he hurried into the breach. "what you are saying, jimbo, is that either you or lyle found them but you don't remember which." even with this prompting, jimbo couldn't hack it. he looked over at henry and smiled without speaking. "yes, thank you. of course, that's it." henry testified for him and then tried to prove through jimbo's testimony that diana had a history of conflict with department members. once again, jane observed, no examples were given. the names of the individuals involved in these alleged conflicts were not given so there was no confimation of the testimony. when she tried to get specifics on these conflicts, jimbo answered that, ". . .it involved the kind of facility utilization problems that one runs into in a small department." pursuing this, jane asked, "did they have anything to do with running a course or what should be taught in a course?" "no." at this juncture, esther, not to be outdone asked if the difficulty had anything to do with her ability to teach. jimbo replied that her ability to teach had never been in question. he also confirmed, much to henry's chagrin, that diana had worn a brace on her wrist in december but could not remember exactly when. since he had been commandeered to help in the radiology lab after diana left the course, he was asked how the medical students responded that year. his answer indicated that he believed the students generally liked the lab portion. he also disclosed that the lab had not changed at all from what had been taught in previous years. not bloody likely, thought diana, since they copied most of the material from my manual that they were expressly forbidden to use. . . the manual that was so successful in the course for the previous two years. when jimbo declared that the year diana didn't teach, the course content was no different from the previous year, henry tried to hurry him out the door. he recalled all the testimony from the nerd people insisting that things were much different and much improved after diana left the course. before he could, diana said, "i have one question, jimbo. we taught that lab together for many years when you were chair of nerd. during that time, it was my impression that each year's class could differ immensely from the previous year. specifically, one year, the class would like the way the course was run, then the next year's class would hate it. do you agree?" "yes, wholeheartedly, absolutely." "thank you." henry walked jimbo out of the hearing room wishing fervently that he had never asked him to testify. what a mess, but hopefully lyle could fix it. chapter ann biggot was a crawling morass of nerves. as she explained to the panel, it was not really fear of retribution for what she might say, it was fear that she might be understood incorrectly and that would harm either her chairman or diana. she was overwhelmed, she exclaimed, ". . .because i heard that this is the first termination for cause hearing ever held in belmont!" what an airhead, henry thought. she swings so widely back and forth that her testimony is generally contradictory and always rambling. when she criticizes lyle, in answer to a question from the panel, she, in nearly the same breath, praises him on a totally unrelated issue. lord protect me from these dithering female types, he implored, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. he looked back at the witness critically. she's held her own in the looks department for a woman of her age, he decided, but has let herself go to fat somewhat. must be, from the looks of her about ten years or so younger than diana. well, lyle thinks she loyal to him and that's what counts here. ann would not confirm her niece's testimony. andrea had said her aunt thought that the excessive course load given diana by lyle was an attempt to break her spirit or drive her from the department. ann declared that she, "could not remember saying that. it is possible that was what andrea understood me to say." when asked directly if there was sex discrimination in the department, she said that in the past, she had felt some discrimination because of sex, but she knew now that this was not the case. she gave several reasons why she was not treated the same or paid as much as the males in the department. "it probably was because my research is so much different from the rest or because lyle was new in the position and didn't realize what he was saying." jane felt anger toward ann as she listened. she had asked around for information about her when she knew ann would be testifying. ann, of all people, knew what the situation truly was because lyle had named her as the department affirmative action representative. reflecting on the efficacy of the aa program, jane knew that belmont, like most universities around the country, had continued problems with grant procurement due to being out of compliance with the laws concerning discrimination and harassment. to counter this, or rather, to nip any potential problems in the bud, the administration created a setup whereby every department had an appointed representative for affirmative action. all complaints had to be brought to this person. at nerd, this was ann--who in turn took them to the department chair. a case of the proverbial fox guarding the chickens, jane thought wryly. the complaints and the person complaining, the complainant, were "handled" by a special administrative flunky. it was made crystal clear that problems would increase if one pursued a complaint. faculty women on tenure track were especially vulnerable to these kinds of threats. if the charge was serious and the complainant had evidence and witnesses, and could not be persuaded to drop the charges, the common practice was to transfer the complainant to another department. no one could ever remember a male at belmont being punished, transferred or discharged for discrimination or harassment. jane knew that ann had heard complaints--from women in the department and from medical students who had suffered discrimination and harassment. she shook her head sadly, wondering what she would have done in similar circumstances. would she also chose not to reveal the truth to the committee, fearing reprisals? in response to several other questions posed by the panel, ann biggot proclaimed that she had no fear of reprisal for her testimony, but every so often a freudian slip would break out from her careful answers. she was confirming a question from diana concerning how both of them were often overlooked when departmental journals were circulated. "if i didn't get a journal, i would just take it out of someone else's box," she said angrily, then with a guilty expression, "maybe i won't be working there next week." jane asked, "does he customarily yell or get angry at people?" avoiding the question, ann replied, "the biggest problem with him is getting him to put his answers down in writing." she did, however, confirm that she had been asked to testify by diana and had begged off. "not really because of losing my job. . .it was just that it was so serious a charge. . ." ann amply substantiated what diana had already testified to regarding her many attempts to communicate with lyle and establish a better relationship. she was also generous with her assertion that diana was a totally honest person. "we have had problems sometimes working together, but the one thing i was sure of was her absolute, utter honesty. this charge came as a horrible shock to me, and that is the truth. "to give you an idea of how much i trust her, there are two people in the department that i would feel right about leaving alone in my office and she was one of them. i wouldn't even trust lyle." throughout the testimony of this witness, the panel continually interrupted the cross examinations of diana. this happened at especially crucial times when important evidence was on the verge of being brought out or confirmed. one time, to the chagrin of henry and frank, it worked in trenchant's favor. henry had interrupted to ask ann about a rather damning quote attributed to her by lyle which appeared on diana's yearly reappointment appraisal sheet. it read, "i believe that she (diana) is completely ineffective in the summer medical nutrition course and should be replaced." ann was adamant that she had not said that. instead, she insisted, "when the chairman came to me for my input on your appraisal, i told him what you had told me," directing her answer at diana, "which was that you felt ineffective. i told him that i thought you had tried desperately hard to learn this material. i said to him that you were working assiduously and trying unremittingly but that you and i both felt that you needed at least another year of study to be really proficient." on hearing this, jane blanched with shock. here was information that lyle had falsified a senior faculty person's (ann) appraisal on the reappointment papers of diana. anuse interrupted diana's questioning and attempted to gloss over the damning admission. he suggested that it was just a misunderstanding in terms. it didn't work because ann was angry that her honest comments regarding the teaching effectiveness of diana had been misconstrued in a way that was completely false and she made that clear to anuse in no uncertain terms. after finishing off anuse, she turned to diana and said, "for you to come into the summer course with no training at all, at the age of , and be trained to teach nutrition. . .for you to undertake such an endeavor amazed me. i made it clear to lyle that she needed more time, perhaps one more summer to be an effective teacher--not what he quoted me as saying!" now the chair stepped in and advised that this was getting way off the subject they were there to discuss, but the panel, except for anuse, wanted to hear more and ann, still angry at the way she had been misquoted, obliged them. ". . .and the teaching load put on her. it was a horrible thing to ask somebody to do--seven labs in a week plus directing the radiology lab during the first semester. in the past, these labs were distributed among the graduate students and to ask one person to do that, i thought was. . . "remember," turning again to address diana. "i told you it was a terrible stress for you to undergo and that if i were subjected to that, i couldn't do it." directing her remarks back to the panel, she continued. "i know, because at one point in my life, i taught five courses at one time and i went about bananas after two years; i had to quit because of the stress." henry interrupted decisively this time and announce a recess. the testimony of his witness was getting entirely to sympathetic toward diana and he wanted no more references to lyle's creative editing of ann's comments on the employee appraisal form. falsifying employee reappointment forms was a real no-no, especially now with the union breathing down our necks, he thought. chapter already in evidence and on the record was the incident of lyle's tampering with one of the so-called suspicious smurffs by stapling a note written by diana to it. now there was testimony that he had falsified a comment by one of the senior faculty which appeared on an appraisal form. one more example of evidence-tampering was still to come. when the hearing reconvened, jane interrupted. "one moment before we go on to the next witness. a point of clarification. from what i heard a little while ago, i think diana believes that we send the president the recommendation of this committee. now, my understanding was that we do not make a recommendation, we make a report of our findings." "that is correct. we are only going to write a report. we don't make recommendations. we only make a report of the hearing. that's all we are looking at," henry said frantically. damn and blast, how did she get on to that and why didn't i pick up on it. i shudder to think what those dingy women would do if they knew that when my report for this committee comes out, it will find the entire panel has made a recommendation that is unanimous and it is for termination. the hearing was about completed. henry could feel the relief flooding through him like a torrent. full of great expectations, he announced that lyle would be the next witness and "all these little misunderstandings will be cleared up." true to form, like a well rehearsed circus act, the performance that followed went off like greased lightning. henry allowed neither the other members of the panel nor diana to clutter it up. first the clarification of number of `suspicious' smurffs found, when they were found and who found them. this time, lyle looking confident and well coached, consulted his crib sheet and gave the answer without circumlocution. looking both eager and willing to help out as best he could, lyle earnestly spoke his piece. "after checking with mark who had the date in the files, we found that the material was sent to the analyst in the fall of last year. there were originally three that randy and ian had given him, not two as he had said in his previous testimony. i can't think why i said two, of course, i meant three." "jimbo had found and sent him the two `suspicious' nursing nutrition smurffs." to prove this, he conveniently produced a covering letter, which the chair put into evidence, that expressly said that. ". . .and, it is dated and signed by jimbo. "most certainly," lyle continued, "i never knew that diana had copyrighted the radiology manual and most certainly, ian and randy did not copy from it. that is ridiculous." his pious account of the meeting with diana in his office when he told her of the document examiners findings, was ingenious. he claimed to have been devastated at having to do that to an employee. he had behaved with loving kindness throughout the "very painful interview. "of course no one in the department or among the medical students would be afraid to come and testify. perish the thought. "i must have been misunderstood before when the panel got the impression that all the critiques were good in this last year when diana did not teach. i thought i had made it clear that it was ian's smurffs that had improved markedly." still, jane noted. he did not produce them for the panel to confirm his testimony and the chair, despite the request of diana that they be solicited, did not ask for them. when henry hesitated, trenchant reminded lyle that student's likes and dislikes of an instructor could vary wildly from year to year. "remember how great your smurffs were in the nursing course three years ago?" she said. "then the very next year, they were the pits. isn't that correct?" lyle reluctantly agreed that it was and henry quickly took back the questioning to bring lyle to the crowning touch of his testimony before trenchant could further discredit him. henry asked if he thought diana was unable to write because of an injured wrist during the december last evaluation period. proudly, lyle presented two original handwritten documents. "both of these," he claimed, "were written by diana and i found them in my files." "this one is dated in mid december, at the time she claims she could not write," he smirked triumphantly at diana. "did you write that?" henry demanded of diana, looking smug and terribly well pleased with the way things were going. "yes, i did, but not in december. i wrote that after returning from christmas\new year's vacation in january before the classes started. this note refers to equipment i would require for the room i was assigned to teach in during the winter semester. i was not assigned that room until i returned from vacation in january so i wouldn't be writing anything about fixtures in december. this is a fact that can be verified. "look at this. trenchant held up the paper for the panel to see. "the right hand corner has been torn off where i put the date which would be in january. the date written on this note is at the bottom and was written in by lyle. the ink used is entirely different for the date than for the rest of the note and i recognize the way he makes sevens with the slash." "well, yes." lyle allowed, showing some discomfort, he had written that date in because the note wasn't dated and he put the date on when he received it and that was in december. he said nothing about the torn corner and looked very anxious. "well i kept a copy of this note which i can bring in showing the date to be where this piece was torn off and that date will be in january." trenchant announced, turning to the committee members. "once more, evidence in this hearing has been tampered with." "it won't be necessary to see your copy," henry ruled, hastily. "i'm sure this is just a difference that occurs where each person remembers the date a bit differently. there is no attempt to tamper here. . ." chapter henry nervously dismissed lyle and directed the committee's attention toward diana to distract them from further questioning. "we have finished with the witnesses in this hearing. if you have a brief summation or anything you want to say in closing, we will hear it, go ahead," he ordered. "first, however, you and the stenographer may take a break while the panel confers." instead of leaving after he had finished testifying, jimbo jones had gone back to the waiting room to pick up his belongings. except for jonathan, the room was empty of people now that the hearing was winding down. "hello, how goes it," jonathan greeted him. he had been making himself available in the committee waiting room a few hours every day as henry had ordered. this was so it would appear that trenchant had the availability of counsel from the ombudsman if the matter ever came up. "not bad. henry seems a mite wound up though. can't understand why. the whole academic council decided to terminate her, what is he getting all haired out about?" "as i understand it," jonathan offered, leaning toward jimbo and lowering his voice into a conspiratorial, confidential tone, trenchant has managed to bring forth a good defense and has the hearing panel pretty well divided. only frank anuse is going along with henry. the women are looking at the evidence and they aren't convinced. jane confided in me during the last break that she thought it was possible that trenchant had been framed." "what the hell would give her that idea," grinned jimbo, with a sly wink. "quiet, keep your voice down." jonathan moved away from jimbo and closed the hearing room door. "well, for one thing, one of the smurffs you found was evidently written by a student. she came forward and identified it. that really casts doubt on the ability of the document examiners." "one i found? i just don't understand all this. everyone keeps telling me that i found some smurffs in my course. lyle, henry, mark and now you. i don't remember it and i told the panel that just a few minutes ago." "you told the panel that? good god, jimbo, henry was depending on you to confirm that you had found them. lyle is probably showing them the note you wrote right now." "come off it, jonathan. lyle didn't say anything about lying to the panel and it was that cute janie babe that asked. if trenchant had asked the question, i would have said that i had found them. no problem. all lyle asked me to do was write and date the note last year sometime. nobody asked me about that." thank heavens, thought jonathan. aloud, he said, "you'd better keep that under your hat, jimbo. from what jane tells me, lyle has been pretty creative with the evidence already." "so what?" jimbo replied, expansively. "that's his part of the scheme. after all, he's the one that wants to get rid of her." "yes, you're right, but be careful about saying things like that. you never know who will hear and try to make something of it. oh, by the way, did you hear that kate left henry? he said she was gone when he got home last night--just left him a note." "no shit. who'd she catch him doin' it with?" "well from what i hear. . ." the two men gossiped cozily until the members of the panel arrived to announce that the hearing had ended. "proceed with your summary," henry commanded indifferently when everyone was back in place at the table. diana trenchant finished making a note and then said, "yes, i have some closing words, but first, i want to point out that i was given no opportunity to present rebuttal witness as you did." anuse shifted in his seat, then carefully and slowly, as if he were speaking to a retarded person, said, "you misunderstand. they were not rebuttal witnesses. we had them come to clarify things that your witnesses said." bull! thought diana. aloud, she continued, "they contradicted some of my evidence and i was not given a chance to clarify their testimony with my witnesses." what is she trying to pull now, henry moaned to himself, but much to his surprise, diana pulled her notes in front of her and began her closing remarks. "now, for the first charge--that i created false smurffs. i have shown that the document examiner erred regarding the `suspect' smurffs they examined. one, at least, was a recognized student written evaluation. therefore, their opinion on all of the documents is open to question. several witnesses have testified as to the wrist injury i sustained, showing that i could not have written the two smurffs lyle said he found in the course last year. "also, the `suspect' smurffs from previous years are highly dubious as evidence of anything. they are not dated and there has been no discernible chain of custody established. ian could not even identify them and disagreed with randy that they were somehow different from the rest of the evaluations received. "i remind you again that document examiners are not infallible and that only a couple of small examples of my handwriting were submitted to them that were not copies. we have just seen that lyle had other examples of original writing of mine. why didn't they submit original writing as standards or better yet, authenticate the standards by having them written in the presence of the document examiner? "in point of fact, none of the writing used as standards were authenticated and this makes them moot. "the second charge, that i submitted these `suspect' documents as student smurffs, is unproven. that is because none of the student smurffs for those years in question can be validated. this is because of the way the evaluation process is administered. therefore, a chain of custody for the so-called suspicious smurff's was not and cannot be established. "in the years that i have worked at this university, i have never been accused of dishonesty. my work has not been criticized. my teaching ability has always been praised. the biggest criticism that i have received is that i am at times abrasive. "you have heard enough to form the obvious conclusion about how i was treated in the department and how heavy my teaching load was. i hope you will pay attention to the fact that right here under oath, lyle, the person who has made these charges against me, has tampered with the evidence three times." jane was impressed. she's right. he attached a note written by diana to one of the suspicious smurffs; detrimentally misquoted ann's evaluation of diana's performance on promotion sheets and now this last note which very obviously has a large piece torn off from the corner. he must have been told they needed proof that she could write during that time so he tore off the real date and wrote in one in december. what a scumball. diana continued, "i want to thank you all very much for the opportunity to finally respond and disprove these outrageous charges. thank you." before henry could speak, jane said, "diana, i was interested in what you had to say about the f.b.i. and the information regarding document examination. is there something further that you would suggest we look at?" "yes. you should research this so-called science or art as i did. read about the hitler diaries and the white salamander papers. learn why authenticated, original standards are important. . . "i also again request that you procure the smurffs for the radiology instructors and course given last year and see how the testimony you have just heard has misrepresented them." "is that it then?" henry could just barely keep the ugliness he felt out of his voice. at diana's nod, henry said, "we must end this. i don't think we'll need any further hearings," said henry, stacking up his pile of files and papers and preparing to stand up. "you will hear from us as soon as possible. perhaps as soon as two weeks. certainly no longer than a month. we will have our report for you and the president then." that was mid-june. academic justice chapter it is the first of july. the committee has met two times since the hearing ended. the first time, the split was three to two. the three women were resolute that there was not enough evidence to believe that diana had written the documents. they did not put much credence into the report of the document examiner and they didn't believe lyle. henry could not and would not agree to write the report announcing this to the pope. his instructions were clear --get trenchant. seeking distance, he suggested that they should, in any event, wait for the complete transcript of the hearing. when that had arrived and everyone had refreshed their memories, they would hold another meeting. the second meeting, held two weeks later, lasted four hours. by the end of the session, everyone was tired and angry and no one had moved from their original position. it was a battle of the transcript. not only had anuse and henry burned the midnight oil preparing for the meeting with suitable quotes from the transcript, but the same could be said of jane, esther and annette. as tempers, which had so far been under control, flared and threatened to widen the gulf between the two sides, henry realized that the arguments were just solidifying the opposition and, damn it to hell, they were the majority! since the handwriting evidence was so shaky, he dared not force the issue. he would find another way. he quickly called an end to it, told them tersely that he would let them know when the next meeting would be and then before anyone else moved, he left the room. chapter august slipped into september. what's happening with the hearing? everyone was asking. no one had an answer. then the president of n.o.w, ellie smeal, came on campus to give a speech. the room was packed with women from all over campus. afterwards, esther saw diana and went up to her. "what is going on? have you heard anything?" she inquired. "you're the one on the committee. i haven't heard anything since the hearing ended. you guys told me a month, tops. haven't you been writing the report?" trenchant answered tersely. she was becoming increasingly strung out by the delay and by the obvious fact that the committee chair had once again lied to her. "oh," said esther, alarm showing on her pudgy face, "i'm not supposed to talk about it. i haven't heard anything." she finished, walking away leaving diana more in the dark than ever. . .and more apprehensive. october dropped its leaves. november brought an early snow. christmas flashed brightly, dulled and stood aside for the start of a new year. it had been nearly seven months since the hearing had ended but henry had not been idle. after the debacle of the second meeting of the panel, the pope and henry had decided to send the material away for confirmation by another document examiner. the women on the panel were not privy to this information. "if they can't cooperate, leave them out in the cold," was henry's decision. "how many had you contacted before you found this one, henry?" frank anuse had stopped by henry's office in the administration building at henry's invitation. a great deal of time had gone by and he had been getting edgy with all the questions aimed at him by concerned faculty. it was great to have some positive results. even though he couldn't broadcast them, he could give his inquisitors a knowing look and indicate that it was in the bag. "this makes the fourth. the bastards take forever to make up their minds. they say they are busy with other analyses, but you'd think with all we're paying them that. . ." henry shook his head in disgust. "and they all said the same thing. they didn't like to make a positive match using copies of the standards we sent?" frank anuse asked. "that's it. they all wanted originals." "the guy that has them now though, called and said essentially the same thing at first, except he thought if he could have a lot more standards, he could make a decision even if they were copies." "and. . ." "and, i sent off copies of everything in her personnel file." "you mean forms and such like? don't they have other people's writing on them besides trenchant's?" "oh, yes, but that doesn't matter. the main thing is we got confirmation. the guy will testify to that and then those damn lady-professors are going to toe the line, or else." "you've already sent trenchant the copies and notice of the next hearing?" "yup. did it this morning. same mail as i sent it to the rest of the committee." "seems as though it would have been simpler just to have her write something in front of witnesses and use those originals instead of farting around all this time with copies," anuse suggested. "this process has taken nearly a year already." "there's reasons. not something you and i have to know about, but there's reasons. anyway, here's your copy. enjoy." chapter a registered package arrived for diana. it contained copies of the `suspect' smurffs and copies of the standards that she had seen before at the hearing. also enclosed were many other documents, apparently copied from microfiche files. these copies were atrocious, all spotty with black dots and lines. most of the letters were blurred and some parts were unreadable. the package also contained a report from another document examiner. this one agreed that diana had written six of the eight documents sent to them for analysis, but was not sure of two of them. just like the previous examiners--except it wasn't the same two they indicated. nevertheless, the cover letter, signed by henry, decreed that this was supportive testimony and the hearing would reconvene in five days to present this evidence formally to diana. at that time she would be given an opportunity to cross examine the so-called expert testimony of the document examiner. this time henry was taking no chances. this time, the document examiner was male. diana and her supporters were not terribly surprised by contents of the package. it did, however, confirm that as far as the belmont administration was concerned, she would be convicted even if they had to move heaven and earth to prove it. the initial hearing of three days, the official protocol, the declarations of good faith made by the panel members-- all a sham. she'd waited long enough. it was time to seek help outside of belmont u. part of her decision to take this path was made in response to the outpouring of support from the staff, faculty and students of belmont. these people, many of whom felt repressed themselves, knew that there was no way that justice or fairness could be brought about within the university structure. anyone who had experience with university politics completely subscribed to the dubious accolade that university politics were the meanest of all types known to exist. many were angry that the whole rotten business evolved around a mere seven out of several hundred forms--all of which in the normal course of events would have been ignored. there was frustration as well. they felt helpless and many were sickened at their lack of ability to effect any change. by sending money to diana, "to help with legal expenses," they could mitigate their helplessness and their fear. efforts were initiated to bring the affair before the faculty senate but they were quashed as soon as they started by the new senate president, former ombudsman, jonathan bambridge. trustees were approached by supporters as well as university alumni groups. there was sympathy, but no one wanted to risk their position against the very real power wielded by the administration. several women faculty went to the pope and pleaded for him to intercede. these were brave women. they took to the meeting with the university president examples of many cases of proven misconduct that had occurred on campus. in every case, no man had ever been terminated. they reminded him that this was the first time at belmont that a termination for cause charge had been made, and that it was against a woman. the group of faculty women begged him to reconsider. to press such minuscule charges in the first place had been a mistake. the information had spread across campus, the town and the state, making almost every person who heard of it laugh at first, then as they realized that it was not a joke become indignant. "the publicity already has been harmful and it can only get worse if this hearing is continued," one of the professors urgently stated to the pope. "why do you continue with this?" they were told that the decision to prosecute was final and that there was nothing they could do. then they were shown the door. the same sort of treatment was given to staff and students except that they usually got shorter shrift. islands of concerned people protested but never joined in concert. it was not a safe undertaking at belmont university. not if you wanted to keep your position. as edmund burke observed, "when bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle." the final straw that tipped the balance and sent diana to an attorney to fight the inevitable termination was an editorial that appeared in the prod, the belmont student newspaper. in a strongly worded article it condemned the undemocratic judicial process of the belmont administration, which flouted the laws of the state and made up its own to fit each occasion. the editorial compared belmont's disciplinary process to feudal times. it was titled: punishing the victim . . .dr. diana trenchant was accused of wrong doing. therefore, she was tried by a jury of her accusers in accordance with university policy. although two witness, who in any court would be called `expert' witnesses, testified against her, she was not allowed an adequate defense--that is, the service of an attorney who would be competent to cross examine so-called expert testimony. she was also not allowed access to documents needed in her own defense. she will most certainly be summarily terminated-- deprived of her livelihood without due process-- another victim of belmont kangaroo kort justice. "that does it," she told andrea and james whose support had never wavered throughout the ordeal. "i refuse to be one of burke's `unpitied sacrifice'. more specifically, i refuse to be their victim. perhaps the courts can do something. let's give it a shot." the women on the panel took a lot of heat for the reconvening of the hearing. ricocheting across campus were the whisperings and lamentations of esther as she endeavored to absolve herself from blame. jane's battle with her conscience reached only the ears of her closest friends, but her glacial features and bent posture bespoke her frustration and her impotency. the saddest of all was annette who had quietly borne the conflicting waves of testimony that flowed over her at the hearing. she had dared to speak up a couple of times, but now she knew that it had been a mistake. whatever henry asked her to sign, she would sign. without question, without hesitation, but not with good conscience. his visit to her and his carefully chosen words concerning his knowledge of her life-style had left no doubt remaining that the threat of exposure was real. diana found out early on that it would be unwise to place too much confidence in the judicial system. she discovered that a court cares nothing about right or wrong, good or bad. it cares only about what the law is, can you prove it, and who proves it in the most entertaining manner. the attorney general had told diana that an additional hazard was that this was a civil rights case--sex discrimination. the current federal administration had knocked the hell out of most of the laws pertaining to sex or age discrimination and greatly weakened any remaining. the eeoc was acting like a toothless pussy cat under the direction of a staunch reagan\bush conservative whose payoff would be a seat on the supreme court. however, for all its drawbacks, it was the only game in town. a choice, instead of giving up. besides, diana was overwhelmed with the magnitude of support in the form of cold cash from the university community and alumni. she had to at least have the faith in herself that others had shown--but the cost! enough to make her frugal yankee blood congeal in horror. well, no help for it, she thought. she carefully figured out just how far she could go with what she had and what had been given her. that far she would go and no further. she'd give the court a chance, but she wouldn't bet the whole farm on it and certainly not the rest of her life. decidedly not in a city where the old boy network was so substantial and entrenched that it kept its meeting place a male bastion and ruled the entire state from it. not to mention that the pope was a prepaid member--a perk traditionally given belmont's president. chapter ever since the original charges had been made, the public protection division of the attorney general's office had been investigating the case brought to it by diana. it functioned to protect the legal rights of diana and provide a copy of its report to the equal employment opportunity commission (eeoc). it had been denied access to the previous three day hearing by the belmont administration, but was promised the hearing transcript. after a great deal of prompting, the transcript, all pages of it, had been sent to the attorney general's office as agreed. it was copied and shared with the attorney representing diana, al garrett. he was appalled at the way the university administration had handled the hearing and felt that all that was needed was to hit the university administration with legal paperosa plentimus and they would soon see reason. he was unaware that the age of reason had not yet penetrated belmont university. their axiom was, `reason? there is no reason, it's company policy.' the ensuing legal detritus delayed the reconvening of the second round of the university hearing, but didn't prevent it. in the short time given, diana obtained affidavits from a prominent document examiner and a promise of testimony from the university psychologist. a court reporter was once again recording the proceedings, but it wasn't janet. the surroundings had changed also. now, they were all sitting around a table in a very large auditorium in the english department. diana had an attorney present, but university policy prevented him from doing anything except whisper instructions to her. of course, they had talked beforehand and had planned how the defense part and cross examination would go. even so, the attorney was still in the court mode--he had little or no concept of a university hearing and much of what went on left him stunned with disbelief and unable to provide much direction. when he tried, whispering furtively into diana's ear to do this or say that, it made diana little more than a puppet dangling on one string, and just as effective. one thing for certain, thought diana as the hearing progressed, someone should tell lawyers about breath mints! as soon as she could gain recognition from the chair, diana requested that the hearing be open. "the purpose of a closed hearing in personnel matters is to protect the employee. i waive that protection." to herself, she thought, i know from experience that i have much more protection in public opinion than i have as a member of the faculty of belmont university. "interested citizens and the press are waiting outside. they were prevented from coming in. i respectfully request that they be allowed to enter." prevented was right, she thought, a plethora of kampus kops was guarding the door of the hearing room. henry was indeed worried that the goings-on in the hearing room might be observed by an impartial observer and had taken steps to prevent it. "no." he answered, "it is the policy of the university that hearings be closed. we will now proceed to the testimony of the second document examiner." henry was pleased to note that while amos avery, the handwriting analyst, was being sworn, the panel members played with the files on the table in front of them. he had met with each of the women individually and had whipped them into line. his eyes sparkled as he recalled their helplessness and his feelings of power. henry next proceeded to enter into evidence various letters and the handwriting documents. diana, under instructions from her attorney, objected. objections which would have been given credence in a court of law were just ignored by henry. the only thing all the legal patter accomplished was to increase the tension and the red in his face. well, i'll just have to bear it, he thought grimly. that sharp lawyer, simon murrain, hired by the pope to advise them on both hearings had been adamant. "always let her speak. you can interrupt her witnesses, you can even ignore what she says or refuse what she may request. but always let her have her say. we can't have her complaining that she didn't get a fair hearing." henry remembered how he had laughed at the simplicity of that strategy. concerning what she was saying now, henry wasn't about to pay any attention. the objections trenchant was making were important, having to do with the evidence. the writing used as standards were still not authenticated. the copies of microfiche files were almost unreadable due to their being covered with dots and black lines. in contention were the extra standards that this analyst had requested since he could not be sure of the authorship of the `suspect' smurffs using the same standards provided to the first analyst. "you are not following any rules of evidence here," trenchant was continuing. "you are just submitting things on a whim. you have given this examiner copies--very bad copies-- of material supposedly from my personnel file covering a period of over twenty years. even if authentic, these documents contain the handwriting or printing of at least seven other people, posibly more, and i see nothing that delineates which of all these different writings is supposed to be the standard," she argued. "some of the writing on these was written entirely by my daughter or son," diana held up the documents for inspection. "these tuition exemption forms were filled out and signed with my name by either my son or my daughter, for example. the rest of the writing is by a personnel officer. "i am surprised that you didn't send samples of writing from the entire university while you were at it," she finished sarcastically, disgust clearly portrayed in her voice and on her face. "this hearing is being held solely to hear the report of this document examiner. you will be given a chance to comment on his report," henry continued, blithely ignoring diana's protest. "who made these rulings?" queried diana, prompted by al. "pardon me?" henry asked. "who made the rulings concerning the admissibility of these standards?" "i am reading the ground rules for this hearing which are contained in my letter to you. i am entering it into the proceedings." "so. who made the ruling? not the committee!" "the committee is aware of these things." "the committee is just going along with whatever you propose. why can't you admit that you are making the rules of evidence? why do we need the rest of the panel?" "the committee made the decision and can speak up if they do not agree." all of the women on the panel busily shuffled papers and anuse beamed like a misplaced beacon. the silence of the panel told it all. three cowered, two glowed. henry was confident. well, thought diana, we knew it would be a struggle. turning to the material she and al had prepared, she read into the record, once again, that she wanted an open hearing. that she had nothing to hide. continuing on, she brought out other legal points that al felt needed to be in the record. "we have over and over again requested documents from the university and been denied them. you have provided me with nothing with which i can dispute your case. i am referring to some six hundred student smurffs that were referred to by your witnesses in the last hearing, over thirty times, yet never once were they given into evidence." "what are you going on about?" anuse feigned boredom. "i am talking about the student smurffs that i requested at the last hearing. the charge was made that the `suspect' smurffs were totally different from normal student smurffs and i need those for you to see that in reality, they are quite similar." "i'm willing to believe the testimony that they exist and what they are represented to be. i don't need to see them in person." nonchalantly, anuse destroyed any illusion of committee impartiality with this remark. the committee's report to the pope would remove any doubt that might linger. henry called a recess. it always seemed to work to break up the flow. chapter when the hearing commenced again, the document examiner began his testimony. "i have examined the documents in question and found that six were written by diana trenchant and two probably were." allen avery was a tall, heavy-set man, florid of face and nearly as ugly as jimbo. he looked like a twenty-year cop and lowered his monster brows fiercely at diana whenever he referred to her. his presentation was not as ornate as that of alice stebbins. instead of using blown up photographs of individual letters, he passed out copies of a single sheet on which there were two columns of letters. one column was labeled standard, the other unknown. he testified that he had found enough similarities in these particular letters to identify the writer. frank anuse asked if another examiner would find the same similarities in the same letters. the answer was, "given equal training, they should pick out the same things that i did." he went on to explain that examples were given in books and the document examiners studied the books. on being asked if the material could have been written by an expert forger, he answered much differently than the first document examiner. "who would know? i'm not saying it couldn't be done, but i don't feel that it was." if the women on the panel had been alert, they would have challenged a scientist that felt a conclusion--feelings were more in the realm of the arts. science was supposed to deal with facts. he explained that he had asked for more standards because the ones sent were not complete. yet the first analyst had said she was one-hundred-percent certain on the basis of what was sent. "i wanted more recent samples to see what variations there were. we don't write every letter the same every time. we look for the range." asked if handwriting analysis was as exact as fingerprints, he said, "it is as individual and as unique as fingerprints." yet when asked if a number of different analysts looked at the same documents, would they all agree, he answered, "if they had equal training and experience." after a short recess, diana was allowed to examine the witness. her first question was directed toward the authenticity of the standards submitted. "do you know of your own knowledge that the exemplars sent to you were all written by me?" "no." she turned to henry and said, "then, i request that this report be removed from evidence since it states facts that this examiner declares are false." while henry looked at her incredulously, she read from the examiner's report, illustrating all the places where the standards were referred to as being her handwriting or printing. henry was outraged. "of course, when he writes that in his report, he means that he is using my communication with him. i wrote that these were samples of your handwriting, that i had every reason to believe that they were." diana persisted. "i see nothing in the report to the effect that he was `told' anything as you state. he very definitely writes that they are standards of my handwriting. now he says under oath that he does not know. these errors nullify the report." "i feel that the report tells us what we asked from the document examiners." with that, henry thought, the book is closed. no one could argue with that. you get what you pay for. case closed. doggedly, diana continued. "did you do a top of the letter pattern?" "i beg your pardon. would you explain what you mean by top of the letter pattern?" with subsequent questions, diana established that he did not know what bottom of the letter pattern, space pattern or slant pattern were. these techniques, common to document examiners, were completely unknown to this so-called expert. trenchant explained to him what these common handwriting tests were all about. it was then established that he only did a letter comparison. he claimed that the other tests or techniques, "were done by graphologists." his attitude made crystal clear that he considered graphologists to be a very dirty word. "i," he continued, with a conceited accent on the word, "am a document examiner." when diana named her source of information and held up the book of a prominent document examiner, his reply was, "that person must come from a different viewpoint that i do." "it appears that what you refer to as graphologists, in your profession, are much more thorough in their analysis of handwriting and printing than you are. the author of this book makes a point of insisting on original, authenticated standards and doing several different types of measurements. the idea being that when they decide a document's author, it is based on several different tests. "you did only a letter by letter comparison then. every letter?" "a majority of them." it turned out not to be the case. diana brought up letter after letter that the analyst had not found a match to. "s" was one of them. looking hastily through the so-called standards, avery finally found one, but it was a printed capital "s" which he was saying was a match for a small case scripted "s" found at the end of a word. for all that time and trouble, he discovered it in a signature purported to have been written by diana twenty years ago! this document also contained the writing of more than one person, and the signature itself was written by diana's daughter. other discrepancies were brought out. t's that were not crossed, small i's with a backward slant, the written letter r which looked like a u. these and other examples of letters found in the `suspicious' smurffs, were not found to be represented in twenty years worth of material allegedly copied from the files. "it doesn't matter," avery asserted. "i mean it is entirely possible that the writer could have made an r like that even though i can't show you an example." "you were given samples of what you were told was my handwriting that covered twenty to thirty years?" "yes." "is it not true that a person's handwriting may change due to injury or disease such as osteoporosis, rheumatism or arthritis?" "i would agree that a person's handwriting can change over the years." "do you know of any statistical studies pertaining to the accuracy of handwriting analysis?" "accuracy?" "yes. is it %, % or % accurate? do you know of any studies made?" "it is % accurate. it is allowed in the courts." "wait a minute. are you saying the courts have made a study?" "i don't know if such a study has been made. but the courts allow handwriting identification testimony to be given." "that is damn different than statistical tests of accuracy. tell me this. courts allow juries to give verdicts of guilty or not guilty, is that correct?" "yes." "that doesn't mean that they are always correct in their assessment, that just means that the court accepts it, right?" "yes." "you are aware that the courts accept and allow testimony from any number of so-called experts in many different fields such as doctors, psychologists, engineers and natural scientist, just to name a few? "yes." "this does not necessarily mean that all of these are one hundred percent correct in their testimony. it just means that the court accepts and allows it. is that correct?" "yes." "sources of error can exist in handwriting analysis, can they not? there are a lot of judgment calls just like there is in most professions, isn't that correct?" "yes." "so we really have no evidence that handwriting analysis is infallible. in fact, there are document examiners that are honest enough not to claim that." "well, they must be graphologists. we are on a different basis and it cannot be carried over to what we are doing." trenchant then named a well known document examiner and asked if avery knew of him. "of course." "is he a graphologist?" "no." "we talked to him about this situation and asked him questions. unfortunately, it was much too expensive to bring him here to testify, however, he did agree to make an affidavit. i will read from it now. quote. `it is my opinion that the identification of handwriting is not as positive as fingerprint identification. while a document examiner may feel that his or her opinion is percent positive, the facts are that the opinion is based on qualifications, training, experience and judgment, any of which may be limiting or otherwise subject to question. in addition, the known standards used in the comparison for the belmont case may be tainted or under dispute.'" "i don't agree." the document examiner said, visibly upset. henry called a recess. when the session opened again, diana asked, "if you had your druthers, would you agree with other document examiners that original standards are preferable to copies?" "yes." "you have said that you could not reach a conclusion from the first lot of so-called standards sent to you. if you had not been sent all that additional material going back to years, what would have been your conclusion?" "i would have no conclusion." "i am interested in your report of this note. the other unknown material you were sent was written on evaluation forms. i am speaking now of the note." trenchant held up her copy. avery nodded and located his copy among the papers before him on the table. "now, you report that you cannot be sure of the authorship of this note which has quite a few words but you can be sure of the authorship of this evaluation form which has only two words." avery found the other document referred to and looked at them and then at his notes. "yes," he agreed. "i could not be sure of the note because it contains block printing." "so do these other smurffs that you say you have identified. there is some block printing on the note that we are talking about, but most of it is small case printing." "well, there were not enough individualistic examples in the note to be sure." henry wished that they had never let that note be sent to the document examiners. it had been nothing but trouble and was not related to the smurff forgery that diana was charged with. that damn note which had come out of nowhere--reportedly given lyle by his good friend but never verified, was not identified as being written by diana by either of the two document examiner firms. the two examiners also differed on the identification of one of the `suspect' medical school smurffs. one was sure of exhibit but not of . the other was sure of but not of . henry recalled that now both document examiner witnesses agreed that the handwriting did change over the years. jesus, if this woman keeps it up, she'll destroy all our evidence. quickly, henry stepped in and amos avery, the second document examiner that the belmont administration had hired, was excused. chapter after avery left the hearing room, diana put the expert document examiner's affidavit, that she had read from, into evidence. the expert had sworn in this affidavit that all of the student evaluations for the medical school courses for those years should be analyzed. it was possible that another person or persons had handwriting or printing that was similar to diana's. she read this portion to the committee and added that she hoped they would read the complete affidavit which contained several pages of the document examiner's credentials. all along, the women kept their eyes either on these papers or on the witness. they steadfastly refused to look at diana or at the chair. they asked few questions of the witness, tonelessly, and did not ask any follow up or clarifying questions. annette gives new dimension to the act of keeping a low profile, thought henry. her demeanor resembles that of a puppy that has just been whipped for pissing on the new carpet. jane, on the other hand, adopts a superior mien. her greatly elevated nose brings her whole being into an altitude seemingly far above the detestable situation she finds herself in. as for esther, well, she's a wreck. never terribly lucid in her thought processes, she babbles incoherently and then apologizes when asked to repeat them. her piggy eyes dart from witness to her papers in a flurry of indecisiveness. frank anuse is up to form though and really enjoying it. henry watched frank proudly as he flung diana a shit eatin' grin at every opportunity and at times actually taunted her in a way reminiscent of a town bully. at this point in the proceedings, anuse laughed aloud in a derisive, taunting fashion, causing everyone on the panel to look at him in shocked silence. the chair put up a warning hand. esther, all the way out in left field and looking bewildered asked, "i don't remember. did we receive something from the students?" diana stood up and walked over to where anuse sat. jowl to jowl with him, she said succinctly, "it isn't funny, mr. frank anuse. it is not funny, it is serious." to esther, she said, "you probably don't see everything that comes in or goes out of this committee. "again, i want to state that i have been denied access to all these student evaluations that are needed for my defense. in addition, this committee has steadfastly refused to confirm the testimony of their witnesses concerning these documents by demanding that they be produced." diana returned to her chair. her attorney, al garret, leaned over and whispered into her ear. he congratulated her on heeding his advice to be assertive and demanding. diana continued, "i would like to call dr. stacy denton who has information on the writing of the suspect documents." "is this. . .", henry floundered. "is this new information referring to the document examiner we just heard from? this hearing is restricted, as i told you, to his testimony and--" "this witness has very pertinent information for the committee regarding my innocence of your charges." "we do need to restrict this hearing" "dr. denton has been waiting nearly three hours to give her testimony." the chair shrugged and muttered under his breath. what would simon murrain advise. i need time to think about it. aloud he said, "the committee will recess to discuss this." everyone was told to leave the hearing room except the committee. when they were alone, henry made it clear. "we must limit this hearing only to the evidence we presented." jane, with grave misgivings concerning her future at belmont, rose to the occasion. "i think we need to hear this. we should at least appear to be giving her a fair hearing." "she's already had that," snapped back henry. "this hearing is expressly for confirming the findings of the first document examiners. nothing else." anuse, who had watched the others leave the hearing room unexpectedly sided with jane and urged caution. "perhaps we should hear her, henry. those damn reporters are still out there. if we don't let her testify, it will be the lead story in tomorrow's paper." "still there, are they? bothersome creatures! well, that puts a different face on it." he sat for a moment in thought. he'd had his orders. they were to wind this up fast. "all right. we'll hear that witness, however, i am declaring this hearing closed as of right now. her testimony will appear to be heard by the panel and will be in the minutes to keep the attorney general and the press off our backs. "but make no mistake, any of you." he looked around at all the committee members, his face stern and his voice threatening, "we meet tomorrow at nine o'clock right here to sign this report that you have already seen. i'll redraft it to indicate that we have had this additional testimony, but essentially, it will read the same. is that clear?" chapter the hearing resumed. dr. stacy denton was sworn and diana thanked her for waiting so long. "would you please state your qualifications as an expert witness?" "yes, but first i must ask that you waive the privilege of confidentiality." "of course. i absolutely waive the privilege of confidentiality so that you may respond to my questions and those of the panel." stacy then delivered a long list of professional qualifications having to do both with mental health counseling and organizational consulting. as she was giving the requested information, jane wished the panel could hear of the immense prestige dr. stacy denton had acquired throughout the university community over the years that she had been a part of the counseling department. not only was she widely acclaimed, she was genuinely liked and successful as a person, in the department she directed. at the age of , she had shown abilities in her field that most did not acquire until their later years. this caused some annoyance for her since she was constantly besieged by other counseling agencies all over the country, to come to them. jane remembered that when she had felt the shackles of threat surround her, and realized that she really had no voice or will on the committee, she had called stacy. of course stacy could not tell her that she had counseled diana at the time she was first charged. she could only listen to jane's anguish at her own impotence. it was only after diana had called to ask stacy if she would be willing to sign an affidavit for the federal court action, that stacy could see a way to do something. she offered to also appear as a witness at this final belmont hearing if it were felt she would be needed. few people of her stature would have waited outside the hearing room as she did, knowing that the committee might not even hear her testimony. she testified that she had seen diana professionally several times and that in her years of experience and training she had learned techniques to determine behavior. "i saw no evidence that diana was lying, dissimulating or faking. i should say that in my position here, i see many people who are in trouble and there is a pattern to these reactions. she exhibited what we in the profession call the typical victim reaction. "in subsequent visits, i did a more thorough mental status exam. i used all sorts of techniques that uncover whether a person may be unconsciously suppressing the fact that she wrote something, or did something. "i believe that she could not have been lying." stacy said succinctly. "she was too upset, too shocked, to really fake me out." henry carefully distorted her words in the recommendation the committee later signed and sent to the pope to read, `the psychologist found that diana trenchant had a genuine victim response and truly believes herself to be innocent.' a far, and exceedingly prejudiced, cry from the actual testimony of the psychologist. in fact, in the six page document, he devoted only ten lines to diana and her witnesses testimony-- one short paragraph! diana asked stacy if she could, without violating confidentiality, tell of similar cases at belmont where a faculty person had been accused of wrong doing. "it happens quite frequently, perhaps as often as once a month-- certainly a regular event. and in none of these cases which might involve repeated incidents of drunkenness, sexual harassment, and, well, i can't go into details, but these are serious areas of misconduct that i'm referring to--not something as insignificant as seven smurffs! in none of these cases was the person ever told to resign or face a termination for cause hearing. the problem was handled by the proper department head. either a warning was given or appropriate disciplinary action was taken." when diana asked if the committee had any questions, jane, in an attempt to demonstrate the proficiency of this expert witness, once again bravely ventured forth asking stacy to delineate some of the techniques used in this case and how she evaluated them. the psychologist did this clearly and precisely, giving the methods used and how diana reacted. it was very illuminating testimony and totally ignored, except by the women who had hoped that it might cause henry to listen. at one point, anuse tried to twist stacy's words around so it appeared that she was been saying that diana had denied that there was any trouble with any person in the department. stacy denton set him securely and competently back on his heels, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that she was no person to try those tactics on. chapter when stacy had been excused, the chair was ready to adjourn. on the advice of her attorney, diana requested that it be on the record that, anuse, one of the panel members had acted throughout the hearing in a manner prejudicial and threatening to diana and to her witnesses. henry was livid with anger. "you are out of order. you are making statements about people on the committee that has nothing to do with this. your comment will not be entered and the committee will disregard it." how typical of that woman to state the obvious, he fumed inwardly. always before, while ruling, he had kept his cool and at least glanced at the panel members for assent or dissent. this time he ably demonstrated that the show of democratic procedure was only that-- a show. damn her. she had unglued him that time. in any event, diana was refused permission to enter the evidence she had that would have shown that anuse was biased. next, diana reviewed the poor performance given by the document examiner. "he testified that he could not make a decision on the first set of exemplars sent him. then when he was sent twenty years' worth of documents containing the handwriting of multiple individuals, he claimed that he disregarded most of it. she went over all of the individual letters in the `suspect' evaluations that avery had not been able to match with anything in the writing he used as standards. "this shows that there were as many non-matches as matches in his presentation." the panel listened passively, then henry asked if that was her final statement. "no," she answered. "i shall read that now." she picked up the paper which had been written mostly by her attorney and edited by her. it was designed to get the legal points on the record so that they could be presented later in a court of law. "we are at the end of another hearing and it is a grim page in the rights of faculty members of this university. i have been tried by a committee which is chaired by the prosecuting official. he has reopened proceedings, engaged in ex parte communications, received legal advice from the prosecution's lawyer and denied me the opportunity to even examine the evidence against me. "a faculty member at any state college, and indeed, a mail room employee in the state motor vehicle department would have more rights than you have given me." henry tuned her out. all this legal stuff, he thought, is just to give her attorney crap to fill a brief. murrain had told him this would probably happen. now, what's this? alertly, henry listened. "there are strong reasons to believe this panel has operated in violation of my state and federal rights. if this committee does not end this unfortunate proceeding, the u.s. district court will finally have to determine these issues. "this committee, at the last hearing, made several promises to me and i was fool enough to believe them. it said that it would issue a decision within a few weeks; instead, it launched a new investigation of its own without my knowledge or participation which consumed over half a year. second, this committee assured me that i would not be affected by these charges as i continued my teaching assignments in the department. `go back to work,' you all assured me at the last hearing. `everything is taken care of.' i went back and was ordered to move out of my office into a corner of the nutrition teaching lab. i was denied a telephone and given no help in moving my things. my name has been removed from the department mail boxes and department meetings are held when i am teaching classes. for these many months, while you reopened the investigation behind my back, i have been a non-person in my department." jane shifted in her chair uneasily. she recalled how all of these promises had been made when the panel had ended the first hearing. in fact, she had made some of them herself. it had seemed then, she reflected, that the evidence against diana was inconclusive and that the majority of the panel felt this was so. she had expected that just a simple vote of the panel would send diana back to her classroom where she belonged. "i have served this university for nearly a quarter-century. students have consistently reviewed my efforts favorably and that is a source of much consternation in my department. the entire central administration is prosecuting me, angered because i insisted on minimal rights. for example: i refused to have my job eliminated or my copyrighted manual used without my consent. they are determined to terminate me and have spared no resources in support of that goal. it would appear that some of these efforts violate my rights under state law, federal law, and the constitution. that's really what it's all about, decided annette, as she kept her head lowered and her eyes fastened on the unseen files before her. violation of her rights. violation of my rights to freely consider the evidence both for and against her and render an impartial judgment. "i believe this case represents what is in store for a person who does not remain in the favor of those who determine policy for this university. "i have been accused of writing seven smurffs over a two year period. only five of these seven were alleged to have been detrimental to two faculty men, ian and randy. this is five out of the six to eight hundred submitted for medical radiology during that time. at a minimum, even were these charges true, the misconduct of which i am accused would be dishonesty, but of a variety with no real import or effect." diana stopped and reached for the glass of water in front of her. i wish i could tell these people what it has been like working here in this university for the last twenty-five years. if they would only listen, i'd throw out this prepared statement in a flash and start with. . .her thoughts went back only a very few years, to before the affirmative action laws. she recalled vividly how she was treated, what women were subjected to--still subjected to, she amended, wryly. lewd, suggestive poses of women in every lab and office. huge posters on many doors facing the hallways. projections via slides of scantily or unclothed women in provocative poses that were used to "illustrate" lecture material and treated with derision by the male lecturer. we couldn't complain because we were told that if we didn't like it we could leave. we were told that this activity was normal and healthy. we were told that if we found it offensive, we must be `queer'. and then that wonderful day when sally, a woman graduate student, found and placed on her door, a large full length picture of an unclad male. he was young and pleasant looking--like the boy next door. no suggestiveness here. just the human male form. his penis hung quietly from his pelvis, as unremarkable and vulnerable as the breast of an old woman. but what an uproar it caused. the men were furious. they clucked and cackled like a bunch of biddy hens which had been surprised by a predator's invasion of the hen house. diana held the glass to her mouth for a few moments more even though she was not drinking to stifle the smile that was trying to force itself into being from the memory. the offending poster was quickly torn down, torn up and still the cacophony continued unabated. that is, until sally was called in to the nerd chairman's office. when she emerged, she packed up her belongings and left. of course, we can't have that kind of sexual depravity continue. the men were certainly united in that decision. how quickly and easily they can fire women for whatever men define as impropriety. she continued with her statement. "we have seen no evidence that any faculty were injured by those smurffs. the evaluations that had an impact were the hundreds of evaluations that we have not seen despite my efforts to have them made available for this hearing. if these faculty had problems, it was with their teaching. "there is no evidence or any proof as to when, or even if, these seven smurffs were submitted. "the administration has not shown any motive on my part to fabricate and submit them. what i am really accused of is manipulating student opinion to deny ian and randy tenure, when, in fact, neither have been denied tenure and i have not manipulated student opinion. if student evaluations improved the year that i did not teach in the course, it was in part because previous criticisms have been taken to heart and teaching improved in the course. and also because ian specifically instructed the students to make only positive comments. you could verify this by talking to the medical students, but you are not allowed to." esther tried to follow diana's words and rebut each point as she heard it but was overcome by the simple truth of what she was hearing. she, too, had been convinced that the handwriting evidence was not to be trusted. one of the people in her department had once worked at nerd. she had confirmed the status of diana in the department and corroborated what she had told the panel. esther shrugged. too bad, can't be helped, she thought. "evidence was introduced at this hearing without being authenticated. hundreds of smurffs were described but shown to no one. professional witnesses were used against me yet i was not allowed to have an attorney cross-examine them. and the ultimate injustice is that the prosecution official is the chair of the hearing panel! "i do not believe that i ever had a chance in these proceedings. if the administration's evidence is insufficient, you reopen the hearing and get more, using unauthenticated material. if i am effectively questioning a witness, interrupt me, as you did countless times. if there is evidence on my behalf, you deny it to me." frank anuse was delightedly and avidly listening to diana's closing statement. god, he thought. you can sure tell that it was written by a lawyer and he's pulled out all the stops. what a tear jerker, he judged, cynically. as if any of what she was saying mattered. the facts were that we decide what will be correct, not the stupid courts. besides, she's getting what she deserves after what she put me through with that complaint to the affirmative action office because i didn't interview male applicants for positions in my department. he raged inwardly as he remembered the time he had to spend to comply with the order to produce all of his records and defend all of his placements. damned uppity bitch. "this panel has simply followed the lead of the prosecutor, henry tarbuck, and allowed him to continue to dictate to you without question--without thought of equal treatment. "i am aware, as you are, that a male faculty member was recently convicted of child molesting, given a leave of absence and then replaced in his position without loss of pay or tenure. is what you accuse me of doing worse than child molestation?" diana let the question hang in the air for several moments while she looked at the panel. only henry and anuse returned her gaze, the women kept their eyes steadfastly on their papers which they held like shields before them. useless, she thought, then aloud said, "thank you. i have concluded my statement." "i would like to clarify a few things," henry began pontifically. "the record will show that the remarks you have made are your opinions. we will not respond to them. i want to make it clear, however, that i am a chairman of a committee of the faculty--not the prosecutor." there, he thought selfrighteously, that will show her that i can quote my lawyer too. "secondly, we do not decide anything. we will not recommend anything. we are merely the investigating committee which makes the report." chapter true to form, henry adjourned the second hearing with lies-- it didn't matter, he reflected, we have the power. the hearing panel met the next day. each person was given a copy of the report that henry had prepared. "read it and when you have finished, come over here and sign this original. i will require that you turn in your copies today. you are to keep this report in confidence." "when is diana to be notified?" timidly, esther asked the question, raising her eyes from the document she was reading. "in good time. when it is deemed appropriate." henry was terse in his reply, warning that no further questions from the other members of the committee would be tolerated. following this, esther sent a letter to the pope asking him not to terminate diana. later, she would show copies of this letter to the staff and faculty women who criticized her for signing such a malicious report. "we had to sign it. we had no choice, but see--i tried to help her!" henry sent a copy of the hearing panel's report to diana late in march. it was in the form of a memorandum addressed to the pope. even though the report had been signed early in february, it was dated march st, as were all the signatures at the end. the report of six pages had four parts: factual history; procedures followed; findings on considerations; and recommendations. surprise, surprise--after maintaining in two separate hearings that the committee only gave a report and would not recommend any action. actually there was little in the report that came as any surprise. the so-called `factual history' was a composite of the testimony of lyle, ian and randy. it was carefully written. it reported that, "lyle had discovered several `suspicious' student feedback forms. . ." when in fact he had said two. the report was redolent with accusation. phrases such as ". . .she forged. . ." and ". . .department could not tolerate forgery. . ." were found throughout and put in a context difficult to justify. one of these sentences read: "given the opinion of the handwriting experts that she had `forged student course evaluations in a manner designed to denigrate the performance of co-faculty members', the chairman of nerd decided to seek termination for cause." thus the document examiners were not only given credit for identifying a person's handwriting, but henry claimed they were able to read the intent of the person whom they said wrote the material examined. nowhere in the hearing were their clairvoyant abilities established. indeed, the entire section contained nothing of the events as testified to by diana and her witnesses. the section on the `procedures followed' was again taken from what henry had decided were the procedures followed and wickedly slanted against diana. it did not mention that the reason thirty-two additional standards were sent to the second document examiner was because he could not make a decision on the basis of the standards sent to the first one. instead, it claimed that the second document examiner confirmed the results of the first. it also omitted to add that the standards sent were abysmally poor copies from microfiche, covered a period of years and included handwriting and printing of many different people. henry thought the section called `findings on considerations', was a gem. after he had finished writing it, he had leaned back in his chair and mentally patted himself on the back. here was contained the only mention that there had been other testimony entered into the hearing. here, in the entire six page report, only lines were devoted to the witnesses for diana. the testimony of sarah, he tersely dismissed with: "one student witness identified one of the suspect critiques and claimed that she (the student) had written it, but the claim was not substantiated because the student would not have her handwriting examined." months later, the investigator for the attorney general would note that incident in the transcript of the hearing and make the following comment in her report. "did the committee really expect that the hired experts could, at a point when opinions had been stated under oath, seriously undertake a fresh analysis of the questioned document?" henry's report gave no indication that the standards were unauthenticated or why diana was not asked to write for the document examiners to produce authenticated ones. all of the testimony of diana was totally ignored. it was as if she had never appeared at the hearing--a non-person status like that maintained against her by her department since the accusation was first made. of course it follows that the `recommendation' section would state, true to the faculty handbook's rhetoric, that termination was recommended since diana had demonstrated a lack of professional and moral fitness. the court and attorney general chapter in the days following the hearing, the belmont administration directed its attention to the complaint brought against it in the county superior court. on its behalf, attorney simon murrain began the usual returns from the baseline destined to increase costs, delay judgment and frustrate justice. the analogy to tennis is not farfetched. one side, the plaintiff via her attorney, al garret, serves. a volley of paper ensues from both sides directed at each other, but under the supervision and rule of the official, a judge. where the analogy loses ground is that very little action occurs in the court. sure, the plaintiff and respondent and the lawyers must show up for hearings, but most everything goes on in the judges' chambers. simon murrain had a great deal of practice in delaying tactics. over the last four years, seven people had brought suit against belmont for sex discrimination. all seven had been forced to withdraw as their cases dragged on and on and their resources dwindled. simon's initial move this time was to have the case go to a higher court, in this instance the united states district court. this move placed two additional burdens on the plaintiff and her attorney. first, the cost of the proceedings was greater than at the district level and second, the travel distance to attend hearings increased fifty-fold. an advantage was also inadvertently given. the judge who was appointed to sit at this session was known for his fairness and knowledge of the law. al garret immediately filed an amended complaint to the federal court which could rule on federal laws as well as state. in it, he listed six charges against belmont university: . violation of due process; . violation of constitutional law; . violation of the state administrative procedures act; . violation of the state open meeting law; . violation of the state access to public records and . violation of the fair employment practices act. with the listing of these charges, he asked that the court issue a restraining order, an injunction that would order the respondent, belmont university, to grant the plaintiff her right to a fair and impartial hearing by the university and access to the documents that had been withheld from her. it was at this time, shortly after the final university hearing had ended, that diana began getting threatening phone calls. she was told to drop the court proceedings if she didn't want something really bad to happen to her. after the initial hearing on the complaint and before any decision was handed down by the judge, murrain filed a motion for summary judgment on counts three, four, five and six--all of the counts related to state law. in effect, he was asking the judge to throw out the four charges for lack of validity. his motion caused a veritable flurry of other motions from both sides and effectively delayed the process of law by dividing the charges. it also increased the cost to the plaintiff. it was a gamble for the university. if it paid off, it would cut the charges down to two-- both federal, while disposing of all the others. if it didn't? no problem, there were always appeals to be made that could continue the process indefinitely. at the hearing on these motions, al garret limited his argument to a synopsis of his brief. he carefully related the applicable laws and requested that the defendant, belmont university, be ordered to grant a fair, open hearing to the plaintiff, diana. also, that the plaintiff be supplied with the student feedback evaluations she had requested and that had been denied to her. al was an intelligent work-horse of an attorney. at , he took his legal duties seriously. his heavy glasses with their thick rims gave him a scholastic air. all that was needed to complete the image of absent minded professor was a pipe. he had diligently searched the literature for precedents which he presented to the judge in a mild but measured tone. a reasonable man, he projected this image to the court and made a fine presentation. no sparkle, just facts and precedents clearly presented. when the judge turned his attention to the respondent, simon murrain stood to address the court looking more like a walking advertisement for expensive men's wear than an attorney. simon oozed charm with all the proficiency of a hangman leading the way to the gallows. close to al in age, simon was of a different bent. his argument was presented with show and words-- it worked well with juries who tended to watch him instead of what he said. today, there was no jury present, but his modus operandi didn't change. "your honor," he commenced. "the plaintiff was given a fair hearing under the rules of belmont university. she was given due process. despite the fact that she forged many evaluation forms causing untold harm to two young faculty persons, the university made every effort to treat her with fairness and consideration." he continued for some time in the same vein, constantly and consistently referring to the plaintiff as a forger--a criminal. gleefully, murrain reflected, in court, we attorneys can say anything, or most anything, we want to. we do not have to operate under the constraints imposed on the rest of the populace and preface a charge with the word alleged. truth is not required of us either, although most judges attempt to keep the elocution within the bounds of propriety. another check in the system is the presence of the opposing attorney who is supposed to function to limit any freewheeling antics of his colleague by appealing to the judge. but al did not object to simon's presentation. he felt confident that the judge would rule on the law, not on the performance. besides, he rather enjoyed watching and listening to simon's kind of theater. following the hearing, the wait began. how would the judge decide? when would the judge decide? even though the hearing committee at belmont had made its report and recommendation to terminate, the actual termination letter had not yet been sent. from the time she was accused, diana had found life at work to be difficult. as a plaintiff, in a lawsuit against belmont, it was nearly impossible. nearly, that is, because her students never wavered in their efforts to encourage and help her. it was during this wait that factual information was obtained concerning a dean at belmont who had falsified a faculty promotion sheet. the occurrence had been rumored, but now the players were known. al garret had talked to the principals of the event and obtained two affidavits attesting to the misconduct and subsequent lack of punishment awarded the dean who was still employed at the university. the man had suffered no loss of rank or pay for his transgression. these affidavits were added to the pile of papers already on file with the judge. early in june, the opinion and order of the judge arrived. al garret's third charge had been thrown out by the judge who wrote that the law cited did not apply to belmont university. the other three charges were sustained. on charge number four, relating to the open meeting law, the judge wrote in part: "to permit this hearing panel to operate outside the open meeting law would be to enable the university to take round-about steps to avoid its public duty." he continued by describing the hearing panel as resembling, ". . .the type of secret activities the open meeting law seeks to prevent. . ." and suggested that if the panel had considered any area to be extremely sensitive, it could have gone into executive session. even this he qualified--asserting that it was subject to the plaintiff's right to a public hearing. as to the public record law, charge number five, he ruled that the plaintiff should have access to the evaluations requested. "the court finds," he wrote, "that belmont must comply with the public records law." finally, on charge number six, relating to the fair employment law, the judge found the evidence submitted to be sufficient to indicate retaliatory, sexual discrimination. a few days later, with this opinion and order from the court in hand, john t. pope, president of belmont university, terminated the plaintiff, effective immediately. the pope's action was expected by everyone except al garret, diana's attorney--he still thought he'd won the case. belmont had been thumbing its nose at the judicial system as long as anyone could remember. diana trenchant packed up the teaching and research accumulations of nearly twenty-five years and left for home. neither the president nor any of the vees could be reached for comment. however, bob alastar, the pr for belmont, called in the press. "we have no comment," he asserted. "it is the university's policy not to discuss personnel decisions with the press." now there was a new angle in the threatening phone calls to the plaintiff. the caller would start out in a friendly fashion. in a conversational tone, he would advise diana to, "go down to the courthouse and examine the court records for the past ten years. just check the directory for all the cases that belmont has been involved in and read the outcome. the court clerk will help you." then the voice would become threatening. "you will see that no one has ever won a case against belmont. it owns the courts and it owns the lawyers. you'll lose all your money and you'll be hurt in other ways. it can and will make appeal after appeal. it can and will tie this case up for years. give it up before you get hurt." chapter the investigation by the attorney general continued. when she tried to interview potential witnesses at belmont, she was prevented by the administration. "do not even talk with her," was the gag order that went out from the central administration of belmont to every chair and director. these lesser administrators were told to alert their departments or units and advise all faculty, staff and students not to cooperate in her investigation. for a while, the investigation lagged. it was hoped that as tempers cooled and reason reasserted itself, the university would be more receptive to the questions posed by the a.g. it was, after all, to their benefit to answer the questions. it was an opportunity to get their position known because the report, when completed, would be sent to the eeoc. it would have considerable influence on research grants applied for by belmont faculty. the cooling off period solved nothing. belmont administration was adamant. they had done the right thing. there was nothing to investigate. the incident had ended. the pope had spoken. actually, the pope was doing more than speaking--he was engaged in composing excuses and explanations. supporters of diana had sent the judge's order, or excerpts from it, to state legislators, faculty, staff, students, alumni, trustees and any other person that had expressed interest in the lawsuit. this had resulted in hundreds of letters and phone calls to the pope and members of his administration as well as to the board of trustees. "what is going on?" one of the first callers demanded, having insisted, and gotten the pope on the line. "you fired a good teacher after a judge ruled that she had not received a fair hearing?" "our hearing panel gave her a fair hearing, sir. the newspapers have just blown this up to sell papers," the pope replied, holding back his anger with difficulty and making his voice sound terribly knowledgeable. "the judge said you didn't. i saw his order. was the hearing open? did you give her all the documents she requested, or not?" the caller was insistent. "well, sir, it's not that simple. our policy is to protect the employee so we always have closed hearings. there was no need to produce the documents in question. the hearing panel was confident that they were not needed." "i don't care about how your hearing panel or how your policy goes. i'm asking about an excellent teacher who has served our university for nearly a quarter of a century. if she did what you have accused her of . . . good god, man! five out of thousands--what difference could that make? you've made yourself look silly." the pope took no more calls after that except from the trustees. he could not escape their critical views but with the help of his handpicked chairman of the board, he managed to placate most of them. one secretary was placed full-time answering letters and the vees were called on to answer the phone calls and talk to any one who came to the offices. consumption of antacid increased astronomically in "vice alley"--lair of the vees. pr man, alastar and all the vees were carefully coached to suggest to the callers that diana trenchant had really done something unspeakable and that the charge that was aired was "only the tip of the iceberg." they also were told to hint concerning her motives. she was "thought to have so desired the chairmanship of the department. . ." or "she was delusional in her assertion that she had written any course material, etc. . ." or "she was not really the type of woman that normal women, those with husbands or boyfriends, wanted to associate with. . ." or. . . meanwhile, back at the court, legal papers piled up anew. diana felt helpless, drawn along in a maelstrom of chaos. a veritable barrage of verbiage flew to the court, like guided missiles, from both attorneys. they were couched in legal parlance and cushioned on expensive, patterned vellum. for every submission, there was a filing fee, hours of research and multiple law-firm billings. for each batch of documents sent to the court, copies were made to send to the opposing attorney, the file and sometimes, even the plaintiff. occasionally, a hearing on one or another of the various motions was called. when this happened, the lawyers and the plaintiff were joined by the judge, his clerk and the court stenographer. each attorney blew smoke--substantial as ghost poop. the judge sat in the air high above the arena and pondered. at times, he would interrupt and admonish. periodically he would ask a question and these were the interesting moments as each attorney had a different answer. the lawyer for the defense only knew what he had been told by henry tarbuck and henry only knew what he had been told by lyle. diana's attorney knew only what she had told him and it was obvious there was a lot that he hadn't remembered. how little the truth counted in these proceedings, diana thought as she listened to the screw up. neither of these men, who are being questioned and are the only ones allowed to speak, were at belmont when these events were occurring. most of the time they are way out in left field with their answers. and here i sit, mute because the system demands it, unable to clear up the confusion. all this money spent and the judge still doesn't understand what the smurffs are. he asked for clarification and got gibberish. there's the gavel. one more useless hearing is over with. then, just as winter was getting a firm grip on the land, the attorney general released her report. diana and her supporters were jubilant. the local paper printed and the tv and radio blared: "a strongly worded report from the a.g.'s office to president pope maintains that professor was fired unjustly." the a.g.'s thirty page comprehensive letter of determination (lod), made it clear right at the beginning that the belmont administration had refused to cooperate in the investigation. it emphasized that, "the university declined to make available people and information." at the end of the lod, it reiterated belmont's non-cooperation. the lod went on to state that the university had held termination for cause hearings. sworn testimony was taken which had been completely transcribed by a court reporter. this transcript and the court records relating to the illegal termination suit were used in this investigation since the belmont administration refused to cooperate with the attorney general. it took the form of a letter to the pope. in stark contrast to henry's report, the lod reviewed the history of the allegations against diana, giving the charges and the response to these charges, equal weight and importance. this information was from the transcript which contained the sworn statements of all the university personnel involved in the hearing--those people who were prevented by the administration from talking to the a.g. investigator. it also reviewed the testimony of diana and her witnesses. reference was made to the testimony of the three document examiners--two presented by belmont, the affidavit of the one submitted by diana at the second hearing. the point was made early on that the specific charge which resulted in termination was that diana had written seven evaluations out of some one thousand submitted. five of these were alleged to have injured two faculty members. it emphasized that testimony indicated that there were no performance problems with diana. ". . .testimony from both sides established that she was highly regarded by her students, was very dependable and a hard worker." it noted that while expert witnesses, the document examiners and the university attorney, were used to testify against diana, she was not allowed an attorney to conduct a competent cross examination. stating that even though supportive documents were not presented at the hearing, "the committee accepted testimonial evidence on the contents of them," it concluded that ". . .this represented the most serious deprivation of fundamental fairness that occurred. any concept of a fair administrative hearing, even one conducted without regard to strict rules of evidence, could not include the admission of testimonial evidence of the contents of documents which were available only to the party presenting the evidence." commenting on the dissatisfaction of the committee with the testimony of the first document examiner, the lod stated that, "rather than reject the testimony and find trenchant innocent, the committee continued the hearing and hired another document examiner. this one disputed the findings of the first and required more standards. the documents provided by belmont were exceedingly poor copies of file contents, much of which was over twenty years old. most of these so-called standards contained the handwriting of more than one person. at no time was any evidence presented that showed the standards sent by the administration to the handwriting analysts to be the writing of diana." remarking on the fact that the committee was chaired by henry tarbuck who had already decided that diana was guilty, the a. g. wrote, "the committee applied different rules of evidence to her and her witnesses, it badgered them and cautioned them against giving hearsay testimony. "the committee rejected direct evidence by one student who testified under oath that she had written one of the `suspect' documents. it ignored the testimony of diana as well as that of her witnesses." then the lod turned to the report from the hearing committee that henry had authored. one paragraph stated: "the effect of the suspect critiques on the two people who were said to have been hurt by them had not been assessed, but did affect the individuals involved." to this, the a.g. declared, "one questions the committee's findings as an accurate reflection of the evidence. no underlying facts were stated by the committee that explain its findings that `individuals were affected,' nor does the committee state how it could make that finding while stating that it had not examined the effect." as precedents or comparison, the lod reported that no penalties were imposed on two male belmont faculty members, one who had altered promotion papers, the other convicted of child molestation. it quoted the testimony of stacy denton, the university psychologist. she had declared she knew of many instances of faculty misconduct more serious than what was alleged in this case. those people had not been terminated. concluding that the university's stated explanation for terminating diana was not worthy of credence, the report found there existed probable cause for sex and age discrimination and disparate discipline by belmont against diana. the lod was sent to the regional eeoc office which accepted it and confirmed the acceptance with the a.g. by phone. the newspapers and television reporters had a field day with it. diana and her supporters felt vindicated beyond measure. almost everyone believed that it was all over--that diana had won. congratulatory letters and phone calls flowed to diana and belmont university administration was given a verbal drubbing. chapter the university pr system was cranked up to its fullest. letters were sent out to various alumni groups around the country and speakers to these groups were alerted and advised. the trashing of diana blossomed into an intellectual lynching of the lowest order. much later on, as people came to understand that the university had not complied with the findings of the court and attorney general, there was a general loss of respect for belmont which contributed to a decrease in enrollment. the official belmont university response was delivered by the public relations spokesperson who dismissed the lod as, "inconsequential. i don't know what all the fuss is about," he said. "when you cut through the fancy title at the top it's just a lawyer's opinion." no one else at belmont was available for comment. the pope did know what all the fuss was about and was stung by the words of condemnation contained in the lod. he immediately called his contact at the washington dc office of the eeoc. he complained fiercely that the lod never gave the university's side of the question. "no one here was interviewed by the investigator from the attorney general's office," he protested peevishly. he got that right! his contact got his protest an immediate hearing by the eeoc chairman, who directed the regional office to quash the attorney general's lod. no one in the head office bothered to read the lod and learn that the reason there were no interviews of university personnel because they refused to cooperate with the investigation. friends in high places, indeed. in addition, the pope called a meeting to discuss their court strategy. "now," the pope said forcefully, "it's time we did something to end the legal hassle. that damned judge! and, this a.g. letter on top of it. we are getting too much bad publicity. the letters and phone calls are driving everyone crazy around here. it's gone on long enough--too long!" sitting around the conference table in the west wing of his office with him was murrain, henry tarbuck and jimbo. murrain spoke confidently. "the court business is nearly finished. i have already petitioned the judge for permission to start discovery. unless the plaintiff is sitting on a gold mine, that will finish off her bank account right there." "how's that?" asked jimbo. "during discovery, we take depositions. al garret will have to depose a lot more witness than we do in order to even come close to presenting his case. conservatively speaking, he's looking at nearly a thousand bucks a day that he must bill trenchant. "and that's not even the best part." murrain caressed his face with his hand as if re-oiling the smile on its surface. "i'll coach our people in evasive answers, which means that it will take days of deposition time for him to get the information that an unprepared witness would give in a hour. "good." the pope was pleased. not so pleased was al garret and the plaintiff. both attorneys had agreed some months ago that the process of discovery would not be commenced until the judge had given his final ruling on the motions and the trial date set. murrain delivered his low blow without missing a beat. "oh," he cooed when al called him to complain, "i must have misunderstood. i thought you wanted to get started before the final ruling." al was outclassed and he knew it. apologetically, he called the plaintiff and drew her the financial picture. an appeal to the judge for permission to delay discovery was ignored--murrain had carefully picked his time. it was one of the last orders the judge signed before departing on his vacation. that's all she wrote, diana acknowledged in debt and unemployed, she dropped her illegal-termination suit against belmont university. afterglow chapter deep within the bowels of the belmont library building, the university archivist, igor o'toole, had been keeping an informal running tally of events relating to the smurff affair. he had gleaned the information from his friend, diana, confirmed gossip, media sources, university documents and private sources which he knew to be reliable and would not reveal. he had, over the past two years, posted it in a scrapbook. his interest had been whetted when the story first broke. everyone repeating it on campus was incredulous. . .termination for cause on account of seven smurffs? really? it must be a joke. but igor, casting out his informational net, discovered that it wasn't. it was discrimination, pure and simple and he, because of his race, knew discrimination when he came on it. he remembered how close he had come to not landing his present position. a man in his late forties, he had impeccable credentials and years of experience in archival work. he was also an african american. strong, competent and unassuming, he had applied for the posted position of senior archivist and then waited for the decision from personnel. time passed. they told him they were still interviewing, but he had learned from a contact he had made in the library that they had reposted the advertisement for the job because no qualified applicants had been sent from personnel. that was how igor's pool of informational sources began. then suddenly, he was called in for an interview. by now his contacts had grown and he discovered that his name had won him the job. someone in the personnel department had inadvertently listed him to the library as a viable candidate based on his last name. . . obviously irish. his race had been overlooked. the library director was delighted with his credentials and called him in for an interview. this firmly established to all and sundry that he was black. back then, tokenism was rampant so when the director hired him, the administration went along with it, albeit reluctantly. after all, the archives were in the basement, who would notice? now having enjoyed many years at belmont and made many friends, he was turning the last few pages of his scrapbook. it was by now a huge tome, meticulously kept and recently augmented by diana's contribution of letters, court papers and related documents. he had reached the final section dealing with the people involved and the aftermath. grimly, he noted that despite the several instances of plagiarism committed by the two faculty men, ian heathson and randy fecesi, they were promoted and given tenure. the years of adverse student evaluations of their teaching abilities were all thrown out on the basis of five `suspect' ones and henry's report. randy, at the insistence of the medical students, was moved out of the medical radiology course and into an undergraduate nutrition course. a year later there were problems involving some of the young women in the course. the women were hushed up and randy was given an immediate sabbatical of indefinite length. ian continued in the radiology course but was never able to capture any grants to continue his research. the best all around teacher in nerd, fed up to the gills with having to continually save the department's teaching bacon, quit and moved away. this excellent teacher, ray stinnis, could no longer turn his back on the rampant dishonesty inherent in the department--the treatment afforded diana had been the last straw. after ray's departure, lyle stone was forced to give lucrative courses up to other departments. the resulting decrease in revenue caused a severe decline in his research programs and plans were underway to abolish the nerd entirely. frank anuse had suffered a near fatal heart attack. months later when he returned to work, it was reported that he was a changed man. his attitude toward the women in his sector improved and it was reported that he regretted his role on the trenchant panel. esther received the promised promotion and a raise. a year later, she was retired--broken and unhappy. annette quit her position and moved out of the area with her roommate. jane, who had been tenured, left. the circumstances were never divulged. jimbo and dean broadhurst were quietly retired. an administrative intern in the pope's office was summarily fired for injudiciously stating that it would have been more cost effective to retire diana than spend the thousands of dollars to terminate her. "you see," he explained to the assembled president and vees, with more ignorance than good sense, "our current policy would have paid for her retirement without any further outlay of monies on our part. the hearings, document examiners, courts and subsequent damage control has cost nearly one hundred thousand dollars." still reading, igor marveled at how the ripples created by diana's struggle had widened and spread out of belmont into the state. her short but important court venture resulted in twenty areas of state statutes cited. these annotated statutes served to strengthen the application of the cited state laws to belmont. using these laws, a faculty union was kindled and an animal rights organization sued successfully to attend belmont animal research meetings. applications for enrollment decreased as many became turned off by belmont's noncompliance with the law. the legislature of the state became disenchanted with the university because of the notoriety, and decreased its annual appropriation. a legislative investigation was initiated to ascertain the number and salaries of the central administration of belmont. the pope felt the heat and got out of the kitchen--very suddenly. an interim president was appointed by the trustees. henry tarbuck elected to stay when the new president came on board and was demoted to an associate vee. his wife successfully sued for divorce and henry's claim for alimony was denied by the judge. this meant that he had to go back to living on his own salary. two women successfully brought charges of sexual harassment against a belmont administrator. a court subsequently awarded them nearly a million dollars in compensatory and punitive damages. so many sex discrimination cases were initiated by belmont staff that the new administration created an entire unit to investigate and put out fires. diana applied for unemployment compensation which the belmont administration opposed on the grounds that she was discharged for dishonesty. at the state employment service hearing, diana submitted the judge's order and the lod from the attorney general. although the entire upper administrative wing of the personnel department appeared to testify against her, the employment service hearing officer decided that she had been unfairly terminated. she drew unemployment checks for only a few weeks. they enabled her to get by until plans for self-employment could be formulated. continuing in her teaching career was out--no references would be forthcoming from her last employer. she started a small delivery business from her home and with that, her friends and social security, she managed all right. chapter igor o'toole put his scrapbook aside, then stood up and stretched. back at his work bench, preserving, repairing and reconstructing the tomes of human accomplishments, mistakes and history, he ruminated on how the more things change, the more they remain the same. the structure of all but the most recently birthed colleges and universities is rigid, he observed to the roll of transparent tape he was using to repair still another torn page. their medieval trappings, so obvious at historic functions, may appear invisible in other facets of existence. none the less, these trappings still exist. patterned much like the society of monks, higher educational administrations still follow a monolithic, generally white male-dominated path even though modern times have seen the enrollment of women students, the hiring of women faculty and even women in central administrative posts. but it's a facade. the real discipline, established centuries ago, is maintained and furiously guarded. for a while, the newer laws of the seventies relating to affirmative action suggested that there would be a break in the male bastion. time proved, however, that sex discrimination and sexual harassment laws were never well enforced and were being slowly destroyed by the supreme court. continuing his mentation, igor allowed as how, like the monastery, the university structure is maintained because it is supported throughout the governmental system of a state or country. now comes the turn of ethnicity as students of all races, religions and creeds are storming the ancient fortifications. thus far, they have not even cracked the surface. what appears to be maneuvers that should embarrass a university administration only serve to entrench it even more. at belmont, the student's attempts to force political correctness--pc, on the administration culminated in a takeover of their offices. nothing new here. this has happened at many universities all over the country. the result of the takeover, far from enlightening the powers that be, only delighted the belmont administration. as student protests do every time, he reflected, they take the public's attention away from the stench of the secret university policies and procedures and place it on the antics of the students. most always, student protests involved property destruction. as a result, public opinion turns against student innovators or bell ringers. the cause of their protest--entrenched, polluted power--is again shrouded by the ignorance that gave it birth in the middle ages. igor yawned and scratched his chin. most of the collected intelligence and experiences of the world is in this library, he reminded himself, but few avail themselves of it. upstairs now, you don't even have to search through books for whatever you're looking for, you just punch up a computer and it collects everything ever written on any subject you can think of. but with all these wonderful strides in disseminating information, he marveled, the people running this place act just like they always have. tradition covers a multitude of sins and power corrupts now just as it used to. too bad most young people don't realize how much their protests just solidify the status quo, or rather, most of them don't. igor smiled to himself as he glanced at the clock. diana would be back by now. time to give her a call. he sat down at his desk and dialed the phone. "thought i'd find you in. i've just been thinking about our little project and taking a lot of comfort from it." he listened briefly, then said, "just thought it was too bad that most young folks waste their efforts so. not like those two young women upstairs. they are exceptions." listening again, he answered, "yes, they are good friends and just as upset as me over the smurff fiasco. well, we have begun something that will have an effect for some time to come.". . . "me? i'm tickled pink to have had a part in an endeavor which, in the baconian sense, allows, `. . .a kind of wild justice' to prevail. . . "well, yes, i am still angry at the way dan field acted when the students came to him on your behalf, diana. this guy claimed to be so strong for human rights, claimed to represent the blacks and other down-trodden and he crapped out. no doubt about it, he had the position and the clout to have stopped this thing in its tracks. he was the administrations's visible token black. "and that brother in the eeoc. surely, as head honcho, he should have checked the facts before blindly bowing to political pressure. . . "well yes, thank you. i, igor have made up for both of those oreos. i have made afro-americanism stand for something positive at belmont." smiling now, he reviewed with her the culmination of the combined efforts of those two women upstairs, diana and himself. pooling their knowledge of computers, they had formulated and introduced a harmless virus into the library computer which had already spread throughout this library and beyond. and it would continue to spread. the contents of his scrapbook, along with all the originals of the documents diana could produce, had been incorporated into the viral computer program so that whenever anyone queried information on any relevant topic, the smurff affair at belmont would be targeted. the true facts of the good ol' boy conspiracy against diana trenchant could no longer be hidden by the administration. any interested person would be able to access all of the letters and documents relating to it. the entire transcript, attorney briefs, attorney general's lod and all the shady meetings and despicable planning engaged in by the power structure of belmont university would be instantly available in menu form on their computer screen. the virus would see to that and good old human curiosity would do the rest. still smiling, igor said, "so long and take care. i'll talk to you tomorrow." picking up his jacket, he turned off the lights. another day--well, it would seem good to get home. upstairs, as he passed between the desks of roz and andrea, the women who had made such fantastic use of the contents of his scrapbook, he paused. holding up both arms, palms flat out, he said, "good night, my friends. have a nice evening. . .and thank you." slapping his palms in unison, with grins broad enough to span the universe, they returned the greeting and the emotion. college teaching studies in methods of teaching in the college edited by paul klapper, ph.d. associate professor of education the college of the city of new york with an introduction by nicholas murray butler, ll.d. president of columbia university yonkers-on-hudson, new york world book company world book company the house of applied knowledge established, , by caspar w. hodgson yonkers-on-hudson, new york , prairie avenue, chicago a treasure of wisdom is stored in the colleges of the land. the teachers are the custodians of knowledge that makes life free and progressive. this book aims to make the college teacher effective in handing down this heritage of knowledge, rich and vital, that will develop in youth the power of right thinking and the courage of right living. thus _college teaching_ carries out the ideal of service as expressed in the motto of the world book company, "books that apply the world's knowledge to the world's needs". copyright, , by world book company copyright in great britain _all rights reserved_ preface the student of general problems of education or of elementary education finds an extensive literature of varying worth. in the last decade our secondary schools have undergone radical reorganization and have assumed new functions. a rich literature on every phase of the high school is rapidly developing to keep pace with the needs and the progress of secondary education. the literature on college education in general and college pedagogy in particular is surprisingly undeveloped. this dearth is not caused by the absence of problem, for indeed there is room for much improvement in the organization, the administration, and the pedagogy of the college. investigators of these problems have been considerably discouraged by the facts they have gathered. this volume is conceived in the hope of stimulating an interest in the quality of college teaching and initiating a scientific study of college pedagogy. the field is almost virgin, and the need for constructive programs is acute. we therefore ask for our effort the indulgence that is usually accorded a pioneer. in this age of specialization of study it is evident that no college teacher, however wide his experience and extensive his education, can speak with authority on the teaching of all the subjects in the college curriculum, or even of all the major ones. for this reason this volume is the product of a coöperating authorship. the editor devotes himself to the study of general methods of teaching that apply to almost all subjects and to most teaching situations. in addition, he coördinates the work of the other contributors. he realizes that there exists among college professors an active hostility to the study of pedagogy. the professors feel that one who knows his subject can teach it. the contributors have been purposely selected in order to dispel this hostility. they are, one and all, men of undisputed scholarship who have realized the need of a mode of presentation that will make their knowledge alive. books of multiple authorship often possess too wide a diversity of viewpoints. the reader comes away with no underlying thought and no controlling principles. to overcome this defect, so common in books of this type, a tentative outline was formulated, setting forth a desirable mode of treating, in the confines of one chapter, the teaching of any subject in the college curriculum. this outline was submitted to all contributors for critical analysis and constructive criticism. the original plan was later modified in accordance with the suggestions of the contributors. this final outline, which follows, was then sent to the contributors with the full understanding that each writer was free to make such modifications as his specialty demanded and his judgment dictated. this outline is followed in most of the chapters and gives the book that unifying element necessary in any book and vital in a work of so large a coöperating authorship. the editor begs to acknowledge his indebtedness to the many contributors who have given generously of their time and their labor with no hope of compensation beyond the ultimate appreciation of those college teachers who are eager to learn from the experience of others so that they may the better serve their students. tentative outline for the teaching of ---- in the college i. aim of subject _x_ in the college curriculum: is it taught for disciplinary values? what are they? is it taught for cultural reasons? is it taught to give necessary information? is it taught to prepare for professional studies? is the aim single or eclectic? do the aims vary for different groups of students? does this apply to all the courses in your specialty? how does the aim govern the methods of teaching? ii. place of the subject in the college curriculum: in what year or years should it be taught? what part of the college course--in terms of time or credits--should be allotted to it? what is the practice in other colleges? what course or courses in this subject should be part of the general curriculum or be prescribed for students in art, in science, in modern languages, or in the preprofessional or professional groups? iii. organization of the subject in the college course: desired sequence of courses in this subject. what is the basis of this sequence? gradation of successive difficulties or logical sequence of facts? should these courses be elective or prescribed? all prescribed? for all groups of students? in what years should the elective work be offered? iv. discussion of methods of teaching this subject: place and relative worth of lecture method, laboratory work, recitations, research, case method, field work, assignment from a single text or reference reading, etc. discussion of such problems as the following: shall the first course in chemistry be a general and extensive course summing up the scope of chemistry, its function in organic and inorganic nature, with no laboratory work other than the experimentation by the instructor? should students in the social sciences study the subject deductively from a book or should the book be postponed and the instructor present a series of problems from the social life of the student so that the analysis of these may lead the student to formulate many of the generalizations that are given early in a textbook course? should college mathematics be presented as a series of subjects, e.g., algebra (advanced), solid geometry, trigonometry, analytical geometry, calculus, etc.? would it be better to present the subject as a single and unified whole in two or three semesters? should a student study his mathematics as it is developed in his book,--viz., as an intellectual product of a matured mind familiar with the subject,--or should the subject grow gradually in a more or less unorganized form from a series of mechanical, engineering, building, nautical, surveying, and structural problems that can be found in the life and environment of the student? v. moot questions in the teaching of this subject. vi. how judge whether the subject has been of worth to the student? how test whether the aims of this subject have been realized? how test how much the student has carried away? what means, methods, and indices exist aside from the traditional examination? vii. bibliography on the pedagogy of this subject as far as it applies to college teaching. the aim of the bibliography should be to give worth-while contributions that present elaborations of what is here presented or points of view and modes of procedure that differ from those here set forth. paul klapper _the college of the city of new york_ contents page introduction xiii by nicholas murray butler, ph.d., ll.d. president of columbia university. author of _the meaning of education_, _true and false democracy_, etc. editor of _educational review_ part one--the introductory studies chapter i history and present tendencies of the american college by stephen pierce duggan, ph.d. professor of education, the college of the city of new york. author of _a student's history of education_ ii professional training for college teaching by sidney e. mezes, ph.d., ll.d. president of the college of the city of new york. formerly president of university of texas. author of _ethics, descriptive and explanatory_ iii general principles of college teaching by paul klapper, ph.d. associate professor of education, the college of the city of new york. author of _principles of educational practice_, _the teaching of english_, etc. part two--the sciences iv the teaching of biology by t. w. galloway, ph.d., litt.d. professor of zoölogy, beloit college. author of _textbook of zoölogy_, _biology of sex for parents and teachers_, _use of motives in moral education_, etc. v the teaching of chemistry by louis kahlenberg, ph.d. director of the course in chemistry and professor of chemistry, university of wisconsin. author of _outlines of chemistry_, _laboratory exercises in chemistry_, _chemistry analysis_, _chemistry and its relation to daily life_, etc. vi the teaching of physics by harvey b. lemon, ph.d. assistant professor of physics, university of chicago vii the teaching of geology by t. c. chamberlin, ph.d., ll.d., sc.d. professor and head of department of geology and director of walker museum, university of chicago. author of _geology of wisconsin_, _the origin of the earth_. editor of _the journal of geology_ viii the teaching of mathematics by g. a. miller, ph.d. professor of mathematics, university of illinois. author of _determinants_, _mathematical monographs_ (co-author), _theory and applications of groups of finite order_ (co-author), _historical introduction to the mathematical literature_, etc. co-editor of _american year book_ and _encyclopédie des sciences mathématiques_ ix physical education in the college by thomas a. storey, m.d., ph.d. professor of hygiene, the college of the city of new york. state inspector of physical training, new york. secretary-general, fourth international congress of school hygiene, buffalo, . executive-secretary, united states interdepartmental social hygiene board. author of various contributions to standard works on physiology, hygiene, and physical training part three--the social sciences x the teaching of economics by frank a. fetter, ph.d., ll.d. professor of political economy, princeton university. author of _economic principles and modern economic problems_ xi the teaching of sociology by arthur j. todd, ph.d. professor of sociology and director of the training course for social and civic work, university of minnesota. author of _the primitive family as an educational factor_, _theories of social progress_ xii the teaching of history a. american history by henry w. elson, a.m., litt.d. president of thiel college. formerly professor of history, ohio university. author of _history of the united states_, _the story of the old world_ (with cornelia e. macmullan), etc. b. modern european history by edward krehbiel, ph.d. professor of modern european history, leland stanford university. author of _the interdict_, _nationalism_, _war and society_ xiii the teaching of political science by charles grove haines, ph.d. professor of government, university of texas. author of _conflict over judicial powers in the united states prior to _, _the american doctrine of judicial supremacy_, _the teaching of government_ (report of committee on instruction, political science association) xiv the teaching of philosophy by frank thilly, ph.d., ll.d. professor of philosophy, dean of the college of arts and sciences, cornell university. author of _introduction to ethics_, _history of philosophy_ xv the teaching of ethics by henry neumann, ph.d. leader of the brooklyn society for ethical culture. formerly of the department of education, the college of the city of new york, author of _moral values in secondary education_ xvi the teaching of psychology by robert s. woodworth, ph.d. professor of psychology, columbia university. author of _dynamic psychology_, _le mouvement_, _care of the body_, _elements of physiological psychology_ (with george trumbull ladd) xvii the teaching of education a. teaching the history of education by herman h. horne, ph.d. (harvard). professor of the history of education and the history of philosophy, new york university. author of _the philosophy of education_, _the psychological principles of education_, _free will and human responsibility_, etc. b. teaching educational theory by frederick e. bolton, ph.d. dean of the college of education, university of washington. author of _principles of education_, _the secondary school system of germany_ part four--the languages and literatures xviii the teaching of english literature by caleb t. winchester, l.h.d. professor of english literature, wesleyan university. author of _some principles of literary criticism_, _a group of english essayists_, _william wordsworth: how to know him_, etc. xix the teaching of english composition by henry seidel canby, ph.d. adviser in literary composition, yale university. author of _the short story in english_, _college sons and college fathers_, etc. xx the teaching of the classics by william k. prentice, ph.d. professor of greek, princeton university, author of _greek and latin inscriptions in syria_ xxi the teaching of the romance languages by william a. nitze, ph.d. professor and head of department of romance languages, university of chicago. author of _the grail romance_, _glastonbury and the holy grail_, _handbook of french phonetics_, etc. contributor to _new international encyclopedia_ xxii the teaching of german by e. prokosch, ph.d. late professor of germanic languages, university of texas. author of _teaching of german in secondary schools_, _phonetic lessons in german_, _sounds and history of the german language_, etc. part five--the arts xxiii the teaching of music by edward dickinison, litt.d. professor of history and criticism of music, oberlin college. author of _music in the history of the western church_, _the study of the history of music_, _the education of a music lover_, _music and the higher education_ xxiv the teaching of art by holmes smith, a.m. professor of drawing and the history of art, washington university. author of various articles in magazines on art topics part six--vocational subjects xxv the teaching of engineering subjects by ira o. baker, c.e., d. eng'g. professor of civil engineering, university of illinois. author of _treatise on masonry construction_, _treatise on roads and pavements_ xxvi the teaching of mechanical drawing by james d. phillips, b.s. assistant dean and professor of drawing, college of engineering, university of wisconsin, author of _elements of descriptive geometry_ (with a. v. millar), _mechanical drawing for secondary schools_ (with f. o. crawshaw), _mechanical drawing for colleges and universities_ (with h. d. orth) and herbert d. orth, b.s. assistant professor of mechanical drawing and descriptive geometry, university of wisconsin. author of _mechanical drawing for colleges and universities_ (with j. d. phillips) xxvii the teaching of journalism by talcott williams, a.m. ll.d., litt.d. director, school of journalism, columbia university xxviii business education by frederick b. robinson, ph.d. professor of economics and dean of the school of business and civic administration, college of the city of new york index introduction it is characteristic of the american people to have profound faith in the power of education. since colonial days the american college has played a large part in american life and has trained an overwhelming proportion of the leaders of american opinion. there was a time when the american college was a relatively simple institution of a uniform type, but that time has passed. the term "college" is now used in a variety of significations, a number of which are very new and very modern indeed. some of these uses of the term are quite indefensible, as when one speaks of a college of engineering, or of law, or of medicine, or of journalism, or of architecture. such use of the word merely confuses and makes impossible clear thinking as to educational institutions and educational aims. the term "college" can be properly used only of an institution which offers training in the liberal arts and sciences to youth who have completed a standard secondary school course of study. the purpose of college teaching is to lay the foundation for intelligent and effective specialization later on, to open the mind to new interpretations and new understandings both of man and of nature, and to give instruction in those standards of judgment and appreciation, the possession and application of which are the marks of the truly educated and cultivated man. the size of a college is a matter of small importance, except that under modern conditions a large college and one in immediate contact with the life of a university is almost certain to command larger intellectual resources than is an institution of a different type. the important thing about a college is its spirit, its clearness of aim, its steadiness of purpose, and the opportunity which it affords for direct personal contact between teacher and student. given these, the question of size is unimportant. there was a time when it was felt, probably correctly, that a satisfactory college training could be had by requiring all students to follow a single prescribed course of study. at that time, college students were drawn almost exclusively from families and homes of a single type or kind. their purposes in after-life were similar, and their range of intellectual sympathy, while intense, was rather narrow. the last fifty years have changed all this. college students are now drawn from families and homes of every conceivable type and kind. their purposes in after-life are very different, while new subjects of study have been multiplied many fold. the old and useful tradition of latin, greek, and mathematics, together with a little history and literature, as the chief elements in a college course of study, had to give way when first the natural sciences, and then the social sciences, claimed attention and when even these older subjects of study were themselves subdivided into many parts. these changes forced a change in the old-fashioned program of college study, and led to the various substitutes for it that now exist. whether a college prefers the elective system of study, or the group system, or some other method of combining instruction that is regarded as fundamental with other instruction that is regarded as less so, the fact is that all these are simply different kinds of attempt to meet a new condition which is the natural result of intellectual and economic changes. just now the college is in a state of transition. it is not at all clear precisely what its status will be a generation hence, or how far present tendencies may continue to increase, or how far they may be counteracted by a swing of the pendulum in the opposite direction. therefore this is a time to describe rather than to dogmatize, and it is description which is the characteristic mark of the important series of papers which constitute the several chapters in the present volume. a careful reading of these papers is commended not only to the great army of college teachers and college students, but to that still greater army of those who, whether as alumni or as parents or as citizens, are deeply concerned with the preservation of the influence and character of the american college for its effect upon our national standards of thought and action. american colleges are of two distinct types, and it may be that the future has in store a different position for each type. the true distinction between colleges is according as they are separate or are incorporated in a university system, and not at all as to whether they are large or small. a separate college, such as amherst or beloit or grinnell or pomona, has its own peculiar problems of support and administration. the university college, on the other hand, such as columbia or harvard or chicago or the college of any state university, has quite different problems of support and of administration. it is not unlikely that the distinction between these two types of college will become more sharply marked as years go by, and that eventually they will appear to be two distinct institutions rather than two types of one and the same institution. meanwhile, we have to deal with the college as it is, in all its varied forms, but characteristically american whatever its form. the american college has little or no resemblance to the english public school or to the french lycée or to the german gymnasium. it is something more than any one of these, and at the same time something less. it differs from them all very much as the conditions of american life differ from those of english or of french or of german life. the college may or may not involve residence, but when it does involve residence, it is at its best. it is then that the largest amount of carefully ordered and stimulating influence can be brought to bear upon the daily life of growing and expanding youth, and it is then and only then, that youth can get the inestimable benefits which follow from daily and hourly contact with others of like age, like tastes, like habits, and like purposes. indeed, it has often been said that the college gives more through its opportunities which attach to residence, than through its opportunities which attach to instruction. almost every conceivable problem that can arise in college life and college work, is discussed in the following pages. it is now coming to be understood that the health of the college student is as much a matter of concern as his instruction, and that a college is not doing its full duty by those who seek its doors, when it merely provides libraries, laboratories, and skillful teachers. it must also provide for such conditions of residence, of food, of exercise, and of frequent medical examination and inspection, as shall protect and preserve the health of those who come to take advantage of its instruction. there is one other point which should not be overlooked, and that is the literally immense influence exerted in america by that solidarity of college sentiment and college opinion which is kept alive by organizations of former college students scattered throughout the land. this, again, is a peculiarly american development, and it serves to unite the college and public sentiment much more closely than any formal tie could possibly do. indeed, it illustrates how completely the american people claim the college as their own. the man or woman who has once been a college student never ceases to be a member of that particular college or to labor to extend its influence and to increase its usefulness. every reader of this volume should approach it in a spirit of sympathetic understanding of american higher education, and of the college as the oldest instrument of that higher education and still one of the chief elements in it. nicholas murray butler _columbia university_ part one the introductory studies chapter i history and present tendencies of the american college _stephen p. duggan_ ii professional training for college teaching _sidney e. mezes_ iii general principles of college teaching _paul klapper_ i history and present tendencies of the american college . the colonial period =the predominance of the religious motive= the american colonies were founded chiefly by englishmen who came to america for a variety of reasons. some of these were economic and political, but the most important of their reasons was the desire to practice their religious convictions with greater freedom than was permitted at home. apart from the state religion, however, all the colonists were animated by a love for english institutions which they transplanted to the new world, and among these institutions were the grammar school and the college. wherever the reformation had been chiefly a religious rather than a political and ecclesiastical movement, the interest in education and the effect upon it were direct and immediate. this was true where calvinism prevailed, as in the netherlands, scotland, and among the puritans in england. hence it is natural to find that the first effective movements in america toward the establishment of educational institutions, both elementary and higher, should have taken place in new england. a large proportion of university graduates were included among the settlers of the massachusetts bay colony. they were chiefly graduates of cambridge, which had always been religiously more tolerant than oxford, and especially of emmanuel college, which was the stronghold of puritanism at cambridge. it was natural that these men, leaders in the affairs of the colony, should want to establish a new cambridge university, but it is astonishing that they were able to do so as early as , only six years after the founding of this colony. two years later the college was named after john harvard, a clergyman and a graduate of emmanuel, who upon his death bequeathed half his estate and all his fine library of three hundred volumes to the college. the religious motive predominated in the founding of harvard, for though the colonists longed "to advance learning and perpetuate it to posterity," they were actuated chiefly by dread "to leave an illiterate ministry to the churches, when our present ministers shall lie in the dust." harvard remained the sole instrument in the colonies for that purpose for more than half a century. in the college of william and mary was founded in virginia, with the most generous endowment of any pre-revolutionary college, generous because of the help received from the mother country. it was the child of the church of england, and its president and its professors had to subscribe to the thirty-nine articles. subscription to a religious creed was also demanded of the president and tutors of the third american college, founded in . this collegiate institute, as it was called, moved from place to place for more than a decade, but finally it settled permanently in new haven in . it afterward received the name of yale college in honor of elihu yale, who had given it generous assistance. as a result of the founding of these three institutions, the new england and the southern colonies had their need for ministers fairly well supplied, but this was not yet true of the middle colonies. however, the presbyterians had become particularly strong in the middle colonies, and their religious zeal resulted in the establishment of the college of new jersey, now princeton university, in . a few years later benjamin franklin advanced for the college a new _raison d'être_. in he published a pamphlet entitled "proposals relating to the education of youth in pennsylvania," in which he advocated the establishment of an academy whose purpose was not the training of ministers but the secular one of developing the practical virtue necessary in the opening up of a new country. the academy was opened in , and the charter, granted in , designated the institution as "the college, academy, and charitable school of philadelphia." though the extremely modern organization and curriculum suggested by franklin were not realized, the institution, which was afterward called "the university of pennsylvania," offered the most liberal curriculum of any college in the colonies up to the revolution. the human motive was uppermost also in the establishment of king's college in . the colonial assembly desired its establishment to enhance the welfare and reputation of the colony, and the only connection between the college and the church of england lay in the requirement that the president should be a communicant of that church and that the morning and evening service of the college should be performed out of the liturgy of that church. but the religious motive again comes to the fore in the establishment of brown university at providence, rhode island, in , primarily to train ministers for the baptist churches; of queens, afterwards named rutgers, in , to provide ministers for the dutch reformed churches; and of dartmouth, in , from which it was hoped at first that the evangelization of the indians would proceed. =character of the colonial college= these colonial colleges in their histories bear a great resemblance to one another. they were almost all born in poverty and led a desperate financial existence for many years. in some cases survival was possible only as the result of the untiring self-sacrifice of some great personality like eleazar wheelock, the first president of dartmouth; in all cases, of the devotion of teachers and officers. their beginnings were all small; in some cases the president was the only member of the instructing staff and taught all the subjects of the curriculum. the students were few in number, the equipment was simple, the buildings usually consisting of a house for the president, in which he often heard recitations, a dormitory for the students, and a college hall. libraries, laboratories, and recreational facilities were usually conspicuous by their absence. in fact, as the curriculum consisted almost exclusively of philosophy, greek, latin, rhetoric, and a little mathematics, there was no great need of much equipment. the classics were taught by the intensive grammatical method; in philosophy there was a great deal of dialectical disputation; rhetoric was studied as an aid to oratory; mathematics included only arithmetic and geometry. the aim of instruction was, not to give a wide acquaintance with many fields of knowledge for cultural and appreciative purposes, but rather to develop power through intensive exercise upon a restricted curriculum. but the value of the materials utilized to produce power which would function in oratory, debate, and diplomacy is splendidly illustrated in the decades before the revolution. the contest between the colonies and the mother country was essentially a rational contest in which questions of constitutional law and, indeed, of the fundamental principles of civil and political existence were debated. splendidly did the leaders of public opinion in the colonies, almost every one of whom was a graduate of a colonial college, defend the cause of the colonists in pamphlet and debate. and when debate was followed by war, twenty-five per cent of the twenty-five hundred graduates of the colonial colleges were found in the military service of their country. at the close of the struggle for independence, it was again upon the shoulders of the men who had gained vision and character in the colonial colleges that the burden fell of organizing the mutually suspicious and antagonistic colonies into one nation. space will not permit even of the enumeration of the great leaders who graduated from all the colonial colleges, but an idea of the service rendered by those institutions to the new nation may be obtained by mentioning the names of a few statesmen who received their instruction in one of the least of them, william and mary. in its classrooms were taught thomas jefferson, benjamin harrison, edmund randolph, james monroe, and john marshall. . the national era =french influence= french influence upon american political and intellectual life had become quite pronounced as the result of the contact between the leaders of the two peoples during and after the revolution. that influence was reflected in the colleges. instruction in the french language was offered in several of the colleges before the close of the eighteenth century, and a chair of french was established at columbia as early as and at william and mary in . the secularizing influence of the french united also with the democratizing influence of the revolution in diminishing the influence of the church upon the colleges and emphasizing the influence of the state and especially the relations between college and people. of the fourteen colleges founded between and , the majority were established upon a non-sectarian basis. these included institutions of a private nature like washington and lee, bowdoin, and union, as well as institutions closely related to the state governments like the universities of north carolina and of vermont. there can hardly be any doubt that the french system of centralized administration in civil affairs influenced the establishment of the university of the state of new york. the university of the state of new york is not a local institution, but a body of nine regents elected by the legislature to control the administration of education throughout the state of new york. though organized by alexander hamilton, it was in all probability much influenced by john jay, who returned from france in . but the most potent factor in the spread of french influence in the early history of our country was thomas jefferson. while jefferson was american minister to france, he studied the french system of education and embodied ideas taken from it in the organization of the university of virginia. this occupied much of his attention during the last two decades of his life. the university was to be entirely non-sectarian and had for its purpose ( ) to form statesmen, legislators, and judges for the commonwealth; ( ) to expand the principles and structure of government, the laws which regulate the intercourse of states, and a sound spirit of legislation; ( ) to harmonize and promote the interests of all forms of industry, chiefly by well-informed views of political economy; ( ) to develop the reasoning faculties of youth and to broaden their minds and develop their character; ( ) to enlighten them with knowledge, especially of the physical sciences which will advance the material welfare of the people. these progressive views of what the college should aim to do were associated with equally advanced views of college administration, such as the elective system and the importation of professors from abroad. the remarkable vision, constructive imagination, courage, and faith of jefferson in his break with what was traditional and authoritative in education has been justified by the fine career of the university which he founded. =the state universities system= all the colleges that were established before the revolution, and most of those between the revolution and the year , had received direct assistance from the colonial or state government either in grants of land, money, the proceeds of lotteries, or special taxes. most of them, however, were dependent upon private foundations and controlled by denominational bodies. the secularizing influence from france, the growing interest in civic and political affairs, and the democratic spirit resulting from the revolution combined to develop a distrust of the colleges as they were organized and a desire to bring them under the control of the state. this was apparent in , when the legislature of pennsylvania withdrew the charter of the college of philadelphia and created a new corporation to be known as "the trustees of the university of the state of pennsylvania"; it was shown in when columbia college was granted a new charter by the state legislature, under which the board of trustees were all drawn from the board of regents of the state; it was made most evident in when the legislature of new hampshire transformed dartmouth college into a university without the consent of the board of trustees and empowered the governor and council to appoint a board of overseers. in the celebrated dartmouth college case, , the old board of trustees, when defeated before the supreme court of new hampshire in their suit for the recovery of property which had been seized, carried the case to the supreme court of the united states and engaged daniel webster as their counsel. the court declared the act of the new hampshire legislature in violation of the provision of the constitution of the united states which reads that "no state shall pass any ... law impairing the obligation of contracts." the decision drew a sharp distinction between public and private corporations, and a necessary inference was that most of the existing institutions for higher education were in the latter class. the result was to strengthen the rising demand for publicly controlled institutions. the southern and western states across the alleghanies that were on the point of framing state constitutions made provision for state universities under state control. the intention to provide higher education freely for the people had already received its greatest impetus in an act of congress passed shortly after the passage of the ordinance of , providing for the organization of the northwest territory. by that act two entire townships of public land were reserved to the states to be erected out of the territory, the proceeds of the sale of which were to be devoted to the establishment of a state university. these universities followed swiftly upon the establishment of new states, and the democratic ideal that prevailed is shown in the determination that the state university was to be the crown of the public educational system of the state. this is well illustrated in the provision of the constitution of indiana, adopted in the very year of the dartmouth college decision, , which reads, "it shall be the duty of the general assembly, as soon as circumstances will permit, to provide by law for a general system of education, ascending in regular gradation from township schools to a state university, wherein tuition shall be gratis and equally open to all." circumstances did permit in the following year, and the provisions of the bill materialized. the national policy of granting public lands for educational purposes to new states was continued, and one or two townships were devoted in each case to the establishment of a state university. national assistance to higher education was given on an immense scale in , when the morrill act was passed providing for the grant of , acres of land for each representative and senator, to be devoted to the support in each state of a higher institution of learning, in which technical and agricultural branches should be taught. within twenty years every state in the union had taken advantage of this splendid endowment, either to found a new state university which would comply with the requirements as regards courses of instruction or to establish an agricultural college as an independent institution, or in connection with some already existing institution. not only do some of the finest state universities like those of california, illinois, and minnesota owe their origins to the morrill act, but others owe to it their real beginnings as institutions of collegiate grade. up to the passage of the morrill act a dozen state universities struggled to maintain themselves with meager revenues and few students. they were trying to do broad academic work, but by no means reached the standards of the strong colleges in the eastern part of the country. the establishment of state-supported and state-controlled universities in the commonwealths organized after the close of the eighteenth century by no means put an end to the establishment of colleges upon religious foundations. denominational zeal was very strong in the decades preceding the civil war, and the church was the center of community life in the newly settled regions. the need to provide an intelligent ministry and also a higher civilization led to the establishment of many small sectarian colleges in the new states. despite the fact that practically all of them would today be considered only of secondary grade, they accomplished a splendid work and provided ideals and standards of intellectual life in a new country whose population was engaged chiefly in supplying the physical needs of life. the response made in the civil war by the institutions of higher education throughout the united states, whether privately or publicly supported, was a magnificent return for the sacrifices endured in their establishment and maintenance. everywhere throughout the north the colleges were depleted of instructors and students who had entered the ranks, and in the south nearly all the colleges were compelled to close their doors. upon the shoulders of their graduates fell the burden of directing civil and military affairs in state and nation. . the modern era were a visitor to harvard or columbia in to revisit it today, the changes he would observe would be startling. the elective system, graduate studies, professional and technical schools, an allied woman's college, and a summer session are a few of the most noticeable activities incorporated since . it would be impossible to set any date for the beginning of this transformation, so gradual and subtle has it been, but the accession of dr. charles w. eliot to the presidency of harvard college in and the establishment of johns hopkins university in are definite landmarks. this chapter is a history of the american college, and space will not permit of a detailed description of these activities but simply of a narration of the way they developed and of the forces which brought them into being. =the curriculum and the elective system= it has already been mentioned that the curriculum of the average american college at the beginning of the nineteenth century differed but little from the curriculum followed in the middle of the seventeenth. the reason is simple. the curriculum is based upon the biological principle of adaptation to environment, and the environment of the average american of differed but slightly from his ancestor of a century and a half previous. the growth of the curriculum follows, slowly it is often true, upon the growth of knowledge. the growth of knowledge during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was slow and insignificant compared to its marvelous growth in the nineteenth century, particularly in the last half of it. the great discoveries in science, first in chemistry, then in physics and biology, resulted in their gradually displacing much of the logic and philosophy which had maintained the prime place in the old curriculum. the interest aroused in the french language and literature by our revolution; in the spanish by the south american wars of independence; and in the german by the distinguished scholars who studied in the german universities during the middle decades of the nineteenth century, caused a demand that those languages as well as english have a place in the curriculum. this could be secured only by making them partly alternatives to the classical languages. the industrial revolution, based as it was upon the application of science to industry, not only gave an impetus to the establishment of technical schools, but by revolutionizing the production and distribution of wealth pushed into the curriculum the science that deals with wealth, political economy. the growth of cities that followed in the wake of the industrial revolution, the conflicts between the interests of classes,--viz., landowners, capitalists, and laborers,--the rapid decay of feudalism and the spread of political democracy following the french revolution, the expansion of commerce to all corners of the globe and the resulting development of colonialism, all these human interests gave a new meaning to the study of history and politics which caused them to secure a place of great prominence in the curriculum during the last quarter of the nineteenth century. it is perfectly obvious that as the time at the student's disposal remained the same, if he were to pursue even a part of the new subject matter that was gradually admitted into the curriculum, the course of study could no longer remain wholly prescribed and he would have to be granted some freedom of choice. the growth in number of students also produced changes in administration favorable to the introduction of the elective system. in the early history of the american college one instructor taught a single class in all subjects, and it was not until that the transfer was made at harvard from the teaching of classes by one instructor to the teaching of each subject by one instructor. with increase in numbers the students were unable to receive in each year instruction by every member of the teaching staff. in spite of the quite obvious advantages of the elective system, it was obstinately resisted by the defenders of the classics and also of orthodox religion and at first made but slow progress. thomas jefferson gave it the first great impetus when he made it an essential element in the organization of the university of virginia in . francis wayland, president of brown university and one of the few college presidents of his day who were educators in the modern sense, made a splendid exposition and defense of it in in his "report to the corporation of brown university on changes in the system of collegiate education." but the elective system waited upon the elevation of charles w. eliot to the presidency of harvard in for its general realization; in the senior year at harvard became wholly elective; in , the junior year; in , the sophomore year; and in the single absolute requirement that remained in the entire college course was english a. the action of harvard was rapidly imitated to a more or less thorough extent throughout the country. probably no two colleges administer the elective system in the same way. there has been a considerable revulsion of opinion against unrestricted election of individual subjects. in many colleges the subjects of the curriculum were arranged into groups which must be elected _in toto_. this resulted in the multiplication of bachelor's degrees, each indicating the special course--arts, science, philosophy, or literature--which had been followed. at the present time the tendency is to prescribe the subjects considered essential to a liberal education chiefly in the first two years and to permit election among groups of related courses in the last two. this has maintained the unity that formerly prevailed and introduced greater breadth into the curriculum. it has also brought the new bachelor's degrees into disfavor, and today the majority of the best colleges give only the a.b. degree for the regular academic course. valuable modifications in the elective system are constantly being adopted. one such is the preceptorial system at princeton and elsewhere, under which the preceptors personally supervise the reading and study of a small group of students and can therefore advise them from personal knowledge of their capacity. another is the system of honor courses adopted at columbia and elsewhere, whereby a distinction is made between mere "passmen" and students desirous of attaining high rank in courses that are carefully organized in sequence. =german influence and graduate study= the introduction of new subjects into the curriculum of the college and the adoption by it of the elective system owe much to german influence upon american education. though this influence was partly exerted by the study of the german language and literature, it resulted chiefly from the residence of american students at german universities. the first american to be granted the degree of doctor of philosophy from a german university was edward everett, who received it at göttingen in . he was followed by george ticknor, george bancroft, henry w. longfellow, john lothrop motley, frederick henry hedge, william dwight whitney, theodore dwight woolsey, and a host of scholars who shed luster upon american education and scholarship in the mid-nineteenth century. most of these men became associated with american colleges in some capacity and had a profound influence upon their ideals, organization, and methods of teaching. they came back devoted advocates of wide and deep scholarship, of independent research, and of the need of such scholastic tools as libraries and laboratories. but especially did they give an impetus to the movement in favor of freedom of choice (_lernfreiheit_) in studies. only by the adoption of such a principle could the pronounced tastes or needs of individual students be satisfied. some slight effort had been made in the first four decades of the nineteenth century by a few of the colleges to conform to the desire of students for further study in some chosen field, but the results were negligible. in yale established a "department of philosophy and the arts for scientific and graduate study leading to the degree of bachelor of philosophy." the first degree of doctor of philosophy was bestowed in , but a distinct graduate school was not organized until . harvard announced in the same year the establishment of a graduate department to which only holders of the bachelor's degree would be admitted and in which the degrees of doctor of philosophy and doctor of science would be conferred. the graduate department was not made a separate school, however, until . the greatest impetus to the establishment of graduate schools in the american universities was made by the establishment of johns hopkins university in . upon its foundation the chief aim was announced to be the development of instruction in the methods of scientific research. the influence of this institution upon the development of higher education in the united states has been incalculably great. johns hopkins was not a transplanted german university. the unique place of the college in american education was shown by the fact that graduate schools have followed the lead of johns hopkins in building upon the college. even clark university at worcester, founded in upon a purely graduate basis, established an undergraduate college in . one of the most gratifying features of higher education in the united states during the past quarter century has been the extension of graduate schools to the strong state universities. research work in them usually began in the school of agriculture, where the intensive study of the sciences, particularly chemistry and biology, had such splendid results in improved farming and dairying that legislatures were gradually persuaded to extend the support for research to purely liberal studies. with the growth and development of graduate schools in this country, the practice of going to europe for advanced specialized study has abated considerably. it will probably so continue in the future, particularly with regard to germany. on the other hand, should the new ideal of international good will become a living reality, education through a wide system of exchange professors and students may be expected to make its contribution. =technical and professional study= while the graduate school was built upon the college, the technical school grew up by the side of it or upon an independent foundation. the first technical school was established at troy, new york, in , and was called rensselaer polytechnic institute, after its founder, stephen van rensselaer. for a score of years no other development of consequence was made, but in the foundations were made of what have since become the lawrence scientific school at harvard and the sheffield scientific school at yale. the passage of the morrill act in had a quickening effect on education in engineering and agriculture. in the decade from to some twenty-two technical institutions were founded, most of them by the aid of the land grants. the most important of them is the massachusetts institute of technology, where instruction was first given in and which has exerted by far the greatest influence upon the development of scientific and technical education. the best technical schools require a high school diploma for admission and have a four-year course of study, but the only technical school on a graduate basis is the school of mines at columbia university. professional education in theology, law, and medicine in the united states was conducted chiefly upon the apprenticeship system down into the nineteenth century. though chairs of divinity existed in the colonial colleges in the eighteenth century, systematic preparation for the ministry was not generally attempted and the prospective minister usually came under the special care of a prominent clergyman who prepared him for the profession. in harvard established a separate faculty of divinity, and three years later yale founded a theological department. since then about fifty colleges and universities have established theological faculties and about independent theological schools have been founded as the result of denominational zeal. a majority of all these institutions require at least a high school diploma for admission; half of them require a college degree. nearly all offer a three-year course of study and confer the degree of bachelor of divinity. previous to the civil war the great majority of legal practitioners obtained their preparation in a law office. though the university of pennsylvania attempted to establish a law school in , and columbia in , both attempts were abortive, and it remained for harvard to establish the first permanent law school in . even this was but a feeble affair until justice joseph story became associated with it in . up to but three terms of study were required for a degree; until students were admitted without examination, and special students were admitted without examination as late as . since then the advance in standards has been very rapid, and in harvard placed its law school upon a graduate basis. though but few others have emulated harvard in this respect, the improvement in legal education during the past two decades has been marked. of the law schools today, the great majority are connected with colleges and universities, demand a high school diploma for admission, maintain a three-year course of study, and confer the degree of ll.b. twenty-four per cent of the twenty thousand students are college graduates. in some of the best schools the inductive method of study--i.e., the "case method"--has superseded the lecture, and in practically all the moot court is a prominent feature. entrance into the medical profession in colonial times was obtained by apprenticeship in the office of a practicing physician. the first permanent medical school was the medical college of philadelphia, which was established in and which became an integral part of the university of pennsylvania in . columbia, harvard, and dartmouth also founded schools before the close of the eighteenth century, and these were slowly followed by other colleges in the early decades of the nineteenth century. during almost the entire nineteenth century medical education in the united states was kept on a low plane by the existence of large numbers of proprietary medical "colleges" organized for profit, requiring only the most meager entrance qualifications, giving poor instruction, and having very inadequate equipment in the way of laboratories and clinics. in fact, medical education did not obtain a high standard until the establishment of the johns hopkins medical school in . since then the efforts of the medical schools connected with the strong universities and of the rockefeller foundation to raise the minimum standard of medical education have resulted in the elimination of the weakest medical schools. the total number fell from in to in . not all of these demand a high school diploma for admission, though the tendency is to stiffen entrance requirements, but all have a four-year course of study. in most institutions experience in laboratory, clinic, and hospital has superseded the old lecture system as the method of instruction. closely associated with the progress in medicine and to a great extent similar in history has been the progress in dentistry and pharmacy. there are now fifty schools of dentistry, with nearly students, and seventy-two schools of pharmacy, with nearly students. one of the most gratifying advances in professional education has been that of the teacher. practically all the state universities and many of the universities and colleges upon private foundations have established either departments or schools of education which require at least the same entrance qualifications as does the college proper and in many cases confine the work to the junior and senior years. teachers college of columbia university is on a graduate basis. though many of the training and normal schools throughout the country do not require a high school diploma for admission, the tendency is wholly in that direction. in no field of professional education has the application of scientific principles to actual practice made such progress as in that of the teacher. =college education for women--the independent college= few movements in the history of american education had more important results than the academy movement which prevailed during the period between the revolution and the civil war. possibly the principle upon which the new nation was established, i.e., the privilege of every individual to make the most of himself, influenced the founders of the academies to make provision for the education of girls beyond the mere rudiments. certainly this aspect of the movement had a far-reaching influence. some of the earliest of the academies admitted girls as well as boys from the beginning, and some soon became exclusively female. when it became evident from the work of the academies that sex differences were not of as great importance as had been supposed, it was not a long step to higher education. some of the academies added a year or two to the curriculum and took on the more dignified name of "seminary." in this transition period the influence of a few great personalities was profound, and even a brief sketch of the history of women's education cannot omit to mention the splendid work of emma willard and mary lyon. mrs. willard was an exponent of the belief that freedom of development for the individual was the greatest desideratum for humanity. she not only diffused this idea in her addresses and writings but tried to utilize it in the establishment in of the troy female seminary, which was the forerunner of many others throughout the country. mary lyon was rather the representative of the religious influence in education, the embodiment of the belief that to do one's duty is the great purpose in life. in she founded mount holyoke seminary, which had an influence of inestimable value in sending well-equipped women throughout the country a teachers. the importance of this service was particularly evident during the period of the civil war. although a number of excellent institutions for women bearing the name of college were founded before the civil war, the first one of really highest rank was vassar college, which opened its doors to students in . smith and wellesley were founded in , and bryn mawr in . these four colleges are in every respect the equal of the best colleges for men. they are the most important of a dozen independent colleges for women, almost all of which are situated in the east. to establish the independent college was the chief method adopted in the older parts of the country to solve the problem of women's higher education, rather than to reorganize colleges for men where conditions were already established. =the development of coeducation= the independent college is not the method that has prevailed in the west. when the inspiration to higher education for women arrived west of the alleghanies, conditions, especially lack of resources, practically necessitated coeducation. oberlin, founded in , was the first fully coeducational institution of college grade in the world. in three women received from it the bachelor's degree, the first to get it. oberlin's success had a pronounced influence on the state universities, which, it was argued, should be open and free to all citizens, since they were supported by public taxation. almost all the state universities and the great majority of the colleges and universities on private foundations are today coeducational. the results predicted by pessimists, viz., that the physical health of women would suffer, that their intellectual capacity would depreciate scholarship, and that the interests of the family would be menaced, have not eventuated. =the affiliated college for women= the spread of coeducation in the state universities of the west and the south and its presence in the newer private universities like cornell and chicago had an influence upon the older universities of the east. this influence has resulted in a third method of solving the problem of women's education; viz., the establishment of the affiliated college. several universities have established women's colleges, sometimes under the same and sometimes under a different board of trustees, to provide the collegiate education for women which is given to men by the undergraduate departments. barnard college, affiliated with columbia university, radcliffe college, affiliated with harvard university, woman's college, affiliated with brown university, the college for women, affiliated with the western reserve university, and the h. sophie newcomb memorial college for women, affiliated with tulane university, have all been founded within the past forty years. =graduate and professional studies for women= all the universities for men except princeton and johns hopkins and all the fully coeducational institutions admit women upon the same terms as men to graduate work. graduate work is also undertaken with excellent results in some of the independent women's colleges, as at bryn mawr. professional education for women has been coeducational from the beginning, with the exception of medicine. the prejudice against coeducation in that profession was so strong that five women's medical schools were organized, but they provide instruction for little more than a quarter of the women medical students. the increase in the number of women in professional schools has not by any means kept pace with the increase in the colleges. it appears that, with the exception of teaching, woman is not to be a very important sector in the learned professions in the near future. =undergraduate life--fraternities= nothing differentiates more clearly the american college from european institutions of higher education than the kind of non-scholastic activities undertaken by the students. from the very beginning the college became a place of residence as well as of study for students from a distance, and the dormitory was an essential element in its life. with increase in numbers, especially after the revolution, when all distinctions of birth or family were abolished, students naturally divided into groups. the first fraternity, phi beta kappa, was founded in at william and mary, with a patriotic and literary purpose, and membership in it has practically ever since been confined to graduates who have attained high scholastic standing. when one speaks of college fraternities, however, he does not refer to phi b k, but to one of the intercollegiate social organizations which have chapters in several colleges organized somewhat upon the plan of a club and whose members live in a chapter house. the first such fraternity was founded at yale in , but it was limited to the senior class. the three fraternities established at union in - form the foundation of the present system. the fraternities spread rapidly and are today very numerous. there are about thirty of national importance, having about a thousand chapters and a quarter of a million members. the fraternity system is bitterly attacked as being undemocratic, expensive, emphasizing social rather than scholastic attainments, and, generally speaking, a divisive rather than a unifying factor in college life. hence some colleges have abolished it. fraternities have been defended, however, as promoting close fellowship and even helping to develop character. so strongly are they entrenched, not only in undergraduate but also in alumni affection, that they probably form a permanent element in college life. =religious life= the early american college was primarily a place to prepare for the ministry, and personal piety was a matter of official enforcement. for a number of reasons religious zeal declined in the eighteenth century. after the revolution, under the influence of the new political theories and of french skepticism the percentage of students professing to be active christians fell very low. in the early nineteenth century the interest of students in religion increased, and religious organizations in a number of colleges were founded. practically all of these later gave way to the young men's christian association, which has now over , members organized in almost all the colleges of the country save the roman catholic. the religious interests of roman catholic students are in many colleges served by the newman clubs and similar organizations, and of jewish students by the menorah society. the religion of college students has become less a matter of form and speech and more a matter of service--social service of many kinds at home and missionary service abroad. =physical education= the educational reformers of europe in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries placed great emphasis upon a more complete physical training. this interest was felt in the united states, and simple gymnastic apparatus was set up at harvard and yale in . the movement spread very slowly, however, due probably to ignorance of its real physiological import. since the civil war the development of the gymnastic system has been rapid, and now practically every first-class college has its gymnasium, attendance upon which is compulsory, and some have their stadium and natatorium. of independent origin but hastened by the spread of the gymnasium is the vast athletic interest of undergraduates. its earliest form, conducted on a considerable scale, was rowing. the first rowing club was formed at yale in , and the first intercollegiate race was rowed on lake winnepesaukee in , harvard defeating yale. rowing is now a form of athletics at every college where facilities permit. the first baseball nine was formed at princeton in , and the game spread rapidly to all the other colleges. football in a desultory and unorganized way made its appearance early in the nineteenth century. as early as an annual game was played at yale between the freshmen and the sophomores, but the establishment of a regular football association dates from , also at yale. in the following year an intercollegiate organization was formed, and since then football has increased in popularity at the colleges to such an extent that just as baseball has become the great national game, so has football become the great american collegiate game. track athletics is the most recent form of athletic sports to be introduced into the college, and most colleges now have their field days. in addition to these four major forms of college sports, tennis, lacrosse, basketball, and swimming also have a prominent place. the four major sports are usually under the control of special athletic associations, which spend large sums of money and have a great influence with the students. in fact, so great has become the interest of college students in athletics that much fear has been expressed about its influence upon scholastic work, and voices are not lacking demanding its curtailment.[ ] military training is a phase of physical education which, though it had earlier found a place in the land-grant institutions, came to the fore as a part of the colleges' contribution to winning the world war. students' army training corps were established at many of the higher institutions of the country, and the academic studies were made to correlate with the military work as a nucleus. at the present time, however, the colleges are putting their work back on a pre-war basis, and it seems most unlikely that military training will survive as a corporate part of their work. =student literary activities--college journalism= journalism, though its actual performance is limited to a small number of students, has had an honored place as an undergraduate activity for almost a hundred years. it served first as a means of developing literary ability among the students, afterwards as a vehicle for college news, and now there has been added to these purposes the uniting of alumni and undergraduates. hence we find among college journals dailies, monthlies, and quarterlies, some of them humorous and some with a serious literary purpose. journalism is not the only method of expressing undergraduate thought. there has been a great revival of intracollegiate and of intercollegiate debating in recent years. literary societies for debating the great issues preceding the revolution was the first development of undergraduate life, and every college before and after the revolution had strong societies. as undergraduate interests increased in number, and especially as the fraternity system began to spread, debating societies assumed a relatively less important place, but in the past two decades great interest has been revived in them. the glee club, or choral society, along with the college orchestra, minister to the specialized interests of some students, and the dramatic association to those of others. one significant result of such activities has been to establish a nexus between the college and community life. =student self-government= one other feature of undergraduate life cannot be overlooked; viz., student self-government. the college student today is two or three years older than was his predecessor of fifty or sixty years ago. moreover, with the great increase in the number of students has come a parallel increase in complexity of administration and in the duties of the college professor. finally, a sounder psychology has taught the wisdom of placing in the hands of the students the control of many activities which they can supervise better than the faculty. as a result of these and of other influences, in many colleges today all extra-scholastic activities are either supervised by the student council, the members of which are elected by the students, or by a joint body of student and faculty members. the effect in almost every instance has been the diminution of friction between the faculty and students and the development of better relations between them. in some colleges the honor system is found, under which even proctoring at examinations does not exist, as all disciplinary matters, including the decision in serious offenses like cheating, rest with the student council. student self-government is only one evidence of the democratization that has taken place in the administration of the college during the past two decades. even more noticeable than student self-government is the tendency recently manifested to transfer more of the control of the government of the college from the board of trustees to the faculty. =new opportunities in higher education= with the extension of commerce and the attempt to bring it under efficient organization in the nineteenth century, the demand has been made upon the colleges to train experts in this field. germany was the first to engage in it, and just before the war probably led the world. france and england have remained relatively indifferent. in america, the so-called "business college" proved entirely too narrow in scope, and beginning with the wharton school of finance and commerce of the university of pennsylvania ( ), the higher institutions have begun to train for this important field. some of the colleges of commerce, like those of dartmouth and harvard, demand extensive liberal preparation; others, like wharton and the schools connected with the state universities, coördinate their liberal and vocational work; a few, like that of new york university, give almost exclusive attention to the practical element. two other movements might be mentioned as illustrating the attempt to extend the opportunity for higher education to an ever increasing number of people. one is the development of extension courses and the other the offering of evening work to those who cannot attend the regular sessions. these are both steps in the direction of equality of opportunity which is the ultimate aim of education in a democratic country. =the future of the college in american education--relation to secondary schools= the college preceded the high school in time, and when the high school began its career in the middle of the nineteenth century it was made tributary to the college in all essentials. by deciding requirements for admission, the college practically prescribed the curriculum of the high school; by conducting examinations itself it practically determined methods of teaching in the high school. but a remarkable change in these respects has taken place in the past two decades. the high school, which is almost omnipresent in our country, has attained independence and today organizes its curricula without much reference to the college. if there be any domination in college entrance requirements today, it is rather the high school that dominates. over a large part of the country, especially in states maintaining state universities, there are now no examinations for entrance to college. the college accepts all graduates of _accredited_ high schools--i.e., high schools that the state university decides maintain proper secondary standards. this growth in strength and independence has been accompanied by a lengthening of the high school course from two years in the middle of the last century to four years at the present time. =the junior college= with the introduction of the principle of promotion by subject instead of by class, the strong high schools have been enabled to undertake to teach subjects in their last years which were formerly taught in the first years of the college. they have done this so well that the practice has grown up in some parts of the country, especially on the pacific coast, of extending the course of the high school to six years and of completing in them the work of the first two years of college. this enables more young men and women throughout the state to receive collegiate education, and as the best-equipped teachers in the high schools are usually in the last years and the worst-equipped teachers in the college are usually in the first years, the system makes for better education. moreover, it relieves the state universities of the crowds of students in the first two years and permits overworked professors to concentrate upon the advanced work of the last two years and upon research work in the graduate schools. a system which offers so many advantages and is so popular both in the high school and the university bids fair to spread. =the abbreviated and condensed college course= while the movement making for the elimination of the college from below has been taking place in the west, another movement having the same effect has been taking place in the east, only the pressure has been from above. the tendency is spreading for the professional schools of the strong universities to demand a college degree for admission. if the full four years of the college are demanded in addition to the four years of the secondary school and the eight years of the elementary school, the great majority of students will begin their professional education at twenty-two and their professional careers at twenty-six, and they will hardly be self-supporting before thirty. this seems an unreasonably long period of preparation compared to that required in other progressive countries. the german student, for example, begins his professional studies immediately upon graduation from the gymnasium at eighteen. hence the demand has arisen for a shortening of the college course. this demand has been met in several ways. in some colleges the courses have been arranged in such a way that the bright and industrious student may complete the work required for graduation in three years. in others, as at harvard, the student may elect in his senior year the studies of the first year of the professional school. another tendency in the same direction is to permit students in the junior and even in the sophomore years to elect subjects of a vocational nature. this has been bitterly contested by those who hold that the minimum essentials of liberal culture should be acquired before vocational specialization begins. columbia _permits_ a student to complete his college and professional studies in six years, and at the end of that time he receives both the bachelor's and the professional degrees. it is to be noted, however, that these solutions of the problem and, in fact, most other solutions that have been suggested, apply only to a college connected with a university; they could not be administered in the independent college. but a movement has developed in the middle west which may result in another solution; i.e., the junior college. it can be best understood by reference to the policy of the university of chicago. that institution divides its undergraduate course into two parts: a junior college of two years, the completion of whose course brings with it the title of associate in arts, and a senior college of two years, the completion of whose course is rewarded with the regular bachelor's degree. there have become affiliated with the university of chicago a considerable number of colleges throughout the mississippi valley which have frankly become junior colleges and confine their work to the freshman and sophomore years. and this has become true of other universities. it would seem inevitable that the bachelor's degree will finally be granted at the end of the junior college and some other degree, perhaps the master's, which has an anomalous place in american education in any case, at the end of the senior college. this has, in fact, been suggested by president butler. the university of chicago has also struck out in another new direction. provided a certain amount of work is done in residence at the university, the remainder may be completed _in absentia_, i.e., through correspondence courses. the junior college movement has had the excellent result of inducing many weak colleges to confine their work to what they really can afford to do. many parts of our country have a surplus of colleges, chiefly denominational. ohio alone has more than fifty. the cost of maintaining dormitories, laboratories, libraries, apparatus, and other equipment and paying respectable salaries cannot be met by the tuition fees in any college. the college must either have a large income-producing endowment, which few have, or must receive gifts sufficient to meet expenses. gifts to colleges and universities form one of the finest evidences of interest in higher education in the united states, and reach really colossal proportions. in the past fifty years, during which this form of generosity has prevailed, over million dollars have been given, and in gifts from private sources amounted to more than million dollars. most of this money is given to the non-sectarian institutions and not to the small denominational colleges scattered over the country. as they are in addition unable to compete with the state universities, they are for every reason justified in becoming junior colleges. but this does not apply to the old independent colleges, such as amherst, williams, dartmouth, etc., which have loyal and wealthy alumni associations. they have the support necessary to retain the four-year course and seem determined to do so. just what the outcome of the whole question of shortening the college course may be is not now evident. that concessions in time must be made to the demand for an earlier beginning of professional education seems certain. that the saving should be made in the college course is not so certain. a sounder pedagogy seems to indicate that one year, if not two, can be saved in the period from the sixth to the eighteenth year. it is probable that the arbitrary division of american education into elementary, secondary, collegiate, and university, each with a stated number of years, will give way to a real unification of the educational process. most americans would regret to see the college, the unique product of american education, which has had such an honorable part in the development of our civilization, disappear in the unifying process. stephen pierce duggan _college of the city of new york_ bibliography the bibliography on the american college is almost inexhaustible. the list here given is confined to the best books that have appeared since . angell, j. b. _selected addresses._ new york, . association of american universities. proceedings of the annual conference. butler, n. m. _education in the united states._ new york, . cattell, j. m. _university control._ new york, . crawford, w. h. (editor). _the american college._ new york, . (papers by faunce, shorey, haskins, rhees, thwing, finley, few, slocum, meiklejohn, claxton.) cyclopedia of education, article on "american college." new york, . dexter, e. g. _history of education in the united states._ new york, . draper, a. s. _american education._ boston, . flexner, a. _the american college: a criticism._ general education board, new york, . foster, w. t. _administration of the college curriculum._ boston, . harper, w. r. _the trend in higher education._ chicago, . kingsley, c. d. _college entrance requirements._ united states bureau of education, . maclean, g. e. _present standards of higher education in the united states._ united states bureau of education, . national association of state universities in the united states of america. annual transactions and proceedings. risk, r. k. _america at college._ london, . snow, l. f. _college curriculum in the united states._ new york, . thwing, c. f. _history of higher education in the united states._ new york, . ---- _the american college; what it is and what it may become._ new york, . ---- _college administration._ new york, . west, a. f. _short papers on american liberal education._ new york, . footnotes: [ ] w. t. foster in n.e.a. reports, . ii professional training for college teaching =introduction= were this chapter to be a discussion of schemes of training, now in operation, that had been devised to prepare teachers for colleges, it could not be written, for there are no such schemes. many elementary and secondary teachers have undergone training for their life work, as investigators have, by a different regimen, of course, for theirs. but if college and university teachers do their work well, it is because they are born with competence for their calling, or were self-taught, or happened to grow into competence accidentally, as a by-product of training for other and partly alien ends, or learned to teach by teaching. there are able college men, presidents and others, who view this situation with equanimity, if not with satisfaction. teachers are born, not made, it is said. can pedagogy furnish better teachers than specialized scholarly training? it is asked. if we train definitely for teaching, we shall diminish scholarship, cramp and warp native teaching faculty, and mechanize our class procedure, it is objected. had the subject of training for college teaching been discussed, no doubt other objections would have been advanced. but it has not been discussed, as will be seen from the very scant bibliography at the end of the chapter. no plan of training for college teaching is in operation, and no discussion of such a plan can be found. each of a half-dozen men has argued his individual views, and elicited no reply. this state of facts notwithstanding, the subject is well worth discussing, and one may even venture to prophesy that in a decade, or at latest two, the subject will have a respectable literature, and enough training plans will be in operation to permit fruitful comparisons. when specific training is first urged for specialized work, there always is opposition. the outgoing generation remembers the opposition to specialized training for law, medicine, and engineering, to say nothing of farming, school teaching and business. but in spite of obstructive and retarding objections, specialized types of training for specialized types of work have grown in number and favor, and today we are being shown convincingly that nations which have declined to set up the fundamental types of special training find themselves able to make effective only a fraction of their resources. the majority of the personnel in every higher calling has about average native aptitude for it, and it is just the average man who can be improved in competence for any work by training directed to that end rather than to another. this is, of course, true of college teaching. =how the college teacher has been and is trained= in early days in this country the great majority of college teachers were clergymen, trained in most cases abroad. later bookish graduates came to be the chief source of supply, their appointment in their own colleges, and infrequently in others, following close upon their graduation. well into the third quarter of last century college faculties were selected almost exclusively from these two types, representatives of the former decreasing and of the latter increasing in relative number. neither type was specifically trained for teaching in colleges or elsewhere. with the founding and developing of johns hopkins university a new era in higher education opened in this country. the paucity of exact scholarship came to be known, and the country's need of scholarship to be appreciated. in colleges grown from english seedlings we sought to implant grafts from german universities. independent colleges and colleges within universities, while still called upon by american traditions and needs to prepare their students for enlightened living by means of a broadening and liberating training, came to be manned preponderatingly by narrowly specialized investigators, withdrawn from everyday life, with concentrated interests focused upon subjects or parts of subjects, rather than upon students. little thought was, or is yet, given to the preparation of college teachers for their duties as teachers, and that little rested, and still in large measure rests, satisfied with the assumption that by some unexplained and it may be inexplicable transfer of competence a man closeted and intensively trained to search for truth in books and laboratories emerges after three or more years well equipped for divining and developing the mental processes and interests of freshmen. once fairly examined, this assumption lacks plausibility. "we consider the ph.d. a scholar's degree and not a teacher's degree," says the dean of one of our leading graduate schools, and yet preparation for this scholar's degree has been and is practically the only formal preparation open to college teachers in this country. =equipment needed by college teachers= it goes without saying that scholarship is one of the basal needs of college teachers, a scholarship that keeps alive, and is human and contagious. but it should be remembered that there are several kinds of scholarship, and it is pertinent to ask what kind college teachers need. should they, for instance, model themselves on the broad shrewdness and alluring scholarly mellowness of james russell lowell or on the untiring encyclopedic exactitude and minuteness of von helmholz? or is there an even better ideal or ideals _for them_? i would suggest that the teacher's knowledge of his subject should, essentially, be of a kind that would keep him in intellectual sympathy with the undeveloped minds of his students, and this means chiefly two things. the more points of contact of his knowledge with the past experience and future plans of his students the teacher has at his command, the better teacher he will be; for he can use them, not as resting places, but as points of departure for the development of phases of his subject outside the students' experience. and secondly, the teacher should see his subject entire, with its parts, as rich in number and detail as possible, each in its proper place within the whole. for the students' knowledge of the subject is vague and general; he is trying to place it, and many other new things, in some kind of a coherent setting; in fact, he is in college largely for the very purpose of working out some sort of rudimentary scheme of things. the duty of the college teacher is to help him in this quite as much as to teach him a particular subject. and, besides, each particular subject can be best taught if advantage is taken of every opportunity to attach it to the only knowledge of it the student has, vague and general though it be. highly specialized and dehumanized knowledge is not as useful for the college teacher as broad and vital knowledge, which is, of course, much harder to acquire. even in the case of "disciplinary" subjects, there is no gain in concealing the human bearings. the teacher should be trained to seize opportunities in the classroom and out to help the student, through his subject and his maturer life experience, to see the bearing of what he is learning on the life about him and on the life he is to lead. this is the college teacher's richest opportunity and the opportunity that tries him most shrewdly. if he is to rise to it, his entire equipment, native and acquired, must come into play. what else does the teacher need? so that he may select the best and continue to improve them, he needs a knowledge of the different methods and aims in the teaching of his subject, and, so far as possible, of the results attained by each. too much of college teaching is a blind groping, chartless and without compass. instead of expecting each inexperienced teacher to start afresh, he should set out armed with the epitomized and digested teaching experience of those that have gone before him. finally, the teacher needs a sympathetic and expert understanding of the thinking and feeling of college students. this should be his controlling interest. the teacher, his interest in his subject, and in all else except the student, should be instrumental, not final. every available strand of continuity between studenthood and teacherhood should thereafter be preserved. this need suggests a capital weakness of the training for the doctorate in philosophy as a preparation for teaching. as it proceeds it shifts the interest from undergraduate student to scholarly specialty, and steadily snaps the ties that bound the budding investigator to his college days. it also explains the greatness of some college teachers and personalities before the eighties. their degrees in arts were their licenses to teach. they suffered no drastic loss of touch with undergraduate thought and life. in the early years of their teaching this sympathetic and kindly understanding was fresh and strong, and they used it in their classroom and wove it into the tissue of their tutorial activities. a discerning observer of college faculties can even today discover in them men and women who entered them by the same door as these great ones of old, irregularly as we would say now,--without the hallmark, and whose good teaching is a surprise to their doctored colleagues. in one institution i know of, the best five teachers some years ago were all of this type. the training of college teachers might well, it therefore seems, include an apprenticeship, beginning with, or in exceptional cases before, graduation from college. =the college legislator and administrator= but the duties and opportunities of the college teacher do not stop at the door leading from his classroom. in addition to dealing directly with students, individually and in groups, and even, if possible, with their families, as he grows in service he becomes, as faculty member and committeeman, a college legislator and administrator. in exercising these important functions he needs the equipment that would aid him to take the central point of view, a background of scholarly knowledge of what education in general and college education in particular are in their methods and in their social functions and purposes. there is too much departmental logrolling, as well as too much beating of the air in faculty meetings, and too many excursions into the blue in faculty legislation and administration arrangements. the educational views of faculty members greatly need to be steadied, ordered, and appreciably broadened and deepened by a developed and trained habit of thinking educationally under the safeguards of scientific method and on the basis of an adequate supply of facts. that pedagogy has made but the smallest beginning of gathering and ordering such facts and developing a scientific method in this field is not a valid objection. these tasks are no more difficult than others that have been compared, as _they_ will be, the sooner for being imposed. it is significant that coincident with sharp and widespread criticism of the american college (justified in part by what college teachers have been made into by their training), appear demands on the part of faculties for more power. in this connection it may be remembered that autocracy is the simplest and easiest form of government, and that history shows that it can at least be made to work with less brains and training than are required for the working of democracy. as american colleges and universities have grown in complexity and responsibility, their faculties have lost power because they did not acquire the larger competence that was the indispensable condition of even reasonably successful democratic control. it is highly desirable that the power of faculties should increase to the point of preponderance. but the added power they will probably acquire will not be retained unless faculty members learn their business much better than they now know it in most institutions. thomas jefferson, when asked which would come to dominate, the states or the federal government, replied that in the long run each of the opposed pair would prevail in the functions in which it proved the more competent. =a tentative scheme of training for college teachers= to outline a scheme of such importance without any experience to examine as a basis is a very bold undertaking, and one that can hope for but partial success. what i shall propose, however, is similar to the proposals of pitkin ( ), horne ( ), and wolfe ( ), my only predecessors in this rash enterprise. the general spirit and purpose of our proposals are the same. but we disagree more or less in details--which is fortunate, as it may encourage discussion of the subject, which is the thing most needed. indeed, a lively sense of this need has led me to venture some unpopular assertions. it may also be admitted that the desiderata for teachers mentioned above are not likely to be all insured by any system of training. the proposal submitted for discussion is that a three-year graduate course be established, its spirit and purpose being to train young men to become _college_ teachers. this course should lead to a doctorate; e.g., to the degree of doctor of philosophy, or of doctor of philosophy in teaching, or of docendi doctor. what degree is selected is, in the long run, relatively unimportant, provided the course is soundly conducive to its end. the course might well be divided into three parts, having the approximate relative value in time and effort of two fifths, two fifths, and one fifth. these parts should proceed simultaneously throughout the three years, the first being an apprenticeship--under supervision, of course--in the functions of the college teacher, the second a broad course of study and investigation of the subject to be taught, and the third a course of pedagogical study and investigation. let me suggest a minimum of detail within these outlines. the apprentice teacher would, naturally, do the least classroom teaching during his first year, and the most during his last. he would also each year "advise" a group of freshman in studies and in life, or coöperate with students in the conduct of athletics, dramatics, publication work, or other "activities." on all this apprentice work he would report, and in all he would be guided and supervised appropriately by the department whose subject he was teaching, by the department of education, and by other departments concerned. this and other parts of the training would attract others in addition to narrowly bookish graduates, something much to be desired (other parts would eliminate those not bookish enough), and would tend to keep alive in all apprentices an interest in students, especially in student character, and to prevent them from thinking of students as disembodied minds. the course of study and investigation in the subject to be taught should be based on adequate undergraduate work in the same and allied fields, and should be something like the honor course in oxford or cambridge (or our _old_ m.a. course) in its conduct and purpose; it should hark back to our collegiate origin in england. the work should be in charge of a don, a widely and wisely read and a very human guide, philosopher, and friend. stated class meetings and precise count of hours of attendance should receive little emphasis. but wide reading of the subject, in a spirit that breeds contagion, running off into a study, in books, laboratories, and meetings, of the human and practical bearings of the subject, should be required, and enough conference with the don should be had to enable him to judge and criticize the student's plan and amount of work, to test his mettle in handling the subject, and to aid him to grasp it as a whole and in its chief subdivisions, and to get glimpses of its bearings on and place in human life. this part of the training should lead up to and culminate in a thesis dealing with some major phase of the subject comprehendingly in its setting and connections. naturally this program could be carried out most successfully with the social subjects, which lend themselves easily to culture, like history or philosophy, and less completely with the exact subjects, which are better fitted for precise discipline, like mathematics. but if treated, as far as possible, after the manner indicated, even the latter could be made better instruments for the training of college teachers than they are now in narrow specialization for the ph.d. degree. among returning rhodes scholars some excellent material for dons could be found. the fifth of the course directed to pedagogy should include a very brief study of the methods of teaching the chosen subject, with glimpses into teaching methods in general; and courses in the history and philosophy of education, with emphasis on, but by no means exclusive dealing with, the educational and social functions of the college. it might include an intensive investigation of some relatively simple college problem in preparation for future faculty membership. all this should, of course, be intimately articulated with the student's apprenticeship work. such a course of pedagogical study should furnish a basis for better teaching methods and for helpful self-criticism therein; should encourage the formation of a habit of thinking and working out educational problems scientifically with eyes open to the purpose of the college as a whole; and should discourage departmental selfishness in legislation and administration. =incidental advantage= the college would, under this plan, have some of its teaching done at minimum cost by student teachers, who should receive only the graduate scholarship or fellowship now customary for ph. d. candidates. care would be necessary to prevent the assignment to them of mere routine hackwork without training value. it is safe to say that, though slightly less mature, their services, being supervised, would be more valuable than those rendered during their first few years of teaching by most better-paid winners of the doctorate of philosophy, who, if they do so at all, grope their way to usefulness as teachers, with little aid from others more experienced. with good teaching prepared for, required, and adequately rewarded (a point to be developed later), somewhat longer schedules could properly be assigned and further economy effected. schedules would, of course, have to be kept short enough to allow ample time for reading, for some writing, and for faculty and committee work in later years. but time would not be required by _college_ teachers for specialized research, and the freedom from such tasks resulting for them would be a blessed relief to many who are now compelled to assume a virtue they have not, and to conceal the love of teaching they have. and when we bear in mind the heavy mass of uninspired and unimportant hackwork that is now dumped on the scholarly world, we shall welcome the prospect of a lightened burden for ourselves. the need of students, especially of freshmen, for advisers is widely recognized. they come into a new freedom exercised in a new environment. this makes for bewilderment that involves loss of precious time and opportunities, and presents perils which involve possible injuries to many and certain injuries to some. efforts, many and various, to constitute a body of advisers chosen from among faculty members have met with but little success. with few exceptions the task is not congenial to those who now man our faculties, and for that and other reasons they are ill fitted for it. but a greater measure of success has been attained, even under present conditions, when the coöperation of volunteers from among seniors and graduate students has been had. this suggests that the problem might come nearer solution when some dependence came to be placed upon the services of apprentices. such service would be a part of their regular work having a bearing on their future career, and would therefore be supervised and rest on sustained interest and the consciousness that it was counting. finally, young student teachers would, under proper encouragement and arrangement, help materially to bridge the gulf, that is broader than is wholesome, between a faculty of mature men and young students. the mixing of these different generations, so far as possible, is much to be desired, difficult as it is to accomplish. =consequent change of plan in appointments and promotions= this is not the place to discuss the details of appointment and promotion plans, interesting and important as they are. but it is evident that the scheme of training outlined, if adopted, would call for changes in present practices. the appointing authorities of colleges looking for young teachers could ascertain their strong and weak points as they developed during their apprenticeship in classrooms and in other educational activities, as well as the quality and trend of their scholarship. they would not rest satisfied with ascertaining the minute corner of the field of philosophy, history, or physics in which a man recommended had done research. records could be kept throwing much-needed light on the teaching ability, scholarship, and personality of candidates for appointment. in selecting _college_ teachers, appointing authorities would value this evidence and would come to prefer teaching power to investigating ability. moreover, the record keeping, and, no doubt, some of the supervision begun during the apprentice years would continue during the early instructorial years. this would render it possible to evaluate and to value effectiveness in teaching in making promotions. ambitious teachers would no longer be practically forced, as their only resort, to neglect their students and give their best energies to publication in order to make a name and get a call, in the interest of promotion. the expert teacher would have a chance and a dignity equal to that of the skilled investigator. the individual could follow, and not be penalized for so doing, his own bent and the line of his highest capacity. =training of investigators= the training now given in graduate schools here and elsewhere for the doctorate in philosophy will, of course, continue, and increase rather than diminish. investigators will be preferred in research, in universities, and in some colleges and college departments. they will be increasingly prized in the government service and in important branches of industry. the recent terrible experiences burn into our minds the imperative need strong nations have of exact knowledge and of skill that has a scientific edge. and the specific training for these great tasks will be stronger when it is based on a college course in which highly effective and whole-hearted teaching is valued and rewarded. sidney e. mezes _college of the city of new york_ bibliography anonymous. confessions of one behind the times. _atlantic_, vol. , pages - , march, . canby, h. s. the professor. _harpers_, april, . carnegie foundation for the advancement of teaching. bulletin no. , may, , pages - . flexner, abraham. adjusting the college to american life. _science_, vol. , pages - . handschin, c. h. inbreeding in the instructional corps of american colleges and universities. _science_, vol. , pages - . november, . holliday, carl. our "doctored" colleges. _school and society_, vol. , pages - . november , . horne, herman h. the study of education by prospective college instructors. _school review_, vol. , march, , pages - . pitkin, w. b. training college teachers. _popular science_, vol. , pages - . june, . report of the committee on standards of american universities. _science_, vol. , page . november , . robinson, mabel l. need of supervision in college teaching. _school and society_, vol. , pages - , october , . sanderson, e. d. definiteness of appointment and tenure. _science_, vol. , pages - , june, . stewart, charles a. appointment and promotion of college instructors. _educational review_, vol. , , pages - . wilczynski, e. j. appointments in college and universities. _science_, february , ; vol. , pages ff. wolfe, a. b. the graduate school, faculty responsibility, and the training of university teachers. _school and society_, september , . iii general principles of college teaching =status of teaching in the colleges= the investigator of educational practices and methods of teaching is impressed with an unmistakable educational anti-climax, for the conviction grows on him that elementary school teaching is on a relatively high plane, that secondary school teaching is not as effective, and that collegiate teaching, with rare exceptions, is ineffective and in urgent need of reform. a superficial survey of educational literature of the last ten years shows that while the problem of the high school is now receiving earnest attention, elementary education continues to absorb the earnest efforts of an army of vitally interested investigators. the field of college pedagogics is still virgin soil, and no significant or extensive program for improved methods of teaching has yet been advanced. three earnest and intelligent students representing three colleges of undisputed standing were asked informally about their instructors for the current semester. nothing was said to make these students aware that their judgment would hold any significance beyond the friendly conversation. the summary of opinions is offered, not because the investigation is complete and affords a basis for scientific conclusion, but because it reflects typical college teaching in three recognized institutions of more than average standing. student no. i | student no. ii | student no. iii | | _teacher a_: a popular | _teacher a_: a good | _teacher a_: a very and interesting | teacher of mathematics.| popular teacher of teacher. talks | he assigns a new lesson| english. if the final enthusiastically, but | for home study. the | examination is given talks all the time. | next day he asks | by another teacher, i lessons assigned are | questions on the | may not have enough not heard. students | lesson. the answers are| specific facts to seldom recite. written | written out on the | pass. we began chaucer quizzes on themes of | blackboards. after | last week. he spent a assigned reading are | fifteen minutes all | good part of each rated by an assistant. | students take their | session reading to us. the work comes back | seats and the work on | all of us were with an a, a c, or a d,| the blackboard is taken| surprised to find how but we do not know why | up for explanation. he | much more the text the rating was given. | explains every | meant than after our frequently two students| difficulty very | own reading. in the who worked together are| clearly. we rarely | last session we went marked b and d | cover the lesson. some | to our book on respectively for the | topics go unexplained | literature and tried same work. sometimes a | because during the next| to justify the a student who "cribbed"| hour the blackboard | characterization which his outline from | problems are based on | the author gives of another who actually | the lesson. if i | chaucer. the class "worked it up" receives| understood the second | agreed with all in the a higher mark than was | half of each lesson as | book except in one given for the original.| clearly as the first, | characterization. in | i would feel hopeful | the composition work we | of a good grade in the | took up the structure | final examination. | of short narratives. | | the assignment was to | | find narratives in | | current periodicals, | | in the writings of | | standard authors, in | | newspapers, and then | | attempt to find whether | | the structure we | | studied was followed. | | in each case we had to | | justify any departure | | from the standard. | | there was little time | | for the footnotes in | | chaucer. i hope we are | | not asked for these on | | the final examination. | | | | _teacher b_: rather an | _teacher b_: a dry | _teacher b_: a very interesting teacher; | course in art history | conscientious teacher assigns lessons from a | and appreciation. we | of chemistry. he gives book. at the beginning | take up the history of | us a ten-minute written of the hour he asks | architecture, painting,| quiz each hour on the questions on the text | and sculpture. the | work in the book or on but is soon carried | names of the best | the matter discussed in away and rambles along | artists are mentioned, | the last lecture. the for the period, | and their many works | rest of the hour is touching on every | confuse us. we memorize| spent in explanation of subject. we never | praxiteles, phidias, | difficult points and in complete a chapter or | myron, the ancient | the application of what topic. the succeeding | cairns, the parts of an| we learned of industry hour we take the next | egyptian temple. | and physiology. it is chapter, which meets | pictures are shown on | surprising to see the the same fate. written | the screen. i elected | interest the class tests determine the | this course in the hope| shows in the chemical students' rank. the | that it would teach me | explanations of things grade for the written | something about | we never noticed test is announced, but | pictures, how to judge | before. the papers are not | them and give me | returned and one never | standards of beauty, | knows why the papers | etc., but it has been | were rated c or d. | history and not | | appreciation so far. | | we do not see any | | beauty in the pictures | | of old madonnas. even | | the religious ones | | among us say this. | | | | | _teacher c_: | _teacher c_: a good, | _teacher c_: a scholarly a conscientious teacher| clear, effective | instructor in history. in physics. he assigns | lecturer in chemistry. | he assigns thirty to a definite lesson for | every lesson we learn a| forty pages in english each recitation of the | definite principle and | history, and then he term. at the beginning | its application. the | lectures to us about of the hour students go| laboratory work of each| the topics discussed by to the board to write | is related to the | the author. he points out answers to | lecture and throws | out errors in dates and questions on the | interesting side lights| places. occasionally he lesson. the hour is | on it. we have quiz | calls on a student. at spent listening to the | sections once a week. | the end of each month recitation of each | here the work is oral | he gives a written test. student and the | and written. | we remember little of explanation of | | what we learned and difficult points. we | | must "bone away" at never cover more than | | about to pages. one half of the lesson:| | his english is sometimes only one | | delightful and we enjoy third. the next hour | | listening at times, the questions are on | | but i seem to retain the new lesson, not on | | so little. "yes, half the incompleted portion| | the term is up. we are of the former lesson. | | beginning the reign of my knowledge of physics| | henry vii." is punctuated by areas | | of ignorance. these | | alternate with topics | | that i think i | | understand clearly. | | | | | | _teacher d_: a quiet, | _teacher d_: a very | _teacher d_: a very modest man. sits back | strict teacher of | enthusiastic lecturer comfortably in his seat| english literature. he | in economics. he and asks questions on | assigns text for study,| explains the important assigned texts. the | and we must be prepared| principles in questions review the | for detailed questions | economics. we follow text, and he explains | on each of the great | in a printed syllabus, in further detail the | writers. he is very | so that it is facts in the book. the | strict and detailed. we| unnecessary to take conscientious and | had to know all the | notes. he talks well capable student finds | fifteen qualities of | and makes things clear. him superfluous; the | macaulay's style. "no, | we are given assignments indifferent student | we did not read | in s----'s "elements of remains unmoved by his | macaulay this term: we | economics," on which we phlegmatic | study from a history of| are questioned by presentation; the poor | english literature that| another teacher. "is student finds him a | tells us all about the | the work in the quiz help; the shirk who | master writers." | section related directly listens and takes notes| | to the lectures? is saved studying at | | sometimes. no, we do home. | | not take current | | economic problems. these | | are given in a later | | elective course." | | | | _teacher e_: a good | _teacher e_: a quiet, | _teacher e_: an teacher of latin. he | dignified gentleman who| instructor in explains the work, | teaches us psychology. | psychology. his hours hears the lessons, | a chapter is assigned | are weary and dreary. gives drills, calls on | in the book, and the | a chapter is assigned almost everybody every | hour is spent hearing | in x's "elements of hour. the written work | students recite on the | psychology." he asks a is returned properly | text. he sticks closely| question or two and corrected and rated. | to the book. he | then repeats what the | explains clearly when | author tells us, even | the book is not clear | using the illustrations | or not specific enough.| and diagrams found in | the hours drag, for the| the text. sometimes a | book is good and those | student reads a paper | who studied the lessons| which he prepared. "no, | weary at what seems to | we do not get very much | us needless repetition.| out of these papers | | read by students. but | | then we get just as | | little from the | | instructor. no, we | | never apply the | | psychology to our own | | thinking nor to | | teaching nor to the | | behavior of children | | or adults." | | | | _teacher f_: one | _teacher f_: a learned | _teacher f_: a cannot pass judgment on| latin scholar who is | forbidding but very this teacher of | very enthusiastic about| strict latin teacher. mechanical drawing. he | his specialty. the | his questions are fast gives out a problem, | students exhibit | and numerous and the works a type on the | cheerful tolerance. he | hesitating student is board, and then | assigns a given number | lost. he assigns at distributes the plates.| of lines per day. these| least twenty-five per we draw. he helps us | we prepare at home. in | cent more per lesson when we ask for aid, | class we give a | than any other otherwise he walks | translation in english | instructor. the hour is about the room. i | that has distorted | spent in translating, suppose one cannot show| phrases and clauses | parsing, and quizzing teaching ability in | lest we be accused of | on historical and such a subject. | dishonesty in | mythological allusions. | preparation. the rest | every "pony" user is | of the time is spent on| soon caught, because | questions of syntax, | he is asked so many | references, footnotes, | questions on each | and the identification | sentence. there is a | of the of the real and | distinct relief when | mythological characters| the hour is over because | in the text. the | he is constantly at you. | teacher is animated and| "will i take the next | effective. | course in latin? not | | unless i must. this is | | prescribed work. it | | can't end too soon for | | me, nor for the others | | in the class." the student of scientific and statistical measurements in education may object to attaching any importance to these informal characterizations of college teachers by undergraduates. college teachers interested in the pedagogical aspects of their subject, and college administrators who spend time observing class instruction will concede that these young men were not at all unfortunate in their teachers. the significance of these characterizations is not that college teachers vary in teaching efficiency, but rather that inefficient college teaching is general, and that the causes of this inefficiency are such as respond readily to simple remedial measures very well known to elementary and high school teachers. =causes of ineffective college teaching= it may be well to note the chief causes of ineffective college teaching before directing attention to a remedial program: (a) many college teachers hold to be true the time-honored fallacy that the only equipment for successful teaching is a thorough knowledge of the subject. they do not stop to square their belief with actual facts. they overlook the examples of their colleagues possessed of undisputed scholarship who are failures in the classroom. they fail to realize that there are psychological and pedagogical aspects of the teaching art which demand careful organization, skilful gradation and a happy selection of illustrations intimately related to the lives of the students. (_b_) closely related to this first cause of ineffective teaching is a lack of sympathetic understanding of the student's viewpoint. the scholarly teacher, deep in the intricacies and speculations of his specialty, is often impatient with the groping of the beginner. he may not realize that the student before him, apparently indifferent to the most vital aspects of his subject, has potentialities for development in it. his interest in his researches and his vision of the far-reaching human relations of his subject may blind him to the difficulties that beset the path of the beginner. (_c_) the inferiority of college teaching in many institutions can often be traced to the absence of constructive supervision. the supervising officer in elementary and secondary schools makes systematic visits to the classrooms of young or ineffective teachers, observes their work, offers remedial suggestions, and tries to infuse a professional interest in the technique of teaching. in the college such supervision would usually stir deep resentment. the college teacher is, in matters of teaching, a law unto himself. he sees little of the actual teaching of his colleagues; they see as little of his. his contact with the head of his department, and his departmental and faculty meetings, are usually limited to discussions of college policy and of the sequence and content of courses. methods of teaching are rarely, if ever, brought up for discussion. the results are inevitable. weaknesses in teaching are perpetuated, while the devices and practices of an effective teacher remain unknown to his colleagues. (_d_) a fourth factor which accounts for much of the inefficiency in college pedagogics is made the thesis of dr. mezes' chapter on "the training of the college teacher." the college teacher, unlike teachers in other grades of an educational system, is expected to teach without a knowledge of educational aims and ideals, and without a knowledge of the psychological principles which should guide him in his work. the prospective college teacher, having given evidence of scholarship alone, has intrusted to him, the noisy, expressive, and rapidly developing, youth. we set up no standards aside from character and scholarship. we do not demand evidence of teaching ability, a knowledge of applied psychology and of accepted teaching practices, skill in presentation, power of organizing material in graded sequence, or ability to frame a series of questions designed to stimulate and sustain the self-activity of the pupils. the born college teacher remains the successful teacher. the poor college teacher finds no agent which tends to raise his teaching to a higher level. the temperamentally unfit are not weeded out. but teaching is an art, and like all arts it requires conscientious professional preparation, the mastery of underlying scientific principles, and practice under supervision scrupulous in its attention to technique. we have here outlined a few of the causes which keep college teaching on a low plane. the remedial measures are in each case too obvious to mention. it remains for college authorities to formulate a well-conceived and adjustable program of means and methods of ridding college teaching of those forces which keep it in a discouraging state. it is our purpose in the remainder of this chapter not to evolve a system of pedagogics, but rather to touch on the most vital principles in teaching which must be borne in mind if college teaching is to be rendered pedagogically comparable to elementary and secondary teaching. we shall confine ourselves to teaching practices which are applicable to all subjects in the college curriculum. principles in college teaching =a clearly conceived aim must control all teaching= one of the very first elements in good teaching is the clear recognition of a well-defined aim that gives purpose and direction to all that is attempted in a lesson or in a period. the chief cause of poor teaching is aimless teaching, in which the sole object seems to be to fill the allotted time with talking about the facts of a given subject. we sit patiently through a recitation in english literature. act i, scene of _hamlet_ had been assigned for home study and is now the text for the hour. questions are asked on the dramatic structure of this scene, on versification, on the meaning of words and expressions now obsolete, on peculiarities of syntax, and finally a question or two on a character portrayal. the bell brings these questions to an abrupt end. ask teacher and students the aim of all these questions. to the former, they are means of testing the students' knowledge of a variety of facts of language and literature; to the latter they mean little, and serve only to repress a living interest and appreciation of living literary text. how much more effective the hour in english literature would have been if the entire act had been assigned with a view to giving the students an insight into the dramatic structure of each scene in this act and of the act as a whole. all the questions would then bear on dramatic movement, on the dramatist's technique, on his way of arousing interest in his story, on devices for giving the cause and the development of the action. in the opening scene we read: _elsinore. a platform before the castle._ _francisco at his post. enter to him bernardo._ ber. who's there? fran. nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself. ber. long live the king! fran. bernardo? ber. he. fran. you come most carefully upon your hour. ber. 'tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, francisco. fran. for this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold. and i am sick at heart. ber. have you had a quiet guard? here we see the guard on duty challenged by his relief, a most unusual procedure. why does this experienced guard so far forget the customary forms as to challenge the guard on duty? what possible reason can there be for this? how would you read the second line? what words must be emphasized to show the surprise of the challenged guard? if the entire hour were given to the whole of act i and all the questions sought to reveal to the students shakespeare's power of dramatic structure, a definite and lasting impression would be carried away. act i should be assigned again, but with a different aim. the teacher now seeks to make clear to the student the dramatist's method of character portrayal. a third hour may be spent on certain portions of this act in which attention is given to significant facts of language, choice of words, or poetic form. when a guiding aim controls, all questions, suggestions, explanations, and illustrations tend to create in the mind of the pupil a rich and unified impression. where no distinct aim gives direction to the work, the student is confused by a variety of facts--isolated facts--that are displaced by another group of disjointed bits of information. aimless teaching leads to mental wandering on the part of the student; teaching governed by a definite aim leads to mental development and to the acquisition of new viewpoints and new power. =the educational aim vs. the instructional aim= we must distinguish clearly between the general or educational aim and the specific or instructional aim. the former sums up the hope of an entire course or an entire subject. in the teaching of literature we hope to develop a vital interest in reading, a discriminating taste, an enlivened imagination and a quickened perception which enable the student to visualize the situations and to acquire the thought on the printed page. the instructional aim, however, is much more specific; it posits a task that can be accomplished in a very limited time; it seeks to give an insight into shakespeare's mastery of words, or into his power of character portrayal, or into his methods of enhancing dramatic interest. each of these two types of aims has its unmistakable influence on methods of teaching. =the variety of aims that may govern teaching= what aim should we select to guide us in formulating principles of collegiate teaching? the question is almost basic, for the selection of a proper aim gives color and direction to all our teaching. in brief, the aim may be one of the following: (_a_) _the informational aim._ a given course in chemistry or physics may be designed to sum up for the student the vital facts necessary for an intelligent comprehension of common phenomena. with such an aim, it is obvious that only so much laboratory work will be assigned as will give the student a general knowledge of the tools and methods of laboratory work; that the major portion of the work will be divided into occasional lectures, regular book assignments, and extensive applications of knowledge gained to surrounding chemical and physical phenomena. a language course may seek to give pupils a stock of words designed to develop power to read the language in a very short time. obviously, grammatical work and translations into the mother tongue will now be minimized, and those devices which give the eye the power to find thought in new symbols will be emphasized. there is no standard for determining the relative importance of this informational or utilitarian aim when compared to other aims. the significant thing is, not so much to discover its relative importance, but, having adopted it, to devise methods which clearly tend to bring the students to an effective realization of it. (_b_) _the disciplinary aim._ on the other hand, the controlling aim in any subject may be to develop the power to reason about natural phenomena, the power to observe, and the power to discriminate between vital and inconsequential details. if this be the aim, the assignment of subject matter must be reduced, the phenomena studied must be submitted in the forms of problems, first-hand observations must be made, and students must be led to see the errors in their observations and their reasoning. the course which is extensive in subject matter and which relies on the lecture method sacrifices mental discipline for information. from the teaching point of view, the result of the time-honored quarrel between the disciplinists and the utilitarians is not so important as the adoption of a definite aim, and the formulation of consistent methods of teaching in order to attain that aim. ineffective teaching is not caused by the selection of the one aim or of the other, but by systems of instruction devoid of any aim at all. (_c_) _the appreciative or æsthetic aim._ it is obvious that a subject may be taught for the power it develops for æsthetic appreciation of the arts of life. we have here a legitimate aim of coördinate importance with the two preceding ones; and if we adopt it, the vital thing in teaching is to allow this appreciative aim to mold all instructional effort. it is obvious that a college course in æsthetics must be inspirational, must seek to develop a real appreciation of the beauty of line, of color and of sound. such a course must, therefore, encourage contact with the products of art, rather than promote the study of texts on the history of any of the arts. so, too, courses in music or in literature which do not send the student away with an intense desire to hear, to see, to feel the masterpieces of music or literature must be judged dismal failures. the formalization of an art course given to the general student, kills the live material and leaves the student himself cold. (_d_) _the aim to teach technique._ an effective college course may select for its aim the development of the technique of a given subject. it is obvious that a science course governed by this aim will emphasize the laboratory method at the expense of information; that a course in the social sciences will seek to cover less ground but will develop in the student the power to find facts and use them to formulate an intelligent conclusion; that a course in biology will minimize names, classifications and structures, but will emphasize field and laboratory work and the modes of utilizing the data thus discovered. we must repeat the statement made before, that no one can set himself up as the final arbiter of the claims of these contending aims. they are all vitally necessary for a thorough understanding of life's problems. the significant conclusion for teaching is that one or more of these aims must be consciously chosen and that content and method must be determined by them absolutely. teaching for the sake of teaching consumes time and makes drafts on energy, but it leaves the student no richer in power and with no truer understanding. =should the aim be modified for varying groups of students?= it is obvious that no general law can be formulated for the adjustment of aims to the needs of students. teachers have usually found it necessary to change the aim, the content, and the method of a course according to the needs of different classes of students. in one of our colleges science students are required to take two years of latin. the course offered these young men gives the ordinary drill in grammar, translation, and analysis of cæsar, cicero, and vergil, as well as practice in prose composition in which nondescript and disjointed english sentences, grammatically correct, are turned into incorrect latin. this description, without any changes whatever, applies also to the course given in the introductory years in latin to students specializing in the arts. even a superficial analysis reveals a different set of needs in the two classes of students which can be served only by a corresponding difference in content and mode of teaching. a student who takes french or german because he wants enough mastery of these languages to enable him to read in foreign journals about the progress of his specialty must be given a course which appeals to the eye and minimizes the grammatical and conversational phases of these languages. there are courses that are foundational and that must therefore be governed by an eclectic aim. in the first course in college physics it is obvious that we must teach the necessary facts of the subject as well as its method. these aspects of the work must be emphasized with equal force for all students; no differentiation need be made for future medical or engineering students or for prospective teachers of the subject in secondary schools. generally speaking, initial courses in a department are governed by an eclectic aim, but in the advanced courses there must be constant adjustment to the needs of various groups. an eclectic aim can be as effective an instrument in enhancing the quality of teaching as a single, clear-cut aim, provided there is a clear recognition of the relative importance of the ends set up, and provided a definite plan is evolved to attain them. the aim or aims of a subject or a lesson, once formulated, must always be kept before the students as well as before the teacher. every pupil must know the ends to be attained in the course he is taking, and as work progresses he must experience a growing realization that the class is moving toward these ends. the subject matter of the course, the method of instruction, the assigned task, now glow with interest which springs from work clearly motivated. the average student plods through his semester from a sense of duty or obedience rather than from a conviction of the worth of both subject matter and method. =value of clearly defined aims= not only must the general aim be indicated to the student, but he must also be made acquainted with the specific aim. where students have been acquainted with the specific task that must be accomplished in a given period, concentration and coöperation with the instructor are easier; the students can, at stages in the lesson, anticipate succeeding steps; their answers have greater relevancy, their thought is more sequential and flows more readily along the path planned by the instructor. a specific aim for each lesson makes for economy, for it is a standard of relevancy for both student and teacher. the student whose answer or observation is irrelevant is asked to recall the aim of the lesson and to judge the pertinence of his contribution. the instructor given to wandering far afield finds that a clearly fixed aim is an aid in keeping him in the prescribed path. too many college hours, especially in the social sciences, find the instructor beginning with his subject but ending anywhere in the field of human knowledge. these wanderings are entertaining enough, but they dissipate the energies of the students and produce a mental flabbiness already too well developed in the average college student. =motivation in college teaching= a second factor which contributes much toward the effectiveness of college teaching is the principle of motivation. so long as most of the college course is prescribed, course by course, students will be found pursuing certain studies without an intelligent understanding of their social or mental worth. ask the student "doing" prescribed logic to explain the value of the course. in friendly or intimate discussion with him, elicit his conception of the utilitarian or disciplinary worth of the prescribed latin or mathematics in the arts course. he sees no relation between the problems of life and the daily lessons in many of these subjects. he submits to the teacher's attempts to graft this knowledge upon his intellectual stock merely because he has learned that the easiest course is to bend to authority. instruction in too many college subjects is based, not on intelligent and voluntary attention, but on the discipline maintained by the institution or by the instructor. it is obvious that such instruction is stultifying to the teacher and can never develop in the student a liberal and cultured outlook upon life. the principle of motivation in teaching seeks to justify to the student the experience that is presented as part of his college course. it is obvious that this motivation need not always be explained in terms of utilitarian values. a student of college age can be made to realize the mental, the cultural, or the inspirational values that justify the prescription of certain courses. the college instructor who tries to motivate courses in the appreciation of music or painting finds no great difficulty in leading his students to an enthusiastic conviction of their inspirational value. it is well worth taking the student into our confidence in these matters of aim and value. we must become more tolerant of the thoughtful student who makes honest inquiry as to the value of any of the presented courses. we must learn to regard such questions as signs of growing seriousness and increasing maturity and not as signs of impertinence. we constantly ask ourselves questions about the round of our daily task; we seek to know thoroughly their uses, their values, their meaning in our lives. clear conception of use or value in teaching is as vital as it is in life--for what is teaching if not the process of repeating life's experiences? in the principle of motivation lies the most successful solution of the problem of interest in teaching. we have too long persisted in the "sugarcoating" conception of interest. we have regarded it as a process of "making agreeable." interest has therefore been looked upon as a fictitious element introduced into teaching merely to inveigle the mind of the student into a consideration of what we are offering it. our modern psychology teaches a truer conception of interest: a feeling accompanying self-expression. interest has been defined as a feeling of worth in experience. where this feeling of worth is aroused, the individual expresses his activity to attain the end that he perceives. every act, every effort, to attain this end is accompanied by a distinctive feeling known as interest. when a class is quiet and gives itself to the teacher, it is obedient and polite, but not necessarily interested. the class that looks tolerantly at the stereopticon views that the instructor presents, or listens to the reading of the professor of english, is amused but not necessarily interested. but when the students ask questions about the pictures or ask the professor of english for further references, then have we evidence of real interest. interest is, therefore, an active attitude toward life's experience. rational motivation is almost a guarantee of this active attitude of interest. intelligent motivation in teaching has far-reaching values for both student and teacher. it stirs interest and guarantees attention and thus tends to keep aroused the activity of the students. it establishes an end toward which all effort of teacher and student must bend. it enables the student to follow a line of thought more intelligently, and occasionally to anticipate conclusions. for the teacher it serves as a standard, in terms of which he reorganizes his subject matter, judges the value of each topic, and omits socially useless matter which has too long been retained in the course in the fond hope that it will in some way develop the mind. =beginning at the point of contact= the instructor who strives to motivate the subject matter he teaches usually begins with that phase of the subject which is most intimately related to the student's life and environment. every subject worth teaching crosses the student's life at some point. the contacts between pupil and subject afford the most natural and the most effective starting points in the teaching of any subject. the subject matter in a college course is too frequently so organized that it presents points of discrepancy between itself and the student. to the college student life is not classified and systematized to a nicety. experiences occur in more or less accidental but natural sequence. scientific classification is the product of a mature mind possessing mastery of a given portion of the field of knowledge. to thrust the student, who is just finding his way in a new course, into a thoroughly scientific classification of a subject, is to present in the introduction what should come in the conclusion. many a student taking his introductory course in psychology begins with a definition of the subject, its relation to all social and physical sciences, and its classification. all these are aspects of the subject which the mind conversant with it sees clearly and understands thoroughly, but which the inexperienced student accepts merely because the facts are printed in his textbook. the youthful mind is concerned with the present and with the immediate environment. too many of our college courses, in the initial stages, transport the student into the realm of theory or into the distant past. the student cannot orientate himself in this new environment and is soon lost on the highways and byways of classification; to him the subject becomes a study of words rather than of vital ideas. why must the introductory course in philosophy begin with the ancient philosophers, and give the major part of the term to the study of dead philosophers and their theories long since refuted and discarded, while vital modern philosophic thought is crowded into the last few sessions of the semester? =illustrations of maxim. begin at the point of contact= the pedagogical significance of beginning at the point of contact can best be understood and appreciated by illustrations of actual teaching conditions. most initial courses in economics begin by positing that economics is the science of the consumption, distribution, and production of wealth. the student is told that in earlier systems of economics production was studied as the initial economic process, but that the more modern view makes consumption the starting process. all this the student takes on faith. he does not really see its bearings and its implications; he is as unconcerned with the new formulation as he is with the old; he feels at once far removed from economics. the succeeding lessons study economic laws with little reference to the economic life that the student lives. in a later chapter he learns a definition of wages, the forces that determine wage, and the mode of computing the share of the total produce that must go to wages. here we have a course that does not begin at the point of contact, that presents the very discrepancies between itself and the student that were noted before. how can we overcome them? by proceeding psychologically. the instructor refers to two or three important wage disputes in current industrial life; these conflicts are analyzed; the contending demands are studied, and the forces controlling the adoption of a new wage scale are noted. after this study of actual economic conditions the students are led to formulate their own definition of wages, and to discover the forces that determine wage. their conclusions are of course tentative. the textbook or textbooks are consulted in order to verify the formulations and the conclusions of the class. thus the course is developed entirely through a series of contacts with economic life. the final topic in the course is the formulation of a definition of economics. now the class sums up all that it has seen and learned of economics during the year. the cold and empty definition now glows with meaning. such a course awakens an intelligent interest in economic life; it develops a mode of thought in social sciences and a sense of self-reliance; it teaches the student that all conclusions are tentative and constantly subject to verification; it fosters a critical attitude toward printed text. the college graduate who studied college mathematics, advanced algebra, trigonometry, analytical geometry, and calculus, looks back with satisfaction at work completed. each of these subjects seemed to have little or no relation to the other; each was kept in a water-tight compartment. he remembers few, if any, of the formulæ, equations, and symbols. he recalls vividly his admiration of the author's ingenious method of deriving equations. every succeeding theorem, formula, or equation was another puzzle in a subject which seemed to be composed of a series of difficult, unrelated, and unapplied mathematical proofs. the course ended, the mass of data was soon obliterated from the mind's active possessions. what is the meaning of it all? what is its relation to life? there is no doubt that much of this mathematics has its application to life's needs, and that these successive subjects of mathematics are thoroughly interdependent. but nothing in the mode of instruction leads the student to see either the application or the interrelation of all this higher mathematics. would it not be better to give a single course called mathematics rather than these successive subjects? would it not be more enlightening if each new mathematical principle were taught through a situation in building, engineering, or mechanics so that the student would at all times see the intimate relation between mathematical law and physical forces? would not the disciplinary values of mathematics be intensified for the student by teaching it in a way that presents a quantitative interpretation of the daily phenomena in his experience? teachers of philosophy and psychology too often fall into a formalism that robs their subject of all its vitalizing influences. many a student enters his course in logic with high hopes. at last he is to learn the laws of thought which will render him keen in detection of fallacies and potent in the presentation of argument. how bitter is his disappointment when he finds his course dissipated in definitions and classifications. his logic gives itself to the discussion of such patent fallacies as, "a good teacher knows his subject; williams knows his subject, therefore he is a good teacher." day after day he proves the error in every form of stupidity or the truth of what is axiomatic. he tires of "gold is a metal" and "socrates is mortal." few courses in logic have the courage to break away from the traditional formalism and to begin each new principle or fundamental concept of logic by analyzing editorials, arguments, contentions in newspapers, magazines, campaign literature, or the actual textbooks. few students complete their course in logic with a keener insight into thought and with a maturer or more aggressive mental attitude. =beginning at the point of contact relates the subject to the life of the student= it was pointed out in a previous illustration that the college student "taking philosophy" is seldom made to feel that the subject he studies is related to the problems that arise in his own life. too frequently introductory courses in philosophy are historical and extensive in scope, striving to develop mastery of facts rather than to give new viewpoints. the student learns names of philosophers, and attempts to memorize the philosophic system developed by each thinker. such a course imposes a heavy burden on retentive power, for no little effort is required to remember the distinctive philosophical systems advocated by the respective writers. to the students these philosophers represent a group of peculiar people differing one from the other in their degrees of "queerness." one system is as far removed as another from the life that the student experiences; no system helps him to find himself. an introductory course in philosophy should begin with the problems of philosophy; it should have its origin in the reflective and speculative problems of the student himself. as the course progresses, the student should feel a growing sense of power, an increasing ability to formulate more clearly, to himself at least, the questions of religion and ethics that arise in the life of a normal thinking person. so, too, courses in ethics and psychology lose the vital touch unless they begin in the life of the student and apply their lessons to his social and intellectual environment. it must be pointed out, however, that the social sciences lend themselves more readily to this intimate treatment than do languages, or the physical sciences, but at all points possible in the study of a subject, the experience of the student must be introduced as a means of giving the subject real meaning. in teaching composition and rhetoric illustrations of the canons of good form need not be restricted to the past. current magazines and newspapers are not devoid of effective illustrations. when the older literary forms are used exclusively as models of language, the student ends his course with the erroneous notion that contemporary writing is cheap and sensational and devoid of artistic craftsmanship. courses in physics and chemistry frequently devote themselves to a development of principles rather than to the applications of the studies to every sphere of life. introductory college courses in zoölogy spend the year in the minutiæ of the lowest animal forms and rarely reach any animal higher in the scale than the crayfish. we still find students in botany learning the various margins of leaves, the system of venation, the scientific classifications, but at the end of the course, unable to recognize ordinary leaves and just as blind to nature as they were before. zoölogy and botany do not always--as they should--give a new view of life, a new attitude towards living phenomena, a new contact with nature. careful inquiry among college students will reveal an amazing ignorance of common chemical and physical phenomena after full-year courses in chemistry and physics. we find a student giving two semesters to work in each of these subjects. he spends most of his time learning the chemical elements, their characteristics and the modes of testing for them. the major portion of the time is spent in the laboratory, where he must discover for himself the elementary practices of the subject and test the validity of well-established truths. at the end of his second semester he has not developed sufficient laboratory technique for significant work in chemistry; he is ignorant of the chemical explanation of the most common phenomena in life. =pedagogical vs. logical organization= there is much to be said for the position taken by the "older teachers," who may not possess the scholarship of the "younger investigators" but who argue for a general course in which laboratory work shall be reduced, technique minimized, and attention focused on giving an extensive view of chemical forces. the simple chemical facts in digestion, metabolism, industry, war, medicine, etc., would be presented in such a way as to make life a more intelligent process and to give an insight into the method of science. in the courses that follow the introductory one, there would be a marked change in aim; the student would be taught the laboratory technique and would be given a more intensive study of the important aspects of chemistry. similar changes in the introductory courses in physics are urged by these same teachers. beginning at the point of contact may frequently interfere with the logical arrangement of the course of study; it may wrench many a topic out of its accustomed place in the textbook; it will demand that the applications, which come last in most logically arranged courses, be given first and that definitions and principles which come first be given last. this logical arrangement, it was pointed out, is usually the expression of the matured mind that is thoroughly conversant with every aspect of a subject; it may mean little, however, to the beginner--so little that he does not even slightly appreciate its significance. the loss in logical sequence entailed by beginning at the point of contact is often more than compensated for by the advantages which are derived from a psychological presentation. =proper organization as a factor in effective teaching= a well-organized lesson possesses teaching merits which may counteract almost all the usual weaknesses found in poor teaching. good organization determines clearness of comprehension, ease of retention, and ability of recall; it makes for economy of time and mental energy; it simplifies the processes of mental assimilation; it teaches the student, indirectly but effectively, to think sequentially. we have all suffered too keenly, as auditors and readers, the inconveniences of poor organization, not to realize the worth of proper organization of knowledge in teaching. organization of knowledge has become a pedagogical slogan, but its increase in popularity has not been accompanied by increased clearness of comprehension of its meaning. what, then, is meant by proper organization? it must ever be borne in mind that proper organization is a relative condition, the limits of which are determined by the capacities of the students and the nature of the subject matter. what is effective organization of facts in elementary history may be very ineffective organization for students of high school or college grade. making due allowance for relative conditions, good organization may be said to consist of five essential characteristics. _logical sequence_ is the first of these. it is apparent that the more rational the sequence of facts, the more effective is the organization of knowledge. data organized on a basis of cause and effect, similarity, contrast or any other logical relationship will help to secure the teaching advantages we have mentioned. a search for this simple principle in most textbooks on american or english history or literature reveals its complete absence. a detailed mass of historical information grouped into administrations or reigns is merely a mechanical organization in which time, the accidental element, and not the development of social movements, the logic of human history, is the determining factor. in too many courses in literature the student learns names of writers, biographical data, and literary characteristics of the masters, but fails to see the development of the movement of which the writer was a part. events of history placed in their social movements, writers in literature placed in the school in which they belong, give the student the logical ties which bind the knowledge to him. so, too, one often analyzes the sequence of chapters in an advanced algebra or a trigonometry and fails to discover the governing rationale. it must be remembered, however, that the nature of the subject will often reduce the logical element in its organization. instances in language teaching may be cited as illustrations of teaching situations where a mechanical organization is often the only one possible because of the arbitrary character of the subject matter. =meaning of organization of subject matter= _relativity_ of importance is the second factor of good organization. a cursory study of a well-organized chapter or merely passing attention to a well-organized lecture reveals at once a distinct difference in the emphasis on the various parts or elements of the subject. the proportional allotment of time or space, the number of illustrations, the number of questions asked on a given point, the force of language--these are all means of bringing out the relative importance of constituent topics or principles. in retrospect, a well-organized lesson presents an appearance similar to a contour map; each part stands out in distinctive color according to its significance. it is frequently argued by teachers that students of college age should be required to distinguish the relativity of importance of the parts of a lesson or the topics in a subject; that the instructor who points out the changing importance of each succeeding part of a lesson is enervating the student by doing for him what he ought to do for himself. this is true in part, but it must be realized that the instructor who through questions and directed discussions leads students to formulate for themselves the relative importance of data is not only carrying out the suggestion made in the preceding paragraph but is also developing in his students a power they too frequently lack. those who have studied the notes that students take in their classes have seen how frequently facts are torn from their moorings; how wrong principles are derived from illustrations; how a catch-phrase becomes a basic principle; how simple truths and axioms are distorted in the frenzy of note taking. through questions if possible, through emphasis on illustrations and explanations, where no other means is available, students must be made to see that all facts of a subject are not of the same hue, that some are faint of tint, others in shadow, and still others in high colors. without this relativity of importance, facts are grouped; with it, they are intelligently organized. _an underlying tendency_ can be discerned in well-organized knowledge. not only are facts arranged in logical sequence and emphasized according to importance, but there is in addition a central principle or an underlying purpose giving unifying force to them all. we can illustrate the need of this third characteristic of good organization by referring to a college course in american history which gives much time to the period from to . the events of these forty-five years are not taught in administrations but are summed up in six national tendencies; viz., the questions of state sovereignty, slavery, territorial acquisition, tariff, industrial and transportational progress, and foreign policy. each of these movements is treated as intensively as time permits. at the end of the study of the entire period, the student is left with these six topics but without a unifying principle; to him, these are six unrelated currents of events. in each of these problems the north and the south displayed distinctive attitudes, acted from distinctive motives, expressed distinctive needs and preferences, but these were never brought out either through well-formulated questions or through explanation. as a result, the class never realize fully that those years, - , marked the period of growing sectional differences, misunderstandings, and animosities. had this underlying tendency been brought out clearly at various points in the course, the students would have carried away a permanent impression of what is most vital in this period of american development. _gradation_ of subject matter is another characteristic of good organization. careful gradation is not so vital in subjects of social content as it is in mathematics, foreign languages, and exact sciences. the most important single factor in removing difficulties that beset a student is gradation. teaching problems often arise because the instructor or the textbook presents more than one difficulty at a time. teachers who lack intellectual sympathy or who are so lost in the advanced stages of their specialty that they can no longer image the successive steps of difficulty, one by one, that present themselves to a mind inexperienced in their respective fields, are frequently guilty of this pedagogical error. malgradation of subject matter is the direct cause of serious loss of time and energy and of needless discouragement not only to students but to instructors as well. _ability of the student to summarize_ easily is a test of good organization. at the end of a loosely organized chapter or lesson the student experiences no little difficulty in setting forth the underlying principles and their supporting data. it does not help much to have the textbook or the instructor state the summary either at the end of the lesson in question or at the beginning of the succeeding one. the summary of a lesson, given by the class, is a test of the effectiveness of instruction. summaries given by teachers or textbooks have little or no pedagogical justification. only in cases where the summary introduces a new point of view or unifying principles, or when it sets forth basic principles in particularly forceful language--only then is the statement by teacher or textbook justifiable. =thoroughness= teachers are advised to be thorough in their instruction. they in turn urge their students to strive for thoroughness in study. we praise or impugn the scholarship of our colleagues because it possesses or lacks thoroughness. here we have a quality of knowledge universally extolled. but what is meant by thoroughness? how can teachers or students know that they are attaining that degree of comprehension known as thoroughness? we are told that thoroughness is a relative condition, always changing with accompanying circumstances. even an unattainable ideal can be defined,--why not thoroughness? we must, therefore, attempt to determine the meaning of thoroughness as used in teaching and study. =negative interpretation of thoroughness= it may be helpful to formulate the common or lay interpretation of thoroughness. the term "thoroughness" is erroneously used in a quantitative sense to describe scholastic attainment. we are told of a colleague's thoroughness in history; he knows all names, dates, places, facts in the development of mankind; his knowledge of his specialty is encyclopedic; "there is no need of looking things up when he is around." a professor of english literature boasted of the thoroughness with which he teaches _hamlet_: "every word of value and every change in the form of versification are marked; every allusion is taken up, every peculiar grammatical construction is brought to the attention of the class." here we have illustrations of an erroneous conception of thoroughness which gives it an extensive meaning and regards it as the accumulation of a mass of data. =positive interpretation of thoroughness= yet the master of chronological detail in history may have no historical imagination, no historical perspective, no historical judgment. he may possess the facts, but a period in history still remains for him a stretch of time limited by two dates, rather than a succession of years in which all mankind seems to be moving in the same direction, possessed of the same viewpoints, the same hopes and aspirations. the professor of english literature does not see that in teaching _hamlet_ he forsook his specialty, literature, for philology and mythology; that he turned his back on art and took up language structure. thoroughness is not completeness, because the possession of the details of a subject does not necessarily bring with it a true comprehension of it. add all the details, and the sum total is nothing more than the group of details. thoroughness is a degree of comprehension resulting from the acquisition of new points of view. the teacher of history who sees underlying forces in the facts of the past, who understands that true inwardness of any movement which shows him its relation to all phases of life, but who nevertheless may not have ready command of all the specific details, is more thorough in his scholarship. he has the things that count; the facts that are forgotten can easily be found. the class that studies the dramatic structure of _hamlet_, that sees shakespeare's power of character portrayal, that takes up only such grammatical and language points as give clearer comprehension or lead to greater appreciation of diction, is thorough although it does not possess all the facts. it is thorough because what is significant and dynamic in _hamlet_ is made focal. the postgraduate student assiduously searching for data for his doctorate thesis is often guided by the erroneous conception of thoroughness; he wants facts that have never seen the light. the more he gets of these, the nearer he approaches his goal. he avoids conclusions; he is counseled by his professors against giving too much of his book to the expression of his views. analyze the chapters of a doctorate thesis and note the number of pages given to facts and those to conclusions and interpretations. the proportion is astonishing. the student's power to find facts is clearly shown; his power to use facts is not revealed by his thesis. the richer the thesis is in detail, in references, in allusions to dusty tomes and original sources, the more thorough is it frequently considered by the faculty. we have failed to realize that this excessive zeal in gathering and collating a large number of not commonly known facts may make the thesis more cumbersome, more complete, but not necessarily more thorough. however, the plea for a new standard in judging doctorate theses is meeting with gratifying encouragement. what, then, are the teaching practices that make for greater thoroughness, that increase the qualitative and intensive character of knowledge? we shall discuss some of these in the succeeding paragraphs. =how can thoroughness be produced?= the _acquisition of new points of view_ makes for increased thoroughness of comprehension. the class that understands the causes of the american revolution from the american point of view knows of the navigation laws, the quartering of soldiers in american homes, the stamp act, the boston massacre,--the usual provocations that strained patience to the breaking point. the college teacher of american history who spends time on the riots in new york in which a greater number of colonists was killed than in boston, who teaches in detail the various acts forbidding the manufacture of hats and of iron ware, or the protests against english practices in the colonies made by british merchants, etc., is adding more facts, but he may only be intensifying the erroneous conclusion that the students have formed in earlier and less complete courses. the topic, "causes of the american revolution," grows in thoroughness, not through the addition of these facts but through the presentation of new interpretations of the practices of the english. when we explain that the english believed in virtual and not actual representation, the students see a new meaning in "taxation without representation." when the students learn that the english government decided on a new economic and industrial policy which planned to have the mother country specialize in manufacture and transportation and the colonies in production of raw materials, the students see reason, though not necessarily justice, in the acts prohibiting americans from various forms of manufacture and transportational activities. these new facts modify in the minds of students the point of view so often given in elementary courses, that the war for independence was caused by sheer british meanness and injustice, by her policy of reckless repression. it is not always possible to give new points of view to all knowledge in all subjects. there are cases in which there is only one point of view or where students may not be ready for a new interpretation because of their limited mastery of a new field of knowledge. under these conditions an added point of view is a source of confusion rather than an aid to clearer comprehension. some subjects, like the social sciences, naturally allow for richer interpretations. others, like the languages and the physical sciences, present only very limited opportunities; in the biological sciences the possibilities, though not as rich as in the social sciences, are numerous and productive of good results. _comparison_ is a second means of producing thoroughness of comprehension. good teaching abounds in comparisons which are introduced at the end of every important topic rather than reserved for examination questions. comparisons used liberally at every logical pause in the development of a subject always give an added viewpoint, review early subject matter incidentally, stir thought, and make for better organization. how much more clearly are the causes of the war of understood after they are compared with those that brought on the revolutionary war! how much more definite are the causes of the american revolution when compared with those that brought on the french revolution! a writer, a school, or a movement in english literature may be understood when studied by itself; but how is comprehension deepened when each is compared with another writer or school or movement! comparison of perception and conception or appreciation and association in psychology, makes each activity stand out clearer in the mind of the student. compare the laws of rent, wage, profit, and interest in economics, and not only each is better understood but the basic laws of distribution are readily derived by the student. similarly, comparisons in mathematics, physics, chemistry, and the entire range of collegiate subjects give increased comprehension, useful though incidental reviews, and greater unification of knowledge, as well as added points of view. _correlation_ as a means of producing thoroughness is closely allied to comparison. correlation relates kindred topics of different subjects, while comparison points out relations in the same subject. the instructor who correlates the history of education with the political and economic history that the student learned in another course is unifying related experience, reducing the field of knowledge, introducing logical organization, and adding new interpretations to facts already acquired. similarly, teaching must be enriched by correlating physics and mathematics, chemistry and physics, literature and music, history of literature and general history, until instruction has taken advantage of every vital relation among subjects. with the growth of specialized subjects there is an unfortunate tendency toward isolation until the untrained mind looks upon the curriculum as a series of unrelated experiences, each rivaling the other in its claim to importance. the advantage of correlation will remain lost in college teaching as long as each instructor regards himself as a specialized investigator concerned with teaching his subject rather than his students. how many college teachers know what subjects their students have already taken, or knowing the names of these subjects, have a general knowledge of their content? the college professor of the preceding generation was a cultured gentleman whose general scholarship transcended the limits of his specialty. he understood and knew the curriculum as a whole. because of changes in every phase of our civilization, his successor has a deeper but a narrower knowledge. he knows little of the work of his students outside of his own subject. he does not relate and correlate the ever growing field of knowledge; he merely adds--by the introduction of his own mass of facts--to the isolation which characterizes the parts of college curricula. this tendency must be counteracted, not by interfering with the scholastic interests of any instructor, but by occasional conferences of instructors of allied subjects in order to agree on common meeting grounds, on points of correlation, on useful repetitions, and on the elimination of needless duplications. such pedagogical conferences are rare because college teachers are not alive to the need of reform in methods of college teaching. thoroughness results from _increase in the number of applications_ of knowledge. the introduction of the functional view into teaching brings with it a realization of the vital needs of increased ways of applying the experience we present to students. as the laws of physics, mathematics, biology, composition, economics, etc., are applied to a number of specific instances, the generalization grows in meaning and in force. specific cases vary, and, varying, give new color and new meaning to the laws that are applied to explain them. how much a law in chemistry means after it is applied to specific instances in industry, human and animal physiology, plant life, or engineering! the equation learned in descriptive geometry may be understood, but it never means so much as when it is applied to specific problems in engineering. applications give added insight into knowledge and therefore make for greater thoroughness of comprehension. =teaching as a process of arousing self-activity= locke's blank paper theory, enunciated centuries ago, has been repeatedly and triumphantly refuted even by tyros in psychology, but in educational practices it continues to hold sway. college teaching too frequently proceeds on the assumption that the mind is an aching void anxiously awaiting the generous contributions of knowledge to be made by the teacher. college examinations usually test for multiplicity of facts acquired, rather than for power developed. college teaching usually does not perceive that the mind is a reacting machine containing a vast amount of pent-up potential energy which is ready to react upon any presentation; that development takes place only as this self-activity expresses itself; that education is evolutionary rather than involutionary. teaching is, therefore, a process of arousing, sustaining, and directing the self-activity of pupils. the more persistently and successfully this activity is aroused, the more systematically it is directed to intelligent ends, the more skillful is the teaching. teachers do not impart knowledge, for that is impossible; they _occasion_ knowledge. only as the teacher succeeds through questions, directions, diagrams, and all known devices, in arousing the self-activity of the student, is he producing the conditions under which knowledge is acquired by the pupil. =evaluation of common methods of teaching= the methods commonly used in college teaching are as follows: . lecture method, with or without quiz sections. . development method, with or without textbook. . combination of lecture and development method. . reference readings and the presentation of papers by students. . laboratory work by students, together with lectures and quiz sections. teachers have long debated the relative merits of these methods or combinations of them. they fail to realize that each method is correct, depending upon the aim to be accomplished and the governing circumstances. no method has a monopoly of pedagogical wisdom; no method, used exclusively, is free from inherent weakness. a teaching method must be judged by its ability to arouse and sustain self-activity and to attain the aim set for a specific lesson. with this standard for judging a method of teaching, we must stop to sum up the relative worth of common methods of college teaching. =lecture method evaluated= the _lecture method_ has been the target for much criticism for many centuries. socrates inveighed against its use by the sophists, and educators since have repeated the attack. the reasons are legion: (_a_) the lecture method tends to discourage the pupil's activity. the student feels no responsibility during the lecture; he listens leisurely, and makes notes of the instructor's contribution. the student's judgment is not called into play; he learns to take knowledge on the authority of the instructor. the sense of comfort and security experienced in a lecture hour is fatal even to aggressive and assertive minds. sooner or later the students succumb to the inertia developed by the lecture system. (_b_) a second limitation of an exclusive lecture method is its inability to make permanent impressions. many a student, entering the lecture hall, has completely forgotten even the theme of the last lecture. knowledge is retained only when it is obtained by the expression of self-activity. to offset this weakness notes must be taken, but these prove to be the bane of the lecture method. some students, in their efforts to record a point just concluded, lose not only the thought of what they are trying to write but also the new thought which the instructor is now explaining; they drop both ideas from their notes and wait for the next step in the development of the lecture. this accounts for the many gaps in the notes kept by students. some instructors, dismayed by the amount of knowledge lost by students, resort to dictation devices. others, realizing the pedagogical weakness of such teaching, distribute mimeographed outlines of carefully prepared summaries of the lectures. now the student is relieved of the tedium of note taking, but the temptation to let his mind wander afield is intensified. an outline, scanty of detail, but so devised as to keep the organization and sequence of subject matter clear in the minds of students, is, of course, helpful. but detailed outlines distributed among the students discourage even attentive listening. (_c_) in teaching by lectures only there is no contact between student and teacher. the student does not recite; he does not reveal his type of mind, his mode of study, his grasp of subject matter. he is merely a passive recipient. to this third weakness of the lecture method we may add a fourth: (_d_) it tends to emphasize quantity rather than method. the student is confronted with a great mass of facts, but he does not acquire a mode of thought nor does he see the method by which a given subject is developed. (_e_) the lecture method, therefore, inculcates in students an attitude of mental subservience which is fatal for the development of courageous and vigorous thought. and finally (_f_) it must be urged that in lecture teaching the instructor is not testing the accuracy of the students' conceptions nor is he able to judge the efficacy of his own methods. but, on the other hand, it must be admitted that with an effective lecturer, possessed of commanding personality, the lecture gives a point of view of a subject and an enthusiasm for it which other devices fail to achieve. the lecture method makes for economy of time and enables one to present his subject to his class with a succinctness absent from many textbooks. where much must be taught in a limited time, where a comprehensive view of an extensive field must be given, when certain types of responses or mental attitudes are desired, the lecture serves well. =final worth of lecture method= experience teaches that an exclusive lecture system is not conducive to efficient work; that lectures to regular classes ought to be punctuated by questions whenever interest lags; that the occasional and even the unannounced lecture is more effective; that supplementary devices for checking up assignments and regular collateral study are of vital importance. where regular lectures are followed by detailed analyses in quiz sections the best results are obtained when the lecturer himself is the questioner. where quiz sections are turned over to assistants, wise procedure requires that quiz leaders attend the lectures and decide, in conference with the lecturer, the specific aims which must be achieved in the quiz work and the assigned readings which must be given to students in preparation for each quiz hour. unless this is done, the student is frequently confused by the divergent points of view presented by lecturer, quiz master, and textbook. _the development method_ has much to commend it. it stimulates activity by its repeated questions. few or no notes are taken. there is constant contact with the student. at every point the mental content of the pupils is revealed. the teacher sees the result of his teaching by the intelligence of successive responses. the pupil is being trained in systematic thought and in concentration. but it must be remembered that the development method is often costly in time because answers may be wrong or irrelevant. it may encourage wandering; a student's reply reveals ignorance of a basic principle, and the aim of the lesson is often forgotten in the eagerness to patch up this misconception. then, too, in subject matter that is arbitrary, as in descriptive and narrative history, no development is possible. in such cases the questions are designed to test the student's knowledge of the text, and the lesson becomes a quiz rather than a development. it is plain, therefore, that a judicious combination of the lecture and development methods will give better results than the exclusive use of either one. the analysis of the pedagogical advantages of each leads to the conclusion that the development method should predominate and that the lecture method should be used sparingly and always with some of the checking devices described. =place of reference reading in college teaching= =evaluation of development--socratic or heuristic method= a common method employed in advanced courses in college subjects emphasizes _reference study and research_. the entire course is reduced to a series of problems, each of which deals with a vital aspect of the subject. each student is made responsible for a topic. the initial hours are devoted to an examination of the common sources of information in this specific subject, the modes of using these, the standards to be attained in writing a paper on one of the topics, and similar matters. the remainder of the term is given over to seminar work: each student reads his paper and holds himself in readiness to answer all questions his classmates may ask on his topic. the aims of such a course are obviously to develop a knowledge of sources and an ability to use intelligently the unorganized data found by the student. the results of these pseudo-seminar courses are far from what was anticipated. a thorough investigation of such a course will soon convince the teacher that the seminar method, whatever its merits in university training, must be refined and diluted before it is applied to college teaching. let us see why. successful reference reading requires a knowledge of the field studied, maturity of mind, discriminating judgment in the selection of material, and ability in organization. the university student is not only maturer and more serious but has a basis of broader knowledge than most undergraduates. without this equipment of mental powers and knowledge, the student cannot judge the merits of contending views nor harmonize seeming discrepancies. a student who has no ample foundation of economics cannot study the subject by reference reading on the problems of economics. to learn the meaning of value he would read the psychological explanations of the austrian schools and the materialistic conceptions of the classical writers. he would then find himself in a state of confusion, owing to what seemed to him to be a superfluity of explanations of value. when one understands one point of view, an added viewpoint is a source of greater clarity and a means of deeper understanding. but when one is entirely ignorant of fundamental concepts, two points of view presented simultaneously become two sources of confusion. in the university only the student of tried worth is permitted to take a seminar course. in the upper classes in college, mediocre students are often welcomed into a seminar course in order to help float an unpromising elective. =limitations of seminar method in undergraduate teaching= the college seminar is usually unsuccessful because few students have ability to hold the attention of their classmates for a period of thirty minutes or more. language limitations, lack of a knowledge of subject matter, inability to illustrate effectively, and the skeptical attitude of fellow students all militate against successful teaching by a member of the class. students presenting papers often select unimportant details or give too many details. the rest of the class listen languidly, take occasional notes, and ask a few perfunctory questions to help bring the session to a close. a successful hour is rare. the student who prepared the topic of the day undoubtedly is benefited, but those who listen acquire little knowledge and less power. the course ends without a comprehensive view of the entire subject, without that knowledge which comes from the teacher's leadership and instruction. this type of reference reading and research has value when used as an occasional ten or fifteen minute exercise to supplement certain aspects of class work. but as a steady diet in a college course, the seminar usually leaves much to be desired. the _laboratory method_ is growing in favor today in college teaching. it is employed in the social sciences, in sociology, in economics, in psychology, in education, as well as in the physical and the biological sciences. where it is followed the aim is clearly twofold; viz., to teach the method by which the specific subject is growing and to develop in the students mental power and a scientific attitude towards knowledge. =value of laboratory method= let us illustrate these two aims of the laboratory method. a laboratory course in chemistry or biology or sociology may be designed to teach the student the use of apparatus and equipment necessary for work in a respective field; the method of attacking a problem; a standard for distinguishing significant from immaterial data; methods of gathering facts; the modes of keeping scientific records,--in a word, the essence of the experience of successive generations of investigators and contributors. but no successful laboratory results can be obtained without a proper mental attitude. the student must learn how to prevent his mental prepossessions or his desires from coloring his observations; to allow for controls and variables; to give most exacting care to every detail that may influence his result; to regard every conclusion as a tentative hypothesis subject to verification or modification in the light of further test. unless the student acquires a knowledge of the method of science and has achieved these necessary modes of thought, his laboratory course has failed to make its most significant contribution. in courses where the aim is to teach socially necessary information or to give a comprehensive view of the scope of a specific subject, it is obvious that the laboratory method will lead far afield. it is for this reason that introductory courses given in recitations, with demonstrations by instructors, and occasional lecture and laboratory hours, are more liberalizing in their influence upon the beginners than courses that are primarily laboratory in character. =cautions in the use of the laboratory method= most laboratory courses would enhance their usefulness by observing a few primary pedagogical maxims. the first of these counsels that we establish most clearly the distinctive aim of the course. the instructor must be sure that he has no quantitative aim to attain but is occupied rather with the problems of teaching the method of his specialty. second, an earnest effort must be made to acquaint the students with the general aim of the entire course as well as with the specific aim of each laboratory exercise. the students must be made to realize that they are not discovering new principles but that by rediscovering old knowledge or testing the validity of well-established truths they are developing not only the technique of investigational work, but also a set of useful mental habits. much in laboratory work seems needless to the student who does not perceive the goal which every task strives to attain. a third requisite for successful laboratory work requires so careful a gradation that every type of problem peculiar to a subject is made to arise in the succession of exercises. it is wise at times to set a trap for students so that they may learn through the consequences of error. for this reason students may be permitted to leap to a conclusion, to generalize from insufficient data, to neglect controls, to overlook disturbing factors, etc. an improperly planned and poorly graded laboratory course repeats exercises that involve the same problems and omits situations that give training in attacking and solving new problems. effective laboratory courses afford opportunity to students to repeat those exercises in which they failed badly. if each exercise in the course is designed to make a specific contribution to the development of the student, it is obvious that merely marking the student zero for a badly executed experiment is not meeting the situation. he must in addition be given the opportunity to repeat the experiment in order to derive the necessary variety of experiences from his laboratory training. and, finally, the character of the test that concludes a laboratory course must be considered. the test must be governed by the same underlying aims that determine the entire course. it must seek to reveal, not the mastery of facts, but growth in power. it must measure what the student can do rather than what he knows. a properly organized test serves to reinforce in the minds of students the aims of the entire course. =the college teacher not the university professor= an analysis of effective teaching is necessarily incomplete that does not give due consideration to the only human factor in the teaching process--the teacher. we have too long repeated the old adages: "he who knows can teach"; "a teacher is born, not made"; "experience is the teacher of teachers." these dicta are all tried and true, but they have the failings common to platitudes. it often happens that those who know but lack in imagination and sympathy are by that very knowing rendered unfit to teach. "knowing" so well, they cannot see the difficulties that beset the learner's path, and they have little patience with the student's slow and measured steps in the very beginnings of their specialty. it is true that some are born teachers, but our educational institutions could not be maintained if classes were turned over only to those to whom nature had given lavishly of pedagogical power. experience teaches even teachers, but the price paid must be computed in terms of the welfare of the student. teaching is one of the arts in which the artist works only with living material; yet college authorities still make no demand of professional training and apprenticeship as prerequisites for admission to the fraternity of teaching artists. ineffective college teaching will not improve until professional teaching standards are set up by respected institutions. the college teacher must be possessed of ample scholarship of a general nature. he must have expertness in his specialty, to give him a knowledge of his field, its problems and its methods. he must be a constant student, so that his scholarship in his specialty will win recognition and respect. but part of his preparation must be given over to professional training for teaching. without this, the prospective teacher may not know until it is too late that his deficiencies of personality unfit him for teaching. with it, he shortens his term of novitiate and acquires his experience under expert guidance. the plan of college-teacher training, given by dr. mezes in chapter ii, so complete in scope, so thoroughly sound and progressive in character, is here suggested as a type of professional preparation now sorely needed. =testing the results of instruction= the usual test of teacher and student is still the traditional examination, with its many questions and sub-questions. we still measure the results of instruction by fathoming the fund of information our students carry away. but these traditional examinations test for what is temporary and accidental. facts known today are forgotten tomorrow. the professor himself often comes to class armed with notes, but he persists in setting up, as a test of the growth of his students, their retentivity of the facts he gave from these very notes. in the final analysis, these examinations are not tests. the writer does not urge the abolition of examinations, but argues rather for a reorganized examination that embodies new standards. a real examination must test for what is permanent and vital; it must measure the degree to which students approximate the aims that were set up to govern the entire course; it must gauge the mental habits, the growth in power, rather than facts. part of an examination in mathematics should test students' ability to attack new problems, to plan a line of work, to think mathematically, to avoid typical fallacies of thought. for this part of the test, books may be opened and references consulted. in literature we may question on text not discussed in class to ascertain the students' power of appreciation or of literary criticism. so, too, in examinations in social sciences, physical sciences, foreign languages, and biological sciences, the examination must consist, in great measure, of questions which test the acquisition of the habits of thought, of work, of laboratory procedure--in a word, the permanent contribution of any study. this part of an examination should be differentiated from the more mechanical and memory questions which seek to reveal the student's mastery of those facts of a subject which may be regarded as socially necessary. reduce the socially necessary data of any subject to an absolute minimum and frame questions on it demanding no such slovenly standard--sixty per cent--as now prevails in college examinations. if the facts called for on an examination are really the most vital in the subject, the passing grade should be very high. if the questions seek to elicit insignificant or minor information, any passing mark is too high. it is obvious, therefore, that a student should receive two marks in most subjects,--one that rates power and another that rates mere acquisition of facts. the passing grade in the one would necessarily be lower than in the other. an examination is justified only when it is so devised that it reveals not only the students' stock of socially useful knowledge but also their growth in mental power. paul klapper _college of the city of new york_ part two the sciences chapter iv the teaching of biology _t. w. galloway_ v the teaching of chemistry _louis kahlenberg_ vi the teaching of physics _harvey b. lemon_ vii the teaching of geology _t. c. chamberlin_ viii the teaching of mathematics _g. a. miller_ ix physical education in the college _thomas a. storey_ iv the teaching of biology biology and education =biology the science basal to all knowing= the life sciences, broadly conceived, are basal to all departments of knowledge; and the study of biology illumines every field of human interest. to the believer in evolution the human body, brain, senses, intellect, sensations, impulses, habits, ideas, knowledges, ideals, standards, attractions, sympathies, combinations, organizations, institutions, and all other powers and possessions of every kind and degree are merely crowning phenomena of life itself. the languages, history, science, economic systems, philosophies, and literatures of mankind are only special manifestations and expressions of life and a part, therefore, of the studies by which we as living beings are trying to appraise and appreciate the meaning of life and of the universe of which life is the most significant product. life is not merely the most notable product of our universe; it is the most persuasive key for solving the riddle of the universe, and is the only universe product which aspires to interpret the processes by which it has reached its own present level. all knowledge, then, is _biological_ in the very vital sense that the living organism is the only _knowing_ thing. the knowing process is a life process. even when knowledge pertains to non-living objects, therefore, it is one-half biological; our most worth-while knowledge--that of ourselves and other organisms--is wholly so. because all our knowledge is colored by the life process, of which the knowing process is derivative, the study of life underlies every science and its applications, every art and its practice, every philosophy and its interpretations. biology must be taught in sympathy with the whole joint enterprise of living and of learning. =adaptation without losing adaptability the goal of life and of education= the most outstanding phenomenon of life is the _adaptation_ of living things to the real and significant conditions of their existence. furthermore, as these conditions are not static, particularly in the case of humans, organisms must not merely be adapted, but must continue thereafter to be _adaptable_. now learning is only a special case under living, and education a special case under life. its purposes are the purposes of life. it is an artificial and rapid recapitulation for the individual, in method and results, of past life itself. the purpose of education is "adaptation,--with the retention of adaptability." it is to bring the individual into attunement, through his own responses and growth, with all the real factors, external and internal, in his life,--material, intellectual, emotional, social, and spiritual,--and at the same time leave him plastic. adaptation comes through the habit-forming experiences of stimulus and response. the very process of adaptation, therefore, tends toward fixity and to destroy adaptability. it is thus the task of education, as it is of life, to replace the native, inexperienced and physiological plasticity of youth with some product of experience which shall be able to revise habits in the interest of new situations. the adaptability of the experienced person must be psychical and acquired. it must be in the realm of appreciation, attitude, choice, self-direction--a realm superior to habit. in this human task of securing adaptation and retaining adaptiveness the life sciences have high rank. in addition to furnishing the very conception itself that we have been trying to phrase, they give illustrations of all the historic occasions, kinds, and modes of adaptation; in lacking the exactness of the mathematical and physical sciences they furnish precisely the degree of uncertainty and openness of opportunity and of mental state which the act of living itself demands. in other words the science of life is, if properly presented, the most normal possible introduction to the very practical art of living. because of the parallel meaning of education and life in securing progressive adaptation to the essential influential forces of the universe, an appreciative study of biology introduces directly to the purposes and methods of human education. chief aims of biology as a college subject =why study biology in college?= while students differ in the details of their purposes in life, all must learn to make the broad adjustments to the physical conditions of life; to the problems of food and nutrition; to other organisms, helpful and hurtful; to the internal impulses, tendencies, and appetites; to the various necessary human contacts and relations; to the great body of knowledge important to life, which human beings have got together; to the prevailing philosophical interpretations of the universe and of life; and to the pragmatic organizations, conventions, and controls which human society has instituted. in addition to these, some students of biology are going into various careers, each demanding special adjustments which biology may aid notably. such are medicine and its related specialties, professional agricultural courses, and biological research of all kinds. an extended examination of college catalogs shows some consciousness of these facts on the part of teachers of biology. the following needs are formally recognized in the prospectuses: ( ) the disciplinary and cultural needs of the general student; ( ) the needs of those preparing for medicine or other professional courses; and ( ) the needs of the people proposing to specialize in botany and zoölogy. these aims are usually mentioned in the order given here; but an examination of the character of the courses often reveals the fact that the actual organization of the department is determined by an exact reversal of this order,--that most of the attention is given, even in the beginning courses, to the task of preparing students to take advanced work in the subject. the theory of the departments is usually better than their practice. in what follows these are the underlying assumptions,--which seem without need of argument: ( ) the general human needs should have the first place in organizing the courses in biology; ( ) the introductory courses should not be constructed primarily as the first round in the ladder of biological or professional specialization, but for the general purposes of human life; ( ) the preparation needed by teachers of biology for secondary schools is more nearly like that needful for the general student than that suited to the specialist in the subject; and ( ) the later courses may more and more be concerned with the special ends of professional and vocational preparation. general aims of biology in education what are the general adaptive contributions of biology to human nature? what are the results in the individual which biology should aim to bring to every student? there are four classes of personal possessions, important in human adaptation, to which biology ministers in a conspicuous way: information and knowledge; ability and skills; habits; and attitudes, appreciations, and ideals. these four universal aims of education are doubtless closely related and actually inseparable, but it is worth while to consider them apart for the sake of clearness. a. types of biological knowledge useful in the adaptation of human beings to the most important conditions of their life =( ) study of biology furnishes knowledge of adaptive value= ( ) some knowledge of the processes by which individual plants and animals grow and differentiate, through nutrition and activity; of the process of development common to all organisms; and the bearing of these facts on human life, health, and conduct. ( ) an outline knowledge of reproduction in plants and animals; the origin, nature, meaning, and results of sex; the contribution of sex to human life, to social organization and ideals, and its importance in determining behavior and controls. ( ) a good knowledge of the external forces most important in influencing life; of the nature of the influence; of the various ways in which organisms respond and become adjusted individually and racially to these conditions. a sense of the necessity of adaptation; of the working of the laws of cause and effect among living things, as everywhere else; of the fact that nature's laws cannot be safely ignored by man any more than by the lower organisms; of the relation between animal behavior and human behavior. ( ) equally a true conception of the known facts about the internal tendencies in organisms including man, which we call hereditary. the principles underlying plant, animal, and human breeding. any progress in behavior, in legislation, or in public opinion in the field of eugenics, negative or positive, must come from the spread of such knowledge. ( ) a knowledge of the numerous ways in which plants and animals contribute to or interfere with human welfare. this includes use for food, clothing, and labor saving; their destruction of other plants or animals useful or hurtful to us; their work in producing, spreading, or aiding in the cure of disease; their æsthetic service and inspiration; the aid they give us in learning of our own nature through the experiments we conduct upon them; and many miscellaneous services. ( ) a conception of the evolutionary series of plants and animals, and of man's place in the series; a reassurance that man's high place as an intellectual and emotional being is in no way put in peril by his being a part of the series. some clear knowledge of the general manner of the development of the plant and animal kingdoms to their present complexity should be gained. the student should have some acquaintance with the great generalizations that have meant so much to the science and to all human thinking, should understand how they were reached and the main classes of facts on which they are based. ( ) the general student should be required to have such knowledge of structure and classification as is needed to give foundation and body to the evolutionary conceptions of plants and animals, and to the various processes and powers mentioned above--and only so much. ( ) some knowledge of the development of the science itself; of its relation to the other sciences; of the men who have most contributed to it, and their contributions; of the manner of making these discoveries, and of the bearing of the more important of these discoveries upon human learning, progress, and well-being. ( ) something of the parallelism between animal psychology, behavior, habits, instincts, and learning, and those of man,--in both the individual and the social realm. ( ) an elementary understanding of plant and animal and human distribution over the earth, and of the factors that have brought it about. b. forms of skill which work in biology should bring to every student =( ) biological study gives desirable skills= skill or ability may be developed in respect to the following activities: seeking and securing information, recording it, interpreting its significance, reaching general conclusions about it, modifying one's conduct under the guidance of these conclusions, and, finally, of appraising the soundness of this conduct in the light of the results of it. all of these are of basic importance in the human task of making conscious adjustments in actual life; and the ability to get facts and to use them is more valuable than to possess the knowledge of facts. other sciences develop some of these forms of skill better than biology does; nevertheless, we shall find that biology furnishes a remarkably balanced opportunity to develop skills of the various kinds. it presents a great range and variety of opportunity to develop accuracy and skill in raising questions; in observation and the use of precise descriptive terms in recording results of observation; in experimentation; in comparison and classification. it is peculiarly rich in opportunities to gain skill in discriminating between important and unimportant data,--one of the most vital of all the steps in the process of sound reasoning. in practice, a datum may at first sight seem trivial, when in reality it is very significant. _skill_ in estimating values comes only with _experience_ in estimating values, and in applying these estimates in practice, and in observing and correcting the results of practice. finally, skill in adjusting behavior to knowledge is one of the most necessary abilities and most difficult to attain. the study of animal behavior experimentally is at the foundation of much that we know of human psychology and the grounds of human behavior. even in an elementary class it is quite possible so to study animal responses and the results of response as to give guidance and facility to the individual in interpreting the efficiency of his own responses, and in adding to his own controls. as has been said, practice of some kind is necessary to determine whether our estimate of values is good. even vicarious experience has educative value. c. habits which may be strengthened by the work in biology =( ) biology may supply adaptive habits= habits are of course the normal outcome of repeated action. indeed, skills are in a sense habits from another point of view. skill, however, looks rather toward the output; habit, toward the mode of functioning by the person by whom the result is attained. we may then develop habits in respect to all the processes and activities mentioned above under the term "skills." the teacher of biology should have definitely in purpose the securing for the student of habits of inquiry, of diligence, of concentration, of accuracy of observation, of seeking and weighing evidence, of detecting the essentials in a mass of facts, of refusing to rest satisfied until a conclusion, the most tenable in the light of all known data, is reached, and of reëxamining conclusions whenever new evidence is offered. of course it is impossible to use biology to get habits of right reasoning in students unless we _really allow them to reason_. if we insist that their work is merely to observe, record, and hold in memory,--as so many of us do in laboratory work,--they may form habits of doing these things, but not necessarily any more than this. indeed, they may definitely form the habit of doing _only_ these things, _failing to use the results in forming for themselves any of the larger conclusions about organisms_. _seeing_ and _knowing_--without the ability and habit of _thinking_--is not an uncommon or surprising result of our conventional laboratory work. there is only one way to get the habit of right "following through" in reasoning; this is, _always to do the thing_. when data are observed or are furnished it is a pedagogical sin on the part of the teacher to allow the student to stop at that point; and equally so to deduce the conclusion for the student, or to allow the writer of the textbook to do so, or at any time to induce the student to accept from another a conclusion which he himself might reach from the data. we have depended too much on our science as a mere observational science,--when as a matter of fact its chief glory is really its opportunity and its incentives to coherent thinking and careful testing of conclusions. it is inexact enough, if we are entirely honest, to force us to hold our conclusions with an open mind ready to admit new evidence. it is entirely the fault of the teacher if the pupil gets a dogmatic, too-sure habit of mind as the result of his biological studies. and yet, as has been said, it is exact enough to enable us to reach just the same sort of approximations to truth which are possible in our own lives. the study of biology presents a superb opportunity to prepare for living by forming the habits of mind and of life that facilitate right choices in the presence of highly debatable situations. in this it much surpasses the more "exact" sciences. we may conclude, then, by positing the belief that the most important mental habit which human beings can form is that of using and applying consciously the scientific method as outlined above, not merely to biology alone, but to all the issues of personal life as well. d. appreciations, attitudes, and ideals as aided by biology =( ) attitudes of life perfected by study of the life sciences= this group of objectives is a bit less tangible, as some think, than those that have been mentioned; but in my own opinion they are as important and as educable for the good of the youth by means of biology as are knowledge, skill, and habit. in a sense these states of mind arise as by-products of the getting of information, skills, and habits; in turn they heighten their value. we have spoken above of the need of skill and habit in making use of the various steps in the scientific method in reaching conclusions in life. these are essential, but skill and habit alone are not enough to meet the necessities in actual life. in the first place the habit of using the scientific method in the scientific laboratory does not in itself give assurance that the person will apply this method in getting at the truth in problems in his own personal life; and yet this is the essential object of all this scientific training. in order to get the individual to carry over this method,--especially where feelings and prejudices are involved,--we must inculcate in him the scientific ideal and the scientific attitude until they become general in their influence. to do this he ought to be induced as a regular part of his early courses in biology to practice the scientific method upon certain practical daily decisions exactly with the same rigor that is used in the biological laboratory. the custom of using this method in animal study should be transformed into an _attitude of dependence upon it_ as the only sound method of solving one's life choices. only by carrying the method consciously into our life's problems, _as a part of the exercise in the course in biology_, can we break up the disposition to regard the method as good merely in the biological laboratory. we must generate, by practice and precept, the _ideal_ of making universal our dependence upon our best instrument of determining truth. a personal habit in the laboratory must become a general ideal for life, if we hope to substitute the scientific method for prejudice in human living. there is no department of learning so well capable of doing this thing as biology. in the second place, the scientific method standing alone, because of its very excellence as a method, is liable to produce a kind of over-sure dogmatism about conclusions, unless it be accompanied by the scientific attitude or spirit of open-mindedness. the scientific spirit does not necessarily flow from the scientific method at all, unless the teacher is careful in his use of it in teaching. we make a mistake if, in our just enthusiasm to impress the scientific method upon the student, we fail to teach that it can give, at best, only an approximation to truth. the scientific attitude which holds even our best-supported conclusions subject to revision by new evidence is the normal corrective of the possible dogmatism that comes from over-confidence in the scientific method as our best means of discovering truth. the student at the end of the first year of biology ought to have more appreciation and enjoyment of plants and animals and their life than at the beginning,--and increased appreciation of his own relation to other animals; some attitude of dependence upon the scientific method of procedure not merely in biology but in his own life; a desire, however modest, for investigating things for himself; and an ideal of open-minded, enthusiastic willingness to subject his own conclusions to renewed testing at all times. all these gains should be reinforced by later courses. special aims of biology in education =( ) biology a valuable tool for certain technical pursuits= so far as i can see, the preparation of students for medicine, for biological research, or for any advanced application of biology calls only for the following,--in addition to the further intensification of the emphasis suggested above: (_a_) an increased recognition of the subject matter in organizing the course. in the early courses the subject ought to be subordinated to the personal elements. if one is to relate himself to the science in a professional way, the logic of the science comes to be the dominant objective. (_b_) growing out of the above there comes to be a change of emphasis on the scientific method. the method itself is identical, but the attitude toward it is different. in the early courses it was guided by the _teaching_ purpose. we insist upon the method in order that the student may appreciate how the subject has grown, may realize how all truth must be reached, and may come habitually to apply the method to his life problems. in the later courses it becomes the method of research into the unknown. the student comes more and more to use it as a tool, in whose use he himself is subordinated to his devotion to a field of investigation. (_c_) a greater emphasis upon such special forms of biological knowledge as will be necessary as tools in the succeeding steps, and the selection of subject matter with this specifically in view. this is chiefly a matter of information, making the next steps intellectually possible. (_d_) more specific forms of skill, adapted to the work contemplated. technic becomes an object in such courses. morphology, histology, technic, exact experimentation, repetition, drill, extended comparative studies, classifition, and the like become more essential than in the elementary courses. thoroughness and mastery are desiderata for the sake both of subject matter and character; and in very much greater degree than in the general course. organization of the course in biology =biology courses not to be standardized rigidly= the writer does not feel that standardized programs in biology in colleges are either possible or desirable. what is set down here under this heading is merely intended as carrying out the principles outlined above, and not as the only way to provide a suitable program. the writer assumes that the undergraduates are handled by men of catholic interests; and that the undergraduate courses are not distributed and manipulated primarily as feeders for specialized departments of research in a graduate school. this latter attitude is, in my opinion, fatal to creditable undergraduate instruction for the general student or for the future high school teachers of the subject. =but they should follow a general principle:= there are three groups or cycles of courses which may properly be developed by the college or by the undergraduate department of the university. _first group_ =( ) the _first_ group of courses should introduce to life rather than to later biological courses= this group contains introductory courses for all students, but organized particularly with the idea of bringing the rich material of biology to the service of young people with the aim of making them effective in life, and not as a first course for making them botanists or zoölogists. course--_biology ._ general biology this course should introduce the student to the college method of work in the life sciences; should give him the general knowledge and points of view outlined above as the chief aims of biology; should synthesize what the student already knows about plants and animals under the general conception of life. ideally the botanical and zoölogical portions should be fused and be given by one teacher, rather than presented as one semester of botany and one of zoölogy. this, however, is frequently impracticable. in any event the total result should really be biology, and not a patchwork of botany and zoölogy. hence there should be a free crossing of the barriers in use of materials at all times. a year of biology is recommended because each pupil ought to have some work in both fields, and we cannot expect him to take a year in each. course--_biology ._ history of biology this course, dealing with the relation of the development of biology to human interests and problems, may be given separately, or as a part of course ,--which should otherwise be prerequisite to it. this may be one of the most humanizing of all the possible courses in biology. _second group_ =( ) a _second_ group should be technical and introductory to professional uses= this group furnishes a series of courses providing a thorough introduction to the principles and methods of botany and zoölogy. they provide discipline, drill, comparison, mastery of technic as well as increased appreciation of biology and of the scientific method. they should prepare for advanced work in biology, and for technical applications of it to medicine, agriculture, stock breeding, forestry, etc. course--botany : general and comparative botany, and the evolution of plants. course--botany : physiology and ecology of plants. course--botany : plant cytology, histology, and embryology. course--zoölogy : general and comparative zoölogy. course--zoölogy : animal, including human, physiology. course--zoölogy : microtechnic, histology, histogenesis, embryogeny. course--zoölogy : animal ecology. this outline for botany and zoölogy follows in the main the most common arrangement found in the schools of the country. in the personal judgment of the writer all undergraduate courses should combine aspects of morphology, physiology, ecology, etc., rather than be confined strictly to one particular phase; even histology and embryology can be better taught when their physiological aspects are emphasized. there is no fundamental reason, however, why there may not be great latitude of treatment in this group. an alluring feature of biological teaching is that a teacher who has a vital objective can begin anywhere in our wonderful subject and get logically to any point he wishes. these courses may be further subdivided, where facilities allow. _third group_ =( ) a _third_ group of special, but cultural, courses= this group contains certain of the more elementary applications of biology to human welfare. while having practical value in somewhat specialized vocations, the courses in this group are not proposed as professional or technical. they are definitely cultural. every college might well give one or more of them, in accordance with local conditions. they ought to be eligible without the courses of the second group. the order is not significant. biology : economic entomology; biology : bird course; biology : tree course; biology : bacteriology and fermentation; biology : biology of sex; heredity and eugenics; biology : biology and education; biology : evolution and theoretical problems. place of biology in the college curriculum =the first course ought to be given in such a way that it might fittingly be required of all freshmen= the introductory course (biology ) can be given in such a way that it ought to be required of all students during the freshman or sophomore year, preferably the freshman. in addition to the life value suggested above, and its introductory value in later biology courses, such a course would aid the student in psychology, sociology, geology, ethics, philosophy, education, domestic economy, and physical culture. effort should be made to correlate the biological work with these departments of instruction. the course as now given in most of our colleges and universities does not possess enough merit to become a required study. perhaps all we have a right at present to ask is that biology shall be one of a group of sciences from which all students must elect at least one. it is preposterous, in an age of science, that any college should not require at least a year of science. biology should be prerequisite for botany and zoölogy , and for the special biology courses in group three. botany and zoölogy should be made prerequisite for the higher courses in their respective fields; but aside from this almost any sequence would be allowable. a major in biology should provide at least for biology and , botany , zoölogy , botany and , or zoölogy, and . chemistry is desirable as a preparation for the second group of courses. methods of teaching as conditioned by the aims outlined above =acceptance of biology retarded by poor pedagogy= since the laboratory method came into use among biologists, there has been a disposition, growing out of its very excellences, to make a fetich of it, to refuse to recognize the necessity of other methods, to be intolerant of any science courses not employing the laboratory, and to affect a lofty disdain of any pedagogical discussion of the question whatsoever. the tone in which all this is done suggests a boast; but to the discriminating it amounts to a confession! the result of it has been to retard the development of biology to its rightful place as one of the most foundational and catholic of all educational fields. the great variety of aim and of matter not merely allow, but make imperative, the use of all possible methods; and there is no method found fruitful in education which does not lend itself to use in biology. the lecture method, the textbook, the recitation, the quiz and the inverted quiz, the method of assigned readings and reports, the method of conference and seminar, the laboratory method, and the field method are all applicable and needed in every course, even the most elementary. =prostitution of the laboratory= our method has thus crystallized about the laboratory as the one essential thing; but worse, we have used the very shortcomings of the laboratory as an excuse for extending its sway. the laboratory method is the method of research in biology. it is our only way to discover unknown facts. is it, therefore, the best way to rediscover facts? this does not necessarily follow, though we have assumed it. self-discovered facts are no better nor more true than communicated facts, and it takes more time to get them. the laboratory is the slowest possible way of getting facts. we have tried to correct this quantitative difficulty by extending the laboratory time, by speeding up, by confining ourselves to static types of facts like those of structure, and by using detailed laboratory guides for matter and method, all of which tends to make the laboratory exercise one of routine and the mere observation and recording of facts or a verification of the statements in manuals. the correction of these well-known limitations of the laboratory must come, in my opinion, by a frank recognition of, and breaking away from, certain of our misapprehensions about the function of the laboratory. some of these are: =real purpose and possibility of laboratory work= . that the chief facts of a science should be rediscovered by the student in the laboratory. this is not true. life is too short. the great mass of the student's facts must come from the instructor and from books. the laboratory has as its function in respect to facts, some very vital things: as, making clear certain classes of facts which the student cannot visualize without concrete demonstration; giving vividness to facts in general; gaining of enough facts at first hand to enable him to hold in solution the great mass of facts which he must take second hand; to give him skill and accuracy in observation and in recording discoveries; to give appreciation of the way in which all the second-hand facts have been reached; to give taste and enthusiasm for asking questions and confidence and persistence in finding answers for them. anything more than this is waste of time. these results are not gained by mere quantity of work, but only through constant and intelligent guidance of the student's attitude in the process of dealing with facts. . a feeling that the laboratory or scientific method consists primarily of observation of facts and their record. in reality these are three great steps instead of one in this method, which the student of biology should master: ( ) the getting of facts, one device for doing which is observation; ( ) the appraisal and discrimination of these facts to find which are important; and ( ) the drawing of the conclusions which these facts seem to warrant. there are two practical corollaries of this truth. one is that the laboratory should be so administered that the pupil shall appreciate the full scope of the scientific method, its tremendous historic value to the race, and the necessity of using _all_ the steps of it faithfully in all future progress as well as in the sound solution of our individual problems and the guidance of conduct. the second is that we may make errors in our scientific conclusions and in life conclusions, through failure to discriminate among our facts, quite as fatally as through lack of facts. indeed, my personal conviction is that more failures are due to lack of discrimination than to lack of observation. the power to weigh evidence is at least as important as the power to collect it. . a disposition to deny the student the right to reach conclusions in the laboratory,--or, as we flamboyantly say, to "generalize." now in reality the only earthly value of _facts_ is to get _truth_,--that is, conclusions or generalizations. to deny this privilege is taxation without representation in respect to personality. the purpose of the laboratory is to enable students to think, to think accurately and with purpose, to reach their own conclusions. the getting of facts by observation is only a minor detail. in reality, the data the student can get from books are much more reliable than his own observations are likely to be. our laboratory training should add gradually to the accuracy of his observations, but particularly it should enable him to use his own and other persons' facts conjointly, and with proper discrimination, in reaching conclusions. to do other than this tends to abort the reasoning attitude and power, and teaches the pupil to stand passive in the presence of facts and to divorce facts and conclusions. the fear is, of course, that the students will get wrong conclusions and acquire the habit of jumping prematurely to generalizations. but this situation, while critical, is the very glory of the method. what we want to do is to ask them continually,--wherever possible,--_where_ _their facts seem to lead them_. their conclusions are liable to be quite wrong, to be sure. but our province as teachers is to see that the facts ignorance of which made this conclusion wrong are brought to their attention,--and it is not absolutely material whether they discover these facts themselves or some one else does. what we want to compass is practice in reaching conclusions, and the recognition of the necessity of getting and discriminating facts in doing so, together with a realization that there are probably many other facts which we have not discovered that would modify our conclusions. this keeps the mind open. in other words, the student may thus be brought to realize the meaning of the "working hypothesis" and the method of approximation to truth. it makes no difference if one "jumps to a conclusion," if he jumps in the light of all his known facts and holds his conclusion _tentatively_. it is much better to reach wrong conclusions through inadequate facts than to have the mind come to a standstill in the presence of facts. instead of being a threat, reaching a wrong conclusion gives us the opportunity to train students in holding their conclusions open-mindedly and subject to revision through new facts. reaching wrong or partial conclusions and correcting them may be made even more educative than reaching right ones at the outset. this would not be true if the conclusion were being sought for the sake of the science. but it is being sought solely for the sake of the student. the distinction is important. the inability to make it is one of the reasons why research men so often fail as teachers. all through life the student will be forced to draw conclusions from two types of facts,--both of which will be incomplete: those he himself has observed and those which came to him from other observers. while he must always feel free to try out any and all facts for himself, it is quite as important in practice that he be able to weigh other persons' facts discriminatingly. we teach in the laboratory that the pupil should not take his facts second hand, though we rather insist that he do so with his conclusions. in reality it is often much better to take our facts second hand; the stultifying thing is to take our conclusions so. =a normal complete mental reaction for every laboratory exercise= . the dependence upon outlines and manuals. this is one of the most deadening devices that we have instituted to economize gray matter and increase the quantity of laboratory records at the expense of real initiative and thinking. it is easy for the reader to analyze for himself the mental reaction, or lack of it, of the student in following the usual detailed laboratory outline. _every laboratory exercise should be an educative situation calling for a complete mental reaction from the pupil._ in the first place, no exercise should be used which is not really vital and educative. this assured, the full mental reaction of the student should be about as follows: ( ) the cursory survey of the situation. ( ) the raising by the student of such questions as seem to him interesting or worthy of solution. (here, of course, the teacher can by skillful questioning lead the class to raise all necessary problems, and increase the student's willingness to attack them.) ( ) the determination through class conference of the order and method of attacking the problems, and the reasons therefor. ( ) the accumulation and record of discovered facts (sharply eliminating all inferences). ( ) the arrangement (classification) and appraisal (discrimination) of the discovered facts. ( ) conclusions or inferences from the facts. (these should be very sharply and critically examined by teacher and class, to see to what extent they are really valid and supported by the facts.) ( ) retesting of conclusions by new facts submitted by class, by teacher, or from books, with an effort to diminish prejudice as a factor in conclusions, and to increase the willingness to approach our own conclusions with an open mind. when laboratory outlines are used at all they should consist merely of directions, and suggestions, and stimulating questions which will start the pupils on the main quest,--the raising and solving of their own problems. some moot problems[ ] =ascending or descending order?= . shall we begin with the simple, little-known, lower forms and follow the ascending order, which is analogous at least to the evolutionary order? or shall we begin with the more complex but better-known forms and go downward? it seems to the writer that the former method has the advantage in actual interest; in its suggestiveness of evolution, which is the most important single impression the student will get from his course; and in the mental satisfactions that come to pupil and teacher alike from the sense of progress. however, our material is so rich, so interesting, and so plastic that it makes little difference where we begin if only we have a clear idea of what we want to accomplish. =morphology versus other interests= . what proportion of time should be given to morphology in relation to other interests? for several reasons morphology has been overemphasized. it lends itself to the older conception of the laboratory as a place to observe and record facts. it offers little temptation to reach conclusions. it calls for little use of gray matter. this makes it an easy laboratory enterprise. it is what the grade teachers call "busy" work, and can be multiplied indefinitely. it can be made to smack of exactness and thoroughness. furthermore, morphology _is_ in reality a basal consideration. it is a legitimate part of an introductory course,--but never for its own sake nor to prepare for higher courses. but morphology is, however, only the starting point for the higher mental processes by which different forms of organisms are compared, for the correlating of structure with activity, for appreciation of adaptations of structure both to function and to environmental influence. it thus serves as a foundation upon which to build conclusions about really vital matters. experience teaches that sensitiveness, behavior, and other activities and powers and processes interest young people more than structure. the student's views are essentially sound at this point. the introductory course should, therefore, be a cycle in which the student passes quite freely back and forth between form, powers, activities, conditions of life, and the conclusions as to the meanings of these. it is important only that he shall know with which consideration he is from time to time engaged. =few types or many?= . shall a few forms be studied thoroughly, or many forms be studied more superficially? there is something of value in each of these practices. it is possible to over-emphasize the idea of thoroughness in the introductory courses. thoroughness is purely a relative condition anyway, since we cannot really master any type. it seems poor pedagogy, in an elementary class particularly, to emphasize small and difficult forms or organs because they demand more painstaking and skill on the part of the student. my own practice in the elementary course is to have a very few specially favorable forms studied with a good deal of care, and a much larger number studied partially, emphasizing those points which they illustrate very effectively. =distribution of time= . what proportion of time should be given to the various methods of work? manifestly the answer to this question depends upon the local equipment and upon the character of the course itself. the suggestion here relates primarily to the general or introductory courses. it seems to me that a sound division of time would be: two or three hours per week of class exercises (lectures, recitations, reports, quiz, etc.) demanding not less than four hours of preparation in text and library work; and four to six hours a week of "practical" work with organisms, about two hours of which should take the form of studies in the field wherever this is possible. =weakness of the research man as a teacher for the beginning course= . is the "research" man the best teacher for the introductory courses? in spite of a good deal of prejudgment on the part of college and university administrators and of the research biologists themselves. i am convinced he is not. while there are notable exceptions, my own observation is that the investigator, whether the head professor or the "teaching fellow," usually does not have the mental attitude that makes a successful teacher, at least of elementary classes,--and for these reasons: he begrudges the time spent in teaching elementary classes, presents the subject as primarily preparatory to upper courses, subordinates the human elements to the scientific elements, and actually exploits the class in the interest of research. the real teacher's question about an entering class is this: "how can i best use the materials of our science to make real men and women out of these people?" the question of the professional investigator is likely to be: "how many of these people are fit to become investigators, and how can i most surely find them and interest them in the science?" this is a perfectly fine and legitimate question; but it is not an appropriate one until the first one has been answered. it has been assumed that the answers to the two questions are identical. this is one of the most vicious assumptions in higher education today, in my opinion. furthermore, the investigator with his interests centering at the margins of the unknown cannot use the scientific method as a teacher, whose interest must center in the pupil. the points of view are not merely not identical; they are incompatible. =necessity of differentiation and recognition of the two functions= experience indicates the wisdom of having all beginning courses in biology in colleges and universities given by teachers and not by investigators, mature or immature. all people who propose to teach biology in the high schools should have their early courses given from this human point of view, that they may be the better able to come back to it after their graduate work, in their efforts to organize courses for pupils the greater part of whom will never have any but a life interest in the subject. the problem of presenting the advanced and special courses is relatively an easy one. the investigator is the best possible teacher for advanced students in his own special field if he is endowed with any common sense at all. tests of effectiveness of teaching as yet we are notably lacking in regard to the measurement of progress as the result of our teaching. our usual tests--examination, recitation, quiz, reports, laboratory notebooks--evaluate in a measure work done, knowledge or general grasp acquired, and accuracy developed. we need, however, measurements of skill, of habits, and of the still more intangible attitudes and appreciations. these may be gained in part by furnishing really educative situations and observing the time and character of the student's reaction. every true teacher is in reality an experimental psychologist, and must apply directly the methods of the psychologist. =more vital _tests_ of results of teaching must be found= the laboratory and field furnish opportunity for this sort of testing. the student may be confronted with an unfamiliar organism or situation and be given a limited time in which to obtain and record his results. he may be asked to state and enumerate the problems that are suggested by the situation; outline a method of solving them; discover as large a body of facts as possible; arrange them in an order that seems to him logical, with his reasons; and to make whatever inferences seem to him sound in the light of facts,--supporting his conclusions at every point. the ability to make such a total mental reaction promptly and comprehendingly is the best test of any teaching whatsoever. the important thing is that we shall not ourselves lose sight of the essential parts of it in our enthusiasm for one portion of it. in judging attitude and appreciation i think it is possible for discriminating teachers to obtain the testimony of the pupil himself in appraisal of his own progress and attitude. this needs to be done indirectly, to be sure. the student's self-judgment may not be accurate; but it is not at all impossible to secure a disposition in students to measure and estimate their own progress in these various things with some accuracy and fairness of mind. besides its incidental value as a test, i know of no realm of biological observation, discrimination, and conclusion more likely to prove profitable to the student than this effort to estimate, without prejudice, his own growth. the literature of the subject =scarcity of authoritative pedagogical literature in biology= for various reasons very little attention has been given to the pedagogy of college biology by those in the best position to throw light upon this vital problem. more information as to the attitude of teachers of the subject is to be derived from college and university catalogs than elsewhere,--howbeit of a somewhat stereotyped and standardized kind. much more has been written relative to the teaching of biology in the secondary schools. in my opinion the most effective teaching of biology in america today is being done in the best high schools by teachers who have been forced to acquire a pedagogical background that would enable them to reconstruct completely their presentation of the subject. most of these people obtained very little help in this task from their college courses in biology. for these reasons every college teacher will greatly profit by studying what has been written for the secondary teachers. _school science and mathematics_ (chicago) is the best source for current views in this field. its files will show no little of the best thought and investigation that have been devoted to the principles underlying instruction in biology. lloyd and bigelow, in _the teaching of biology_ (longmans, green & co.), have treated the problems of secondary biology at length. ganong's _teaching botanist_ (the macmillan company) has high value. the authors of textbooks of biology, botany, and zoölogy issued during the last ten years have ventured to develop, in their prefaces, appendices, and elsewhere, their pedagogical points of view. the writer has personal knowledge that teaching suggestions are still resented by some college teachers of zoölogy. illustrations of the tendency to incorporate pedagogical material in textbooks on biological subjects can be found in dodge, c. w. _practical biology._ harper and brothers, . gager, c. s. _fundamentals of botany._ p. blakiston's son & co., . galloway, t. w. _textbook of zoölogy._ p. blakiston's son & co., . kingsley, j. s. _textbook of vertebrate zoölogy._ h. holt & co. petrunkevitch, a. _morphology of invertebrate types._ the macmillan company, . t. w. galloway _beloit college_ bibliography cramer, f. logical method in biology. _popular science monthly_, vol. , page . . farlow, w. g. biological teaching in colleges. _popular science monthly_, vol. , page . . harvey, n. a. pedagogical content of zoölogy. _proceedings national education association_, ; page . hodge, c. f. dynamic biology. _pedagogical seminar_, vols. - . huxley, j. h. educational value of natural history science. essay ii, _science and education_. . rusk, r. r. _introduction to experimental education._ longmans, green & co., . saunders, s. j. value of research in education. _school science and mathematics_, vol. ii, march, . smallwood, w. m. biology as a culture study. _journal of pedagogy_, vol. , page . welton, j. _psychology of education_ (chapter on "character"). the macmillan company, . footnotes: [ ] these problems relate particularly to the introductory courses. v the teaching of chemistry =preparation of entering students a determining factor= some of the students entering classes in chemistry in college have already had an elementary course in the subject in the high school or academy, while others have not. again, some study chemistry in college merely for the sake of general information and culture, while many others pursue the subject because the vocation they are planning to make their life's work requires a more or less extensive knowledge of chemistry. thus, all students in the natural sciences and their applications--as we have them in medicine, engineering, agriculture, and home economics--as well as those who are training to become professional chemists, either in the arts and industries or in teaching, must devote a considerable amount of time and energy to the study of chemistry. the teacher of college chemistry consequently must take into consideration the preparation with which the student enters his classes and also the end which is to be attained by the pursuit of the subject in the case of the various groups of students mentioned. in the larger high schools courses in chemistry are now quite generally offered, but this is not yet true of the smaller schools. in some colleges those who have had high school chemistry are at once placed into advanced work without taking the usual basal course in general chemistry which is so arranged that students can enter it who have had no previous knowledge of the subject. in other words, in some cases the college builds directly upon the high school course in chemistry. as a rule, however, this does not prove very successful, for the high school course in chemistry is not primarily designed as a course upon which advanced college chemistry can be founded. this is as it should be, for after all, while the high school prepares students for college, its chief purpose is to act as a finishing school for those larger numbers of students who never go to college. the high school course in chemistry is consequently properly designed to give certain important chemical facts and point out their more immediate applications in the ordinary walks of life, as far as this can properly be done in the allotted time with a student of high school age and maturity. the result is consequently that while such work can very well be accepted toward satisfying college entrance requirements, it is only rarely sufficient as a basis for advanced college courses in the subject. as a rule it is best to ask all students to take the basal course in general chemistry offered in college, arranging somewhat more advanced experiments in the laboratory wherever necessary for those who have had chemistry in preparatory schools. this has become the writer's practice after careful trial of other expedients. the scheme has on the whole worked out fairly well, for it is sufficiently elastic to meet the needs of the individual students, who naturally come with preparation that is quite varied. almost invariably students who, on account of their course in high school chemistry, are excused from the general basal course in college chemistry have been handicapped forever afterward in their advanced work in the subject. =organization of first-year course--general chemistry= the first year's work in college chemistry consists of general chemistry. it is basal for all work that is to follow, and yet at the same time it is a finished course, giving a well-rounded survey of the subject to all who do not care to pursue it further. this basal course is commonly given in the freshman year, though sometimes it is deferred to the sophomore year. its content is now fairly uniform in different colleges, the first semester being commonly devoted to general fundamental considerations and the chemistry of the non-metals, while the metals receive attention in the second semester, the elements of qualitative analysis being in some cases taught in connection with the chemistry of the metals. the work is almost universally conducted by means of lectures, laboratory work, and recitations. the lectures have the purpose to unfold the subject, give general orientation as to the most important fundamental topics and points of view, and furnish impetus, guidance, and inspiration for laboratory study and reading. to this end the lectures should be illustrated by means of carefully chosen and well-prepared experiments. these serve not only to illustrate typical chemical processes, and fundamental laws, but they also stimulate interest and teach the student many valuable points of manipulation, for it is well-nigh impossible to watch an expert manipulator without absorbing valuable hints on the building up, arranging, and handling of apparatus. in the lectures the material should be presented slowly, carefully, and clearly, so that it may readily be followed by the student. facts should always be placed in the foreground, and they should be made the basis of the generalization we call laws, and then the latter naturally lead to theoretical conceptions. it is a great mistake to begin with the atomic theory practically the first day and try to bolster up that theory with facts later on as concrete cases of chemical action are studied. on the other hand, it is also quite unwise to defer the introduction of theoretical conceptions too long, for the atomic theory is a great aid in making rapid progress in the study of chemistry. at least two or three weeks are well spent in studying fundamental chemical reactions as facts quite independent of any theories whatsoever, in order that the student may thoroughly appreciate the nature of chemical change and become familiar with enough characteristic and typical cases of chemical action so that the general laws of chemical combination by weight and by volume may be logically deduced and the atomic and molecular theories presented as based upon those laws. up to this stage the reactions should be written out in words and all formulation should be avoided, so that the student will not get the idea that "chemistry is the science of signs and symbols," or that "chemistry is a hypothetical science," but that he will feel that chemistry deals with certain very definite, characteristic, and fundamental changes of matter in which new substances are formed, and that these processes always go on in accordance with fixed and invariable laws, though they are influenced by conditions of temperature, pressure, light, electricity, and the presence of other substances in larger or smaller amounts. the theory and formulation when properly introduced should be an aid to the student, leading him to see that the expression of chemical facts is simplified thereby. thus he will never make the error of regarding the symbol as the fundamental thing, but he will from the very outset look upon it simply as a useful form of shorthand expression, as it were, which is also a great aid in chemical thinking. facts and theories should ever be kept distinct and separate in the student's mind, if he is to make real progress in the science. a thoroughgoing, logical presentation of the subject, leading the student slowly and with a sense of perfect comprehension into the deeper and more difficult phases, should constitute one of the prime features of the work of the first year. interest should constantly be stimulated by references to the historical development of the subject, to the practical applications in the arts and industries, to sanitation and the treatment of disease, to the providing of proper food, clothing, fuel, and shelter, to the problems of transportation and communication, to the chemical changes that are constantly going on in the atmosphere, the waters, and the crust of the earth as well as in all living beings. nevertheless, all the time the _science_ should be taught as the backbone of the entire course. the allusions to history and the manifold applications to daily life are indeed very important, but they must never obscure the science itself, for only thus can a thorough comprehension of chemistry be imparted and the benefits of the mental drill and culture be vouchsafed to the student. =methods of teaching--the lecture method= for the freshman and sophomore, two lectures per week are sufficient for this type of instruction. in these exercises the student should give his undivided attention to what is presented by the lecturer. the taking of notes is to be discouraged rather than encouraged, for it results in dividing the attention between what is presented and the mechanical work of writing. to take the place of the usual lecture notes, students of this grade had better be provided with a suitable text, definite chapters in which are assigned for reading in connection with each lecture. the text thus serves for purposes of review, and also as a means for inculcating additional details which cannot to advantage be presented in a lecture, but are best studied at home by perusing a book, the contents of which have been illuminated by the experimental demonstrations, the explanations on the blackboard, the charts, lantern slides, and above all the living development and presentation of the subject by the lecturer. the lectures should in no case be conducted primarily as an exercise in dictation and note taking. if the lectures do not give general orientation, illumination, and inspiration for further study in laboratory and library, they are an absolute failure and had better be omitted entirely. on the other hand, when properly conducted the lectures are the very life of the course. =the laboratory work= the laboratory work should be well correlated with the lectures, especially during the first year. the experiments to be performed by the student should be carefully chosen and should not be a mere repetition of the lecture demonstrations. the laboratory experiments should be both qualitative and quantitative in character. they should on the one hand illustrate the peculiar properties of the substances studied and the typical concomitant changes of chemical action, but on the other hand a sufficient number of quantitative exercises in the laboratory should be introduced to bring home to the student the laws of combining weights and volumes, thus giving him the idea that chemistry is exact and that quantitative relations always obtain when chemical action takes place. at the same time the quantitative exercises lay the basis for the proper comprehension of the laws of combining weights and volumes and the atomic and molecular theories. at least three periods of two consecutive hours each should be spent in the laboratory per week, and the laboratory exercises should be made so interesting and instructive that the student will feel inclined to work in the laboratory at odd times in addition if his program of other studies permits. the laboratory should at all times be, as its name implies, a place where work is done. order and neatness should always prevail. apparatus should be kept neat and clean, and in no case should slovenly habits of setting up apparatus be tolerated. the early introduction of a certain amount of quantitative experimentation in the course makes for habits of order and neatness in experimentation and guards against bringing up "sloppy" chemists. =the student's laboratory record= the laboratory notebook should be a neat and accurate record of the work in the laboratory. to this end the entries in the notebook should be made in the laboratory at the time when the experiment is actually being performed. the writing of data on loose scratch paper and then finally writing up the notebook later at home from such sheets is not to be recommended, for while thus the final appearance of the notebook may be improved, it is no longer a first-hand record such as every scientist makes, but rather a transcribed one. the student, in making up such a transcription, is only too apt to draw upon his inner consciousness to make the book appear better; indeed, when he has neglected to transcribe his notes for several days, he is bound to produce anything but a true and accurate record, to say nothing about being put to the temptation to "fake" results which he has either not at all obtained in the laboratory, or has recorded so imperfectly on the scratch paper that he can no longer interpret his record properly. the only true way is to have the notes made directly in the permanently bound notebook at the time when the experiment is actually in progress. the student ought not to take the laboratory notebook home at all without the instructor's knowledge and permission. each experiment should be entered in the notebook in a brief, businesslike manner. long-winded, superfluous discussions should be avoided. as a rule, drawings of apparatus in the notes are unnecessary, it being sufficient to indicate that the apparatus was set up according to figure so-and-so in the laboratory manual or according to the directions given on page so-and-so. the student should be made to feel that the laboratory is the place where careful, purposeful experimentation is to be done, that this is the main object of the laboratory work, and that the notebook is merely a reliable record of what has been accomplished. to this end the data in the notebook should be complete, yet brief and to the point, so that what has been done can be looked up again and that the instructor may know that the experiment has been performed properly, that its purpose was understood by the student, and that he has made correct observations and drawn logical conclusions therefrom. while in each case the notes should indicate the purpose of the experiment, what has actually been done and observed, and the final conclusions, it is on the whole best not to have a general cut-and-dried formula according to which each and every experiment is to be recorded. it is better to encourage a certain degree of individuality in this matter on the part of each student. notebooks should be corrected by the teacher every week, and the student should be asked to correct all errors which the teacher has indicated. a businesslike atmosphere should prevail in the laboratory at all times, and this should be reflected in the notebooks. anything that savors of the pedantic is to be strictly avoided. small blackboards should be conveniently placed in the laboratory so that the instructor may use them in explaining any points that may arise. usually the same question arises with several members of the class, and a few moments of explanation before the blackboard enable the instructor to clear up the points raised. this not only saves the instructor's time, but it also stimulates interest in the laboratory when explanations are thus given to small groups just when the question is hot. it is, of course, assumed that the necessary amount of apparatus, chemicals, and other supplies is available, and that the laboratory desks, proper ventilation of the rooms, and safeguards in the case of all experiments fraught with danger have received the necessary painstaking attention on the part of the instructor, who must never for a moment relax in looking after these matters, which it is not the purpose to discuss here. at all times the student should work intelligently and be fully aware of any dangers that are inherent in what he is doing. it need hardly be said that a beginner should not be set at experiments that are specially dangerous. having been given proper directions, the student should be taught to go ahead with confidence, for working in constant trepidation that an accident may occur often creates a nervous state that brings about the accident. too much emphasis cannot be laid upon proper, definite laboratory instructions, especially as to kinds and amounts of materials to be used. such directions as "take a _little_ phosphorus," for example, should be strictly avoided, for the direction as to amount is absolutely indefinite and may in the case where phosphorus or any other dangerous substance is used lead to dire accidents. the student should be given proper and very definite directions, and then he should be taught to follow these absolutely and not use more of the materials than is specified, as the beginner is so apt to do, thus often wasting his time and the reagents as well. economy and the correct use of all laboratory supplies should be inculcated indirectly all the time. a fixed set of printed rules for the laboratory is generally neither necessary nor desirable when students are properly directed to work intelligently as they go, and good directions are given in the laboratory manual. thus a spirit of doing intelligently what is right and proper, guarding against accidents, economizing in time and materials of all kinds will soon become dominant in the laboratory and will greatly add to the efficiency of the workers. minor accidents are almost bound to occur at times in spite of all precautions, and the instructor should be ready to cope with these promptly by means of a properly supplied first-aid kit. =recitations and quizzes= for students of the first year quizzes or recitations should be held at least twice a week. in these exercises the ground covered in the lectures and laboratory work should be carefully and systematically reviewed. the quiz classes should not be too large. twenty-five students is the upper limit for a quiz section. the laboratory sections too should not be larger than this, and it is highly desirable that the same instructor conduct both the recitation and the immediate laboratory supervision of the student. lecture classes can, of course, be very much larger in number. in most colleges the attendance upon classes in chemistry is so large that it is not possible for the professor to deliver the lectures and also personally conduct all of the laboratory work and recitations. it is consequently necessary to divide the class up into small sections for laboratory and quiz purposes. it is highly desirable that the student become well acquainted with his individual instructor in laboratory and quiz work, and therefore it would be unfortunate to have one instructor in the laboratory and still another instructor in the quiz. it might be argued that it is a good thing to have the student become acquainted with a number of instructors, but in the writer's experience such practice results to the disadvantage of the student, and is consequently not to be recommended. in the recitations the student is to be encouraged to do the talking. he is to be given an opportunity to ask questions as well as to answer the queries put by the teacher. short written exercises of about ten minutes' duration can be given to advantage in each of these recitations. in this way the entire class writes upon a well-chosen question or solves a numerical chemical problem and thus a great deal of time is saved. the quiz room should be well provided with blackboards which may be used to great advantage in the writing of equations and the solution of chemical problems just as in a class in mathematics. the textbook, from which readings are assigned to the student in connection with the lectures, should contain questions which recapitulate the contents of each chapter. when such questions are not contained in the book, they ought to be provided by the teacher on printed or mimeographed sheets. when properly conducted, the recitation aids greatly in clarifying, arranging and fixing the important points of the course in the mind of the student. young instructors are apt to make the mistake of doing too much talking in the quiz, instead of encouraging the student to express his views. in these days, when foreign languages and mathematics are more or less on the wane in colleges, the proper study of chemistry, particularly in the well-conducted quiz, will go far toward supplying the mental drill which the older subjects have always afforded. =summary of first-year course= if the work of the first year has been properly conducted, it will have given the student a general view of the whole field of chemistry, together with a sufficient amount of detail so securely anchored in careful laboratory work and practical experience as to form a basis for either more advanced work in chemical lines or in the pursuance of the vocations already mentioned in which a knowledge of chemistry is basal. it is hardly necessary to add that if well taught, the student will at the end of such a course have a desire for more chemistry. =organization of second-year course= the work of the second year of chemistry in college generally consists of quantitative analysis, though the more intensive study of the compounds of carbon, known as organic chemistry, is also frequently taken up at this time, and there is much to be said in favor of such practice. =content of the course in quantitative analysis= in the quantitative analysis, habits of neatness and accuracy must be insisted upon. it is well to give the general orientation and directions by means of lectures. one or two such exercises per week will suffice. there should also be recitations. when two lectures per week are given, it will suffice to review the work with the student in connection with such lectures, provided the class is not too large for quiz purposes. intelligent work should characterize a course in quantitative analysis. to this end the student should be taught how to take proper representative samples of the material to be analyzed. he should then be taught how to weigh or measure out that sample with proper care. the manipulations of the analytical process should be carried out so that each step is properly understood and its relations to the general laws of chemistry are constantly before the mind. in carrying out the process, the various sources of error must be thoroughly appreciated and guarded against. the final weighing or measuring of the form in which the ingredient sought is estimated should again be carried out with care, and in the calculation of the percentage content due regard should be had for the limits of error of experimentation throughout the entire analytical process. the student feels that a large number of the exercises in quantitative analysis are virtually cases of making chemical preparations of the highest possible purity, thus connecting his previous chemical experience with his quantitative work. the course in quantitative analysis should cover the determination of the more important basic and acid radicals, and should consist of both gravimetric and volumetric exercises. the choice of the exercises is of great importance. it may vary, and should vary considerably in different cases. thus a student in agriculture is naturally interested in the methods of estimating lime, phosphorus, nitrogen, potash, silica, sulphur, etc., whereas a student in engineering would be more interested in work with the heavy metals and the ingredients which the commercial samples of such metals are apt to contain. thus, analytical work on solder, bearing metal, iron and steel, cement, etc., should be introduced as soon as the student in engineering is ready for it. it is quite possible to inculcate the principles of quantitative analysis by selecting exercises in which the individual student is interested, though, to be sure, certain fundamental things would naturally have to be taken by all students, whatever be the line for which they are training. a few exercises in gas analysis and also water analysis should be given in every good course in quantitative analysis that occupies an entire year. careful attention should be given to the notebook in the quantitative work, and the student should also be made to feel that in modern quantitative analysis not only balances and burettes are to serve as the measuring instruments, but that the polariscope and the refractometer also are very important, and that at times still other physical instruments like the spectroscope, the electrometer, and the viscometer may prove very useful indeed. the quantitative analysis offers a splendid opportunity for bringing home to the student what he has learned in the work of the first year, showing him one phase of the application of that knowledge and making him feel, as it were, the quantitative side of science. this latter view can be imparted only to a limited degree in the first year's work, but the quantitative course offers an unusual opportunity for giving the student an application of the fundamental quantitative laws which govern all chemical processes. it is not possible to analyze very many substances during any college course in quantitative analysis. the wise teacher will choose the substances to be analyzed so as to keep up the interest of the student and yet at the same time give him examples of all the fundamental cases that are commonly met in the practice of analytical work. a careful, painstaking, intelligent worker should be the result of the course in quantitative analysis. toward the end of the course, too, a certain amount of speed should be insisted upon. the student should be taught to carry on several processes at the same time, but care should be taken not to overdo this. =the course in organic chemistry= in the course in organic chemistry, lectures, laboratory work, and recitations, arranged very much as to time as in the first year, will be found advantageous. if the intensive work in organic chemistry is postponed to the third year in college, there are certain advantages. for example, the student is more mature and has had drill and experience in the somewhat simpler processes commonly taught in general and analytical chemistry. on the other hand, the postponing of organic chemistry to the third year has the disadvantage that the student goes through his basal training in quantitative analysis without the help of that larger horizon which can come to him only through the study of the methods of organic chemistry. the general work of the first year, to be sure, if well done compensates in part for what is lost by postponing organic chemistry till the third year, but it can never entirely remove the loss to the student. teachers will differ as to whether the time-honored division of organic chemistry into the aliphatic and aromatic series should be maintained pedagogically, but they will doubtless all agree that the methods of working out the structure of the chemical compound are peculiarly characteristic of the study of the compounds of carbon, and these methods must consequently constitute an important point to be inculcated in organic chemistry. the derivation of the various types of organic compounds from the fundamental hydrocarbons as well as from one another, and the characteristic reactions of each of these fundamental forms which lead to their identification and also often serve as a means of their purification, should naturally be taught in a thoroughgoing manner. the numerous practical applications which the teacher of organic chemistry has at his command will always serve to make this subject one of the deepest interest, if not the most fascinating portion of the entire subject of chemistry. no student should leave the course in organic chemistry without feeling the beautiful unity and logical relationship which obtains in the case of the compounds of carbon, the experimental study of which has cast so much light upon the chemical processes in living plants and animals, processes upon which life itself depends. the analysis of organic compounds is probably best taught in connection with the course in organic chemistry. it is here that the student is introduced to the use of the combustion furnace and the method of working out the empirical formulæ of the compounds which he has carefully prepared and purified. the laboratory practice in organic chemistry generally requires the use of larger pieces of apparatus. some of the experiments also are connected with peculiar dangers of their own. these facts require that the student should not approach the course without sufficient preliminary training. furthermore, the teacher needs to exercise special care in supervising the laboratory work so as to guard the student against serious accidents. the historical development of organic chemistry is especially interesting, and allusions to the history of the important discoveries and developments of ideas in organic chemistry should be used to stimulate interest and so enhance the value of the work of the student. the practical side of organic chemistry should never be lost sight of for a moment, and under no condition should the course be allowed to deteriorate into one of mere picturing of structural formulæ on the blackboard. all chemical formulas are merely compact forms of expression of what we know about chemical compounds. there are, no doubt, many facts about chemical compounds which their accepted formulas do not express at all, and the wise teacher should lead the student to see this. there is peculiar danger in the course in organic chemistry that the pupil become a mere formula worshiper, and this must carefully be guarded against. the applications of organic chemistry to the arts and industries, but especially to biochemistry, will no doubt interest many members of the class of a course in organic chemistry if the subject is properly taught. this will be particularly the case if the teacher always holds before the mind of the pupil the actual realities in the laboratory and in nature, using formulation merely as the expression of our knowledge and not as an end in itself. =place of physical chemistry in the college curriculum= physical chemistry, commonly regarded as the youngest and by its adherents the most important and all-pervading branch of chemistry, is presented very early in the college course by some teachers, and postponed to the junior and even the senior year by others. just as a certain amount of organic chemistry should be taught in the first year, so a few of the most fundamental principles of physical chemistry must also find a place in the basal work of the beginner. however, in the first year's work in chemistry so many phases of the subject must needs be presented in order to give a good general view, that many details in either organic, analytical, or physical chemistry must necessarily be omitted. what is to be taught in that important basal year must, therefore, be selected with extreme care. moreover, so far as physical chemistry is concerned, it is in a way chemical philosophy or general chemistry in the broadest sense of the word, and consequently requires for its successful pursuit not only a basal course, but also proper knowledge of analytical and organic chemistry, as well as a grounding in physics, crystallography, and mathematics. at the same time a certain amount of biological study is highly desirable. a good course in physical chemistry postulates lectures, laboratory work, and recitations. in general, these should be arranged much like those in the basal course and the course in organic chemistry. if anything, more time should be put upon the lectures and recitations; certainly more time should be devoted to exercises of this kind than in the course in quantitative analysis, which is best taught in the laboratory. at the same time it would be a mistake to teach physical chemistry without laboratory practice. indeed, laboratory practice is the very life of physical chemistry, and the more of such work we can have, the better. however, since physical chemistry, as already stated, delves into the philosophical field, discussions in the lecture hall and classroom become of peculiar importance. =courses in applied chemistry= many colleges now give additional courses in chemical technology. these would naturally come after the student has had a sufficient foundation in general chemistry, chemical analysis, and organic and physical chemistry. as a rule such applied courses ought not to be given until the junior or senior year. it is a great mistake to introduce such courses earlier, for the student cannot do the work in an intelligent manner. =enthusiastic teaching a vital factor= in all the courses in chemistry, interest and enthusiasm are of vital importance. these can be instilled only by the teacher himself, and no amount of laying out courses on paper and giving directions, however valuable they may be, can possibly take the place of an able, devoted, enthusiastic teacher. chemistry deals with things, and hence is always best taught in the laboratory. the classroom and the library should create interest and enthusiasm for further laboratory work, and in turn the laboratory work should yield results that will finally manifest themselves in the form of good written reports. =the teacher must continue his researches= original work should always be carried on by the college teacher. if he fails in this, his teaching will soon be dead. there will always be some bright students who can help him in his research work. these should be led on and developed along lines of original thought. from this source there will always spring live workers in the arts and industries as well as in academic lines. lack of facilities and time is often pleaded by the college teacher as an excuse for not doing original work. there is no doubt that such facilities are often very meager. nevertheless, the enthusiastic teacher is bound to find the time and also the means for doing some original work. a great deal cannot be expected of him as a rule because of his pedagogical duties, but a certain amount of productive work is absolutely essential to any live college teacher. =future of chemistry in the college curriculum= the importance of chemistry in daily life and in the industries has been increasing and is bound to continue to increase. for this reason the subject is destined to take a more important place in the college curriculum. if well taught, college chemistry will not only widen the horizon of the student, but it will also afford him both manual training and mental drill and culture of the highest order. louis kahlenberg _university of wisconsin_ vi the teaching of physics the need of giving to physics a prominent place in the college curriculum of the twentieth century is quite universally admitted. if, as an eminent medical authority maintains, no man can be said to be educated who has not the knowledge of trigonometry, how much more true is this statement with reference to physics? the five human senses are not more varied in scope than are the five great domains of this science. in the study of heat, sound, and light we may strive merely to understand the nature of the external stimuli that come to us through touch, hearing and sight; but in mechanics, where we examine critically the simplest ideas of motion and inertia, we acquire the method of analysis which when applied to the mysteries of molecular physics and electricity carries us along avenues that lead to the most profound secrets of nature. utilitarian aspects dwindle in our perspective as we face the problem of the structure, origin, and evolution of matter--as we question the independence of space and time. modern physics possesses philosophic stature of heroic size. =utilitarian value of the study of physics= but with regard to everyday occurrences a study of physics is necessary. it is trite to mention the development in recent years of those mechanical and electrical arts that have made modern civilization. the submarine, vitalized by storage battery and diesel engine, the torpedo with its gyroscopic pilot and pneumatic motors, the wireless transmission of speech over seas and continents--these things no longer excite wonder nor claim attention as we scan the morning paper; yet how many understand their mechanism or appreciate the spirit which has given them to the world? =disciplinary value of the study= if culture means the subjective transformation of information into a philosophy of life, can culture be complete unless it has included in its reflections the marvelously simple yet intricate interrelations of natural phenomena? the value of this intricate simplicity as a mental discipline is equaled perhaps only in the finely drawn distinctions of philosophy and in the painstaking statements of limitations and the rapid generalizations of pure mathematics; and let us not forget the value of discipline, outgrown and unheeded though it be in the acquisitive life of the present age. =relation of physics to philosophy and the exact sciences= the professional student, continually increasing in numbers in our colleges, either of science or in certain branches of law, finds a broad familiarity with the latest points of view of the physicist not only helpful but often indispensable. chemistry can find with difficulty any artificial basis for a boundary of its domain from that of physics. certainly no real one exists. the biologist is heard asking about the latest idea in atomic evolution and the electrical theories of matter, hoping to find in these illuminating points of view, he tells us, some analogy to his almost hopelessly complex problems of life and heredity. even those medical men whose interest is entirely commercial appreciate the convenience of the x-ray and the importance of correctly interpreting the pathological effects of the rays of radio-activity and ultra-violet light. one finds a great geologist in collaboration with his distinguished colleague in physics, and from the latter comes a contribution on the rigidity of the earth. astronomy answers nowadays to the name of astrophysics, and progressive observatories recognize in the laboratory a tool as essential as the telescope. in a word, the professional student of science not only finds that the subject matter of physics has many fundamental points of contact with his own chosen field, but also recognizes that the less complex nature of its material allows the method of study to stand out in bolder relief. training in the method and a passion for the method are vital to a successful and an ardent career. =should the teaching of college physics change its aim for different classes of students?= in the teaching of physics, then, the aim might at first sight appear to be quite varied, differing with different classes of students. a careful analysis of the situation, however, will show, we think, that this conclusion can with difficulty be justified: that it is necessary to conduct college instruction in a fashion dictated almost not at all by the subsequent aims of the students concerned. in the more elementary work, certainly, adherence to this idea is of great importance. the character, design, and purpose of an edifice do not appear in the foundations except that they are massive if the structure is to be great. not infrequently this seems an unnecessary hardship to a professional student anxious to get into the work of his chosen field. if such is the case, let him question perhaps whether any study of physics should be attempted, as this query may have different answers for different individuals. but if he is to study it at all, there is but one place where the analysis of physical phenomena can begin, and that is with fundamentals--space, time, motion, and inertia. how can one who is ignorant of the existence and characteristics of rotational inertia understand a galvanometer? how can waves be discussed unless in terms of period, amplitude, frequency, and the like, that find definition in simple harmonic motion? how does one visualize the mechanism of a gas, unless by means of such ideas as momentum interchange, energy conservation, and forces of attraction? let us emphasize here, lest we be misunderstood, that we are considering collegiate courses. we do not doubt that descriptive physics may be given after one fashion to farmers, quite differently to engineers, and from still a third point of view to medical students. unfortunately some collegiate courses never get beyond the high school method. our aim is not to discuss descriptive courses, but those that approach the subject with the spirit of critical analysis, for these alone do we deem worthy of a place in the college curriculum. =the course in college physics differentiated from the high school course= the problem of the descriptive course is the problem of the high school. because of failure there, too often we see at many a university courses in subfreshman physics. these are made necessary where entrance requirements do not demand this subject and where subsequent interest along related lines develops among the students a tardy necessity of getting it. from the point of view of the collegiate course it often appears as if the subfreshman course could be raised to academic rank. this is because familiarity with the material must precede an analysis of it. credit for high school physics on the records of the entrance examiner, unless this credit is based on entrance examination, is often found to stand for very little. consequently the almost continual demand for the high school work under the direct supervision of a collegiate faculty. the number of students who should go into this course instead of the college course is increasing at the present time in the immediate locality of the writer. as contributory testimony here, witness the number of colleges that do not take cognizance at all of high school preparation and admit to the same college classes those who have never had preparatory physics with those who have had it. we are told the difference between the two groups is insignificant. perhaps it is. if so, this fact reflects as much on the college as on the high school. if we are looking for a solution of our problem in this direction, let us be undeceived; we are looking backwards, not forward. =need of adequate high school preparation in physics= no one will affirm that to a class of whose numbers some have never had high school physics a course that is really analytical can be given. wherever a rigorous analytic course is given those who have been well trained in descriptive physics do well in it in general. let us not beg the question by giving such physics in a college that does not require high school preparation. the college curriculum is full enough as it is without duplication of high school work, and any college physics course that is a first course is essentially a high school course. let us rather put the responsibility squarely where it lies. the high school will respond if the urgency is made clear. witness some of them in our cities already attempting the junior college idea, an idea that has not been unsuccessful in some of our private schools. if it is made clear that a thoroughgoing course in descriptive physics is a paramount necessity in college work and that no effort will be spared on the part of the university to insure this quality, the men will be found and the proper courses given. =preparatory work in mathematics essential for success in college physics= we favor a comprehensive examination plan in all cases where the quality of the high school work is either unknown or open to question. familiarity, likewise, with the most elementary uses of mathematics should be insured. it would be highly desirable that a course of collegiate grade in trigonometry should immediately precede the physics. this is not because the details of trigonometry are all needed in physics. in fact, a few who have never had trigonometry make a conspicuous success in physics. these, however, are ones who have a natural facility in analysis. to keep them out because of failure to have had a prerequisite course in trigonometry often works an unnecessary hardship. we would argue, therefore, for a formal prerequisite on this subject, reserving for certain students exemption, which should be determined in all cases, if not by the instructor himself, at least by his coöperation with some advisory administrative officer. =need of testing each student's preparation= nor is it sufficient with regard to the mathematical preparation or the knowledge of high school physics in either case to go exclusively by the official credit record of the student. it is our firm conviction from several years' experience where widely different aims in the student body are represented that above and beyond all formal records attention to the individual case is of prime importance. the opening week of the course should be so conducted that those who are obviously unequipped can be located and directed elsewhere into the proper work. how this may best be accomplished can be determined only by the circumstances in the individual school, we imagine. daily tests covering the simplest descriptive information that should be retained from high school physics and requiring the intelligent use of arithmetic, elementary algebra, and geometry will reveal amazing incapacity in these things. tuttle, in his little book entitled _an introduction to laboratory physics_ (jefferson laboratory of physics, philadelphia, ), gives on pages - an excellent list of questions of this sort. any one with teaching experience in the subject whatever can make up an equally good one suited for his special needs and temperament. it should not be assumed that all who fail in such tests should be dropped. some undoubtedly should be sent back to high school work or its equivalent; others may need double the required work in mathematics to overcome their unreadiness in its use. personal contacts will show that some are drifting into a scientific course who have no aptitude for it and who will be doomed to disappointment should they continue. in a word, then, we are convinced that the more carefully one plans the work of the first week or so the more smoothly does the work of the rest of the year follow. the number of failures may be reduced to a few per cent without in any way relaxing the standard of the course. =methods of teaching college physics= with regard to the organization of the college courses in physics there seems to us to be at least one method that leads to a considerable degree of success. this is not the lecture method of instruction; neither is it a wholly unmitigated laboratory method. =lecture method vs. laboratory method= to kindle inspiration and enthusiasm nothing can equal the contact in lectures with others, preferably leaders in their profession, but at least men who possess one of these qualities. such contacts need not be frequent; indeed, they should not be. the speaker is apt to make more effort, the student to be more responsive, if such occasions are relatively rare. even thus, although real information is imparted at such a time, it is seldom acquired. however, perspective is furnished, interest stimulated, and the occasion enjoyed. =limitations of exclusive use of each method= for the real acquisition of scientific information, the great method is the working out of a laboratory exercise and pertinent problems, with informal guidance in the atmosphere of active study and discussion engendered among a small group,--the laboratory method. taken alone, it is apt to become mechanical and uninteresting and the outlook to be obscured by details. lectures, especially demonstration lectures, are needed to vitalize and inspire. moreover, many of the most vivid illustrations of physical principles that occur on every hand to focus the popular attention are never met with in the college course because they are unsuited for inexperienced hands or not readily amenable to quantitative experimentation. the more informally such demonstrations can be conducted, the more enthusiastically they are received. =aims of the laboratory method= with regard to laboratory work, accuracy in moderate degree is important, but too great insistence upon it is apt to overshadow the higher aim; namely, that of the analysis of the phenomena themselves. a determination of the pressure coefficient of a gas to half a per cent, accompanied by a clear visualization of the mechanism by which a gas exerts a pressure and a usable identification of temperature with kinetic agitation, would seem preferable to an experimental error of a tenth per cent which may be exacted which is unaccompanied by these inspiring and rather modern points of view. especially in electricity is a familiarity with the essentials of the modern theories important. here supplementary lectures are of great necessity, for no textbook keeps pace with progress in this tremendously important field. problem solving with class discussion is absolutely essential, and should occupy at least one third of the entire time. in no other way can one be convinced that the student is doing anything more than committing to memory, or blindly following directions with no reaction of his own. =value of the supplementary lecture= the incorporation recently of this idea into the courses at the university of chicago has been very successful. five sections which are under different instructors are combined one day a week at an hour when there are no other university engagements, for a lecture demonstration. this is given by a senior member of the staff whenever possible. the other meetings during the week are conducted by the individual instructors and consist of two two-hour laboratory periods and two class periods that usually run into somewhat over one hour each. these sections are limited to twenty-five, and a smaller number than this would be desirable. the responsibility for the course rests naturally upon the individual instructors of these small sections. these men also share in the demonstration work, since each is usually an enthusiast in some particular field and will make a great effort in his own specialty to give a successful popular presentation of the important ideas involved. the enthusiasm which this plan has engendered is very great. attendance is crowded and there is always a row of visitors, teachers of the vicinity, advanced students in other fields of work, or undergraduates brought in by members of the class. these latter especially are encouraged, as this does much to offset current ideas that physics is a subject of unmitigated severity. the particular topics put into these demonstrations will be discussed in paragraphs below, which take up in more detail the organization of the special subdivisions of the material in a general physics course. =mechanics a stumbling block--how to meet the difficulty= mechanics is a stumbling block at the outset. as we have indicated above, it must form the beginning of any course that is analytic in aim. there is no question of sidestepping the difficulty: it must be surmounted. a judicious weeding during the first week is the initial part of the plan. interest may be aroused at once in the demonstration lectures by mechanical tricks that show apparent violations of newton's laws. these group around the type of experiment which shows a modification of the natural uniform rectilinear motion of any object by some hidden force, most often a concealed magnetic field. the instinctive adherence of every one to newton's dynamic definition, that acceleration defies the ratio of force to inertia, is made obvious by the amusement with which a trick in apparent defiance of this principle is greeted. informality of discussion in such experiments, questions on the part of the instructor that are more than rhetorical, and volunteer answers and comment from the class increase the vividness of the impressions. a mechanical adaptation of the "monkey on the string" problem, using little electric hoists or clockworks, introduces interesting discussion of the third law in conjunction with the second. a toy cannon and target mounted on easily rolling carriages bring in the similar ideas where impulses rather than forces alone can be measured. there follow, then, the laboratory experiments of the atwood machine and the force table, where quantitative results are demanded. it is desirable to have these experiments at least worked by the class in unison. whatever may be the exigencies of numbers and apparatus equipment that prevent it later, these introductions should be given to and discussed by all together. in the nature of things, fortunately, this is possible. a single atwood machine will give traces for all in a short time under the guidance of the instructor. the force table experiment is nine-tenths calculation, and verifications may be made for a large number in a short time. searching problems and discussion are instigated at once, and the notion of rotational equilibrium and force moments brought in. because of the very great difficulty seeming to attach to force resolutions, demonstration experiments and problems using a bridge structure, such as the harvard experimental truss, will amply repay the time invested. another experiment here, which makes analysis of the practice of weighing, is possible, although there will be divergence almost at once due to the personality of the instructor and the equipment by which he finds himself limited. the early introduction of moments is important, however, because it seems as if a great amount of unnecessary confusion on this topic is continually cropping out later. at this point, if limitations of apparatus present a difficulty, a group of more or less independent experiments may be started. ideas of energy may be illustrated in the determination of the efficiency and the horse power of simple machines, such as water motors, pulleys, and even small gas or steam engines. in discussion of power one should not forget that in practical problems one meets power as force times velocity rather more frequently than as rate of doing work, and this aspect should be emphasized in the experiments. conservation of energy is brought out in these same experiments with reference to the efficiencies involved. in sharp contrast here the principle of conservation of momentum may be brought in by ballistic pendulum experiments involving elastic and inelastic impacts. most students are unfamiliar with the application of these ideas to the determination of projectile velocities, and this forms an interesting lecture demonstration. elasticity likewise is a topic that may be introduced with more or less emphasis according to the predilection of the instructor. the moduli of young and of simple rigidity lend themselves readily to quantitative laboratory experiments. any amount of interesting material may be culled here from recent investigations of michelson, bridgman, and others with regard to elastic limits, departures from the simple relations, variations with pressure, etc., for a lantern or demonstration talk in these connections. by this time the student should have found himself sufficiently prepared to take up problems of rotational motion. the application of newton's laws to pure rotations and combinations of rotation and translation, such as rolling motions, are very many. we would emphasize here the dynamic definition of moment of inertia, i = fh/_a_ rather than the one so frequently given importance for computational purposes, s_mr_^{ }. quantitative experiments are furnished by the rotational counterpart of the atwood machine. lecture demonstrations for several talks abound: stability of spin about the axis of greatest inertia, kelvin's famous experiments with eggs and tops containing liquids, which suggest the gyroscopic ideas, and finally a discussion of gyroscopes and their multitudinous applications. the book of crabtree, _spinning tops and the gyroscope_, and the several papers by gray in the _proceedings of the physical society of london_, summarize a wealth of material. if one wishes to interject a parenthetical discussion of the bernouilli principle, and the simplest laws of pressure distributions on plane surfaces moving through a resisting medium, a group of striking demonstrations is possible involving this notion, and by simple combination of it with the precession of a rotating body the boomerang may be brought in and its action for the major part given explanation. rotational motion leads naturally to a discussion of centripetal force, and this in turn is simple harmonic motion. this latter finds most important applications in the pendulum experiments, and no end of material is here to be found in any of the textbooks. the greatest refinement of experimentation for elementary purposes will be the determination of "g" by the method of coincidences between a simple pendulum and the standard clock. elementary analysis without use of calculus reaches its culmination in a discussion of forced vibrations similar to that used by magie in his general text. many will not care to go as far as this. others will go farther and discuss kater's pendulum and the small corrections needed for precision, for here does precision find bold expression. it is not our purpose to give a synopsis of the entire general physics course. we have made an especially detailed study of mechanics, because this topic is the one of greatest difficulty by far in the pedagogy. it is too formally given in the average text, and seems to have suffered most of all from lack of imagination on the part of instructors. =suggested content for the study of phenomena of heat and molecular physics= in the field of heat and molecular physics in general there is much better textbook material. experiments here may legitimately be called precise, for the gas laws, temperature coefficients, and densities of gases and saturated vapor pressures will readily yield in comparatively inexperienced hands an accuracy of about one in a thousand. in the demonstrations emphasis should be given to the visualization of the kinetic theory points of view. such models as the northrup visible molecule apparatus are very helpful. however, in absence of funds for such elaboration, slides from imaginative drawings showing to scale conditions in solids, liquids, and vapors with average free paths indicated and the history of single molecules depicted will be found ideal in getting the visualization home to the student. where we have a theory so completely established as the mechanical theory of heat it seems quite fair to have recourse to the eye of the senses to aid the eye of the mind. brownian movements have already yielded up their dances to the motion picture camera. need the "movies" be the only ones to profit by the animated cartoon? nor should the classical material be forgotten. boys' experiments in soap bubbles have been the inspiration of generations of students of capillarity. and if the physicist will consult with the physiological chemist he will find a mass of material of which he never dreamed where these phenomena of surface tension enter in a most direct fashion to leading questions in the life sciences. =the teacher of scholarship and understanding is the teacher who uses sound methods= enough has been said to indicate what we consider the methods of successful teaching of college physics. it is quite obvious, we think, that physics constitutes no exception to the rule that the teacher must first of all know and understand his subject. right here lies probably nine tenths of the fault with our pedagogy. no amount of study of method will yield such returns as the study of the subject itself. the honest student, and every teacher should belong to this class or he has no claim to the name, is well aware that most of his deficiency in explaining a topic is in direct ratio to his own lack of comprehension of it. in physics, as in every other walk of life, we suffer from lack of thoroughness, from a kind of superficiality that is characteristically human but especially american. we have yet to know of any one who really ranks as a scholar in his subject from whom students do not derive inspiration and enthusiasm. such a one usually pays little attention to the methods of others, for the divine fire of knowledge itself does not need much of tinder to kindle the torches of others. our greatest plea is for our teachers to be men of understanding, for then they will be found to be men of method. =the method of analysis dominant in physics= the sequence in which heat, electricity, sound, and light follow mechanics seems quite immaterial. several equally logical plans may be organized. preference is usually accorded one or the other on the basis of local conditions of equipment, and needs little reference to pedagogy. if one gives to mechanics its proper importance, the difficulty in giving instruction in the other topics seems very much less. the momentum acquired seems to serve for the balance of the year. always must analysis be insisted upon, if our college course is going to differ from that of the high school. if we are to let students be content to read current from an ammeter with a calibrated scale and not have the interest to inquire and the ambition to insist upon the knowledge of how that calibration was originally made, we have no right to claim any collegiate rank for our courses. but if we define electrical current in terms of mechanical force which exhibits a balanced couple on a system in rotational equilibrium, there can be no dodging of the issue, for in no other way than by the study of the mechanics of the situation can the content and the limitations of our definition be understood. any college work, so called, that does less than analyze thus is nothing more than a review and amplification of the material that should be within the range of the high school student and in that place presented to him. the first college course reveals a different method, the method of analysis. science at the present time is so far developed that in no branch is progress made by mere description and classification. the method of analysis is dominant in the biological and the earth sciences as well as in the physics and chemistry of today. =teaching of advanced courses in physics= on the more advanced college courses which follow the general physics course little comment is needed. problems and questions here also exist, but they have a strongly local color and are out of place in a general discussion. the student body is no longer composed of the rank and file, half of whom are driven, by some requirement or other, into work in which they have but a passing interest at best. it is no longer a problem of seeing how much can be made to adhere in spite of indifference, of how firm a foundation can be prepared for needs as yet unrecognized in the subject of the effort. a very limited number, comparatively, enter further work of senior college courses, and these have either enthusiasm or ability and often both. of course, a cold neglect or bored indifference in the attitude of the teacher will be resented. it will kill enthusiasm and send ability seeking inspiration elsewhere. but any one who is fond of his subject, and of moderate ability and industry, should have no difficulty in developing senior college work. if our instructor in the general course must be a scholar to be successful, the man in more advanced work must be one _a fortiori_. if he is not, few who come in contact with him have so little discernment as to fail to recognize the fact. =organization of advanced courses= organization of senior college work may be in many ways. one method where an institution follows the quarter system is the plan of having eight or ten different and rather unrelated twelve-week major courses which may be taken in almost any order. half of these are lecture courses, the other half exclusively laboratory courses. there should be a correspondence of material to some extent between the two. lectures on the kinetic theory of gases should have a parallel course in which the classical experiments of the senior heat laboratory are performed,--such experiments, for example, as vapor density, resistance and thermocouple pyrometry, bomb calorimetry viscosity, molecular conductivity, freezing and boiling points, recalescence, etc. a course of advanced electrical measurements should have a parallel lecture course in which the theoretical aspects of electromagnetism, the classical theories, and the equations that represent transitory and equilibrium conditions in complex circuits are discussed. in optics, likewise, there is ample material of great importance: physical, geometrical optics, spectroscopy, photography, x-ray crystallography, etc. the advanced student in these fields finds more elasticity and opportunity for cultivating a special interest in having a large number of limited interest courses from which to choose than in having such material presented in a completely organized course covering one or two years of complete work. instructors who are specialists have opportunity of working up courses in their own fields which they do more efficiently under this plan. research begins at innumerable places along the way, and the senior college courses so organized are the feeders of all graduate work. =dangers of formalizing methods of instruction= in all of the above discussion it should be clearly remembered that no single plan or no one particular method has the final word or ever will have. as long as a science is growing and unfinished, points of view will continually be shifting. we are largely orthodox in our teaching. if brought up on the laboratory method of instruction it may seem the best one for us, but others may prefer another way which they have inherited. let us appeal, then, for a constructive orthodoxy. let us be as teachers of a subject to which we are devoted, truly and sincerely open-minded, quick to recognize and sincere in our efforts to adopt what is better wherever we meet it: waiting not to meet it, either, but going out to seek it. from the humblest college to the greatest university we shall find it here and there. not alone in schools but in the legion of human activities about us on every hand are people who are doing things more efficiently, more thoroughly, and more skillfully than we do things. if we would be of the number that lead, we must be among the first to recognize these facts and profit by them. first, let our work be organized with respect to that of others--the high schools; not discounting their labor but having them truly build for us. second, let us be open-minded enough to see that all methods of instruction have their advantages and make such combinations of the best elements in each as best suit our purpose. above all things, let us know our subject. here is a task before which we quail in this generation of vast vistas. but there is no alternative for us. no amount of method will remove the curse of the superficially informed. let us devote ourselves to smaller fields if we must, but let us not tolerate ignorance among those who bear the burden of passing on, with its flame ever more consuming, the torch of knowledge. harvey b. lemon _university of chicago_ vii the teaching of geology =values of the study of geology diverse= so wide is the scope of the science of the earth, so varied is its subject matter, and so diverse are the mental activities called forth in its pursuit, that its function in collegiate training cannot be summed up in an introductory phrase or two. geology is so composite that it is better fitted to serve a related group of educational purposes than a single one alone. besides this, these possible services have not yet become so familiar that they can be brought vividly to mind by an apt word or phrase; they need elaboration and exposition to be valued at what they are really worth. geology is yet a young science and still growing, and as in the case of a growing boy, to know what it was a few years ago is not to know what it is today. its disciplines take on a realistic phase in the main, but yet in some aspects appeal powerfully to the imagination. its subject matter forms a constitutional history of our planet and its inhabitants, but yet largely wears a descriptive or a dynamic garb. =geology a study of the process of evolution= though basally historical, a large part of the literature of geology is concerned with the description of rocks, structural features, geologic terrains, surface configurations and their modes of formation and means of identification. a notable part of the text prepared for college students relates primarily to phenomena and processes, leaving the history of the earth to follow later in a seemingly secondary way. this has its defense in a desire first to make clear the modes of the geologic processes, to the end that the parts played by these processes in the complexities of actions that make up the historical stages may be better realized. this has the effect, however, of giving the impression that geology is primarily a study of rocks and rock-forming processes, and this impression is confirmed by the great mass of descriptive literature that has sprung almost necessarily from the task of delineating such a multitude of formations before trying to interpret their modes of origin or to assign them their places in the history of the earth. the descriptive details are the indispensable data of a sound history, and they have in addition specific values independent of their service as historical data. but into the multiplicity and complexity of the details of structure and of process, the average college student can wisely enter to a limited extent only, except as they form types, or appear in the local fields which he studies, where they serve as concrete examples of world-forming processes. =disciplinary worth of study of geology= the study of these structures, formations, configurations, and processes yields each its own special phase of discipline and its own measure of information. the work takes on various chemical, mechanical, and biological aspects. as a means of discipline it calls for keenness and diligence in observation, circumspection in inference, a judicial balancing of factors in interpretation. an active use of the scientific imagination is called forth in following formations to inaccessible depths or beneath areas where they are concealed from view. while thus the study of structures, formations and configurations constitutes the most obtrusive phase of geologic study and has given trend to pedagogical opinion respecting its place in a college course, such study is not, in the opinion of the writer, the foremost function of the subject in a college curriculum that is designed to be really broad, basal, and free, in contradistinction to one that is tied to a specific vocational purpose. =this study concerned primarily with the typical college course, not with vocational courses= while we recognize, with full sympathy, that the subject matter of geology enters vitally into certain vocational and prevocational courses, and, in such relations, calls for special selections of material and an appropriate handling, if it is to fulfill these purposes effectively, this seems to us aside from the purpose of this discussion, which centers on typical college training--training which is liberal in the cosmic sense, not merely from the homocentric point of view. =knowledge of geology contributes to a truly liberal education= to subserve these broader purposes, geology is to be studied comprehensively as the evolution of the earth and its inhabitants. the earth in itself is to be regarded as an organism and as the foster-parent of a great series of organisms that sprang into being and pursued their careers in the contact zones between its rigid body and its fluidal envelopes. these contact zones are, in a special sense, the province of geography in both its physical and its biotic aspects. the evolution of the biotic and the psychic worlds in these horizons is an essential part of the history of the whole, for each factor has reacted powerfully on the others. an appreciative grasp of these great evolutions, and of their relations to one another, is essential to a really broad view of the world of which we are a part; it is scarcely less than an essential factor in a modern liberal education. =geology embraces all the great evolutions= let us agree, then, at the outset, that a true study of the career of the earth is not adequately compassed by a mere tracing of its inorganic history or an elucidation of its physical structure and mineral content, but that it embraces as well all the great evolutions fostered within the earth's mantles in the course of its career. greatest among these fostered evolutions, from the homocentric point of view, are the living, the sentient, and the thinking kingdoms that have grown up with the later phases of the physical evolution. it does not militate against this view that each of these kingdoms is, in itself, the subject of special sciences, and that these, in turn, envelop a multitude of sub-sciences, for that is true of every comprehensive unit. nor is it inconsistent with this larger view of the scope of geology that it is, itself, often given a much narrower definition, as already implied. in its broader sense, geology is an enveloping science, surveying, in a broad historical way, many subjects that call for intensive study under more special sciences, just as human history sweeps comprehensively over a broad field cultivated more intensively by special humanistic sciences. in a comprehensive study of the earth as an organism, it is essential that there be embraced a sufficient consideration of all the vital factors that entered into its history to give these their due place and their true value among the agencies that contributed to its evolution. a true biography of the earth can no more be regarded as complete without the biotic and psychic elements that sprang forth from it, or were fostered within its mantles, than can the biography of a human being be complete with a mere sketch of his physical frame and bodily growth. the physical and biological evolutions are well recognized as essential parts of earth history. although the mental evolutions have emerged gradually with the biological evolutions, and have run more or less nearly parallel with them--have, indeed, been a working part of them--they have been less fully and frankly recognized as elements of geological history. they have been rather scantily treated in the literature of the subject; but they are, none the less, a vital part of the great history. they have found some recognition, though much too meager, in the more comprehensive and philosophical treatises on earth-science. it may be safely prophesied that the later and higher evolutions that grace our planet will be more adequately emphasized as the science grows into its full maturity and comes into its true place among the sciences. it is important to emphasize this here, since it is preëminently the function of a liberal college course to give precedence to the comprehensive and the essential, both in its selection of its subject matter and in its treatment of what it selects. it is the function of a liberal course of study to bring that which is broad and basal and vital into relief, and to set it over against that which is limited, special, and technical, however valuable the latter may be in vocational training and in economic application. =physical and dynamic boundaries of geology--implications for teaching= in view of these considerations--and frankly recognizing the inadequacies of current treatment--let us note, before we go further, what are the physical and dynamic boundaries of the geologic field, that we may the better see how that field merges into the domains of other sciences. this will the better prepare us to realize the nature of the disciplines for which earth-science forms a suitable basis, as well as the types of intellectual furniture it yields to the mind. obviously these disciplines and this substance of thought should determine the place of the science in the curriculum of any course that assumes the task of giving a broad and liberal education. earth-science is the domestic chapter of celestial science. our planet is but a modest unit among the great celestial assemblage of worlds; but, modest as it is, it is that unit about which we have by far the fullest and most reliable knowledge. the earth not only furnishes the physical baseline of celestial observation, but supplies all the appliances by which inquiry penetrates the depths of the heavens. not alone earth-science, as such, but several of the intensive sciences brought into being through the intellectual evolutions that have attended the later history of the earth, have been prerequisites to the development of the broad science of the outer heavens. the science of the lower heavens is a factor of earth-science in the definition we are just about to give. at the same time, the whole earth, including the lower heavens, is enveloped by the more comprehensive domain of celestial science. if we seek the most logical limit that may be assigned the realm of earth-science, as distinguished from that of celestial science, of which it is the home unit, it may be found at that borderline _within which_ any passive body obeys the call of the earth, as against the call of the outer worlds, and _without which_ such a passive body obeys the call of the outer worlds, the call of the sun in particular. this limit is the _dynamic dividing line_ between the kingdom of the earth and the kingdom of the outer heavens. this boundary, according to moulton, incloses a spheroid whose minimum radius is about , miles, and whose maximum radius is about , miles. we may, then, conveniently say that the earth's sphere of control stretches out a million kilometers from its center and that this defines its true realm. at the same time, this defines the logical limit of the earth's ultra-atmosphere and appears to mark a zone of exchange between the ultra-atmosphere of the earth and the ultra-atmosphere of the sun. it thus appears to imply the place and the mode of an exchange of vital elements upon which probably hangs the wonderful maintenance of the earth's atmosphere for many millions of years and the equally wonderful regulation of the essential qualities of the atmosphere so that these have always remained within the narrow range subservient to terrestrial life. it is needless to add that this regulation also conditions the present intellectual status of the thinking factor among the inhabitants of the earth out of which--may i be pardoned for saying?--has grown the present educational discussion. if this last shall seem to squint toward special pleading, let it be considered that, as we see things, it is precisely those views that take hold of the issues upon which our very being and all its activities depend, that serve best to train youth to broad views and penetrating thought. such thinking seems to me to form the very essence of a really liberal education. not only is this definition of the sphere of geology comprehensive, but it has the special merit of being _dynamic_, rather than material. such a dynamic definition comports with the view that earth-study should center on the forces and energies that actuated its evolution, since these are the most vital feature of the evolution itself. it is important to form adequate concepts of the energies that have maintained the past ongoings of the earth not only, but that still maintain its present activities and predetermine its future. it is the study of the forces and the processes of past and of present evolutions that constitute the soul of the science, rather than the apparently fixed and passive aspects of the earth's formations and configurations which are but the products of the processes that have gone before. even the apparent passiveness of the geologic products is illusive, for they are in reality expressions of continued internal activities of an intense, though occult, order. these escape notice largely because they are balanced against one another in a system of equilibrium which pervades them and gives them the appearance of fixity. to serve their proper functions as sources of higher education, the concepts of the constitution of the earth should penetrate even to these refined aspects of physical organization and should bring the whole into harmony with the most advanced views of the real nature of physical organisms. this removes from the whole terrestrial organism every similitude of inertness and gives it a fundamental refinement, activity, and potency of the highest order. to form a true and consistent concept, the enveloping earth-science must be assumed to embrace, potentially at least, the essentials of all that was evolved within it and from it, with, of course, due recognition of what was added from without. _the history of the earth should therefore be taught in college courses as a succession of complex dynamic events, great in the past and great in future potentialities._ the formations and configurations left by the successive phases of action are to be studied primarily as the vestiges of the processes that gave them birth, and hence as their historic credentials. they are to be looked upon less as the vital things in themselves, than as the _record_ of the events of the time and as the forerunners of the subsequent events that may be potential in them. and so, primarily, the geologic records are to be scrutinized to find _the deeper meanings which they embody_, whether such meanings lie in the physical, the biological, or the psychological world. =geology the means of developing scientific imagination of time and space= turning to specific phases of the subject, it may first be noted that geology is singularly suited to develop clear visions of vast stretches of time; it opens broad visions of the panorama of world events, a panorama still passing before us. while the celestial order of things no doubt involves greater lapses of time, these are not so easily realized, for they are not so well filled in with a succession of records of the passing stages that make up the whole. but even the lapses of geologic time are greater than immature minds can readily grasp; however, their _powers of realization_ are greatly strengthened by studying so protracted a record, built up stage upon stage. the very slowness with which the geologic record was made, as well as the evidences of slowness in each part of the record, help to draw out an appreciation of the immensity of the whole. the round period covered by the more legible range of the geologic record rises to the order of a hundred million years, perhaps to several hundred million years. the large view of history which this implies has already come to form the ample background on which are projected the concepts of the broader class of thinkers; such largeness of view will quite surely be held to be an indispensable prerequisite to the still broader thinking of the future for which the better order of students are now preparing. while this is preëminently true of the concept of time, the concept of space is fairly well cultivated by geologic study, though far less effectively than is done by astronomical study. astronomy and geology work happily together in contributing to largeness of thought. the study of the origin and early history of the earth brings the student into touch with the most far-reaching problems that have thus far called forth the intellectual efforts of man. if rightly handled, these great themes may be made to teach the true method of inquiry into past natural events whose vastness puts them quite beyond the resources of the laboratory. this method finds its key in a search for the history of such vast and remote events by a scrutiny of the vestiges these events have left as their own automatic record. this method stands in sharp contradistinction to simple speculation without such search for talismanic vestiges, a discredited method which is too often supposed to be the only way of dealing with such themes. to be really competent in the field of larger and deeper thinking, every courageous mind should be able to cross the threshold of any of the profound problems of the universe with safe and circumspect steps, however certain it may be that only a slight measure of penetration of the problem may be attainable. a well-ordered mind will remain at once complacent and wholesome when brought to the limit of its effort by the limit of evidence. the problem of the origin of celestial worlds, of which the genesis of the earth is the theme of largest human interest, is admirably suited to give college students at once a modest sense of their limitations and a wholesome attitude toward problems of the vaster type. without having acquired the power to make prudent and duly controlled excursions into the vaster fields of thought, the mind can scarcely be said to have been liberalized. =geology a means of training in thinking in scientific experiences= from the very outset, the tracing of the earth history forces a comprehensive study of the co-workings of the three dominant states of matter massively embodied in the atmosphere, the hydrosphere, and the lithosphere, the great terrestrial triumvirate. the strata of the earth are the joint products of these three elements and constitute their lithographic record. these three coöperating and contending elements not only bring into view the three typical phases of physical action, but they present this action in such titanic aspects as to force the young mind to think along large lines, with the great advantage that these actions are controlled by determinate laws, while the causes and the results are both tangible and impressive. while there is a large class of tangible and determinate problems of this kind, embracing shiftings of matter on the earth's surface, distortions of strata, and changes of bodily form, there are also problems of a more hidden nature such as internal mutations. these give rise to mathematical, physical, and chemical inquiries while at the same time they call into play the use of the scientific imagination and are thus rich in the possibilities of training. thus in varied ways geological work joins hands with chemical, physical, mechanical, and mathematical work. when life first appears in the record, there is occasion to raise the profound question of its origin, and with this arises a closely related question as to the nature of the conditions that invited life, which leads on to the further question, what fostered the development of life throughout its long history? while the obscurity of the earliest record leaves the question of origin indeterminate for the present, duly guarded thought upon the subject should foster a wholesome spirit toward inquiry in this vital line as well as a hospitable attitude toward whatever solution may finally await us. in all such studies the student should be invited to look to _the vestiges left automatically by the process itself_ for the answer, and he should learn to accept the teachings of evidence precisely as it presents itself. so also when a problem is, for the present, indeterminate, it is peculiarly wholesome for the inquirer to learn to rest the case where the light of evidence fails, and to be complacent in such suspension of judgment and to wait further light patiently in serene confidence that the vestiges left by the actuating agencies in their constructive processes are the surest index of the ultimate truth and are likely to be sooner or later detected and read truly. =relation of geology to botany, zoölogy, psychology, and sociology= in the successive records of past life impressed on strata piled one upon another until they form the great paleontologic register, there is an ample and a solid basis for the study of the historic evolution of life. with this also go evidences of the conditions that attended this life progress and that gave trend to it. this record of the relations of life to the environing physical conditions forms one of the most stimulating fields of study that can engage the student who seeks light on the great problems of biological progress. here geology joins hands with botany and zoölogy in a mutual helpfulness that is scarcely less than indispensable to each. following, or perhaps immediately attending, the introduction of physiological life, there appeared signs of sentient life. the preservation of certain of the sense organs, taken together with the collateral evidences of sense action, as early as cambrian times, furnish the groundwork for a historical study of the progress of sentient life, eventuating in the higher forms of mental life. here the problems of geology run hand in hand with the problems of psychology. the limitations of the evidence bearing on psychological phenomena, while regrettable, are not without some compensation in that they center the attention on the simpler aspects of the protracted deployment of the psychological functions. in addition to the clear evidences of psychic action, in at least its elementary forms, there appeared early in the stratigraphic records intimations of some of the relationships that sentient beings then bore to one another; and this relationship gives occasion to study the primitive aspects of sociological phenomena. if nothing more is learned than the important lesson that sociology is not a thing of today, not an untried realm inviting all kinds of ill-digested projects, but on the contrary is a field of vast and instructive history, the gain will not be inconsiderable. there are intimations of the early existence and effective activity of those affections that precede and that cluster about the parental relationship, the nucleus of the most vital of all the sociological relationships. in contrast to the affections, there are distinct evidences of antagonistic relations, of pursuit and capture, of attack and defense; there were tools of warfare and devices for protection. in time, a wide-ranging series of experiments, so to speak, were tried to secure advantage, to avoid suffering, to escape death, and to preserve the species. there were even suggestions of the cruder forms of government. the many stages in the evolution of the various devices, as well as the stages of their abandonment, that followed one another in the course of the ages recorded the results of a multitude of efforts at sociological adjustment. they raise the question whether a common set of guiding principles does not underlie all such relationships, earlier and later, whatever their rank in our scale of valuation. and so this great field of inquiry--too narrowly regarded as merely humanistic--comes into view early in the history of the earth. the geological and the sociological sciences find in it common working ground. if the geologic and the humanistic sciences are given each their widest interpretation and their freest application, the advantage cannot be other than mutual. it is perhaps not too much to say that studies in the physiological, the psychological, the sociological, and the allied fields necessarily lack completeness if they do not bring into their purview the data of their common historical record traced as far back as it is found to contain intimations of their actual extension. it is customary to speak of the geologic ages as though they were wholly past; they are, indeed, chiefly past as the record now stands, but time runs on and earth history continues; the processes of the past are still active, and they are likely to work on far into the future. and so geologic study links itself fundamentally into all such present terrestrial interests as take hold of the distant future. the forecast of the earth's endurance, attended by conditions congenial to life and to the mental and moral activities, hinges on a sound insight into the great actuating forces inherent in the earth, together with those likely to come into play from the celestial environment. all human interests, in so far as they are dependent on a protracted future, center in the prognosis of the earth based on its present and its past. the latest phases of geologic doctrine prophesy a long future habitability of the earth. they thus give meaning and emphasis to the deeper purposes sought in all the higher endeavors, not the least of which is education, particularly those phases of education that lead to effects which may be handed down from age to age. =standard for selecting subject matter for the general college course: select fundamentals or that which bears on fundamentals= out of all this vast physical, biological, and psychological history, the things to be selected for substance of thought and for service in mental training in a college course are, first of all, those that are either fundamental in themselves, or that have vital bearings on what is fundamental. these are chiefly the great dynamic factors, the agencies that gave trend to the master events, the forces that actuated the basal processes by which the vast results were attained. the material formations and the surficial configurations that resulted are to be duly considered, to be sure, for they form the basis of interpretation and they are, besides, the repositories of economic values of indispensable worth; but, as already urged, in a course of intellectual training, these are to be regarded rather as the relics of the great agencies and the proofs of their actions, than as the most vital subjects of study, which are the agencies themselves. as already remarked, the geologic formations are to be treated rather as the credentials of the potencies that reside in the earth organism, than as the vital things themselves. the vestiges of creation and the footprints of historical progress embody the soul of the subject; they constitute the chief source of inspiration to those who aspire to think in large, deep ways of really great things. it is of little value, from the viewpoint of liberal culture, to know that there is a certain succession of sandstones, shales, and limestones; that professional convention has given them certain names, more or less infelicitous in derivation and in phonic quality; but it is of vital consequence to learn how and why these relics of former processes came to be left as they were left, and thus came to be witnesses to the history of the far past. it was a wise thing, no doubt, that the fathers of geology strongly insisted that there should be a rigorous and rather literal adhesion to the terrestrial record in all earth studies, because in those times of transition from the loose, more or less fantastic thought that marked the adolescent stage of the human race, it was imperative that students should stick close to the immediate evidence of what had transpired, and should withhold themselves from much enlargement of view based on the less tangible evidences; but at the present stage, when the general nature of the earth's history has been firmly established, it would be an error on the part of those who seek for the most liberalizing and broadening values of the science, to treat the record merely as a material register of immediate import only, to the neglect of the less tangible but more vital teachings immanent in its great forces and processes. the seeker of liberal culture should direct his attention to the great events, and, above all, to the larger and deeper meanings implied by these events. and so--may i be pardoned for reëmphasizing?--the teacher of geology whose essential purpose is liberal training, leading to broad and firm knowledge and to sound processes of thought, will critically observe the distinction between geology taught appropriately from the collegiate point of view, and geology taught specifically from the professional and technical points of view. in these latter, specific details in specific lines are important, and may even be essential, but it is the function of the college teacher of geology _to select_ from the great mass of material of the science such factors as are basal, vital, and talismanic. he will give these emphasis, while he neglects the multitude of details that lack significance as working elements or as landmarks of progress, whatever their value in other relations. this selection is equally important, whether applied to the great physical processes that have shaped the earth into its present configuration, or to the great chemical and mineralogical processes that have determined its texture and its structure, or to the great biological and psychological processes that have given trend to the development of its inhabitants. even if the undergraduate course in geology is pursued less for the purpose of liberal culture than as a means of preparing for a professional career as an economic geologist, no essential departure from an effort to master first the basal features and the broader aspects of the science, especially the dynamic aspects, is to be advised. the shortest road to _declared success_ in professional and economic geology lies through the early mastery of its fundamentals. no doubt immediate and apparent success may often be sooner reached by a narrower and shallower study of such special phases of the subject as happen just now to be most obviously related to the existing state of the industries; but industrial demands are constantly changing--indeed, at present, rather rapidly--and new aspects follow one another in close succession. these new aspects almost inevitably spring from the more basal factors as these rise into function with the progress of experience or the stress of new demands. those who have sought only the immediate and the superficial, at the expense of the basal, and especially those who have neglected to acquire _the power and the disposition to search out the fundamentals_, are quite sure to be left among the unfortunates who trail behind; they are little likely to be found among those who lead at the times when leadership counts. in the judgment of those master minds that lead in affairs and that take large and penetrating views, the lines along which the most vital contributions to economic interests are being made connect closely with basal studies of the actuating agencies that condition great enterprises. in the judgment of the writer, it is a false view to suppose that any short, superficial study of so vast a subject as the constitution and history of the earth can result in economic competency. in so far as time for study is limited, it should be concentrated on the great underlying factors that constitute the essentials of the science. it is here assumed that men who care to take a college course at all are seeking for a large success and are ambitious for a high personal career. if they look ultimately to professional work in economic lines, they may safely be advised that the straight road to declared success lies in a search for the vital forces, the critical agencies, and the profound principles that make for great results, not along the by-paths whose winding, superficial courses are turned hither and thither by adventitious conditions whose very nature invites distrust rather than confidence. =evaluations of methods of teaching= turning to some of the more formal phases of treatment, three types of work are presented: ( ) the use of nature's laboratory, the world itself, ( ) the use of the college collections and laboratories, and ( ) the use of the literature of the subject. ( ) fortunately, there is no place on the face of the earth where there is not some natural material for geologic study, for even in the most artificialized locations geological processes are active. in crowded cities these processes may be easily overlooked, but yet they are susceptible of effective use. within easy access from almost every college site there are serviceable fields of study, and these, in any live course, will be assiduously cultivated. they may be relatively modest in their phenomena; they may seem to lack that impressiveness which has played so large a part in the popular notion of the content of geology, but they may nevertheless serve as most excellent training grounds for young geologists. if students are so situated as to be brought at the beginning of study under the influence of very impressive displays of geologic phenomena--precipitous mountains, rugged cliffs, deep cañons, and the like--there is danger that their mental habits may become diffusive rather than close and keen; the emotions may be called forth in wonder rather than turned into zest in the search for evidence. if students are to be trained to diligence in inquiry and to the highest virility in inference and interpretation, it is perhaps fortunate for them if they are located where only modest records of geological processes are presented for study. in such regions they are more likely to be led to scrutinize the field keenly, sharply, and diligently for data on which to build their interpretations. the scientific use of their imaginations is all the better trained if, in their endeavor to build up a consistent concept of the whole structure that underlies their field, they are forced to project their inferences from a few out-crops far beneath the cover of the adjacent mantle that shuts off direct vision. few teachers have, therefore, any real occasion to long for richer fields than those accessible to them, if they have the tact to render these fertile in stimulus and suggestion. ( ) laboratory work upon the material collected in the field work, as well as laboratory work upon the college collections, are essential adjuncts. ample provisions for this supplementary work, however modest the appointments, are important and can usually be secured by ingenuity and diligence in spite of financial limitations. both field and laboratory work should be well correlated with one another and with the systematic work on the text that guides the study, so that each shall whet the edge of the other and all together accomplish what neither could alone. ( ) the text selected should be such as lends itself, in some notable degree at least, to the general purposes set forth above. it should be supplemented, so far as may be, by judicious assignments for reading and for special study. lectures may be made a valuable aid to the discussions of the classroom, but with college classes they can rarely be made an advantageous substitute for the discussions. lecturing, so far as used, is best woven informally into the classroom discussions. supplementary lecturettes may be advised if they are of such an informal sort that they may almost unconsciously take their start from any vital point encountered in the course of discussion, may run on as far as the occasion invites, and may then give way again to the discussion with the utmost informality. such little participations in the work of the classroom, on the part of the teacher, are likely to be cordially welcomed. at the same time, if well done, they will set an excellent example in the presentative art as also in an apt organization of thought. =organization of courses= if the stated course in earth-science is limited to the junior and senior year by the existing requirements of the curriculum of the institution or by the rulings of its officers--as is not uncommonly the case at present--it is relatively immaterial whether the sections of the course are marshaled under the single name "geology" or whether they are given separate titles as sub-sciences, provided the special subjects are arranged in logical sequence and in consecutive order. if, on the other hand, the teacher's choice of time and relations is freer, the more accessible phases of earth study, now well organized under the name of "physiography," form an excellent course for either freshmen or sophomores. it opens their minds to a world of interesting activities about them which have probably been largely overlooked in previous years. it gives them substance of thought that will be of much service in the pursuit of other sciences. it has been found that it is not without rather notable service to young students as the basis of efforts in the art of literary presentation, a felicity to which teachers of this important art frequently give emphatic testimony. the secret seems to lie in the fact that physiography gives varied and vivid material susceptible of literary presentation, while the fixed qualities of the subject matter control the choice of terms and the mode of expression. if geography and physiography are given in the earlier years, the course in historical geology, as well as the study of the more difficult phases of geological processes, of the principles of dynamic geology, together with mineralogy, petrology, and paleontology, may best fall into the later years, even if some interval separates them from the geography and physiography. one hundred and twenty classroom hours, or their equivalent in laboratory and field work, are perhaps to be regarded as the irreducible minimum in a well-balanced undergraduate course, while twice that time or more is required to give a notably strong college course in earth-science. a consideration of the sequences among the geological sub-subjects, as also among the subjects that are held to be preliminary to the earth-sciences, is important, but it would lead us too far into details which depend more or less on local conditions. in the experience of american teachers it appears to have been found advisable to put geological processes and typical phenomena to the front and to take up geological history afterwards. the earlier method of taking up the history first, beginning with recent stages and working backward down the ages,--once in vogue abroad,--has been abandoned in this country. it was the order in which the science was developed and it had the advantage of starting with the living present and with the most accessible formations, but this latter advantage is secured by studying the living processes, as such, first, and turning to the history later. this permits the study of the history in its natural order, which seems better to call forth the relations of cause and effect and to give emphasis to the influence of inherited conditions. respecting antecedents to the study, the more knowledge of physics, chemistry, zoölogy, and botany, the better, but it is easy to over-stress the necessity for such preparation, however logical it may seem, for in reality all the natural sciences are so interwoven that, in strict logic, a complete knowledge of all the others should be had before any one is begun, a _reductio ad absurdum_. the sciences have been developed more or less contemporaneously and progressively, each helping on the others. they may be pursued much in the same way, or by alternations in which each prior study favors the sequent one. they may even be taken in a seemingly illogical order without serious disadvantage, for the alternative advantages and other considerations may outweigh the force of the logical order, which is at best only partially logical. it is of prime importance to stimulate in students a habit of observing natural phenomena at an early age. it may be wise for a student to take up physiography, or its equivalent, early in the college course, irrespective of an ideal preparation in the related sciences. it is unfortunate to defer such study to a stage when the student's natural aptitude for observation and inference has become dulled by neglect or by confinement to subjects devoid of naturalistic stimulus. to permit students to take up earth-science in the freshman and sophomore years, even without the ideal preparation, is therefore probably wiser than to defer the study beyond the age of responsiveness to the touch of the natural environment. the geographic and geologic environment conditioned the mental evolution of the race. it left an inherited impress on the perceptive and emotional nature, only to be awakened most felicitously, it would seem, at about the age at which the naturalistic phases of the youth's mentality were originally called into their most intense exercise. t. c. chamberlin _the university of chicago_ viii the teaching of mathematics =recent changes and some of their sources= in recent years the teaching of mathematics has undergone remarkable changes in many countries, both as regards method and as regards content. with respect to college mathematics these changes have been evidenced by a growing emphasis on applications and on the historic setting of the various questions. to understand one direct source of these changes it is only necessary to recall the fact that in about there began a steady stream of american mathematical students to europe, especially to germany. most of these students entered the faculties of our colleges and universities on their return to america it is therefore of great importance to inquire what mathematical situation served to inspire these students. the german mathematical developments of the greater part of the nineteenth century exhibited a growing tendency to disregard applications. it was not until about that a strong movement was inaugurated to lay more stress on applied mathematics in germany.[ ] our early american students therefore brought with them from germany a decided tendency toward investigations in mathematical fields remote from direct contact with applications to other scientific subjects, such as physics and astronomy, which had so largely dominated mathematical investigations in earlier years. this picture would, however, be very incomplete without exhibiting another factor of a similar type working in our own midst. j. j. sylvester was selected as the first professor of mathematics at johns hopkins university, which opened its doors in and began at once to wield a powerful influence in starting young men in higher research. sylvester's own investigations related mainly to the formal and abstract side of mathematics. moreover, "he was a poor teacher with an imperfect knowledge of mathematical literature. he possessed, however, an extraordinary personality; and had in remarkable degree the gift of imparting enthusiasm, a quality of no small value in pioneer days such as these were with us."[ ] =influence of researches in mathematics on methods of teaching= mathematical research was practically introduced into the american colleges during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, and the wave of enthusiasm which attended this introduction was unfortunately not sufficiently tempered by emphasis on good teaching and breadth of knowledge, especially as regards applications. in fact, the leading mathematician in america during the early part of this period was glaringly weak along these lines. by means of his bountiful enthusiasm he was able to do a large amount of good for the selected band of gifted students who attended his lectures, but some of these were not so fortunate in securing the type of students who are helped more by the direct enthusiasm of their teacher than by the indirect enthusiasm resulting from good teaching. the need of good mathematical teaching in our colleges and universities began to become more pronounced at about the time that the wave of research enthusiasm set in, as a result of the growing emphasis on technical education which exhibited itself most emphatically in the development of the schools of engineering. while the student who is specially interested in mathematics may be willing to get along with a teacher whose enthusiasm for the new and general leads him to neglect to emphasize essential details in the presentation, the average engineering student insists on clearness in presentation and usability of the results. as the latter student does not expect to become a mathematical specialist, he is naturally much more interested in good teaching than in the mathematical reputation of his teacher, even if his reputation is not an entirely insignificant factor for him. during the last decade of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the present century the mathematical departments of our colleges and universities faced an unusually serious situation as a result of the conditions just noted. the new wave of research enthusiasm was still in its youthful vigor and in its youthful mood of inconsiderateness as regards some of the most important factors. on the other hand, many of the departments of engineering had become strong and were therefore able to secure the type of teaching suited to their needs. in a number of institutions this led to the breaking up of the mathematical department into two or more separate departments aiming to meet special needs. in view of the fact that the mathematical needs of these various classes of students have so much in common, leading mathematicians viewed with much concern this tendency to disrupt many of the stronger departments. hence the question of good teaching forced itself rapidly to the front. it was commonly recognized that the students of pure mathematics profit by a study of various applications of the theories under consideration, and that the students who expect to work along special technical lines gain by getting broad and comprehensive views of the fundamental mathematical questions involved. moreover, it was also recognized that the investigational work of the instructors would gain by the broader scholarship secured through greater emphasis on applications and the historic setting of the various problems under consideration. to these fundamental elements relating to the improvement of college teaching there should perhaps be added one arising from the recognition of the fact that the number of men possessing excellent mathematical research ability was much smaller than the number of positions in the mathematical departments of our colleges and universities. the publication of inferior research results is of questionable value. on the other hand, many who could have done excellent work as teachers by devoting most of their energies to this work became partial failures both as teachers and as investigators through their ambition to excel in the latter direction. =range of subjects and preparation of students= it should be emphasized that the college and university teachers of mathematics have to deal with a wide range of subjects and conditions, especially where graduate work is carried on. advanced graduate students have needs which differ widely from those of the freshmen who aim to become engineers. this wide range of conditions calls for unusual adaptability on the part of the college and university teacher. this range is much wider than that which confronts the teachers in the high school, and the lack of sufficient adaptability on the part of some of the college teachers is probably responsible for the common impression that some of the poorest mathematical teaching is done in the colleges. it is doubtless equally true that some of the very best mathematical teaching is to be found in these institutions. in some of the colleges there has been a tendency to diminish the individual range of mathematical teaching by explicitly separating the undergraduate work and the more advanced work. for instance, in johns hopkins university, l. s. hulburt was appointed "professor of collegiate mathematics" in , with the understanding that he should devote himself to the interests of the undergraduates. in many of the larger universities the younger members of the department usually teach only undergraduate courses, while some of the older members devote either all or most of their time to the advanced work; but there is no uniformity in this direction, and the present conditions are often unsatisfactory. the undergraduate courses in mathematics in the american colleges and universities differ considerably. the normal beginning courses now presuppose a year of geometry and a year and a half of algebra in addition to the elementary courses in arithmetic, but much higher requirements are sometimes imposed, especially for engineering courses. in recent years several of the largest universities have reduced the minimum admission requirement in algebra to one year's work, but students entering with this minimum preparation are sometimes not allowed to proceed with the regular mathematical classes in the university. =variety of college courses in mathematics= freshmen courses in mathematics differ widely, but the most common subjects are advanced algebra, plane trigonometry, and solid geometry. the most common subjects of a somewhat more advanced type are plane analytic geometry, differential and integral calculus, and spherical trigonometry. beyond these courses there is much less uniformity, especially in those institutions which aim to complete a well-rounded undergraduate mathematical course rather than to prepare for graduate work. among the most common subjects beyond those already named are differential equations, theory of equations, solid analytic geometry, and mechanics. a very important element affecting the mathematical courses in recent years is the rapid improvement in the training of our teachers in the secondary schools. this has led to the rapid introduction of courses which aim to lead up to broad views in regard to the fundamental subjects. in particular, courses relating to the historical development of concepts involved therein are receiving more and more attention. indirect historical sources have become much more plentiful in recent years through the publication of various translations of ancient works and through the publication of extensive historical notes in the _encyclopédie des sciences mathématiques_ and in other less extensive works of reference. the problem presented by those who are preparing to teach mathematics may at first appear to differ widely from that presented by those who expect to become engineers. the latter are mostly interested in obtaining from their mathematical courses a powerful equipment for doing things, while the former take more interest in those developments which illumine and clarify the elements of their subject. hence the prospective teacher and the prospective engineer might appear to have conflicting mathematical interests. as a matter of fact, these interests are not conflicting. the prospective teacher is greatly benefited by the emphasis on the serviceableness of mathematics, and the prospective engineer finds that the generality and clarity of view sought by the prospective teacher is equally helpful to him in dealing with new applications. hence these two classes of students can well afford to pursue many of the early mathematical courses together, while the finishing courses should usually be different. the rapidly growing interest in statistical methods and in insurance, pensions, and investments has naturally directed special attention to the underlying mathematical theories, especially to the theory of probability. some institutions have organized special mathematical courses relating to these subjects and have thus extended still further the range of undergraduate subjects covered by the mathematical departments. the rapidly growing emphasis on college education specially adapted to the needs of the prospective business man has recently led to a greater emphasis on some of these subjects in several institutions. the range of mathematical subjects suited for graduate students is unlimited, but it is commonly assumed to be desirable that the graduate student should pursue at least one general course in each one of broader subjects such as the theory of numbers, higher algebra, theory of functions, and projective geometry, before he begins to specialize along a particular line. it is usually taken for granted that the undergraduate courses in mathematics should not presuppose a knowledge of any language besides english, but graduate work in this subject cannot be successfully pursued in many cases without a reading knowledge of the three other great mathematical languages; viz., french, german, and italian. hence the study of graduate mathematics necessarily presupposes some linguistic training in addition to an acquaintance with the elements of fundamental mathematical subjects. historical studies make especially large linguistic demands in case these studies are not largely restricted to predigested material. this is particularly true as regards the older historical material. in the study of contemporary mathematical history the linguistic prerequisites are about the same as those relating to the study of other modern mathematical subjects. with the rapid spread of mathematical research activity during recent years there has come a growing need of more extensive linguistic attainments on the part of those mathematicians who strive to keep in touch with progress along various lines. for instance, a thriving spanish national mathematical society was organized in at madrid, spain, and in march, , a new mathematical journal entitled _revista de matematicas_ was started at buenos aires, argentine republic. hence a knowledge of spanish is becoming more useful to the mathematical student. similar activities have recently been inaugurated in other countries. =history of college mathematics= until about the beginning of the nineteenth century the courses in college mathematics did not usually presuppose a mathematical foundation carefully prepared for a superstructure. according to m. gebhardt, the function of teaching elementary mathematics in germany was assumed by the gymnasiums during the years from to .[ ] before this time the german universities usually gave instruction in the most elementary mathematical subjects. in our own country, yale university instituted a mathematical entrance requirement under the title of arithmetic as early as , but at harvard university no mathematics was required for admission before . on the other hand, _l'ecole polytechnique_ of paris, which occupies a prominent place in the history of college mathematics, had very high admission requirements in mathematics from the start. according to a law enacted in , the candidates for admission were required to pass an examination in arithmetic; in algebra, including the solution of equations of the first four degrees and the theory of series; and in geometry, including trigonometry, the applications of algebra to geometry, and conic sections.[ ] it should be noted that these requirements are more extensive than the usual present mathematical requirements of our leading universities and technical schools, but _l'ecole polytechnique_ laid special emphasis on mathematics and physics and became the world's prototype of strong technical institutions. the influence of _l'ecole polytechnique_ was greatly augmented by the publication of a regular periodical entitled _journal de l'ecole polytechnique_, which was started in and is still being published. a number of the courses of lectures delivered at _l'ecole polytechnique_ and at _l'ecole normale_ appeared in the early volumes of this journal. the fact that some of these courses were given by such eminent mathematicians as j. l. lagrange, g. monge, and p. s. laplace is sufficient guarantee of their great value and of their good influence on the later textbooks along similar lines. in particular, it may be noted that g. monge gave the first course in descriptive geometry at _l'ecole normale_ in , and he was also for a number of years one of the most influential teachers at _l'ecole polytechnique_. a most fundamental element in the history of college mathematics is the broadening of the scope of the college work. as long as college students were composed almost entirely of prospective preachers, lawyers, and physicians, there was comparatively little interest taken in mathematics. it is true that the mental disciplinary value of mathematics was emphasized by many, but this supposed value did not put any real life into mathematical work. the dead abstract reasonings of euclid's _elements_, or even the number speculations of the ancient pythagoreans, were enough to satisfy most of those who were looking to mathematics as a subject suitable for mental gymnastics. on the other hand, when the colleges began to train men for other lines of work, when the applications of steam led to big enterprises, like the building of railroads and large ocean steamers, mathematics became a living subject whose great direct usefulness in practical affairs began to be commonly recognized. moreover, it became apparent that there was great need of mathematical growth, since mathematics was no longer to be used merely as mental indian clubs or dumb-bells, where a limited assortment would answer all practical needs, but as an implement of mental penetration into the infinitude of barriers which have checked progress along various lines and seem to require an infinite variety of methods of penetration. the american colleges were naturally somewhat slower than some of those of europe in adapting themselves to the changed conditions, but the rapidity of the changes in our country may be inferred from the fact that in the first half of the nineteenth century harvard placed in comparatively short succession three mathematical subjects on its list of entrance requirements; viz., arithmetic in , algebra in , and geometry in . although harvard had not established any mathematical admission requirements for more than a century and a half after its opening, she initiated three such requirements within half a century. it is interesting to note that for at least ninety years from the opening of harvard, arithmetic was taught during the senior year as one of the finishing subjects of a college education.[ ] the passage of some of the subjects of elementary mathematics from the colleges to the secondary schools raised two very fundamental questions. the first of these concerned mostly the secondary schools, since it involved an adaptation to the needs of younger students of the more or less crystallized textbook material which came to them from the colleges. the second of these questions affected the colleges only, since it involved the selection of proper material to base upon the foundations laid by the secondary schools. it is natural that the influence of the colleges should have been somewhat harmful with respect to the secondary schools, since the interests of the former seemed to be best met by restricting most of the energies of the secondary teachers of mathematics to the thorough drilling of their students in dexterous formal manipulations of algebraic symbols and the demonstration of fundamental abstract theorems of geometry. =relation of mathematics in secondary schools and college= students who come to college with a solid and broad foundation but without any knowledge of the superstructure can readily be inspired and enthused by the erection of a beautiful superstructure on a foundation laid mostly underground, with little direct evidence of its value or importance. the injustice and shortsightedness of the tendency to restrict the secondary schools to such foundation work would not have been so apparent if the majority of the secondary school students would have entered college. as a matter of fact it tended to bring secondary mathematics into disrepute and thus to threaten college mathematics at its very foundation. it is only in recent years that strong efforts have been made to correct this very serious mathematical situation. much progress has been made toward the saner view of letting secondary mathematics build its little structure into the air with some view to harmony and proportion, and of requiring college mathematics to build _on_ as well as _upon_ the work done by the secondary schools. the fruitful and vivifying notions of function, derivative, and group are slowly making their way into secondary mathematics, and the graphic methods have introduced some of the charms of analytic geometry into the same field. this transformation is naturally affecting college mathematics most profoundly. the tedious work of building foundations in college mathematics is becoming more imperative. the use of the rock drill is forcing itself more and more on the college teacher accustomed to use only hammer and saw. as we are just entering upon this situation, it is too early to prophesy anything in regard to its permanency, but it seems likely that the secondary teachers will no more assume a yoke which some of the college teachers would so gladly have them bear and which they bore a long time with a view to serving the interests of the latter teachers. as many of the textbooks used by secondary teachers are written by college men, and as the success of these teachers is often gauged by the success of their students who happen to go to college, it is easily seen that there is a serious temptation on the part of the secondary teacher to look at his work through the eyes of the college teacher. the recent organizations which bring together the college and the secondary teachers have already exerted a very wholesome influence and have tended to exhibit the fact that the success of the college teacher of mathematics is very intimately connected with that of the teachers of secondary mathematics. while it is difficult to determine the most important single event in the history of college teaching in america, there are few events in this history which seem to deserve such a distinction more than the organization of the mathematical association of america which was effected in december, . this association aims especially to promote the interests of mathematics in the collegiate field and it publishes a journal entitled _the american mathematical monthly_, containing many expository articles of special interest to teachers. it also holds regular meetings and has organized various sections so as to enable its members to attend meetings without incurring the expense of long trips. its first four presidents were e. r. hedrick, florian cajori, e. v. huntington, and h. e. slaught. an event which has perhaps affected the very vitals of mathematical teaching in america still more is the founding of the american mathematical society in , called the new york mathematical society until . through its _bulletin_ and _transactions_, as well as through its meetings and colloquia lectures, this society has stood for inspiration and deep mathematical interest without which college teaching will degenerate into an art. during the first thirty years of its history it has had as presidents the following: j. h. van amringe, emory mcclintock, g. w. hill, simon newcomb, r. s. woodward, e. h. moore, t. s. fiske, w. f. osgood, h. s. white, maxime böcher, h. b. fine, e. b. van vleck, e. w. brown, l. e. dickson, and frank morley. =aims of college mathematics: methods of teaching= the aims of college mathematics can perhaps be most clearly understood by recalling the fact that mathematics constitutes a kind of intellectual shorthand and that many of the newer developments in a large number of the sciences tend toward pure mathematics. in particular, "there is a constant tendency for mathematical physics to be absorbed in pure mathematics."[ ] as sciences grow, they tend to require more and more the strong methods of intellectual penetration provided by pure mathematics. the principal modern aim of college mathematics is not the training of the mind, but the providing of information which is absolutely necessary to those who seek to work most efficiently along various scientific lines. mathematical knowledge rather than mathematical discipline is the main modern objective in the college courses in mathematics. as this knowledge must be in a usable form, its acquisition is naturally attended by mental discipline, but the knowledge is absolutely needed and would have to be acquired even if the process of acquisition were not attended by a development of intellectual power. the fact that practically all of the college mathematics of the eighteenth century has been gradually taken over by the secondary schools of today might lead some to question the wisdom of replacing this earlier mathematics by more advanced subjects. in particular, the question might arise whether the college mathematics of today is not superfluous. this question has been partially answered by the preceding general observations. the rapid scientific advances of the past century have increased the mathematical needs very rapidly. the advances in college mathematics which have been made possible by the improvements of the secondary schools have scarcely kept up with the growth of these needs, so that the current mathematical needs cannot be as fully provided for by the modern college as the recognized mathematical needs of the eighteenth century were provided for by the colleges of those days. there appears to be no upper limit to the amount of useful mathematics, and hence the aim of the college must be to supply the mathematical needs of the students to the greatest possible extent under the circumstances. in order to supply these needs in the most economical manner, it seems necessary that some of them should be supplied before they are fully appreciated on the part of the student. the first steps in many scientific subjects do not call for mathematical considerations and the student frequently does not go beyond these first steps in his college days, but he needs to go much further later in life. college mathematics should prepare for life rather than for college days only, and hence arises the desirability of deeper mathematical penetration than appears directly necessary for college work. =advanced work in college mathematics= another reason for more advanced mathematics than seems to be directly needed by the student is that the more advanced subjects in mathematics are a kind of applied mathematics relative to the more elementary ones, and the former subjects serve to throw much light on the latter. in other words, the student who desires to understand an elementary subject completely should study more advanced subjects which are connected therewith, since such a study is usually more effective than the repeated review of the elementary subject. in particular, many students secure a better understanding of algebra during their course in calculus than during the course in algebra itself, and a course in differential equations will throw new light on the course in calculus. hence college mathematics usually aims to cover a rather wide range of subjects in a comparatively short time. since mathematics is largely the language of advanced science, especially of astronomy, physics, and engineering, one of the prominent aims of college mathematics should be to keep in close touch with the other sciences. that is, the idea of rendering direct and efficient services to other departments should animate the mathematical department more deeply than any other department of the university. the tendency toward disintegration to which we referred above has forcefully directed attention to the great need of emphasizing this aspect of our subject, since such disintegration is naturally accompanied by a weakening of mathematical vigor. it may be noted that such a disintegration would mean a reverting to primitive conditions, since some of the older works treated mathematics merely as a chapter of astronomy. this was done, for instance, in some of the ancient treatises of the hindus. =mathematics and technical education= the great increase in college students during recent years and the growing emphasis on college activities outside of the work connected with the classroom, especially on those relating to college athletics, would doubtless have left college mathematics in a woefully neglected state if there had not been a rapidly growing interest in technical education, especially in engineering subjects, at the same time. naval engineering was one of the first scientific subjects to exert a strong influence on popularizing mathematics. in particular, the teaching of mathematics in the russian schools supported by the government began with the founding of the government school for mathematics and navigation at moscow in . it is interesting to note that the earlier russian schools established by the clergy after the adoption of christianity in that country did not provide for the teaching of any arithmetic whatever, notwithstanding the usefulness of arithmetic for the computing of various dates in the church calendar, for land surveying, and for the ordinary business transactions.[ ] the direct aims in the teaching of college mathematics have naturally been somewhat affected by the needs of the engineering students, who constitute in many of our leading institutions a large majority in the mathematical classes. these students are usually expected to receive more drill in actual numerical work than is demanded by those who seek mainly a deeper penetration into the various mathematical theories. the most successful methods of teaching the former students have much in common with those usually employed in the high schools and are known as the recitation and problem-solving methods. they involve the correction and direct supervision of a large number of graded exercises worked out by the students on the blackboard or on paper, and aim to overcome the peculiar difficulties of the individual students. the lecture method, on the other hand, aims to exhibit the main facts in a clear light and to leave to the student the task of supplying further illustrative examples and of reconsidering the various steps. the purely lecture method does not seem to be well adapted to american conditions, and it is frequently combined with what is commonly known as the "quiz." the quiz seems to be an american institution, although it has much in common with a species of the french "conference." it is intended to review the content of a set of lectures by means of discussions in which the students and the teacher participate, and it is most commonly employed in connection with the courses of an advanced undergraduate or of a beginning graduate grade. a prominent aim in graduate courses is to lead the student as rapidly as possible to the boundary of knowledge along the particular line considered therein. while some of the developments in such courses are apt to be somewhat special or to be too general to have much meaning, their novelty frequently adds a sufficiently strong element of interest to more than compensate losses in other directions. moreover, the student who aims to do research work will thus be enabled to consider various fields as regards their attractiveness for prolonged investigations of his own. =preparation of the college teacher of mathematics.= the fact that the college teacher has need of much more mathematical knowledge than he can possibly secure during the period of his preparation, especially if he expects to take an active part in research and in directing graduate work, has usually led to the assumption that the future teacher of college mathematics should devote all his energies to securing a deep mathematical insight and a wide range of mathematical knowledge.[ ] on the other hand, students prepared in accord with this assumption have frequently found it very difficult to adapt themselves to the needs of large freshman classes of engineering students entering upon the duties for which they were supposed to have been prepared. the breadth of view and the sweep of abstraction needed for effective graduate work have little in common with accuracy in numerical work and emphasis on details which are so essential to the young engineering students. the difficulty of the situation is increased by the fact that the young instructor is often led to believe that his advancement and the appreciation of his services are directly proportional to his achievements in investigations of a high order. this belief naturally leads many to begrudge the time and thought which their teaching duties should normally receive. the young college teacher of mathematics is thus confronted with a much more complex situation than that which confronts the mathematics teachers in secondary school work. here the success in the classroom is the one great goal, and the mathematical knowledge required is comparatively very modest. possibly the situation of the college teacher could be materially improved if it were understood that his first promotion would be mainly dependent upon his success as a teacher, but that later promotions involved the element of productive scholarship in an increasing ratio. the schools of education which have in recent years been established in most of our leading universities have thus far had only a slight influence on the preparation of the college teachers, but it seems likely that this influence will increase as the needs of professional training become better known. it is probably true that the ratio of courses on methods to courses on knowledge of the subject will always be largest for the elementary teacher, in view of the great difference between the mental maturity of the student and the teacher, somewhat less for the secondary teacher and least for the college teacher; but this least should not be zero, as is so frequently the case at present, since there usually is even here a considerable difference between the mathematical maturity of the student and that of the teacher. it may be argued that the future college teacher will probably profit more by noting the methods employed by his instructors than he would by the theoretic discussions relating to methods. this is doubtless true, but it does not prove that the latter discussions are without value. on the other hand, these discussions will often serve to fix more attention on the former methods and will lead the student to note more accurately their import and probable adaptability to the needs of the younger students. among the useful features for the training of the future mathematics teachers are the mathematical clubs which are connected with most of the active mathematical departments. in many cases, at least, two such clubs are maintained, the one being devoted largely to the presentation of research work while the other aims to provide opportunities for the presentation of papers of special interest to the students. the latter papers are often presented by graduate students or by advanced undergraduates, and they offer a splendid opportunity for such students to acquire effective and clear methods of presentation. the same desirable end is often promoted by reports given by students in seminars or in advanced courses. prominent factors in the training of the future college teachers are the teaching scholarships or fellowships and the assistantships. many of the larger universities provide a number of positions of this type. it sometimes happens that the teaching duties connected with these positions are so heavy as to leave too little energy for vigorous graduate work. on the other hand, these positions have made it possible for many to continue their graduate studies longer than they could otherwise have done and at the same time to acquire sound habits of teaching while in close contact with men of proved ability along this line. it should be emphasized that the ideal college teacher of mathematics is not the one who acquires a respectable fund of mathematical knowledge which he passes along to his students, but the one imbued with an abiding interest in learning more and more about his subject as long as life lasts. this interest naturally soon forces him to conduct researches where progress usually is slow and uncertain. research work should be animated by the desire for more knowledge and not by the desire for publication. in fact, only those new results should be published which are likely to be helpful to others in starting at a more favorable point in their efforts to secure intellectual mastery over certain important problems. half a century ago it was commonly assumed that graduation from a good college implied enough training to enter upon the duties of a college teacher, but this view has been practically abandoned, at least as regards the college teacher of mathematics. the normal preparation is now commonly placed three years later, and the ph.d. degree is usually regarded to be evidence of this normal preparation. this degree is supposed by many to imply that its possessor has reached a stage where he can do independent research work and direct students who seek similar degrees. in view of the fact that in america as well as in germany the student often receives much direct assistance while working on his ph.d. thesis, this supposition is frequently not in accord with the facts.[ ] the emphasis on the ph.d. degree for college teachers has in many cases led to an improvement in ideals, but in some other cases it has had the opposite effect. too many possessors of this degree have been able to count on it as accepted evidence of scientific attainments, while they allowed themselves to become absorbed in non-scientific matters, especially in administrative details. professors of mathematics in our colleges have been called on to shoulder an unusual amount of the administrative work, and many men of fine ability and scholarship have thus been hindered from entering actively into research work. conditions have, however, improved rapidly in recent years, and it is becoming better known that the productive college teacher needs all his energies for scientific work; and in no field is this more emphatically true than in mathematics. some departmental administrative duties will doubtless always devolve upon the mathematics teachers. by a careful division of these duties they need not interfere seriously with the main work of the various teachers. =the mathematical textbook= the american teachers of mathematics follow the textbook more closely than is customary in germany, for instance. among college teachers there is a wide difference of view in regard to the suitable use of the textbook. while some use it simply for the purpose of providing illustrative examples and do not expect the student to begin any subject by a study of the presentation found in the textbook, there are others who expect the normal student to secure all the needed assistance from the textbook and who employ the class periods mainly for the purpose of teaching the students how to use the textbook most effectively. the practice of most teachers falls between these two extremes, and, as a rule, the textbook is followed less and less closely as the student advances in his work. in fact, in many advanced courses no particular textbook is followed. in such courses the principal results and the exercises are often dictated by the teacher or furnished by means of mimeographed notes. the close adherence to the textbook is apt to cultivate the habit on the part of the student of trying to understand what the author meant instead of confining his attention to trying to understand the subject. in view of the fact that the american secondary mathematics teachers usually follow textbooks so slavishly, the college teacher of mathematics who believes in emphasizing the subject rather than the textbook often meets with considerable difficulty with the beginning classes. on the other hand, it is clear that as the student advances he should be encouraged to seek information from all available sources instead of from one particular book only. the rapid improvement in our library facilities makes this attitude especially desirable. an advantage of the textbook is that it is limited in all directions, while the subject itself is of indefinite extent. in the textbook the subject has been pressed into a linear sequence, while its natural form usually exhibits various dimensions. the textbook presents those phases about which there is usually no doubt, while the subject itself exhibits limitations of knowledge in many directions. from these few characteristics it is evident that the study of textbooks is apt to cultivate a different attitude and a different point of view from those cultivated by the unhampered study of subjects. the latter are, however, the ones which correspond to the actual world and which therefore should receive more and more emphasis as the mental vision of the student can be enlarged. the number of different available college mathematical textbooks on the subjects usually studied by the large classes of engineering students has increased rapidly in recent years. on the other hand, the number of suitable textbooks for the more advanced classes is often very limited. in fact, it is often found desirable to use textbooks written in some foreign language, especially in french, german, or italian, for such courses. this procedure has the advantage that it helps to cultivate a better reading knowledge of these languages, which is in itself a very worthy end for the advanced student of mathematics. this procedure has, however, become less necessary in recent years in view of the publication of various excellent advanced works in the english language. the greatest mathematical treasure is constituted by the periodic literatures, and the larger colleges and universities aim to have complete sets of the leading mathematical periodicals available for their students. this literature has been made more accessible by the publication of various catalogues, such as the _subject index_, volume i, published by the royal society of london in , and the volumes "a" of the annual publications entitled _international catalogue of scientific literature_. all students who have access to large libraries should learn how to utilize this great store of mathematical lore whenever mathematical questions present themselves to them in their scientific work. this is especially true as regards those who specialize along mathematical lines. in some of the colleges and universities general informational courses along mathematical lines have been organized under different names, such as history of mathematics, synoptic course, fundamental concepts, cultural course, etc. several books have recently been prepared with a view to meeting the needs of textbooks for such courses. college teachers of mathematics usually find it difficult to interest their students sufficiently in the current periodic literature, and one of the greatest problems of the college teacher is to instill such a broad interest in mathematics that the student will seek mathematical knowledge in all available sources instead of confining himself to the study of a few textbooks or the work of a particular school. g. a. miller _university of illinois_ references for articles on the teaching of mathematics which appeared during the nineteenth century, consult _pedagogy_ in the _royal society index_, vol. i, pure mathematics, . for literature appearing during the first twelve years of the present century the reader may consult the _bibliography of the teaching of mathematics_, - , by d. e. smith and charles goldziher, published by the united states bureau of education, bulletin, , no. . more recent literature may be found by consulting annual indexes, such as the _international catalogue of scientific literature_, a, mathematics, under , and _revue semestrielle des publications mathématiques_, under v . the volumes of the international review entitled _l'enseignement mathématique_, founded in , contain a large number of articles relating to college teaching. this subject will be treated in the closing volumes of the large french and german mathematical encyclopedias in course of publication. footnotes: [ ] p. zühlke. _zeitschrift für mathematischen und naturwissenschuftlichen unterricht_, vol. ( ), page . [ ] committee no. xii, american report of the international commission on the teaching of mathematics, , page . [ ] _internationale mathematische unterrichtskomission_, vol. , no. ( ), page . [ ] _journal de l'ecole polytechnique_, vol. ( ), part , page lx. [ ] f. cajori, _teaching and history of mathematics in the united states_, , page . [ ] a. e. h. love, _proceedings of the london mathematical society_, vol. ( ), page . [ ] v. v. bobynin, _l'enseignement mathématique_, vol. ( ), page . [ ] the training of teachers of mathematics, , by r. c. archibald. bulletin no. , , united states bureau of education. [ ] cf. m. bôcher, _science_, vol. ( ), page . ix physical education in the college =lessons for physical education from the world war= the events of the four years between the summer of and the winter of have brought us to a full realization of the real significance of physical education in the training of youth. america and her allies have had very dramatic reasons for regretting their careless indifference to the welfare of childhood and youth in former years. only yesterday, we were told that the great war would be won by the country that could furnish the last man or fight for the last quarter of an hour. america and her allies looked with a new and fearful concern upon the army of young men who were found physically unfit for military service. with the danger of war past, there is no lack of evidence that we and our allies will make practical application of this particular lesson. it will be fortunate indeed if the enlightened people of the earth are really permanently awake to the importance of the physical education of their citizens-in-the-making. governmental agencies have already started the movement to guarantee to the coming generation more extensive and more scientific physical education. public and private institutions are joining forces so that the advantages of this extended program of physical education will be enjoyed by the young men and young women in industry and commerce as well as by those in schools and colleges. it is to be hoped that the american college will do its full share and neglect no reasonable measure whereby the college graduate may be developed into the vigorous and healthy human being that the mentally trained ought to be. it must be admitted that our findings by the military draft boards, as well as other evidences secured through physical examinations, are not such as to make the american college proud of the quality or the extent of physical education which it has given in the past. we must express our keen disappointment at the prevalence of under-development, remediable defects, and unachieved physical and functional possibilities in our college graduates. =aims of physical education= physical training is concerned with the achievement and the conservation of human health. it has to do with conditioning the human being for the exigencies of life in peace or in war. its standards are not set by a degree of health which merely enables the individual to keep out of bed, eat three meals a day, and run no abnormal temperature. physical training is concerned with developing vigorous, enduring health that is based upon the perfect function, coördination, and integration of every organ of the human body; health that is not found wanting at the military draft; health that meets all its community obligations; health that is not affected by diseases of decay; and health that resists infection and postpones preventable death. =formulations of aims and scope of physical education in official documents--by regents of the state of new york= official statements and information from reliable sources indicate that physical education and hygiene and physical training are regarded by authorities as covering about the same general field. the general plan and syllabus for physical training adopted by the regents of the university of the state of new york in interprets physical training as covering "( ) individual health examinations and personal health instruction (medical inspection); ( ) instruction concerning the care of the body and the important facts of hygiene (recitations in hygiene); ( ) physical examinations as a health habit, including gymnastics, elementary marching, and organized, supervised play, recreation, and athletics." =by national committee on physical education= in march of a national committee on physical education, formed of representatives from twenty or more national organizations, adopted the following resolutions: i. that a comprehensive, thoroughgoing program of health education and physical education is absolutely needed for all boys and girls of elementary and secondary school age, both rural and urban, in every state in the union. ii. that legislation, similar in purpose and scope to the provisions and requirements in the laws recently enacted in california, new york state, and new jersey, is desirable in every state, to provide authorization and support for state-wide programs in the health and physical education field. iii. that the united states bureau of education should be empowered by law, and provided with sufficient appropriations, to exert adequate influence and supervision in relation to a nationwide program of instruction in health and physical education. iv. that it seems most desirable that congress should give recognition to this vital and neglected phase of education, with a bill and appropriation similar in purpose and scope to the smith-hughes law, to give sanction, leadership, and support to a national program of health and physical education; and to encourage, standardize, and, in part, finance the practical program of constructive work that should be undertaken in every state. v. that federal recognition, supervision, and support are urgently needed, as the effective means, under the constitution, to secure that universal training of boys and girls in health and physical fitness which are equally essential to efficiency of all citizens both in peace and in war. =by five national organizations= in december, , five national organizations, assembled in regular annual meeting, adopted resolutions which read in part as follows: first: that this society shall make every reasonable effort to influence the congress of the united states and the legislatures of our various states to enact laws providing for the effective physical education of all children of all ages in our elementary and secondary schools, public, institutional and private, a physical education that will bring these children instruction in hygiene, regular periodic health examinations and a training in the practice of health habits with a full educational emphasis upon play, games, recreation, athletics and physical exercise, and shall further make every possible reasonable effort to influence communities and municipalities to enact laws and pass ordinances providing for community and industrial physical training and recreative activities for all classes and ages of society. second: that this association shall make persistent effort to influence state boards of education, or their equivalent bodies, in all the states of the united states, to make it their effective rule that on or after june, , or some other reasonable date, no applicant may receive a license to teach any subject in any school who does not first present convincing evidence of having covered in creditable manner a satisfactory course in physical education in a reputable training school for teachers. third: and that this association hereby directs and authorizes its president to appoint a committee of three to take such steps as may be necessary to put the above resolutions into active and effective operation, and to coöperate in every practical and substantial way with the national committee on physical education, the division of physical education of the playground and recreation association of america, and any other useful agency that may be in the field for the purpose of securing the proper and sufficient physical education of the boys and girls of to-day, so that they may to-morrow constitute a nation of men and women of normal physical growth, normal physical development and normal functional resource, practicing wise habits of health conservation and possessed of greater consequent vitality, larger endurance, longer lives and more complete happiness--the most precious assets of a nation. =by the united states interdepartmental social hygiene board= in january, , the united states interdepartmental social hygiene board suggested the following organization of a department of hygiene for the purpose of establishing such a department in at least one normal school, college, or university training school for teachers in each state of the union. suggested organization of a department of hygiene i. _division of informational hygiene._ (stressing in each of its several divisions with due proportion and with appropriate emphasis, the venereal diseases, their causes, carriers, injuries, and prevention): (_a_) the principles of hygiene. required of all students at least twice a week for at least four terms. ( ) general hygiene. (the agents that injure health, the carriers of disease, the contributory causes of poor health, the defenses of health, and the sources of health.) ( ) individual hygiene. (informational hygiene, the care of the body and its organs, correction, and repair, preventive hygiene, constructive hygiene.) ( ) group hygiene. (hygiene of the home and the family, school hygiene, occupational hygiene, community hygiene.) ( ) intergroup hygiene. (interfamily, intercommunity, interstate, and international hygiene.) (_b_) principles of physical training. (gymnastics, exercise, athletics, recreation, and play.) required of all students. to be given at least twice a week for two terms in the junior or senior years. (_c_) health examinations-- ( ) medical examination required each half year of every student. (making reasonable provisions for a private, personal, confidential relationship between the examiner and the student.) ( ) sanitary surveys and hygienic inspections applied regularly to all divisions of the institution, their curriculums, buildings, dormitories, equipment, personal service, and surroundings. ii. _division of applied hygiene._ (_a_) health conference and consultations. ( ) every student advised under "c" above (health examinations) must report to his health examiner within a reasonable time, as directed, with evidence that he has followed the advice given, or with a satisfactory explanation for not having done so. ( ) must provide student with opportunities for safe, confidential consultations with competent medical advisors concerning the intimate problems of sex life as well as those of hygiene in general. (_b_) physical training. ( ) gymnastic exercises, recreation, games, athletics, and competitive sports. required of all students six hours a week every term. ( ) reconstructional and special training and exercise for students not qualified organically for the regular activities covered in " " above. it is assumed that every teacher-in-training physically able to go to school is entitled to and should take some form of physical exercise. iii. _division of research._ (_a_) investigations, tests, evaluating measurements, records, and reports required each term covering progress made under each division and subdivision of the department, for the purpose of discovering and developing more effective educational methods in hygiene. (_b_) provide facilities for the sifting, selection, and investigation of problems in hygiene that may be submitted to or proposed by the department of hygiene. (_c_) arrange for frequent lectures on public hygiene and public health from competent members of municipal, state, and national departments of health, and from other appropriate sources. iv. _personnel requisite for such a department._--men and women should be chosen for service in the several divisions of the department, who have a sane, well-balanced, and experienced appreciation of the importance of the whole field of hygiene as well as of the place and relations of the venereal diseases. ( ) one director or head of department. must have satisfactory scientific training and special experience, fitting him for supervision, leadership, teaching, research, and administrative responsibility. ( ) one medical examiner for men and one medical examiner for women. there should be one examiner for each students. must be selected with special care because of the presence of extraordinary opportunities to exercise a powerful intimate influence upon the mental, moral, and physical health of the students with whom such examiners come in contact. ( ) one special teacher of physical training (a "physical director") for each group of students. there must be a man for the men and a woman for the women students. the physical training instructors employed in this department should be in charge of and should cover satisfactorily all the directing, training, and coaching carried on in the department and in the institution in its relation to athletics and competitive sports. the men and women who are placed in charge of individual students and groups of students engaged in the various activities of physical training (gymnastics, athletics, recreation and play) should be selected with special reference to their wholesome influence on young men and young women. ( ) one coördinator (this function may be covered by one of the personnel covered by " ," " " or " " above). will serve to influence every teacher in every department on the entire staff of the institution to meet his obligations, in relation to the individual hygiene of the students in his classes and to the sanitation of the class rooms in which he meets his students. the coördinator should bring information to all teachers and assist them to meet more satisfactorily their opportunities to help students in their individual problems in social hygiene. ( ) special lectures on the principles and progress of public hygiene and public health. a close coördination should be secured between this department and community agencies like the department of health that are concerned with public hygiene. ( ) sufficient clerical, stenographic and filing service to meet the needs of the department. in february, , the field service of the national committee on physical education issued a tentative outline for a state law for physical education, suggested for use in planning future legislation. the purposes of physical education as stated in the preamble of this law read as follows: . in order that the children of the state of .... shall receive a quality and an amount of physical education that will bring to them the health, growth and a normal organic development that is essential to their fullest present and future education, happiness and usefulness; and in order that the future citizenship of the state of .... may receive regularly from the growing and developing youth of the commonwealth a rapidly increasing number of more vigorous, better educated, healthier, happier, more prosperous and longer lived men and women, we, the people of the state of .... represented in the senate and assembly do enact as follows: =by legislative committee of national committee on physical education= in february, , the legislative committee of the national committee on physical education prepared a bill for federal legislation for the purpose of assisting the states in establishing physical education in their schools. this proposed federal law stated the purpose and aim of physical education as follows: the purpose and aim of physical education in the meaning of this act shall be: more fully and thoroughly to prepare the boys and girls of the nation for the duties and responsibilities of citizenship through the development of bodily vigor and endurance, muscular strength and skill, bodily and mental poise, and such desirable moral and social qualities as courage, self-control, self-subordination and obedience to authority, coöperation under leadership, and disciplined initiative. the processes and agencies for securing these ends shall be understood to include: comprehensive courses of physical training activities, periodical physical examination; correction of postural and other remediable defects; health supervision of schools and school children; practical instruction in the care of the body and in the principles of health; hygienic school life, sanitary school buildings, playgrounds, and athletic fields and the equipment thereof; and such other means as may be conducive to these purposes. an analysis of these several authoritative and more or less official documents indicates very clearly a unanimity as to scope and aims of physical education, for they all seek to promote and conserve, in the broadest sense of the term, the health of the nation. =poor type of physical education in secondary schools intensifies problem in the college= the problem of physical education in the college is intensified by the fact that freshmen come to their chosen institutions with a variety of experience in physical training, but unfortunately this experience is, too often, either inadequate or ineffective. the natural physical training of the earlier age periods produces whatever neuro-muscular development, whatever neuro-muscular coördination, whatever neuro-muscular control, and whatever other organic growth, development, or functional perfection is achieved by the young human concerned. a program of physical training wisely planned with reference to infancy, childhood, and early youth would include types of exercises, play, games, and sports, that would perfect the neuro-muscular and other functions far more completely than is commonly accomplished through the natural unsupervised and undirected physical training of those early age periods either in city or in rural communities. the force of modern habits of life has led to the destruction of those natural habits of work, play, and recreation that gave a proportion of our forebears a fairly complete natural program of physical exercise during the plastic or formative periods of life. as a result, many students reach college nowadays with stunted growths and with poorly developed, poorly trained, or poorly controlled neuro-muscular equipment. some of these matriculates are physically weak. they lack alertness; their response is slow. others are awkward and muscularly inefficient, though their physical growth is objectively--height and weight--normal or even above normal. the college department faces these problems through special provisions made for the purpose of supplying a belated neuro-muscular training to such cases. it often happens that successful training along these lines is possible only through individual instruction of a most elementary sort, taking the student through simple exercises that ought to have been a part of his experience in early childhood. =individual needs of students augment problem of department of physical education= for the same reasons that are stated above, the college department of physical training finds it necessary to concern itself with individual students who need special attention directed to specified organs or groups of organs whose training or care could have been accomplished ordinarily far better at an earlier period. these students present problems of posture, lung capacity, and regional weakness. =supervision of athletics and recreation adds further to its problem= the college department of physical training finds also a significant opportunity and an urgent duty in the fact that various types of physical exercise are intimately associated with social, ethical, and moral consequences. no other human activity gives the same opportunity for the development of a social spirit and personal ethical standards as do play, games, and sports of children and adolescents. unsupervised, these activities degenerate and bring unmoral practices and an anti-social spirit in their wake. because of these opportunities and obligations, college departments of physical training are including within their programs and jurisdictions more and more supervision of college athletics, and assume an ever increasing rôle in the direction of recreational activities of college students. it remains true, however, that these influences of supervised play and athletics should operate long before the individual reaches college age. the intense interest of college students in athletic competitions, united with the opportunity which athletics offer for social and character training, has decided a number of colleges to turn athletic training over to the department of physical training. this preparation for the supreme physical and physiological test must be built upon a foundation of safe and sound health. there is no more fitting place in the collegiate organization for these athletic and recreational activities. =organization of department of physical education= the college departments that cover this field in whole or in part are known by various names. we have departments of physical training; of physical education; of physical culture; of hygiene; of physiology and physical education; of hygiene and physical education; of physical training and athletics, and so on. an analysis of these college departments shows that they all concern themselves with much the same important objects, although they differ in their lines of greater emphasis. we find, too, that in some colleges the department includes activities that form separate, though related departments in other institutions. the activities of such departments fall into three large divisions, each one of which has its logical subdivisions. one of these large divisions may be called the division of health examination. it has to do with the health examination of the individual student and with the health advice that is based on and consequent to such examination. the second division has to do with health instruction covering the subject matter of physical training. the third division covers directed experiences in right living and the formation of health habits, and includes the special activities noted above. we often refer to the first division noted above as the division of medical inspection, physical examination, or health examination; to the second as hygiene, physiology, biology, or bacteriology; and to the third as gymnastics, physical exercise, organized play, recreation, athletics, or narrowly as physical training. the prime purpose of collegiate physical training, then, is to furnish the student such information and such habit-forming experiences as will lead him to formulate and practice an intelligent policy of personal health control and an intelligent policy of community health control. the collateral and special objects of physical training vary with the individual student under the influence of his previous training and his present and future life plans. the collegiate department of physical training is primarily concerned, therefore, with the acquisition and conservation of human health--mental, moral, and physical health. because of his physical training, the college man should live longer; he should meet his environments obligations more successfully; he should be better able to protect himself from, and better able to avoid, injury; he should lose less time on account of injury, poor health, and sickness; he should get well more rapidly when he is sick; he should be better able to recover his health and strength after injury or illness; and he should therefore give to society a fuller, happier, and more useful life. such a department is concerned secondarily with (_a_) those special defects of earlier physical training that bring to college, students in need of neuro-muscular training and organic development, (_b_) with social, ethical, and character training, and (_c_) with the conditioning and special training of students for athletic competition or for other extraordinary physical and physiological demands. in the light of the above statements, the objects of physical training may be summarized as follows: i. the fundamental and ever present object of physical training is the acquisition and conservation of vigorous, enduring health, the summated effect of perfect functions in each and every organ of the human body. ii. the special objects of physical training vary in their needs for emphasis at different age periods and under the changing stresses of life. among the more important of these special objects are: ( ) general, normal growth. an object in the early age periods. ( ) neuro-muscular development, coördination, and control. accomplished best in early age periods. ( ) special organic (anatomical and functional) development. optimum period in childhood and youth. ( ) social, ethical, and moral training. character building. objects more easily secured in childhood and youth. ( ) preparation for some supreme physical and physiological test; e.g., athletic competition, police or fire service, military service. most desirable training period in late youth and early maturity. must depend, however, on the effects of earlier physical training. ( ) the formation of health habits. best accomplished in early life but commonly an important function of the college department of physical training. ( ) the conservation of health. always an object, but more particularly so in the middle and later life. the medical examination in the american college of today, the student's first contact with the department of physical training is very likely to be in the examining room. in the college of the city of new york[ ] it has become the established custom to require a satisfactory health examination before admitting the applicant to registration as a student in the college. entering classes are enrolled in this institution at the beginning of each term, and in each list of applicants there are always a few to whom admission is denied because of unsatisfactory health conditions. in each case in which admission is denied because of unsatisfactory health, the individual is given careful advice relative to his present and probable future condition, and every effort is made to help the applicant plan his life so that he may be able at a later time to enter the college. of course, it occasionally happens that applicants are found with serious and incurable health defects which make it very improbable that they will ever be in condition to attempt a college education. =scope of health examination= the health examination of the student should cover those facts in his family and personal health history that are likely to have a bearing upon his present or future health, and the examination should include a very careful investigation of the important organs of his body. this examination calls for expert medical and dental service. =how to conduct health examination= the most useful examiner is he who is at the same time a teacher. nowhere else is a better or even an equally good opportunity given to drive home impressively, and sometimes dramatically, important lessons in individual hygiene. through a pair of experimental lenses placed by his examiner before his hitherto undiscovered visual brain cells, the young student who has had poor vision and has never known it, may obtain, for the first time, a glimpse of the beauty in his surroundings. the dental examiner who finds bad teeth and explains bad teeth to the student whose health is being, or may be, destroyed by such teeth, has before him all the elements necessary for very effective health instruction. the health examination should be a personal and private affair. it is often best not to have even a recorder present. the student should understand that whatever passes between him and his examiner is entirely confidential. all advice given a student at these examinations should be followed up if it is the kind of advice that can be followed up. if the advice involves the attention of a dentist or treatment by a physician, time should be allowed for making arrangements and for securing the treatment necessary. after that time has elapsed the student should be called upon to report with information from his parent or guardian, or from his family health adviser, indicating what has been done or will be done for the betterment of the conditions for which the advice was originally given. in the hands of a tactful examiner--one who is a teacher as well as an examiner--the student and parent, particularly the parent, will coöperate effectively in this plan for the development of health habits of the student. less than three tenths of one per cent of the parents of city college students refuse to secure special health attention for their boys when we do so advise. these examinations should be repeated at reasonable intervals throughout the entire college course. we have found in the college of the city of new york that a repetition every term is none too frequent. visual defects, dental defects, evidences of heart trouble and signs of pulmonary tuberculosis, and other defects, not infrequently arise in cases of individuals who have been seen several times before without showing any evidence of poor health. it is hoped that these repeated examinations may lead to the continuation of such habits of bodily care in postgraduate years. a careful and concise record must be made covering the main facts of each examination and of each conference with the student subsequent to his examination. these memoranda enable the examiner at each later examination to talk to the student with a knowledge of what has been found and what has been said and what has been done on preceding examinations, and on preceding follow-up conferences. as a result, the examiner-teacher is in position to be very much more useful not only because of significant facts before him concerning the student with whom he is talking, but also because of the greater confidence which the student will necessarily have in an examiner who is obviously interested in him and who possesses such an accurate record of his health history. these examinations should apply to every student in a college or a university, regardless of the division to which he belongs. the need for health instruction or for the establishment of health habits, in order that one may be physically trained for the exigencies of life, is not peculiar to any student age period or to any academic or technicological group, or to a college for men or a college for women. one of the dangers present in these college examinations is the tendency of the examiner to become more interested in the number of students examined and the number of diagnoses made than in the good influence he may have upon the health future of the student. every "case" should be treated by the health examiner as if it were the first and only case on hand for the day. the student certainly classifies the examiner as the first and only one he has had that day. the examiner should plan to make every contact he has with a student a help to the student. health instruction a second large division of physical training deals with health instruction. as has been pointed out above, the division of health examination produces a very important and very useful opportunity for individual health instruction. =content of hygiene instruction= hygiene, however, is presented commonly to groups of students in class organization rather than individually. anatomy, physiology, psychology, bacteriology, pathology, general hygiene, individual hygiene, group hygiene, and intergroup hygiene are sciences, or combinations of sciences, from which physical training draws its facts. these sciences and those phases of economics and sociology that have to do with the economic and social influences of health and disease, of physical efficiency and physical degeneracy, supply physical training with its general subject matter. health instruction, then, as a part of physical training, draws its content from these sources. a logical plan of class instruction would, therefore, include the elements of anatomy, physiology, psychology, bacteriology (and general parasitology), pathology, economics, and sociology, as a basis for a more complete presentation of the facts of general hygiene, individual hygiene, group hygiene, and intergroup hygiene. =method of health instruction= the most satisfactory presentation of these subjects involves the grouping of students into small classes, the employment of laboratory methods, the use of reference libraries, and the assignment of problems for investigation and study, with a general group discussion of these problems. unfortunately, college classes are large and the number of teachers employed in the department of physical training, or in those departments from which physical training draws its science and its philosophy, is small, so that it is impractical to plan to give this instruction to small groups of students covering this range of subject matter. as a result, the lecture method with its obvious defects and shortcomings is the common medium for the health instruction of college students organized into classes. the more intimate and detailed instruction in these subjects is secured in special courses and in professional schools. in the college of the city of new york, we expect that students who come to us from high schools and preparatory schools have had the elements of anatomy and physiology either in courses on those subjects or in courses in biology.[ ] our health instruction, therefore, has been developed along the lines of lectures on general hygiene, individual hygiene, group hygiene, and intergroup hygiene running through the four terms of the freshman and sophomore years. these lectures are given in periods of from ten to fifteen minutes each, preceding class work in various forms of physical exercise. they are often called "floor talks." the shortness of the presentation favors vigor of address; necessitates a concise organization of material and a clarity and brevity of statement; and is more likely to command student attention and concentration. it has, however, its obvious defects. in these lectures persistent effort is made to influence the daily habits of the student. the lecture content is selected with reference to the practical problems of the daily life of the individual and of the community of which he is a part. it is obvious that the amount of time devoted to the presentation of the subject matter is utterly inadequate. short written tests are given once each month, and a longer written test is given at the end of each term. these examinations stimulate the student to organize his information and make it more completely his own property. the classes are too large[ ] and the instructional force relatively too small to permit the assignment of references, presentation of reports, and the conduct of investigations. further instruction in physiology and bacteriology is secured in this institution through elective courses open to students in their junior and senior years. these elective courses, however, are not planned primarily for the health education of the student, but rather for his partial preparation as a teacher of physical training, a student of medicine, a scientific specialist, or for public health work. health-forming activities of the department of physical education the third division of activities contains the health-habit-forming influences covered by the department of physical training. these influences are formed partly in connection with the follow-up activities associated with the health examinations and advice noted above; partly through impressions made by way of individual and class instruction concerning the laws of health (also noted above); and partly through systematic class work, group work, and individual work in gymnastics, organized recreation, games, play, and athletics. the student who has been given a health examination each term throughout his college career will be very likely to continue the practice as a habit after graduation. this habit will follow more surely if the examiner has been a real health teacher and not a perfunctory recorder of observations made upon the student. a lack of sympathy and tact may easily prejudice the student against the examination. the student who has been led regularly to care for defects of one sort or another; whose contact with his examiner-teacher in conferences following up the advice that has been given at the time of examination has been accompanied by the right sort of explanation and mutual understanding, will be more likely to continue to exercise that sort of care for the welfare of his body after he is no longer under the influence of the college. the student who has seen the application of class health talks to his everyday problems is likely to be influenced to the practice of consequent health habits, particularly if those short lectures serve to correlate his various habit-forming experiences while in college. and finally, the student who is brought into contact with regular systematic exercise may, if the exercise is attractive and interesting, achieve a health habit that will be carried out into his postgraduate life. the existence of the department of physical training would be amply justified if its influence upon the health and vigor of the student were limited to the period of his stay in college. the full success of this department, however, like that of all other college departments, must be measured by its influence upon the life of the student after he has left college. the formation of lasting health habits is, therefore, the most important object of this department. =place of physical exercise in program for physical education= regular appropriate physical exercise is one of our most important health habits. it is perhaps safe to say that for the average individual it is the most important health habit. this is true because of its intimate and impressive influence upon all the fundamental organic functions of the body. physical exercise in the american college is provided either as organized class work in the gymnasium, or by means of voluntary recreational opportunities, or through athletics. =class work in physical exercise= class work may include: marching, mass drills with or without light apparatus, work on heavy apparatus, games, dancing, swimming, and track and field work. this class work may be indoors or outdoors, depending on the season or climate. =additional facilities for physical exercise= voluntary recreational opportunities are offered through free mass drills open to all students who may desire to take them regularly or irregularly; through open periods for apparatus work; and through facilities and space for games, swimming, mass athletics, and so on. =recreational activities and athletics= competitive athletics are typical of the american college. theoretically, athletics are open to all students. practically, in many of our colleges athletics are made available only to the student with leisure time and exceptional physique. consistent effort is being made today by college authorities to provide opportunities for intramural (interclass, intergroup, and mass) athletics for the whole student body; at the same time preserving the desirable features of the more specialized intercollegiate competitions. =inculcating habits of physical exercise= physical exercise in these various forms has its immediate and valuable influence upon the health condition of the individual student, if taken in sufficient quantity. it has its lasting and very much more important influence in those cases in which physical exercise becomes a habit. it has, therefore, become the increasing concern of the college teacher of physical training to develop activities in physical exercise that the student may use after graduation. teachers of physical training have become more and more impressed with the importance of interesting exercise, not only because interesting exercise is more likely to become habitual exercise, but also because exercise that is accompanied by the play spirit, by happiness and joy, is physiologically and therefore healthfully of very much more value to the individual. the relationship between cheerfulness and good health has become very firmly established through the scientific researches of the modern physiologist. we know that health habits which are associated with cheerfulness and happiness are bound to be more effective. =opportunities for character building= the teacher of physical training finds opportunity for incidental and yet very important instruction leading to the formation of fine qualities of character and fine standards of personal conduct. these opportunities arise constantly in the various general types of physical exercise found in the curriculum of the department of physical training. they are especially present in those activities in which competition occurs, as in play, games, and athletics. these activities do not in themselves produce excellent qualities of character or high standards of conduct, but the teacher--whether he be called a coach or a trainer or a professor of hygiene--who sets a good example and who insists that every game played, and every contest, whether it be in a handball court between college chums or on the football field between college teams, shall be clean and fair, is using in the right way one of the opportunities present in the entire college life of the student, for the formation of fine character. special exercises for special groups in any given group of college students one will find a number of individuals in need of special or modified physical exercise. these students may be grouped commonly under the following heads: ( ) undeveloped, ( ) bad posture, ( ) awkward, ( ) originally weak, ( ) deformed. some of these students suffer from defects that are remediable, some of these defects are due to poor physical training in earlier years. some are the results of disease. all of them call for modified exercise and recreation. the fact that a student may fall into one of these groups in no way justifies the assumption that he is therefore no longer subject to the laws of health or to the need for rational health habits. as a matter of fact, such cases generally call for greater care and attention in the formulation and operation of a rational policy of right living. every student physically able to go to college is physically able to exercise. no student in attendance on recitations anywhere can offer a rational plea for exemption from exercise, the individual whose physical condition contraindicates all forms of exercise needs careful medical advice and probably needs hospital or sanitarium treatment. college departments of physical training are planning for cases in need of special or modified exercise, through the organization of special classes and through individual attention. in the college of the city of new york we attempt to group the weak students in a given class, into squads of four such students with a squad leader, a student. the awkward students are grouped in the same manner. the exercise of the cripple and the student with serious organic weakness is individualized. these special individualized cases are under the direct supervision of a physician on the staff. organization of the students for prescribed work in the college courses in this college, organized, directed physical exercise as outlined above is covered in the division of physical training, the division of recreation, and the division of athletics, all of which are subdivisions of the department of hygiene. the enrollment in the required classes in the division of physical training varies from thirty in the smaller classes to over two hundred in the larger. the total enrollment has been approximately eleven hundred each term for several years. these courses are required of all students during the first four collegiate terms. each of these four courses requires three hours a week, distributed over two or into three periods, and credits the student with one half point toward graduation. this time allowance is, however, inadequate. the class organization in the division of the department of hygiene is based on a unit composed of five students. each of these units or squads contains one student who is designated as the "leader" of that unit. persistent effort is made to assign students of like physical development and needs to the same squads. in this manner a single class of a hundred young men will have a graduation on the basis of proficiency which makes it possible for the teacher to come very near to the rational application of exercise for the individual student. these units or squads are organized into divisions, each division being made up of four squads. each division is under the supervision and instruction of a member of the departmental staff. in any given class, then, there is a regular instructor for each group of twenty students, and a student leader for each group of four students. the aim in this organization is to establish a relationship between the instructor and his twenty students that will secure for him an intimate knowledge of each young man, relating to his physical training needs, general and special. =a class period in physical exercise= a typical class period is made up of a short health talk, minutes; a mass drill, minutes; apparatus period, two changes, minutes; and a play period, minutes. if the health talk is not given the play period is lengthened. the mass drills referred to above are made up of drill in marching and in gymnastics with and without hand apparatus. these drills are graded within the term and from term to term so that a desirable variety is secured. they are devised for disciplinary, postural, developmental, and health purposes. during the progress of the drill the instructors present inspect the posture and work of the students in their divisions. the apparatus periods referred to include work on the conventional pieces of gymnastic apparatus, with the addition of chest weights, an indoor track, and a swimming pool. the squad organization for this work gives opportunity for the development of student leadership which is often of extraordinary educational value to the individual boy. these periods, because of this squad organization, may be utilized for such _special exercise_ emphasis as may be decided upon for any given group of students. it is here that _special conditioning_ may be given those young men who are planning for military training or who need selected exercise for neuro-muscular development. the play period in the regular class program is devoted largely to looser games that contain a predominating element of big muscle activities. competition is a fairly constant factor. here, again, our squad unit permits us to assign selected groups of students to special types of games. it is feasible, in this organization, to satisfy a need for the training that is furnished by highly organized games, fighting games, and by games and out-of-door events that develop special groups of muscles and special coördinations. a well-organized collegiate department of physical training could coöperate very effectively with a collegiate department of military training. the squad organization in apparatus periods and in play periods offers the best possible avenue for a successful emphasis of several of the very important phases of military physical training. =recreational facilities in addition to prescribed work= the division of recreation in the department of hygiene in the college of the city of new york, takes charge of all recreational and athletic space and all recreational and intramural athletic activities in those periods of the day in which regular class work does not take precedence. students of all classes are admitted freely throughout their four collegiate years to these activities, and a studied effort is made to increase their attractiveness as well as to secure from them their full social and character-training values. such values depend to a very large degree upon the experienced supervision and direction given these activities. it does not follow that the creation of play opportunity is bound to produce good citizenship. the quality of the product depends upon the quality of the man or men in charge of the enterprise. the most important mission of the recreational division is its purpose to furnish the student lasting habits of play and recreation based upon the physical development he has secured in his earlier experiences in physical training. after all, one's physical training should begin at birth and continue throughout life. the division of athletic instruction is concerned with all plans for intercollegiate athletics, including organization, financing, training, coaching, and scheduling. all these activities are under the direction of members of the staff of the department of hygiene. there is no one employed in this relationship who is not a member of the staff. constant attempts are made, in every reasonable way, to accomplish the athletic ideals that have been set up by the national collegiate athletic association. clean play, honorable methods, and sportsmanly standards dominate the theory and practice of this athletic instruction and supervision. the scope and content of physical training which i have attempted to present in these pages is brought out more clearly by the following announcement of the department of hygiene of the college of the city of new york: hygiene ( - ) the department of hygiene is made up of the divisions of physical training, physiology, bacteriology, health examination, recreational instruction, and athletics. through these divisions the department attempts to train young men for the exigencies of life through the establishment of enduring habits of health examination and repair, health information and individual and community protection against the agents that injure health and cause disease, and through the establishment of wise habits of daily life. this organization gives opportunity for the development of neglected organic and neuromuscular growth, coördination and control; for the social, ethical, and moral training (character building influences) inherent in wisely supervised athletic and recreational experiences; and for the special conditioning that accompanies training for severe physical and physiological competition and other tests. finally, preparation may be secured for life work along certain lines of research, certain medical sciences, various phases of public health, physical training and social work. in addition, this department is concerned with all those influences within the college which affect the health of the student. every reasonable effort is made to keep the institution safe and attractive to the clean, healthy individual. division of physical training . _course one._ (_a_) lectures. "some of the common causes of disease." (_b_) physical exercise. i. graded mass drills. (_a_) elementary drills are used in order to develop obedience, alertness, and ready response to command, accurate execution, good posture and carriage and facility of control. (_b_) more advanced drills are given in which movements are made in response to commands. strength, endurance, and coördination are brought into play. ii. apparatus work. continuation of graded exercises for squads of five students each. iii. selected, graded, recreative indoor and outdoor games and play. iv. swimming. each student is required to learn to swim with more than one variety of stroke. prescribed. freshman, first term; three hours a week; counts / . . _course two._ (_a_) lectures. "the carriers of disease." (_b_) physical exercise. i. graded mass drills. two-count movements. these drills are continuations of, but more advanced than those given in the preceding term. ii. apparatus work. continuation of graded exercises for squads of five. iii. selected, graded, recreative indoor and outdoor games and play. iv. swimming. each student is required to develop endurance in swimming. prerequisite: hygiene . prescribed. freshman, second term; three hours a week; counts / . . _course three._ (_a_) lectures. "the contributory causes and carriers of disease." (_b_) physical exercise. i. graded mass drills. four-count movements. more advanced work. ii. apparatus work. continuation of graded exercises for squads of five. iii. selected, graded, recreative indoor and outdoor games and play. iv. swimming. diving, rescue and resuscitation of the drowning. prerequisite: hygiene . prescribed. sophomore, first term; three hours a week; counts / . . _course four._ (_a_) lectures. "defenses against poor health and disease." (_b_) physical exercise. i. advanced graded mass drills. eight-count movements. ii. advanced graded apparatus work. for squads of five. iii. selected, graded, recreative indoor and outdoor games and play. iv. swimming. advanced continuation of requirements outlined for courses and . prerequisite: hygiene . prescribed. sophomore, second term; three hours a week; counts / . _modified course._ in each of the above required courses provision is made for those students whose organic condition may permanently disqualify them for the regular scheduled work. this special work is under the immediate direction of a medical member of the staff. . _intermediate physical training._ this course is planned to supply the student with such organic development and efficiency as will enable him to demonstrate successfully as a teacher various type exercises for classes in elementary and intermediate indoor and outdoor gymnastics, aquatics, games, play and athletics. prerequisite: hygiene . three hours a week; counts / . . _advanced physical training._ this course is a continuation of course , and is designed for the physical equipment of teachers of more advanced physical work. prerequisite: hygiene . three hours a week; counts / . . _class management._ this course supplies the practical instruction and experience needed for the training of special teachers in the management of elementary and intermediate classes in various forms of physical exercise. prerequisite: hygiene and . fall term, three hours a week; counts . . _class management._ this course is a continuation of course . it is planned to give a training in the management of more advanced classes. prerequisite: hygiene . spring term, three hours a week; counts . . _control of emergencies and first aid to the injured._ this course supplies instruction concerning the management and protective care of common emergencies. the instruction is practical and rational. it covers such emergencies as: sprains, fractures, dislocations, wounds, bruises, sudden pain, fainting, epileptic attacks, unconsciousness, drowning, electric shock, and so on. prerequisite: hygiene . fall term, two hours a week; counts . . _theory and practice of individual instruction in hygiene and in departmental sanitation._ students taking this subject will be given practical first hand experience of special use to teachers; (a) in connection with health examination, inspection, conference, consultation, and follow up service carried on in the departmental examining room; and (b) in connection with the sanitary supervision carried on by the department. prerequisites or co-requisites: hygiene , and . spring term, six hours a week in two periods of three hours each; counts . division of physiology . _elements of physiology._ this subject deals with the general concepts of the science of physiology, the chemical and physical conditions which underlie and determine the action of the individual organs, and the integrative relationship of the parts of the body. one lecture, one recitation and two laboratory hours a week; counts . . _special physiology._ a study of the fundamental facts of physiology and methods of investigation. the aim is to give a complete study of certain topics: the phenomena of contraction, conduction, sense perception and the various mechanisms of general metabolism. laboratory work is arranged to show the methods of physiologic experimentation and to emphasize the necessity of using care and accuracy in their application. spring term, two lectures and three laboratory hours a week; counts . . _physiology of nutrition._ the aim of this subject is to study broadly the metabolism of the human body. in the development of this plan the following topics will be considered: the food requirements of man, the nutritive history of the physiologic ingredients, the principles of dietetics and their application to daily living. fall term, two lectures and three laboratory hours a week; counts . division of bacteriology . _general bacteriology._ lectures, recitations and laboratory work introducing the student to the technique of bacteriology and to the more important facts about the structure and function of bacteria. special applications of bacteriology to agriculture and the industries are discussed, and brief references are made to the activities of allied microbes, the yeasts and molds. the general relations of bacteria to disease and the principles of immunity and its control are included. one lecture, one recitation and four laboratory hours a week; counts . . _bacteriology of foods._ this includes the bacteriologic examination of water, sewage, air, milk, the various food products together with the methods used in the standardization of disinfectants, a detailed study of yeast and bacterial fermentation and their application to the industries. numerous trips to industrial plants will be made. prerequisite: hygiene . fall term, one lecture and six laboratory hours a week; counts . . _bacteriology of pathogenic micro-organisms._ this subject is devoted to the laboratory methods of biology as applied in the state and municipal boards of health. practice will be given in the methods used for the diagnosis of diphtheria, tuberculosis, malaria, rabies, and other diseases caused by micro-organisms, together with a detailed study of the groups to which they belong. prerequisite: hygiene . spring term, one lecture and six laboratory hours a week; counts . . _potable and industrial water._ very few industries are independent of a water supply. no one is independent of the source of his drinking water. water varies in its usefulness for definite purposes. this subject differentiates between various waters, takes them up from industrial and hygienic standpoints, considers softening, filtering, purifying and water analysis. work is divided into three groups. a. industrial water ) } given in the chemistry department. b. potable water ) c. water bacteriology ) } given in the department of hygiene. (microscopy of water) ) municipal students may elect any or all of the three groups. prerequisite: chemistry and hygiene . chemistry is desirable. spring term, seven hours a week; counts . . _municipal sanitation._ lectures, discussions and visits to public works of special importance. the principles which underlie a pure water supply and the means by which the wastes of the city, its sewage and garbage may be successfully disposed of, and the problems of pure milk and pure food supplies, the housing question with its special phase of ventilation and plumbing, and the methods by which a municipal board of health is organized to fight tuberculosis and other specific diseases will be studied. fall term, two lectures and one field trip a week; counts . . _municipal sanitary inspection._ _professor b---- and bureau of foods and drugs, new york city department of health._ the seminar work of this subject is done in the college and the field work in company with and under the direct supervision of an inspector of the department of health of the city. the subject is limited to six students each semester, and is intended for those planning to go into this branch of the city's service. the qualifications will be based upon individuality, personality playing an important part. prerequisite: hygiene and and chemistry . spring term, two seminar hours, one recitation and one inspection tour a week; counts . . _research._ seniors who have completed satisfactorily a sufficient amount of work in the department may be assigned some topic to serve as a basis for a thesis which will be submitted as credit for the work at its completion. the student will receive the advice of the instructor in the subject in which the research falls, but as much independent work as possible will be insisted upon. the purpose is to introduce the student into research methods, and also to foster independence. division of health examination i. _individual instruction in hygiene._ this instruction is of a personal confidential character, and is given in the form of advice based upon medical history supplied by the individual, and upon medical and hygienic examinations and inspections of the individual. (_a_) medical and hygienic history and examination. in this relationship with the student the department attempts to secure such information concerning environmental and habit influences in the life of the student as may be used as a basis for supplying him with helpful advice concerning the organization of his policy of personal health control. the medical examinations are utilized for the purpose of finding remediable physical defects whose proper treatment may be added to the physiological efficiency and therefore to the health possibilities of the student. prescribed: freshman, sophomore, junior, senior and special students. once each term. no credits. (_b_) hygiene inspections. these inspections are applied in the mutual interest of personal, departmental and institutional hygiene. prescribed: freshman and sophomore. (_c_) conferences. all students who have been given personal hygienic or medical advice are required to report in conference by appointment in order that the advice may be followed up. all individuals found with communicable diseases are debarred from all classes until it is shown in conference that they are receiving proper medical treatment, and that they may return to class attendance with safety to their comrades. all individuals found with remediable physical or hygienic defects are required to report in conference with evidence that the abnormal condition has been brought to the serious attention of the parent, guardian or family medical or hygienic adviser. students failing to report as directed may be denied admission to all classes. ii. _medical and sanitary supervision._ (_a_) sanitary supervision. an "advisory committee on hygiene and sanitation" with the professor of hygiene as chairman, has been appointed by the president. this committee has been instructed to "inquire from time to time into all our institutional influences which are likely to affect the health of the student and instructor, and to make such reports with recommendations to the president as may seem wise and expedient." (_b_) a medical examination is required of all applicants for admission to the college. approval of the medical examiner must be secured before registration is permitted. (_c_) medical consultation. open to all students. (optional.) (_d_) medical examination of athletes. required of all students before admission to athletic training and repeated at intervals during the training season. (_e_) treatment. emergency treatment is the only treatment attempted by the department. such treatment will be applied only for the purpose of protecting the individual until he can secure the services he selects for that purpose. (_f_) conferences. (see "c" under i.) (_g_) laboratory: the department laboratories are equipped for bacteriological and other analyses. the water in the swimming pool is examined daily. the laboratory service is utilized to identify disease carriers, and in every other reasonable way to assist in the protection of student health. division of recreational instruction liberal provision is made by the college for voluntary recreational activities indoors and outdoors during six days of the week and throughout vacation periods. emphasis is laid on recreation as a health habit and a means of social training. division of athletics ( ) _athletic supervision._ three organizations are concerned: (_a_) the faculty athletic committee, which has to do with all athletic activities that involve academic relationships. (_b_) the athletic council, a committee of the department of hygiene, charged with the supervision of all business activities connected with student athletic enterprises. (_c_) the athletic association of the student body. ( ) _athletic instruction._ the department utilizes various intramural and extramural athletic activities for the purpose of securing a further influence on the promotion of health habits, the development of physical power, and the establishment and maintenance of high standards of sportsmanly conduct on part of the individual and the group. at present the schedule includes the following sports: baseball, basket ball, track and field, swimming and water polo, tennis, soccer foot ball, and hand ball. thomas andrew storey, m.d. _college of the city of new york_ [it was hoped that it would be possible to include with professor storey's chapter a number of forms and photographs calculated to serve as aids in the organization and conduct of a college department of hygiene. as professor storey's work is very distinctive, other institutions which are striving to organize effective departments of physical education would have found his experiences as graphically depicted in these photographs and summed up in these charts extremely helpful. unfortunately it has proved impossible to print them here on account of limitations of space, but all who are interested in securing further information can obtain these valuable guides in the introductory stages of the inauguration of a department of hygiene by applying to the college of the city of new york. editor.] footnotes: [ ] the construction of this chapter on the teaching of physical training is based very largely upon the experiences and organization of the department of hygiene in the college of the city of new york. [ ] this precollegiate instruction is, unfortunately, uniformly poor in so far as it relates to health. [ ] the present enrollment in these classes, february, , is approximately . part three the social sciences chapter x the teaching of economics _frank a. fetter_ xi the teaching of sociology _a. j. todd_ xii the teaching of history a. american history _h. w. elson_ b. modern european history _edward krehbiel_ xiii the teaching of political science _charles grove haines_ xiv the teaching of philosophy _frank thilly_ xv the teaching of ethics _henry neumann_ xvi the teaching of psychology _robert s. woodworth_ xvii the teaching of education a. teaching the history of education _herman h. horne_ b. teaching educational theory _frederick e. bolton_ x the teaching of economics =conception and aims of economics= even though economics be so defined as to exclude a large part of the field of the social sciences, its scope is still very broad. economics is less homogeneous in its content, is far less clearly defined, than is any one of the natural sciences. a very general definition of economics is: the study of men engaged in making a living. more fully expressed, economics is a study of men exercising their own powers and making use of their environment for the purposes of existence, of welfare, and of enjoyment. within such a broad definition of economics is found room for various narrower conceptions. to mention only the more important of these we may distinguish individual economics, domestic economics, business economics, governmental economics (public finance), and political (or national) economics. any one of these subjects may be approached and treated primarily either with regard to its more immediate financial, material, acquisitive aspects, or to its more far-reaching social, psychical, and welfare aspects. these various ideas appear and reappear most confusingly in economic literature. the aims that different students and teachers have in the pursuit of economics are as varied as are the conceptions of its nature. the teaching aims are, indeed, largely determined by those conceptions. moreover, the teaching aims are modified by still other conditions, such as the environment of the college and its constituency, and such as the temperament, business experience, and scholarly training of the teacher. we may distinguish broadly three aims: the vocational, the civic, and the cultural. _the vocational aim_ is the most elementary and most usual. xenophon's treatise on domestic "economy" was the nucleus from which have grown all the systematic formulations of economic principles. vocational economics is the economics of the craftsman and of the shop. every practical craft and art has its economic aspect, which concerns the right and best use of labor and valuable materials to attain a certain artistic, mechanical, or other technical end in its particular field. economics is not mere technology, which has to do with the mastery of materials and forces to attain any material end. vocational economics, however, modifies and determines technical practice, which, in the last analysis, is subject to the economic rule. the economic engineer should construct not the best bridge that is possible, mechanically considered, but the best possible or advisable for the purpose and with the means at hand. the economic agriculturist should not produce the largest crop possible, but the crop that gives the largest additional value. the rapidly growing recognition of the importance, in all technical training, of cultivating the ability to take the economic view has led to the development of household economics in connection with the teaching of cooking, sewing, decorating, etc.; of the economics of farm management to supplement the older technical courses in natural science, crops, and animal husbandry; of the economics of factory management in connection with mechanical engineering; of the economics of railway location in connection with certain phases of civil engineering; and many more such special groupings and formulations of economic principles with reference to particular vocations and industries. the ancient and the medieval crafts and mysteries undoubtedly had embodied in their maxims, proverbs, traditional methods, and teachings, many economic principles suitable to their comparatively simple and unchanging conditions. the rapid changes that have occurred, especially in the last half century, in the natural sciences and in the practical arts have rendered useless much of this wisdom of the fathers. recently there has been a belated and sudden awakening to the need of studying, consciously and systematically, the economic aspects of the new dynamic forces and industrial conditions. hence the almost dramatic appearance of vocational, or technical, economics under such names as "scientific management" and the "economics of engineering." viewed in this perspective such a development appears to be commendable and valuable in its main purpose. unfortunately, some, if not all, of the adherents of this new cult of "economy" and "efficiency" fail to appreciate how very restricted and special it is, compared with the whole broad economic field. _the civic aim_ in teaching economics is to fit the student to perform the duties of a citizen. we need not attempt to prove here that a large proportion of public questions are economic in nature, and that in a democracy a wise decision on these questions ultimately depends on an intelligent public opinion and not merely on the knowledge possessed by a small group of specialists. the civic conception of economics, seen from one point of view, shows little in common with the vocational conception. yet from another point of view it may be looked upon as the vocational conception "writ large" and is the art of training men to be citizens in a republic. good citizenship involves an attitude of interest, a capacity to form judgments on public economic issues, and, if need be, to perform efficiently public functions of a legislative, executive or judicial nature. the state-supported colleges usually now recognize very directly their obligation to provide economic training with the civic aim, and, in some cases, even to require it as a part of the work for a college degree. often also is found the thought that it is the duty of the student while obtaining an education at public expense, to take a minimum of economics with the civic aim even if he regards it as in no way to his individual advantage or if it has in his case no direct vocational bearings. in the privately endowed institutions this policy may be less clearly formulated, but it is hardly less actively practiced. indeed, the privately endowed institutions have been recognizing more and more fully their fiduciary and public nature. their public character is involved in their charters, in their endowments, in their exemption from taxation, and in their essential educational functions. the proudest pages in their history are those recording their services to the state.[ ] =evaluations of aims of teaching economics in college= _the cultural aim_ in economics is to enable the student to comprehend the industrial world about him. it aims to liberate the mind from ignorance and prejudice, giving him insight into, and appreciation of, the industrial world in which he lives. in this aspect it is a liberal study. economics produces in some measure this cultural result, even when it is studied primarily with the vocational or with the civic aim. but in vocational economics the choice of materials and the mode of treatment are deliberately restricted by the immediate utilitarian purposes; and in economic teaching with a civic purpose there is the continual temptation to arouse the sympathies for an immediate social program and to take a view limited by the contemporary popular interest in specific proposals for reform. economics at its highest level is the search for truth. it has its place in any system of higher education as has pure natural science, apart from any immediate or so far as we may know, any possible, utilitarian application. it is a disinterested philosophy of the industrial world. though it may not demonstrably be a _means_ to other useful things, it is itself a worthy _end_. it helps to enrich the community with the immaterial goods of the spirit, and it yields the psychic income of dignity and joy in the individual and national life. and as a final appeal to any doubting philistine it may be said that just as the cult of pure science is necessary to the continual and most effective progress in the practical arts, so the study of economics on the philosophical plane surely is necessary to the highest and most lasting results in the application of economics to the arts and to civic life. the differences in aims set forth in this paragraph result in much of the futile discussion in recent years regarding methods of teaching. enthusiastic innovators have debated at cross purposes about teaching methods as if they were to be measured by some absolute standard of pedagogic values, not recognizing that the chief differences of views as to teaching methods were rooted in the differing aims. this truth will reappear at many points in the following discussion. "what will you have," quoth the gods, "pay the price and take it." =place of economics in the college curriculum= the place assigned to economics in the college curriculum in respect to the year in which the student is admitted to its study is very different in various colleges. in the last investigation of the subject it appeared that the first economics course might be taken first in the freshman year in per cent of cases, in the sophomore year in per cent of cases, in the junior year in per cent of cases, in the senior year in per cent of cases.[ ] among those institutions giving an economic course in the freshman year are some small and some large institutions (some of the latter being stanford, new york university, pennsylvania, bryn mawr, and the state universities of california, iowa, nebraska, north dakota, colorado, utah). frequently the elementary course given to freshmen is in matter and method historical and descriptive, rather than theoretical, and is planned to precede a more rigid course in the principles.[ ] the plan of beginning economics in the sophomore year is the mode among the state universities and larger colleges, including nearly all of the larger institutions that do not begin the subject in the freshman year. this group includes yale, hopkins, chicago, northwestern, mount holyoke, wellesley, vassar, and (after ) princeton. the group of institutions beginning economics in the junior year is the largest, but consists mostly of small colleges having some advanced economics courses, but no more than can be given in the senior year. it contains, besides, a few colleges of arts which maintain a more strictly prescribed curriculum for underclassmen (freshmen and sophomores), such as dartmouth, columbia, smith, and simmons. it should be observed also that in a great many institutions, where economics may be taken by some students in the first two years, it is in fact scheduled as late as junior or senior year in the prescribed courses of students in special departments such as agriculture, engineering, and law. this statement applies doubtless to many thousands of technical students.[ ] in view of these divergencies in practice we must hesitate to declare that the subject should be begun at precisely this or that point in the college course. these differences, to be sure, are in many cases the result of accidental factors in the college curriculum, and often have been determined by illogical departmental rivalries within the faculty rather than by wise and disinterested educators studying the merits of the case. but in large part these differences are the expression of different purposes and practical needs in planning a college curriculum, and are neither quite indefensible nor necessarily contradictory in pedagogic theory. in the small college with a nearly uniform curriculum and with limited means, a general course is perhaps best planned for the senior year, or in the junior year if there is an opportunity given to the student to do some more advanced work the year following. at the other extreme are some larger institutions in which the pressure of new subjects within the arts curriculum has shattered the fixed curriculum into fragments. this has made possible specialization along any one of a number of lines. where this idea is carried out to the full, every general group of subjects eventually must make good its claim to a place in the freshman year for its fundamental course. but inasmuch as, in most institutions, the freshman year is still withheld from this free elective plan by the requirement of a small group of general subjects, economics is first open to students in the sophomore year. the license of the elective system is of course much moderated by the requirement to elect a department, usually at the beginning either of the sophomore or of the junior year, and within each department both a more or less definite sequence of courses and a group of collateral requirements are usually enforced. where resources are very limited it is probably best to give the economics course in the last two years, but where several more specialized courses in economics are given, it should be introduced as early as the sophomore year. if a freshman course in the subject is given it should be historical, descriptive, or methodical (e.g., statistical methods, graphics, etc.) rather than theoretical. the experience (or lack of experience) and knowledge of the industrial world, past and present, possessed by the average american college student is such that courses of that kind meet a great need.[ ] =time to be given to economics in a college curriculum= teachers of economics today are doubtless attempting the impossible in compressing the present "general course" into three hours for two semesters. no other department of a university attempts to treat in such a brief time so broad a subject, including both principles and applications. such a course was quite long enough in the days when all economic instruction was given by gray-haired theologians, philosophers, mathematicians, and linguists, dogmatically expounding the _pons asinorum_ of economics, and quizzing from a dusty textbook of foreign authorship. but now the growing and vigorous tribe of specialized economic teachers is bursting with information and illustrations. moreover, the range of economic topics and of economic interests has expanded wonderfully. the resulting overcrowded condition of the general course is possibly the main cause of the difficulties increasingly felt by teachers in handling that course satisfactorily. as a part of a general college curriculum "general economics" cannot be satisfactorily treated in less than three hours a week for two years. the additional time should not be spent in narrow specialization but rather in getting a broader understanding of the subject through economic history and geography, through observation and description of actual conditions, through a greater use of problems and examples, and through more detailed, less superficial study of the fundamental principles. as a part of sixteen years of the whole educational scheme from primary grade to college diploma such a course would claim but - / per cent of the student's whole time, while the subjects of english, mathematics, and foreign linguistics each gets about per cent, in the case even of students who do not specialize in one of these branches. of the replies[ ] from nearly three hundred colleges to the question whether economics was required for graduation, about per cent were in the affirmative. unfortunately the question was ambiguous, and the replies apparently were understood to mean generally that it was required in one or more curricula, not of all graduates (though in some cases the question was probably taken in the other sense). it is noteworthy that more frequently economics is required in the smaller colleges having but one curriculum, that of liberal studies. in the larger institutions economics is usually not required of students in the humanities, although of late it has increasingly been made a part of the technical college curricula, especially in engineering and agriculture.[ ] so we are in a fair way to arrive at the situation where no student except in those "liberal" arts courses can get a college diploma without studying economics; only in a modern course in the humanities may the study of human society be left out. the economists have not been active in urging their subject as a requirement. the call for increasing requirements in economics has come from the public and from the alumni. the steady increase in the number of students electing economic courses without corresponding additions to the teaching forces has made the overworked professors of the subject thankful when nothing more was done to increase by faculty requirements the burden of their class work. it is charged and it is admitted in some institutions that the standards of marking are purposely made more severe in the economics courses than in courses in most other subjects. the purpose avowed is "to cut out the dead timber," so that only the better students will be eligible for enrollment in the advanced economics courses. an unfortunate result is to discourage some excellent students, ambitious for high marks or honors, from electing courses in economics because thereby their average grades would be reduced. in many cases, for this reason, good students take the subject optionally (without credit), though doing full work in it. =organization of the subject in the college curriculum= we have already, in discussing the place of economics, necessarily touched upon the organization of the courses. in most colleges this organization is very simple. the whole economic curriculum consists of the "general" course, or at most of that plus one or more somewhat specialized courses given the next year. the most usual year of advanced work consists of one semester each of money and banking and of public finance. a not unusual plan, well suited to the situation in a small college where economics takes the full time of one teacher, is to give the general course in the sophomore year, and to offer a two-year cycle of advanced work, the two courses being given in alternate years, the class consisting of juniors and seniors. in this plan the additional courses may be in transportation, in labor problems, in trusts and corporations, and frequently of late, in accounting. ordinarily the "general" course itself involves a logical sequence, the first term dealing with fundamental concepts and theories, and the second term covering in a rapid survey a pretty wide range of special problems. the majority of the students take only the general course. those who go on to more advanced courses retrace the next year some of the ground of the second semester's work, but this is probably for few of them a loss of time. indeed, in such a subject as economics this opportunity to let first teachings "sink in," and strange concepts become familiar, is for most students of great value. yet the plan was adopted and is followed as a compromise, using one course as a ready-made fit for the differing needs of two groups of students. we have seen above (page ) that preceding the general, or systematic, course, there is in a number of colleges a simpler one. in some cases[ ] the experiment has been undertaken of studying first for a time certain broad institutional features of our existing society, such as property, the wage system, competition, and the amount and distribution of wealth. the need of such a course is said to be especially great in the women's colleges. if so, it is truly urgent, for most young men come to college with very meager experience in economic lines. few, if any, teachers would deny that such an introductory course preceding the principles is distinctly of advantage.[ ] some would favor it even at the price of shortening materially the more general course. but most teachers would agree that together the introductory course and the general course should take two full years (three hours a week, twelve college credit hours, as usually reckoned), an amount of time which cannot be given by the "floater" electing economics. and to accommodate both those who have had the introductory course and those who have not, the general course would have to be given in two divisions and in two ways. again we come to the thought, suggested above, that probably we are attempting too much in too brief a time in the general course today. a longer time for the study would permit of a sequence that would be more logically defensible. it would begin with historical and descriptive studies, both because they are fundamentally necessary and because, being of more concrete nature, they may be given in a form easier for the beginner to get. in this period a good deal of the terminology can be gradually familiarized. then should come the more elementary analytical studies and fundamental principles, followed by a discussion of a number of practical problems. in conclusion should come a more systematic survey of general principles, of which most students now get but a superficial idea. the work in the specialized elective courses would then be built upon much firmer foundation than is the case at present. =methods of teaching= the main methods that have been developed and tested in the teaching of undergraduate classes in economics may be designated as the lecture method, the textbook method, the problem method. any one of these may be used well-nigh exclusively, or, as is more usual, two or more may be combined in varying proportions; e.g., lectures with "supplementary" (or "collateral") readings, with or without an occasional meeting in a quiz section. along with these main methods often are used such supplementary methods as topical reports requiring individual library work; laboratory exercises, as in statistics, accounting, etc.; individual field work to study some industrial problem; and visits, as a class, and with guidance, to factories and industrial enterprises. the choice of these particular methods of teaching is, however, largely conditioned by the teacher's antecedent choice between the deductive or the inductive forms of presentation. this is an old controversy ever recurring. but it should be observed that the question here is not whether induction or deduction is a greater aid in arriving at new truth, but it is whether the inductive or the deductive process is the better for the imparting of instruction to beginners. in teaching mathematics, the most deductive of the sciences, use may be made of such inductive aids as object lessons, physical models, and practical problems; and _per contra_, in the natural sciences, where induction is the chief instrument of research, elementary instruction is largely given in a deductive manner by the statement of general propositions, the workings of which are then exemplified. the decision of the question which is the better of these two pedagogic methods in a particular case, depends (_a_) partly on the average maturity and experience of the class; (_b_) partly on the mental quality of the students; and (_c_) partly on the interest and qualifications of the teacher. (_a_) the choice of the best method of teaching is of course dependent on the same factors that have been shown above to affect the nature and sequence of the courses. the simpler method leading to more limited results is more suitable for the less mature classes; but the scientific stage in the treatment of any subject is not reached until general principles are discussed. if one is content with a vocational result in economic teaching, stopping short of the theoretical, philosophic outlook, more can be accomplished in a short time by the concrete method. but such teaching would seem to belong in a trade school rather than in a college of higher studies, and in any case should be given by a vocational teacher rather than by a specialist in social, or political, economy. =various methods evaluated= (_b_) every college class presents a gradation of minds capable (whether from nature or training) of attaining different states of comprehension. of students in the lower half of the classes in american colleges, it may be said broadly that they never can or will develop the capacity of thinking abstractly and that the concrete method of teaching would give better results in their cases. therefore the teacher attempts to compromise, to adopt a method that fits the "mode," the middle third of the class, wasting much of the time of the brighter (or of the more earnest) students, and letting those in the lowest third trail along as best they can. this difficulty may be met with some success where there are several sections of a class by grouping the men in accordance with their previous scholarship records. this grouping is beneficial alike to those lower and to those higher than the average in scholarship. (_c_) quite as important in this connection as this subjective quality of the students, is the characteristic quality of the teacher. a particular teacher will succeed better or worse with any particular method according as it fits his aim and is in accord with his endowment and training. if he is himself of the "hard-headed" unimaginative or unphilosophic type, he will of course deem effort wasted that goes beyond concrete facts. he will give little place to the larger aspects and principles of "political" economy, but will deal exhaustively with the details of commercial economy. if the teacher is civic-minded and sympathetic, he will be impelled to trace economic forces, in their actions and interactions, far beyond the particular enterprise, to show how the welfare of others is affected. to do this rightly, knowledge of the conditions must be combined with a deeper theoretical insight; but the civic aim operates selectively to limit the choice of materials and analysis to those contemporary issues that appeal at the time to the textbook writer, to the teacher, or to the public. still different is the case of the teacher who finds his greatest joy in the theoretical aspects of economics, possesses a clean-cut economic philosophy (even though it may not be ultimate truth), and has faith in economics as a disciplinary subject. such a teacher will (other things being equal) have, relatively, his greatest success with the students of greatest ability; he will get better results in teaching the "principles" than in teaching historical and descriptive facts. none will deny that this type of education has an important place. even in the more descriptive courses appeal should be made to the higher intellectual qualities of the class, leaving a lasting disciplinary result rather than a memory stored with merely ephemeral and mostly insignificant information. the teacher with colorless personality and without interest in, and knowledge of, the world of reality, will fail, whatever be the purpose of his teaching. the higher the teacher's aim, the farther may he fall below its attainment. a college teacher whose message is delivered on the mental level of grammar school children should, of course, score a pretty high percentage of success in giving a passing mark to sophomores, juniors, and seniors in american colleges. but is this really a success, or is it rather not evidence of a failure in the whole school curriculum, and of woful waste in our system of so-called "higher" education? are colleges for the training of merely mediocre minds? =aim and attitude more fundamental than method of instruction= these questions of aim and of attitude are more fundamental than is the question of the particular device of instruction to be used, as lecture, textbook, etc. yet the latter question is not without its importance. in general it appears that practice has moved and still moves in a cycle. in the american college world as a whole each particular college repeats some or all of the typical phases with the growth of its economic department. ( ) first is the textbook, with recitations in small classes. ( ) next, the lecture gradually takes a larger place as the classes grow, until, supplemented by required readings, it becomes the main tool of instruction, this being the cheapest and easiest way to take care of the rapidly growing enrollment. ( ) then, when this proves unsatisfactory, the lectures are perhaps cut down to two a week, and the class is divided into quiz sections for one meeting a week under assistants or instructors, the lecture still being the main center of the scheme of teaching. ( ) this still being unsatisfactory (partly because it lacks oversight of the students' daily work, and partly because the lecture is unsuited to the development of general principles that require careful and repeated study for their mastery), a textbook is made the basis of section meetings, held usually twice a week, and the lectures are reduced to one a week, given to the combined class, and so changed in character as to be merely supplementary to the class work. the lectures are given either in close connection week by week with the class work or bearing only a general relation with the term's work as a whole. this may be deemed the prevailing mode today in institutions where the introductory course has a large enrollment.[ ] ( ) another change completes the cycle; the lecture is dropped and the class is divided, each section, consisting of twenty to thirty students, meeting with the same teacher regularly for class work. this change was made after mature consideration in "the college" in columbia university; is in operation in chicago university, where the meetings are held five times a week; and has been adopted more recently still in new york university. there have been for years evidences of the growing desire to abolish the lecture from the introductory course and also to limit its use in some of the special undergraduate courses. the preceptorial plan adopted in by princeton university is the most notable instance of the latter change.[ ] even in graduate teaching in economics there has been a growing opinion and practice favorable to the "working" course or "seminar" course to displace lecture courses.[ ] thus the lecture seems likely to play a less prominent role, especially in the introductory courses, but it is not likely to be displaced entirely in the scheme of instruction. =selection of a textbook= numerous american textbooks on political economy (thirty, it is said) have been published in the last quarter of a century, a fact which has now and then been deplored by the pessimistic critic.[ ] few share this opinion, however. the textbooks have, to be sure, often served, not to unfold a consistent system of thought, but to reveal the lack of one. but they have afforded to the teachers and students, in a period of developing conceptions on the subjects, a wide choice of treatment of the principles much more exactly worked out and carefully expressed than is possible through the medium of lectures as recorded in the students' hastily written notes. questions, exercises, and test problems are widely used as supplementary material for classroom discussion.[ ] separately printed collections of such material date back at least to w. g. sumner's _problems in political economy_ ( ), which in turn acknowledged indebtedness to other personal sources and to milnes' collection of two thousand questions and problems from english examination papers. with somewhat varying aims, further commented upon below, and in varying degrees, all teachers of economics now make use of such questions in their teaching of both general and special courses. unquestionably there are, in the use of the problem method, possibilities for good which few teachers have fully realized.[ ] the selection and arrangement of materials for supplementary readings is guided by various motives, more or less intermingling. it may be chiefly to parallel a systematic text by extracts taken largely from the older "classics" of the subject (as in c. j. bullock's _selected readings in economics_, ); or to provide additional concrete material bearing mostly upon present economic problems (as in the author's _source book in economics_, ); or to supplement a set of exercises and problems (as in f. m. taylor's _some readings in economics_, ); or to constitute of itself an almost independent textbook of extracts, carefully edited with original introductions to chapters (as marshall, wright, and field's _materials for the study of elementary economics_, , and w. h. hamilton's _readings in current economic problems_, ). whatever be the particular tool of instruction, whether lecture, textbook with classroom discussion, problem study, or collateral readings, its use may be very different according as the teacher seeks to develop the subject positively or negatively, to present a single definite and (if he can) coherent body of doctrines, or a variety of opinions that have been held, among which the student is encouraged to choose. evidently the conditions determining choice in the case of advanced courses are different from those in the introductory course. for the beginner time is required in order that economic principles may sink in, and so he is bewildered if at first he is introduced to a number of theories by different authors. materials that supplement the general course of principles should therefore be limited to subject matter that is descriptive, concrete, and illustrative. the beginner, somewhat dazed with the variety of new facts, ideas, terminology, and problems in the field into which he has entered, needs guidance to think clearly step by step about them.[ ] not until the pupil has learned to see and apprehend the simpler economic phenomena near him can he be expected to survey the broader fields and to form independent judgments concerning complex situations. he must creep before he can run. in fact, teachers are often self-deceived when they imagine that they are leaving students to judge for themselves among various opinions or to find their way inductively to their own conclusions. the recitation, in truth, becomes the simple game of "hot and cold." the teacher has in mind what he considers the right answer; the groping student tries to guess it; and as he ventures this or that inexpert or lucky opinion he is either gently chided or encouraged. at length some bright pupil wins the game by agreeing with the teacher's theretofore skilfully concealed opinion. this is called teaching by the inductive method. undoubtedly it is more desirable to develop in the student the ability to think independently about economic questions than it is to drill him into an acceptance of ready-made opinions on contemporary practical issues. the more fundamental economic theory--the more because its bearing on pecuniary and class interests is not close or obvious--is an admirable organ for the development of the student's power of reasoning. but to give the student this training it is not necessary to keep him in the dark as to what he is to learn. the socratic method is still unexcelled in the discussion of a text and of lectures in which propositions are clearly laid down and explained. the theorem in geometry is first stated, and then the student is conducted step by step through the reasoning leading to that conclusion. should not the student of economics have presented to him in a similar way the idea or principle, and then be required to follow the reasoning upon which it is based? then, through questions and problems,--the more the better, if time permits of their thorough discussion and solution,--the student may be exercised in the interpretation of the principles, and by illustrations drawn from history and contemporary conditions may be shown the various applications of the principle to practical problems. to get and hold the student's _interest_, to fascinate him with the subject, is equal in importance to the method, for without interest good results are impossible.[ ] =tests or teaching results= it must be confessed that no exact objective measure of the efficiency of teaching methods in economics has been found. at best we have certain imperfect indices, among which are the formal examination, the student's own opinion at the close of the course, and the student's revised opinion after leaving college. the primary purpose of the traditional examination is not to test the relative merits of the different methods of teaching, but to test the relative merits of the various students in a class, whatever be the method of teaching. every teacher knows that high or low average marks in an entire class are evidences rather of the standard that he is setting than it is of the merits of his teaching methods,--though in some cases he is able to compare the results obtained after using two different methods of exposition for the same subject. but, as was indicated above, such a difference may result from his own temperament and may point only to the method that he can best use, not to the best absolutely considered. moreover, the teacher may make the average marks high or low merely by varying the form and content of the examination papers or the strictness of his markings. each ideal and method of teaching has its corresponding type of examination. descriptive and concrete courses lend themselves naturally to memory tests; theoretical courses lend themselves to problems and reasoning. a high type of question is one whose proper answer necessitates knowledge of the facts acquired in the course together with an interpretation of the principles and their application to new problems. memory tests serve to mark off "the sheep from the goats" as regards attention and faithful work; reasoning tests serve to give a motive for disciplinary study and to measure its results. it may perhaps seem easier to test the results of the student's work in memory subjects; but even as to that we know that there are various types of memory and how much less significant are marks obtained by "the cramming process" than are equally good marks obtained as a result of regular attention to daily tasks. the students' revised and matured judgment of the value of their various college studies generally differ, often greatly, from their judgments while taking or just after completing the courses. yet even years afterward can man judge rightly in his own case just what has been the relative usefulness to him of the different elements of his complex college training, or of the different methods employed?[ ] but the evidence that comes from the most successful alumni to the college teacher in economics is increasingly to the effect that the college work they have come to value most is that which "teaches the student to think." our judgments in this matter are influenced by the larger educational philosophy that we hold. each will have his standard of spiritual values. =moot questions in economics affecting the teaching of the subject= the moot questions in the teaching of the subject have, perhaps, been sufficiently indicated, but we may here add a word as to the bearings which certain moot questions in the theory of the subject may have on the methods of teaching. the fundamental theory of economics has, since the days of adam smith, been undergoing a process of continuous transition, but the broader concepts never have been more in dispute than in the last quarter century in america. the possibility of such diversity of opinion in the fundamentals among the leading exponents of the subject argues strongly that economics is still a philosophy--a general attitude of mind and system of opinion--rather than a positive science. at best it is a "becoming science" which never can cease entirely to have a speculative, or philosophic character. this is not the place to go into details of matters in controversy. suffice it to say that in rivalry to the older school--which is variously designated ricardian, orthodox, english, or classical--newer ideas have been developed, dating from the work of the austrian economists, of jevons, and of j. b. clark in the last decades of the nineteenth century. the older school had sought the explanation of value and the theory of distribution in objective factors,--partly in the chemical qualities of the soil, partly in labor, partly in the costs (or outlays) of the employing class. the psychological factor in value had been almost eliminated from this older treatment of value and price, or at best was imperfectly recognized under the name of "utility." the newer school made the psychological element primary in the positive treatment of economic principles, and launched a negative criticism against the older terms and ideas that effectively exposed their unsoundness considered separately and their inconsistency as a system of economic thought. both the negative criticisms and the proposed amendments taken one by one gained wide acceptance among economists. but when it came to embodying them in a general theory of economics, many economists have balked.[ ] most of the american texts in economics and much of our teaching show disastrous effects of this confusion and irresolution. the newer concepts, guardedly admitted to have some validity, appear again and again in the troubled discussions of recent textbook writers, which usually end with a rejection, "on the whole," of the logical implications of these newer concepts. many teachers thus have lost their grip on any coördinating theory of distribution. they no longer have any general economic philosophy. the old ricardian cock-sureness had its pedagogic merits. without faith, teaching perishes. the complaints of growing difficulty in the teaching of the introductory course seem to have come particularly from teachers that are in this unhappy state of mind. they declare that it is impossible longer to interest students successfully in a general theoretical course, and they are experimenting with all kinds of substitutes--de-nicotinized tobacco and kaffee hag--from which poisonous theory has been extracted. at the same time, economics "with a punch in it," economics "with a back bone," is being taught by strong young teachers of the new faith more successfully, perhaps, than economics has ever been taught in the past. this greater question of the teacher's conception of economics dominates all the minor questions of method. economics cannot be taught as an integrated course in principles by teachers without theoretical training and conceptions; in such hands its treatment is best limited to the descriptive phases of concrete special problems,--valuable, indeed, as a background and basis, but never rising to the plane upon which alone economics is fully worth the student's while as a college subject. frank albert fetter _princeton university_ bibliography the literature on the teaching of economics in the secondary schools, its need and its proper scope and method, is somewhat extensive. another goodly group of articles discusses the teaching of economic history and of other social sciences related to economics, either in high schools or colleges. a somewhat smaller group pertains to graduate instruction in the universities. the following brief list of titles, arranged chronologically, is most pertinent to our present purpose: "the relation of the teaching of economic history to the teaching of political economy" (pages - ), and "methods of teaching economics" (pages - ), _a. e. a. economic studies_, vol. , . proceedings of a conference on the teaching of elementary economics, _journal of political economy_, vol. , december, . taylor, f. m. "methods of teaching elementary economics," _journal of political economy_. vol. , december, , page . wolfe, a. b. "aim and content of a college course in elementary economics," _journal of political economy_, vol. , december, , page . symposium by carver, clark, seager, seligman, nearing, _et al._, _journal of political economy_, vol. , . report of the committee on the teaching of economics, _journal of political economy_, vol. , , pages - . robinson, l. n. "the seminar in the colleges," _journal of political economy_, vol. , , page . wolfe, a. b. "the aim and content of the undergraduate economics curriculum," _journal of political economy_, vol. , , page . persons, charles e. "teaching the introductory course in economics," _quarterly journal of economics_, november, . footnotes: [ ] see article by charles e. persons, on teaching the introductory course in economics, in _quarterly journal of economics_ vol. xxxi, november, , for a strong presentation of this civic ideal in economic study. [ ] compiled by the writer from data in the report of the committee appointed by the conference on the teaching of elementary economics, ; _journal of political economy_, november, , vol. , pages - . [ ] see page of the committee report cited above. [ ] evidently it is not possible to draw from these data any definite conclusions as to the proportion of students beginning economics in each of the four years respectively. but probably three-fourths of all, possibly four-fifths, take the general course either in the sophomore or the junior year. most of the institutions giving economics only in the senior year are small, with a very restricted curriculum, often limited to one general course. but it is a widely observed fact that many students in large institutions postpone the election of the subject till their senior year. [ ] of this see further below, page . [ ] article cited, _journal of political economy_, vol. , page . [ ] the society for the promotion of engineering education has had a standing committee on economics, since . the first committee was composed of three engineers (all of them consulting and in practice and two of them also teachers) and the present writer. [ ] in amherst, as described in _journal of political economy_ by professor w. h. hamilton, on "the amherst program in economics"; and in chicago university beginning in . see also, by the same writer, a paper on "the institutional approach to economic theory", in the _american economic review_, supplement, page , march, . [ ] at the meeting of the american economic association in , at which was discussed "the relation of the teaching of economic history to the teaching of political economy," the opinion was expressed by one teacher that economic history should follow the general course. but all the others agreed that such a course should begin the sequence, and this seems to be the almost invariable practice. see _economic studies_, volume iii. pages - , publications of the american economic association, . [ ] this plan has at various times been followed at stanford, cornell, harvard, and princeton, to cite only a few of the numerous examples. [ ] in this plan the sections are small (three to seven students) and the preceptor is expected to give much time to the personal supervision of the student's reading, reports, and general scholarship. the preceptorial work is rated at more than half of the entire work of the term. the one great difficulty of the preceptorial system is its cost. [ ] a strong plea is made for the "retirement of the lectures" by c. e. persons, in the _quarterly journal of economics_, vol. xxxi, "teaching the introductory course in economics," november, , pages - . [ ] professor j. h. hollander, _american economic review_, vol. vi, no. , supplement (march, ), page . see dissenting opinions in the discussion that followed. [ ] professor c. e. persons (art. cited page , november, ) gives the titles of ten separate books or pamphlets of this kind; since which date have appeared the author's "manual of references and exercises," parts i and ii, to accompany _economic principles_, , and _modern economic problems_, , respectively. [ ] among those most elaborately developing this method has been professor f. m. taylor of the university of michigan. see his paper on the subject and discussion in the _journal of political economy_, vol. vii, pages - (december, ). marshall, wright, and field published the _outline of economics_, developed as a series of problems in , which they used for a time as the main tool of instruction in the introductory course in chicago university. [ ] a thoughtful discussion of some phases of this problem is given by persons, art. cited, pages ff., favoring the more positive treatment with less distracting multiplicity of detail. [ ] to a former student of mine and now a successful teacher, dean j. r. turner of new york university, i am indebted for the suggestion of the following practical rules, a few among many possible, which should be helpful to younger teachers: (_a_) keep the student expecting a surprise, afraid to relax attention for fear of missing something. (_b_) by socratic method lead him into error, then have him (under cross fire and criticism of class) reason his way out. (_c_) make fallacious argument, then call for criticism giving distinction to him who renders best judgment. (_d_) set tasks and have members of class compete in intellectual contests. (_e_) make sure that each principle learned is seen in its relationship to practical affairs. (_f_) enliven each dry principle with an anecdote or illustration to elucidate it, for principles devoid of interesting features cannot secure attention and so will not be remembered. (_g_) accompany the discussion with charts and board work to visualize facts and questions to stimulate thought. (_h_) ask questions and so handle the class discussions that a few will not do all the talking, that foreign subject matter is not introduced, that a consistent and logical development of thought is strictly adhered to. (_i_) the last few minutes of the period might well be devoted to the assignment for the next meeting. the best manner of assignment must depend upon the nature of task, the advancement of the student, the purpose in view. [ ] an interesting study made by the department of education of harvard university of the teaching methods and results in the department of economics was referred to in president lowell's report. according to the answers of the alumni their work in economics is now valued mainly for its civic and disciplinary results (these do not seem to have been further distinguished). in the introductory course reading was ranked first, class work next, and lectures least, in value. in the advanced courses the lecture was ranked higher and class work lower, but that may be because the lecture plays a more important role there than in the lower classes. answers regarding such matters are at most significant as indicating the relative importance of the various methods as they have actually been employed in the particular institution, and have little validity in reference to the work and methods of other teachers working under other conditions, and with students having different life aims. [ ] the typical attitude of many economists is expressed about as follows: it is one thing to give assent to refinements when they are used in the discussion of some single point of theory, and it is quite another thing to accept them when one sees how, in their combined effect, they would carry us away from "the old familiar moorings." such a view, it need not be urged, reflects an unscientific state of mind. the real cause of the rejection of the ideas probably is the shrinking of over-busy men, in middle life, and absorbed in teaching and in special problems, from the intellectual task of restudying the fundamentals and revising many of their earlier formed opinions--to say nothing of rewriting many of their old lectures and manuscripts. xi the teaching of sociology =growth of sociology as a college subject= the teaching of sociology as a definite college subject in the united states began at yale nearly forty-five years ago. since it has been introduced into nearly american colleges, universities, normal schools, and seminaries. a study of this teaching in revealed over courses offered to over undergraduates and graduate students. it is safe to assume a steady growth during the last six years. hence the problem of teaching is of no little concern to sociologists. the american sociological society early recognized this fact and in appointed a committee of ten to report on certain aspects of the problem. but that all teachers of sociology have not grasped the bearing of pedagogy upon their work is clear from complaints still heard from students that sociology is vague, indefinite, abstract, dull, or scattered. not long ago some bright members of a class were overheard declaring that their professor must have been struck by a gust of wind which scattered his notes every day before getting to his desk. =the pedagogy of sociology the pedagogy of all college subjects= sociology is simply a way of looking at the same world of reality which every other science looks at in its own way. it cannot therefore depart far from the pedagogical principles tried out in teaching other subjects. it must utilize the psychology of attention, interest, drill, the problem method, procedure from the student's known to the new, etc. the universal pitfalls have been charted for all teachers by the educational psychologists. in addition, sociology may offer a few on its own account, partly because it is new, partly because a general agreement as to the content of fundamentals in sociology courses is just beginning to make itself felt, partly because there is so far no really good textbook available as a guide to the beginner. =methods of teaching sociology determined by a complex of vital factors= specific methods of teaching vary according to individual temperament, the "set" of the teacher's mind; according to his bias of class, birth, or training; according to whether he has been formed or deformed by some strong personality whose disciple he has become; according to whether he is a radical or a conservative; according to whether he is the dreamy, idealistic type or whether he hankers after concrete facts; according to whether sociology is a primary interest or only an incidental, more or less unwelcome. hence part of the difficulty, though by no means all, comes from the fact that sociology is frequently expounded by men who have received no specific training themselves in the subject, or who have had the subject thrust upon them as a side issue. in this connection it is interesting to note that in sociology was "given" in only cases by sociology departments, in by combinations of economics, history, and politics, in by philosophy and psychology, in by economics and applied christianity or theology, in by practical theology! =guiding principles in the teaching of sociology--the teacher as keen analyst, not revivalist= whatever the path which led into the sociological field or whatever the bias of temperament, experience justifies several preliminary hints for successful teaching. first, avoid the voice, the yearning manner, and the gesture of the preacher. sociology needs the cool-headed analyst rather than the social revivalist. let the sentimentalist and the muck-raker stay with their lecture circuits and the newspapers. the student wants enthusiasm and inspiration rather than sentimentality. =avoiding the formal lecture= second, renounce the lecture, particularly with young students. there is no surer method of blighting the interest of students, of murdering their minds, and of ossifying the instructor than to persist in the pernicious habit of the formal lecture. some men plead large classes in excuse. if they were honest with themselves they would usually find that they like large classes as a subtle sort of compliment to themselves. given the opportunity to break up a class of two hundred into small discussion groups they would frequently refuse, on the score that they would lose a fine opportunity to influence a large group. dodge it as you will, the lecture is and will continue to be an unsatisfactory, even vicious, way of attempting to teach social science. no reputable university tries to teach economics or politics nowadays in huge lecture sections. only an abnormal conceit or abysmal poverty will prevent sociology departments from doing likewise. remember that education is always an exchange, never a free gift. =adjusting instruction to the capacities of your students= third, do not be afraid to utilize commonplace facts and illustrations. a successful professor of sociology writes me that he can remember that what are mere commonplaces now were revelations to him at twenty-one. two of the greatest teachers of the nineteenth century, faraday and huxley, attributed their success to the simple maxim, take nothing for granted. it is safe to assume that most students come from homes where business and petty neighborhood doings are the chief concern, and where a broad, well-informed outlook on life is rare. since so many of my colleagues insist that young ph.d.'s tend constantly to "shoot over the heads" of their students, the best way of avoiding this particular pitfall seems to lie along the road of simple, elementary, concrete fact. the discussion method in the classroom will soon put the instructor right if he has gone to the other extreme of depreciating his students through kindergarten methods. likewise he can guard against being oracular and pedantic by letting out his superior stores of information through free discussion in the socratic fashion. nothing is more important to good teaching than the knack of apt illustration. while to a certain extent it can be taught, just as the art of telling a humorous story or making a presentation speech can be communicated by teachers of oral english, yet in the long run it is rather a matter of spontaneous upwellings from a well-stored mind. for example, suppose a class is studying the factors of variation and selection in social evolution: the instructor shows how nature loves averages, not only by statistics and experiments with the standard curve of distribution, but also, if he is a really illuminated teacher, by reference, say, to the legend of david and goliath, the fairy tale of _little one-eye, little two-eye, little three-eye_, and lincoln's famous aphorism to the effect that the lord must love the common people because he made so many of them. sad experience advises that it is unsafe for an instructor any longer to assume that college sophomores are familiar with the old testament, classic myths, or greek and roman history. hence he must beware of using any recondite allusions or illustrations which themselves need so much explanation that their bearing on the immediate problem in hand is obscured. an illustration, like a funny story, loses its pungency if it requires a scholium. =pedagogical suggestions summarized= fourth, adhere to what a friend calls the to basis-- parts fact and part theory. fifth, eschew the professor's chair. the blackboard is the teacher's "next friend." recent time-motion studies lead us to believe that no man can use a blackboard efficiently unless he stands! the most celebrated teaching in history was peripatetic. sixth, postpone the reconciling of discrepant social theorizings to the tougher-hided seniors or graduate students, and stick to the presentation of "accessible realities." finally, an occasional friendly meeting with students, say once or twice a semester at an informal supper, will create an atmosphere of coöperative learning, will break down the traditional barriers of hostility between master and pupil, and may incidentally bring to the surface many useful hints for the framing of discussion problems. =the course of study--(a) determined by the maturity of the students= to a certain extent teaching methods are determined by the age of the students. in , of all the institutions reporting, stated that sociology instruction began in the junior year; admitted sophomores, freshmen, seniors. but the unmistakable drift is in the direction of introducing sociology earlier in the college curriculum, and even into secondary and elementary schools. hence the cautions voiced above tend to become all the more imperative. moreover, while in the past it has been possible to exact history, economics, political science, philosophy, psychology, or education as prerequisite to beginning work in sociology, in view of the downward trend of sociology courses it becomes increasingly more difficult to take things for granted in the student's preparation. until the dream of offering a semester or year of general social science to all freshmen as the introduction to work in the specialized branches of social science comes true, the sociologist must communicate to his elementary classes a sense of the relations between his view of social phenomena and the aspects of the same phenomena which the historian, the economist, the political scientist, and the psychologist handle. =(b) determined by its aims= both the content and methods of sociological instruction are determined also in part by what its purpose is conceived to be. a study of the beginnings of teaching this subject in the united states shows that it was prompted primarily by practical ends. for example, the american social science association proposal ( ), in so far as it covered the field of sociology, included only courses on punishment and reformation of criminals, public and private charities, and prevention of vice. president white of cornell in recommended a course of practical instruction "calculated to fit young men to discuss intelligently such important social questions as the best methods of dealing practically with pauperism, intemperance, crime of various degrees and among persons of different ages, insanity, idiocy, and the like." columbia university early announced that a university situated in such a city, full of problems at a time when "industrial and social progress is bringing the modern community face to face with social questions of the greatest magnitude, the solution of which will demand the best scientific study and the most honest practical endeavor," must provide facilities for bringing university study into connection with practical work. in definite practical courses shared honors of first place with the elementary or general course in college announcements. the situation was practically the same ten years later. still more recently professor blackmar, one of the veterans in sociology teaching, worked out rather an elaborate program of what he called a "reasonable department of sociology for colleges and universities." in spite of the fact that theoretical, biological, anthropological, and psychological aspects of the subject were emphasized, his conclusion was that "the whole aim is to ground sociology in general utility and social service. it is a preparation for social efficiency." =(c) determined by the social character of the community= the principle of adaptation to environment comes into play also in the choice of teaching methods. an urban department can send its students directly into the field for first-hand observation of industry, housing, sanitation, congestion, playgrounds, immigration, etc., and may encourage "supervised field work" as fulfilling course requirements. but the country or small town department far removed from large cities must emphasize rural social study, or get its urban data second hand through print, charts, photographs, or lantern slides. a semester excursion to the city or to some state charitable institution adds such a touch of vividness to the routine class work. but "slumming parties" are to be ruthlessly tabooed, particularly when featured in the newspapers. social science is not called upon to make experimental guinea pigs of the poor simply because of their poverty and inability to protect themselves. =the introductory course the vital point of contact between student and the department= for many reasons the most serious problems of teaching sociology center about the elementary or introductory course. advanced undergraduate and graduate courses usually stand or fall by the inherent appeal of their content as organized by the peculiar genius of the instructor. if the student has been able to weather the storms of his "introduction," he will usually have gained enough momentum to carry him along even against the adverse winds of bad pedagogy in the upper academic zones. since the whole purpose of sociology is the very practical one of giving the student mental tools with which to think straight on societal problems (what comte called the "social point of view"), and since usually only a comparatively small number find it possible to specialize in advanced courses, the introductory course assumes what at first sight might seem a disproportionate importance. only one or two teachers of sociology, so far as i know, discount the value of an elementary course. the rest are persuaded of its fundamental importance, and many, therefore, consider it a breach of trust to turn over this course to green, untried instructors. partly as a recruiting device for their advanced courses, partly from this sense of duty, they undertake instruction of beginners. but it is often impossible for the veteran to carry this elementary work: he must commit it to younger men. for that reason the remainder of this chapter will be given over to a discussion of teaching methods for such an elementary course, with younger teachers in mind. =teaching suggestions for the introductory course= first, two or three general hints. it is unwise, to say the least, to attempt to cover the social universe in one course. better a few simple concepts, abundantly illustrated, organized clearly and systematically. perhaps it is dangerous to suggest a few recurrent catch phrases to serve as guiding threads throughout the course, but that was the secret of the old ballad and the folk tale. homer and the makers of fairy tales combined art and pedagogy in their use of descriptive epithets. such a phrase as ward's "struggle for existence is struggle for structure" might furnish the framework of a whole course. "like-mindedness," "interest-groups," "belief-groups," and "folk-ways" are also convenient refrains. nobody but a thoroughgoing pedant will drag his students through two weeks' lectures and a hundred pages of text at the beginning of the course in the effort to define sociology and chart all its affinities and relations with every other science. twenty minutes at the first class meeting should suffice to develop an understanding of what the scientific attitude is and a tentative definition of sociology. the whole course is its real definition. at the end of the term the very best way of indicating the relation of sociology to other sciences is through suggestions about following up the leads obtained in the course by work in biology, economics, psychology, and other fields. this correlation of the student's program gives him an intimate sense of the unity in diversity of the whole range of science. if the student is to avoid several weeks of floundering, he should be led directly to observe societal relations in the making. this can perhaps be accomplished best through assigning a series of four problems at the first class meetings. problem i: to show how each student spins a web of social relationship. let him take a sheet of paper, place a circle representing himself in the middle of it, then add dots and connecting lines for every individual or institution he forms a contact with during the next two or three days. he will get a figure looking something like this: [illustration] problem ii: to show how neighborhoods are socially bound up. let the student take a section, say two or three blocks square, in a district he knows well, and map it,--showing all the contacts. again he will get a web somewhat like this: [illustration] these diagrams are adapted from students' reports. if they seem absurdly simple, it is well to remember that experience reveals the student's amazing lack of ability to vizualize social relationships without some such device. these diagrams, however, should serve merely as the point of departure. add to them charts showing the sources of milk and other food supplies of a large city, and a sense of the interdependence and reciprocity of city and country will develop. take a mercator's projection map of the world and draw the trade routes and immigration streams to indicate international solidarities. such diagrams as the famous health tract "a day in the life of a fly" or the story of typhoid mary are helpful in establishing how closely a community is bound together. problem iii: to show the variety and kinds of social activities, i.e., activities that bring two or more people into contact. have the student note down even the homeliest sorts of such activities, the butcher, the postman, the messenger boy; insist that he go out and look instead of guessing or reading; require him to group these activities under headings which he may work out for himself. he will usually arrive at three or four, such as getting a living, recreation, political. it may be wise to ask him to grade these activities as helpful, harmful, strengthening, or weakening, in order to accustom him to the idea that sociology must treat of good, bad, and indifferent objects. problem iv: to determine what the preponderant social interests and activities are as judged by the amount of time men devote to them. let the student try a "time budget" for a fortnight. for this purpose giddings suggests a large sheet of paper ruled for a wide left-hand margin and narrow columns: the first columns for hours of the day, the th for the word "daily," and the last seven for the seven days of the week. in the margin the student writes the names of every activity of whatever description during the waking hours. this will furnish excellent training in exact habits of observation and recording, and inductive generalization. when the summary is made at the end of the fortnight, the student will have worked for himself the habitual "planes of interest" along which social activities lie. at this point he ought to have convinced himself that the subject matter of sociology is concrete reality, not moonshine. moreover, he should be able to lay down certain fundamental marks of a social group, such as a common impulse to get together, common sentiments, ideas, and beliefs, reciprocal service. from the discovery of habitual planes of interest (self-maintenance, self-perpetuation, self-assertion, self-subordination, etc.) it is a simple step to show diagrammatically how each interest impels an activity, which tends to precipitate itself into a social habit or institution. --------------------------------------------------------------------- inner urge or interest | motor expression in | resultant group habit (instinct or | activity | or institution disposition) | | -----------------------+----------------------+---------------------- hunger; will-to-live | the food-quest | economic technique self-maintenance | | property, invention, | | material arts of life -----------------------+----------------------+---------------------- sex : | procreation and | the family, ancestor self-perpetuation | parenthood | worship, courts of | | domestic relations, | | patriarchal government, | | etc. --------------------------------------------------------------------- =to make sociology real make it egocentric= the way is now clear for the two next steps, the concepts of causation and development. here again why not follow the egocentric plan of starting with what the student knows? ask him to write a brief but careful autobiography answering the questions--how have i come to be what i am? what influences personal or otherwise have played upon me?[ ] the student is almost certain to lay hold of the principle of determining or controlling forces, and of evolution or change; he may even be able to analyze rather clearly the different types of control which have coöperated in his development. from this start it is easy to develop the genetic concept of social life. the individual grows from simple to complex. why not the race? here introduce a comparison between the social group known to the student, a retarded group (such as macclintock's or vincent's study of the kentucky mountaineers[ ]) or a frontier community, and a contemporary primitive tribe (say, the hupa or seri indians, negritos, bontoc igorot, bangala, kafirs, yakuts, eskimo, or andaman islanders). require a detailed comparison arranged in parallel columns on such points as size, variety of occupation, food supply, security of life, institutions, family life, language, religion, superstitions, and opportunities for culture. these two points of departure--the student's interest in his own personality and the community influences that have molded it, and the comparative study of a primitive group--should harmonize the two chief rival views of teaching sociologists; namely, those who urge the approach to sociology through anthropology and those who find the best avenue through the concrete knowledge of the _socius_. moreover, it lays a foundation for a discussion of the antiquity of man, his kinship with other living things, and his evolution; that is, the biological presupposition of human society. here let me testify to the great help which osborn's photographs[ ] of reconstructions of the pithecanthropos, piltdown, neanderthal, and crô-magnon types have rendered in clearing away prejudices and in vivifying the remote past. religious apprehensions in particular may be allayed also by referring students to articles on race, man, evolution, anthropology, etc., in such compilations as the _catholic encyclopedia_ and hastings' _encyclopedia of religion and ethics_. the opening chapters in marett's little book on _anthropology_ are so sanely and admirably written that they also clear away many prejudices and fears. with such a concrete body of facts contrasting primitive with modern civilized social life the student will naturally inquire, how did these changes come about? at this point should come normally the answer in terms of what practically all sociologists agree upon; namely, the three great sets of determining forces or phenomena, the three "controls": ( ) the physical environment (climate, topography, natural resources, etc.); ( ) man's own nature (psycho-physical factors, the factors in biological evolution, the role of instinct, race, and possibly the concrete problems of immigration and eugenics); ( ) social heredity (folk-ways, customs, institutions, the arts of life, the methods of getting a living, significance of tools, distribution of wealth, standards of living, etc.) a blackboard diagram will show how these various factors converge upon any given individual.[ ] the amplification of these three points will ordinarily make up the body of an introductory course so far as class work goes. ethnography should furnish rich illustrative material. but to make class discussions really productive the student's knowledge of his own community must be drawn upon. and the best way of getting this correlation is through community surveys. the student should be required as parallel laboratory work to prepare a series of chapters on his ward or part of his ward or village, covering the three sets of determining factors. the instructor may furnish an outline of the topics to be investigated, or he may pass around copies of such brief survey outlines as aronovici's _knowing one's own community_ or miss byington's _what social workers should know about their own communities_; he may also refer them to any one of the rapidly growing number of good urban and rural surveys as models. but he should not give too much information as to where materials for student reports may be obtained. the disciplinary value of having to hunt out facts and uncover sources is second only to the value of accurate observation and effective presentation. if the aim of a sociology course is social efficiency, experience shows no better way of getting a vivid, sober, first-hand knowledge of community conditions. and there is likewise no surer way of compelling students to substitute facts for vapid wordiness and snap judgments. toward the end of the course many of us have found it profitable to introduce a brief discussion of what may be called the highest term of the series; namely, the evolution of two or three typical institutions, say law and government, education, religion, and the family. these topics will serve to clinch the earlier discussions and to crystallize a few ideas on social control and perhaps even social progress. normally such a course will close with a fuller definition of the meaning of sociology, its content, its value in the study of other sciences, and, if time permits, a brief historical sketch of the development of sociology as a separate science. =the use of a text for study= i have no certified advice to offer on the question of textbooks. but the almost universal cry of sociology teachers is that so far no really satisfactory text has been produced. some men still use spencer, some write their own books, some try to adapt to their particular needs such texts as are issued from time to time, some use none at all but depend upon a more or less well-correlated syllabus or set of readings. there is undoubtedly a profitable demand for a good elementary source book comparable to thomas's _source book on social origins_ or marshall, wright, and field's _materials for the study of elementary economics_. nearly any text will need freshening up by collateral reading from such periodicals as _the survey or the new republic_. in order to secure effective and correlated outside reading, many teachers have found it helpful to require the students to devote the first five or ten minutes of a class meeting once a week or even daily to a written summary of their readings and of class discussions. such a device keeps readings fresh and enables the teacher to emphasize the points of contact between readings and class work. =the social museum= every university should develop some sort of a social museum, to cover primitive types of men, the evolution of tools, arts of life, manners and customs, and contemporary social conditions. these can be displayed in the form of plaster casts, ethnographic specimens, photographs, lantern slides, models of housing, statistical charts, printed monographs, etc. the massing of a series of these illustrations sometimes produces a profound effect. for example, the corridor leading to the sociology rooms at the university of minnesota has been lined with large photographs of tenement conditions, child labor, immigrant types, etc. the student's interest and curiosity have been heightened immensely. once a semester, during the discussion of the economic factor in social life, we stage what is facetiously called "a display of society's dirty linen." the classroom is decorated with a set of charts showing the distribution of wealth, wages, cost of living, growth of labor unions and other organizations of economic protest. the mass effect is a cumulative challenge. =field work: values and limitations= finally, a word about "field work" as a teaching device. field work usually means some sort of social service practice work under direction of a charitable agency, juvenile court, settlement, or playground. but beginning students are usually more of a liability than an asset to such agencies; they lack the time to supervise students' work, and field work without strict supervision is a farcical waste of time. if such agencies will accept a few students who have the learner's attitude rather than an inflated persuasion of their social messiahship, field work can become a very valuable adjunct to class work. in default of such opportunities the very best field work is an open-eyed study of one's own community, in the attempt to find out what actually is rather than to reform a hypothetical evil.[ ] arthur j. todd _university of minnesota_ footnotes: [ ] in order to secure frank statements, both these autobiographies and the time budgets may be handed in anonymously. [ ] _american journal of sociology_, : - ; : - , - . [ ] in his _men of the old stone age_. [ ] see such a diagram in todd, _theories of social progress_, page . [ ] while accepting full responsibility for the opinions herein set forth, i wish to express my appreciation of assistance rendered by a large group of colleagues in the american sociological society. xii the teaching of history a. the teaching of american history =function of the teacher of history= history as a science attempts to explain the development of civilization. the investigator of the sources of history must do his part in a truly scientific spirit. he must examine with the utmost scrutiny the many sources on which the history of the past has its foundation. he reveals facts, and through them the truth is established. but history is more than a science. it is an art. the investigator is not necessarily a historian, any more than a lumberman is an architect. the historian must use all available material, whether the result of his own researches or that of others. he must weigh all facts and deduct from them the truth. he must analyze, synthesize, organize, and generalize. he must absorb the spirit of the people of whom he writes and color the narrative as little as possible with his own prejudices. but the historian must be more than a narrator; he must be an interpreter. as an interpreter he should never lose sight of the fact that all his deductions should be along scientific lines. even then he will not escape errors. in pure science error is inadmissible. in history minor errors of fact are unavoidable, but their presence need not seriously affect the general conclusions. in spite of many misstatements of fact, a historical work may be substantially correct in the main things--in presenting and interpreting with true perspective the life and spirit of the people of whom it treats. the historian must be more than a chronicler and an interpreter. he must be master of a lucid, virile, attractive literary style. the power of expression, indeed, must be one of his chief accomplishments. the old notion, it is true, that history is merely a branch of literature is quite as erroneous as the later theory that history is a pure science and must be dissociated from all literary form. =the teacher of history as the teacher of the evolution of civilization= the pioneer investigator who patiently delves into sources and brings to light new material deserves high praise, but far rarer is the gift of the man who sees history in its true perspective, who can construct the right relationships and can then reproduce the past in compelling literary form. a historian without literary charm is like an architect who cares only for the utility and nothing for the grace and beauty of his building. =the chronological point of view= the history teacher who slavishly follows old chronological methods has not kept pace with modern progress; but the teacher who has discarded the chronological method has ventured without a compass on an unknown sea. chronology, the sequence of events, is as necessary in history as distance and direction in geography. =the economic point of view= a modern school of history teachers would make economics the sole background of history, would explain all historic events from the economic standpoint--to which school this writer does not belong. economics has played a great part in the course of human events, but it is only one of many causes that explain history. for example, the trojan war (if there was a trojan war), the conquests of alexander, the mohammedan invasions, were due chiefly to other causes. =the culture viewpoint= nor would we agree with the school of modern educators who would eliminate the culture studies from the curriculum, retaining only those which make for present-day utilitarianism. a general education imparts power and enlarges life, and such an education should precede all technical and specialized training. if a young man with the solid foundation of a liberal education fail in this or that walk of life, the fault must be sought elsewhere than in his education. the late e. h. harriman made a wise observation when he said that though a high school graduate may excel the college graduate in the same employment for the first year, the latter would at length overtake and pass him and henceforth remain in the lead. =aims of history in the college curriculum= the uses of the study of history are many, the most important of which perhaps is that it aids us in penetrating the present. our understanding of every phase of modern life is no doubt strengthened by a knowledge of the past. it is trite but true to say that the study of history is a study of human nature, that a knowledge of the origin and growth of the institutions we enjoy makes for a good citizenship, that the study of history is a cultural study and that it ranks with other studies as a means of mental discipline. finally, the reading of history by one who has learned to love it is an abiding source of entertainment and mental recreation. it is one of the two branches of knowledge (the other being literature) which no intelligent person, whatever his occupation, can afford to lay aside after quitting school. =what can the study of american history give the college student?= the most important historical study is always that of one's own country. in our american colleges, therefore, the study of american history must take precedence over that of any other, though an exception may be made in case a student is preparing to teach the history of some other country or period. it must not be forgotten, however, by the student of american history that a study of the european background is an essential part of it. from its very newness the history of the united states may seem less fascinating than that of the older countries, and, indeed, it is true that the glamour of romance that gathers around the stories of royal dynasties, orders of nobility, and ancient castles is wanting in american history. but there is much to compensate for this. the coming of the early settlers, often because of oppression in their native land, their long struggle with the forest and with the wild men and wild beasts of the forest, the gradual conquest of the soil, the founding of cities, the transplanting of european institutions and their development under new environment--the successful revolt against political oppression and the fearless grappling with the problem of self-government when nearly all governments in the world were monarchical--these and many other phases of american history furnish a most fascinating story as a mere story. =to the college student american history must be presented as evidence of the success of democracy= but to the student of politics and history the most unique and interesting thing, perhaps, in american history lies in the fact that the united states is the first great country in the world's history in which the federal system has been successful--if we assume that our experimental period has passed. perhaps the greatest of all governmental problems is just this: how to strike the right balance between these opposing tendencies--liberty and union, democracy and nationality--so that the people may enjoy the benefits of both. the united states has, no doubt, come nearer than any other country to solving this problem, and the fact greatly enhances the interest in our history. this is a question of political science rather than of history, it is true, but the history of any country and its government are inseparably bound together. =utilitarian value= in the regular college curriculum there should be, in my opinion, two courses in american history. =organization of courses and methods of teaching= _course i_--about hours for one academic year ( semester-hours) in the freshman or sophomore year, covering the whole story of the united states. about one third of the year's work should cover the colonial and revolutionary periods. of the remaining two thirds of the year i should devote about half to the period since the civil war. this course should be required of all students taking the a.b. degree and in all other liberal arts courses; an exception may be made in the case of those taking certain specialized scientific courses--for these students, the history required in the high school may be deemed sufficient. in this course a textbook is necessary, and if the class is large it is desirable that the text be uniform. the text should be written by a true historian with broad and comprehensive views, by one who knows how to appraise historic values, and, if possible, by one who commands an attractive literary style. if the textbook is written by dr. dry-as-dust, however learned he may be, the whole burden of keeping the class interested rests with the teacher; and, moreover, many of the students will never become lovers of the subject to such a degree as to make it a lifelong study. the exclusive lecture system is intolerable, and the same is true of the quiz. a teacher will do his best work if untrammeled by rules. he should conduct a class in his own way and according to his own temperament. it is doubtful if the teacher who carefully plans and maps out the work he intends to present to the class is the most successful teacher. a teacher who is free, spontaneous, without a fixed method, ready in passing from the lecture to the quiz and vice versa at any moment, quick in asking unexpected questions, will usually have little trouble in keeping a class alert. above all, a teacher of college history must explain the meaning of things with far greater fullness than is possible in a condensed textbook, and it is a most excellent practice to ask opinions of members of the class on almost all debatable questions that may arise. the reason for this is obvious. the usual method of the writer, in as far as he has a method, is to spend the first fifteen or twenty minutes of the class hour in hearing reports from two or three students on special topics that have been assigned them a week or two before, topics that require library reference work and that could not possibly be developed from the textbook. these topics are not on the subject of the day's lesson, but of some preceding lesson. after commenting on these reports and often asking for opinions and comments of the class, we plunge into the day's lesson. the use of a current periodical in class should be encouraged. it brings the learner into direct contact with life and often illuminates the past. current events as presented in the daily papers should often be the subject of comment, but the daily newspaper is not suitable for class use. even the weekly is, for several reasons, less desirable than the monthly. it must not be forgotten that the basal, fundamental work of the class is, not to keep posted on current affairs, but to study the elements under the guidance of a textbook and an inspiring teacher to interpret it. the weekly is less accurate than the monthly and less literary in form, and, moreover, it comes too often. it is apt to take too much time from the study of the fundamentals. the use of the periodical in the history class has probably come to stay and it should stay, but it should be only incidental and supplementary. _course ii_ should be given in the junior or senior year. it should be elective, should cover at least two year-hours, and should be wholly devoted to the national period of american history. only those having taken course i should be eligible to this class. every student who expects to read law, to enter journalism or politics, or to teach history or political science should take this course. the class will be smaller than in course i. uniform textbooks need not be required, or the class may be conducted without a text. most of the work must be done from the library. it is assumed that the members of this class have a good knowledge of the narrative, and it is needless to follow it closely again. a better plan is to choose an important phase of the history here and there and study intensively. much use should be made of original sources such as presidents' messages, _congressional record_, speeches and writings of the times, but the class must not ignore the fact that a vast amount of good material may be had from the historians. it must also be remembered that original research is for the graduate student and the specialist rather than for the undergraduate. =testing the results of instruction= in conclusion, i shall explain a method of examination that i have frequently employed with apparently excellent results. two or three weeks before the time of the examination i give the class a series of topics, perhaps fifty or more, carefully chosen from the entire subject that has been studied during the semester. instead of having the usual review of the text, we talk over these subjects in class during the remainder of the semester. the examination is oral, not written. the time for examination is divided into three, four, or five minute periods, according to the number in the class. when a student's name is called, he comes forward and draws from a box one of the topics and dilates on it before the class during his allotted time. if he fails on the first topic he may have another draw, but his grade will be reduced. a second failure would mean a "flunk," unless the class marks are very high. there are three or four real advantages in this form of examination: ( ) it saves the teacher hours of labor in reading examination papers; ( ) the teacher, in selecting the topics, omits the unimportant and chooses only the salient, leading subjects such as every student should master and remember; ( ) the student, knowing that no new questions will be sprung for the examination, will be almost sure to be prepared on every question. failures under this system have been much less frequent than under the old system of written examinations; ( ) it practically eliminates all chance of cheating in examination. henry w. elson _thiel college_ b. modern european history =history to be taught as an evolutionary process= teaching european history in colleges is, in many ways, not different from teaching any other history. in each instance it is to be remembered that history includes all activities of man and not merely his political life, that facts and data are not intrinsically valuable but are merely a means to an end, that the end of history is to inform us where man came from, what experiences he passed through, and _chiefly_, what were the fundamental forces behind his experiences. the emphasis should be put on the stimuli--economic, political, religious, or social--that lead man to act, instead of narrating his action. in a word, not _what_ happened or _when_ it happened, but _why_ it happened, is of importance in college history. stressing the stimuli in history will almost inevitably lead to treating history as a continuous or evolutionary process, which of itself greatly increases the interest of the subject. =because history is an evolution it must explain the present= it is highly desirable that in teaching modern history very much more time be given to recent history than has generally been the case. frederick william i showed that he accepted this when he instructed the tutors of frederick (later the great) to teach the history of the last fifty years to the exactest pitch. so important is this that, even when teaching early periods, constant contrasts or comparisons with present conditions should be made, and the descent of ideas and institutions to modern times should be sketched, as it shows the student that remote events or institutions have a relationship to current life. =disciplinary values of history= certain special aims of history have been advocated. it is held to be of disciplinary value, especially in strengthening the memory. though this is true, it is hardly a good reason for studying history, as the memory can be perfected on almost anything, on the dictionary, poetry, formulæ, family records, gossip, or cans on grocery shelves, some of which may indeed be of more practical value than dates. in college, at least, history should aim to explain social tendencies and processes in a rational way rather than to develop the memory. the latter method tends to make the student passive and narrow, the former requires cerebration and develops breadth and depth of vision. understanding history, rather than memorizing it, has cultural value. to be sure, understanding presupposes information; but where there is a desire to understand, the process of seeking and acquiring the information is natural and tends to care for itself. history is not a prerequisite to professional careers in the way mathematics is to engineering; still, special periods, chiefly the modern, are highly useful to lawyers, journalists, publicists, statesmen, and others, each of whom selects what he finds most useful to his purposes. =organization of courses in history--what to teach in the beginning course= the point of view in history teaching is more material than the machinery or methods employed. these must and should vary with persons and conditions. ordinarily, however, it seems preferable to offer some part of european history as the first-year college course, because students have usually had considerable american history in high school, and the change adds new interest. whether this course be general, medieval, or modern european history is of little importance, though, of course, medieval should precede modern history. in any case, the course should offer the student a good deal more than he may have had in high school, if for no other reason than to justify the profound respect with which he ordinarily comes to college. it should come often enough a week to grip the student, especially the history major. =gradation of courses determined by content= gradation of courses in history on the basis of subject matter is largely arbitrary, and turns upon the method of presentation. general courses naturally precede period courses. a sound principle is to select courses adapted to the stages of the student's development. on this principle it has already been suggested that the first college course should be, not american but european history. english, ancient, medieval, or modern history immediately suggest themselves, with strong arguments in favor of the first if but one freshman course is offered, as it forms a natural projection of american history into the past. beyond this, what subject matter is offered in the several years is largely a matter of local convenience, as the college student understands the general history of all nations or periods about equally well. it is now clear, however, that the student should know more modern and contemporary european history than he has been getting, and the sound training of an american of the future should include thorough training in modern european history. =gradation of courses may be determined by method of teaching= gradation based on the method of presentation is more nearly possible. graduate courses presuppose training in the auxiliary sciences, in the necessary languages, in research methods, in the special field of research, as well as a knowledge of general history. this establishes a sort of sequence of the methods to be employed, irrespective of subject matter. =method of teaching introductory courses--lecture method= the lecture method is convenient for the elementary courses, especially if, as is so often the case, these have a large number of students. it cannot, however, be gainsaid that convenience or, worse still, economy is a weak argument in favor of the lecture course, especially for the first-year student. to him the lecture method is unknown, and he flounders about a good deal if he is left to work out his own salvation; and then, too, just when he needs personal direction and particularly when, as a youth away from home for the first time, he needs some definite and unescapable task that shall teach discipline and duty as well as give information, the lecture system gives him the maximum of liberty with the minimum of aid or direction. these considerations strongly advocate small classes for freshmen, frequent recitations, discussions, tests, papers and maps, library problems--in short, a laboratory system. every student should always have at least one course in which he is held to rigid and exact performance. these courses should be required, no matter what the special field or period of history, and should form a sequence leading to a degree and providing training for a technical and professional career. in addition to these courses, designed to assure personal work and supervision, enough other, presumably lecture, courses should be required to secure a general knowledge of history. beyond that there are always enough electives to satisfy any personal wish or whim of the student. =topical method in european history= there is much to be said, especially in modern history, for the topical treatment of institutions. in a very specialized course a single institution may be treated; but even in a general course, treating the several human institutions as evolutionary organisms seems preferable and is more interesting than a chronological narrative, which grows more inane the more general the course. courses which come to modern times can trace existing institutions and their immediate antecedents, thus giving an advantage that many instructors neglect from the mere tradition that history does not come down to living man. no primitive superstition needs to be dispelled more than this, if history is to maintain its hold in the modern college. indeed, whenever possible--which is always with modern history--a course should start from the present by dwelling on the existing conditions the historical antecedents of which are to be traced. if this is done, the student forthwith secures a vital interest and feels that he is trying to understand his own rather than past times. after this preliminary the past can be traced chronologically or topically as preferred, the textbook serving as a quarry for data, the teacher seeing to it that the change or progress toward the present condition is perceived and understood, and furnishing corroborative and analogous materials from the history of other nations and periods. =assigned reading= it is the general practice of college courses in history to require outside reading. though this rests on the sound ground that the student ought to get a large background and learn to know books and writers, it is very doubtful whether this aim is, in fact, achieved. the student often has too much work to permit of much outside reading, and often the library is too limited to give him a good choice, or to permit him to keep a desirable book until he has finished reading it. unguided reading is almost certainly a failure; reading guided only by putting a selected list of books before the student is not sure to be a success. the instructor ought from time to time to tell his class something about the books he suggests, and about their authors and their careers, viewpoints and merits, as a reader always profits by knowing these things. as the reading of snatches from collateral books is hardly profitable, so the perusal of longer histories is often impossible, and generally confines the student for a long time to the minutiæ of one period while the class is going forward. in view of these difficulties there is much to be said in favor of putting a large textbook into the hands of a class, and requiring a thorough reading and understanding of it, and correspondingly reducing outside readings. if collateral reading is demanded, it is a good plan to require students to read a biography or a work on some special institution falling within the scope of the course,--some selected historical novel even,--for in that way the student reads, as he will in later life, something he selects instead of a required number of pages, a specific thing is covered, an author's acquaintance is made, and therefore a significant test can be conducted. furthermore, as some students will buy special volumes of this kind, the pressure on the library is reduced. direct access to reference shelves is always recommended. one of our universities has a system of renting preferred books to students. =tests on outside reading= tests on outside reading are always difficult, but they must be employed if the reading is not to become a farce. by having weekly reading reports on uniform cards, one can often arrange groups of students who have read the same thing and can therefore be tested by a single question. by extending this over several weeks the majority of students, even in a large class, can be tested with relatively few questions. some instructors require students to hand in their reading notes, others check up the books the students use in the library, still others have consultation periods in which they inquire into the student's reading. quiz sections, if there are any, offer a good opportunity to test collateral reading. =miscellaneous aids in teaching history= map making, coördinated with the recitations and so designed as to require more than mere tracing, is desirable in introductory courses. the imaginative historical theme written by the student is employed--and successfully, it is declared--in one college. a syllabus is highly useful in the hands of students in lecture courses. it can be mimeographed at comparatively slight expense for each lecture, thus permitting changes in successive years--a distinct advantage over the printed syllabus. =the problem of suitable examination= how to give a fair and telling examination is the college teacher's perennial problem. the less he teaches and insists on facts and details, the greater his quandary. a majority of students incline to parrot what they have heard, to the dismay of the teacher who wants them to make the subject their own. hence tests calling the memory only into play do not satisfy the true teacher or the thoughtful student. at the least there should be some questions requiring constructive or synthetic thinking by the student. above all, the instructor of introductory work should form a first-hand personal opinion of the student by requiring him to come to the office for consultation. nothing can take the place of the personal touch. quiz masters are better than no touch; but they are a poor substitute for the small class and direct contact, even if the instructor is not one of the masters of the profession. =the worth of topical or institutional treatment= the topical or institutional treatment of history has been mentioned above as being particularly applicable to modern history. if carefully worked out beforehand it can be made to embrace virtually everything--certainly everything significant--that is contained either in the text or in a chronological narrative. to be sure, a topical treatment of this kind places more emphasis on the common experiences of mankind than does national history, and, as some nations or peoples precede others in a given development, history becomes continuous instead of fragmentary. perhaps, too, the way certain matters are introduced into "continuous" history may appear forced, unless it be remembered that this impression is created merely by its dissimilarity from the usual interpretation, which is just as arbitrary and forced until one gets accustomed to it. =classification in topical treatment= it will be serviceable in arranging a topical treatment of any period of history, which shall show a sense of historical continuity and keep in mind the fundamental stimuli and causes of human action, to note that virtually all human interests can be classified under one of the following six heads: physical, economic, social, religious, political, and intellectual (or cultural). though these are never wholly isolated and are always interactive, one or the other may be specially significant in a given era, and thus we speak of a religious age, an age of rationalism, or the period of the industrial revolution. suggested topical outline of modern european history to apply this more specifically to modern european history, there follows an outline of topics. it is general to about , and more detailed for the period since that time (iv below), the endeavor being to show how a topical treatment of the development of democracy can be made to include practically everything of significance. there are certain cautions necessary here: that the outline is suggestive only, that it does not pretend or aim to be complete, that specific data often found in the sub-heads are to serve as illustrations and not as a complete statement of sub-topics; and that it is in fact merely a skeleton which can be extended and amplified indefinitely by insertions. i. background of the modern period. _a._ economic and social conditions at the close of the middle age. _b._ political nature of feudalism. the governments of the th century. _c._ the medieval church. ii. the development of religious liberty. _a._ the reformation. _b._ varieties of protestant sects, from state churches to individualistic sects. _c._ the religious wars, and toleration. iii. absolute monarchy. _a._ dynastic states. _b._ dynastic wars and the balance of power. iv. the development of democracy. _a._ the dynastic feudal state (_ancien régime_). . description of the _ancien régime_. . proponents of the _ancien régime_. dynasties (divine right monarchs). feudal landlords. higher clergy and state churches. the army command (younger sons of the nobility). the schools (education for privileged classes only). _b._ the revolutionary elements. . the dissatisfied feudal serf. . the intellectuals, rationalists, political theorists. the "social compact." ... popular sovereignty. . religious dissenters. . industrial elements. _a._ the industrial revolution. resulting in exportation, markets, and _laissez-faire_ doctrines. _b._ the bourgeoisie (employers) ... the third estate. _c._ the proletariat ... unorganized labor elements. _c._ the revolutionary period, - . . triumph of bourgeoisie over feudal aristocracy in france, - . limited monarchy. mirabeau. . increasing influence and rise to control of france of the parisian proletariat. the republic ... the terror ... robespierre. . radiation of revolutionary ideas to other nations. . wars between revolutionary france and monarchical europe. the rise of napoleon. _d._ the decline of the revolutionary elements, - . . france converted from a republic to an empire by napoleon. . the napoleonic wars. _a._ reveal napoleon's dynastic ambition. _b._ lead europe to combine against him and to blame democratic ideas for the sorrows of the time. _c._ result in the defeat of napoleon and the triumph of anti-democratic or reactionary elements. _e._ the fruits of the principle of popular sovereignty during the th century (chronologically england and france lead the other countries in most of these developments).[ ] . constitutions, embodying ever-increasing popular rights and powers. . extension of suffrage. political parties and party politics. . the spirit of nationality. independence of greece and belgium. unification of italy and germany. national revivals in poland, bulgaria, servia, rumania, bohemia, finland, ireland, and elsewhere. pan-germanism, pan-slavism, imperial federation. . class consciousness and strife. feudal aristocratic class--leans toward absolute monarchy. bourgeoisie (employing capitalists)--leans toward limited monarchies or republics. labor--leans toward socialism. (the other elements in the society are slow in developing a group consciousness.) . abolition of feudal forms and tenures. fight on great landlords. encouragement of independent farmers. emancipation and protection of peasants: france, ; prussia, ; austria, ; russia, . . social, socialistic, and humanitarian legislation. factory acts, minimum wage laws, industrial insurance, old age insurance, labor exchanges, child labor laws, prison reform acts, revision of penal codes, abolition of slavery and slave trade, government control or ownership of railways, telephones, telegraph, and mails. . opposition to state or national churches. disestablishment agitations ... separation of church and state. . demand for free public schools to replace church or other private schools. state lay schools in england ... suppression of teaching orders in france ... kulturkampf in germany ... expulsion of jesuits ... tendency toward compulsory non-sectarian education. . imperialism. industrial societies depend on imports, exports, and markets as means of keeping labor employed and people prosperous. this means export of capital, hence, plans for colonies, closed doors, preferential markets, and demands for the protection of citizens abroad and political stability in backward areas. partition of africa, asia, and near east. . militarism. expansion and colonial acquisition by one country exclude another, thus unsettling the balance of power. therefore rival nations depend on force and go in for military and naval programs. _f._ the conflict between reactionary and bourgeois interests, - . . reactionary elements in control--opposed to democracy and revolutionary doctrines. _a._ restore europe as nearly as possible on old lines at vienna, . ignore liberal tendencies and national sentiments. _b._ seek to maintain _status quo_. metternich ... holy alliance. carlsbad decrees ... congresses of troppau, laibach, verona ... intervention in naples, piedmont, and spain. proposal to restore latin america to monarchy. opposed by great britain in compliance with bourgeois interests. monroe doctrine. _c._ failed to prevent: greek revolution and independence (national movement). separation of belgium from the netherlands (national). revival of liberal demands in various quarters, producing the revolution of in france and elsewhere. . the ascendancy of the bourgeoisie, - . _a._ industrialism on the continent. _b._ the bourgeois (capitalist employer) secures political power to advance his interests. revolution of . reform bill of . legislation against labor organizations and for tariffs favoring trade. _c._ the development of organized labor and socialism. legislation hostile to labor. chartism. labor in france, germany, and belgium. spread of socialist doctrines. _d._ the revolution of . socialist republican state in france, . the winning of constitutions in prussia, austria, and elsewhere--breach in the walls of reaction. _g._ the broadening base of democracy, - . . the organization of labor. . the spread of socialistic views and of class consciousness. karl marx. . the resistance of the old aristocratic class and the bourgeoisie, who gradually fuse to form the conservative element in all nations. napoleon iii restores the empire in france. in austria and prussia, bismarck and francis joseph ii retrieve losses of . disraeli and conservatives in england. . the progress toward universal suffrage after , strengthening political position of lower classes. vindication of democratic government through triumph of the north in the united states gave impetus to democracy abroad. electoral reform bills in great britain, , , . franco-prussian war and the third french republic. universal suffrage. unification of germany and universal suffrage. russian revolution, . woman suffrage. . popular sovereignty and its consequences. _a._ triumph of republicans and radicals in france over monarchists and clericals. _b._ liberal ministries in united kingdom. lloyd george budget ... parliament act. social legislation. _c._ growth of social democratic party in germany. bismarck and state socialism. _d._ in recent times the many divergent political parties fall rather instinctively into three groups which have opposing views and policies on almost every question, and which may be called: conservatives (tories, aristocrats, monarchists, junkers, clericals, capitalists, imperialists, militarists); peasants and farmers, being conservative, are usually politically allied to this group. liberals (progressives, democrats, labor parties, socialists, social democrats, dissenters, anti-imperialists, anti-militarists). radicals, bolsheviki or revolutionists seeking change of the economic and social order. . effects of the war _a._ extensive nationalization and socialization of industry and human rights in all belligerent countries. _b._ develops into a "war for democracy," and for moral as opposed to materialistic aims. _c._ culminates in an attempt to secure a righteous and lasting peace through the instrumentality of a league of nations. edward krehbiel _leland stanford junior university_ bibliography texts andrews, c. m. _historical development of modern europe._ two vols. g. p. putnam's sons, . hayes, carlton j. h. _a political and social history of modern europe._ two vols. the macmillan company, . robinson, j. h., and beard, c. a. _the development of modern europe._ two vols. ginn and co., , . schevill, ferdinand. a_ political history of modern europe._ charles scribner's sons, . period histories bourne, henry eldredge. _the revolutionary period in europe._ the century company, . _cambridge modern history._ thirteen vols. and maps. i. the renaissance; ii. the reformation; iii. the wars of religion; iv. the thirty years' war; v. the age of louis xiv; vi. the eighteenth century; vii. the united states; viii. the french revolution; ix. napoleon; x. the restoration; xi. the growth of nationalities; xii. the latest age; xiii. genealogical tables and lists and general index; also on atlas, in another volume. cambridge, the university press, - . hazen, charles downer. _europe since ._ henry holt & co., . lindsay, t. m. _a history of the reformation._ two vols. charles scribner's sons, - . lowell, e. j. _the eve of the french revolution._ schapiro, jacob salwyn. _modern and contemporary european history._ houghton mifflin company, . wakeman, h. o. _the ascendancy of france._ the macmillan company, . source books anderson, frank maloy. _the constitutions and other select documents illustrative of the history of france, - ._ h. w. wilson company, minneapolis, . fling, fred morrow. _source problems of the french revolution._ harper and brothers, . robinson, j. h. _readings in european history._ two vols. ginn and co., . ---- _readings in european history._ abridged edition. ginn and co., . robinson, j. h., and beard, c. a. _readings in modern european history._ two vols. ginn and co., . ---- _readings in modern european history._ abridged edition. ginn and co., . atlases _cambridge modern history._ volume of maps. cambridge, the university press, . dow, earle w. _atlas of european history._ henry holt & co., . droyse, gustav. _allgemeiner historischer kandatlas._ velhagen und klasing, leipzig, . gardiner, samuel rawson. _a school atlas of english history._ longmans, green & co., . poole, reginal lane. _historical atlas of modern europe from the decline of the roman empire._ h. frowde, - . putzger, friedrich wilhelm. _historischer schul-atlas zur alten, mittleren, und neunen geschichte._ velhagen und klasing, leipzig, . shepherd, william robert. _historical atlas._ henry holt & co., . bibliographical adams, charles kendall. _a manual of historical literature._ harper and brothers, . andrews, gambrill, and tall. _a bibliography of history for schools and libraries._ longmans, green & co., . pedagogical committee of seven. american historical association. _the study of history in the schools._ the macmillan company, . committee of five. american historical association. _the study of_ _history in the secondary schools._ the macmillan company, . dunn, arthur william. _the social studies in secondary education._ department of the interior, bureau of education, bulletin no. , . johnson, h. _the teaching of history in elementary and secondary schools._ . robinson, james harvey. _the new history; essays illustrating the modern history outlook._ the macmillan company, . historical fiction baker, e. a. _history in fiction._ two vols. e. p. dutton & co., . nield, jonathan. _a guide to the best historical novels and tales._ g. p. putnam's sons. periodicals _the american historical review._ published by the american historical association, washington, d. c. _the history teacher's magazine._ mckinley publishing company, philadelphia, pennsylvania. footnotes: [ ] this summary of the consequences of the doctrines of democracy is allowed to break into the topical development of the outline, as it gives a sort of general introduction to tendencies since . it will not escape the teacher that he could treat history since by taking up in order the topics given under this heading. xiii the teaching of political science =scope of political science= certain phases of what is known as political science form to no small degree the content of courses in other branches of study. the engineering schools in their effort to set forth the regulation of public utilities with respect to engineering problems have begun to offer courses which deal extensively with politics and government. in political and constitutional history, considerable attention is given to the organization and administration of the various divisions of government. to a greater degree, however, the allied departments of economics and sociology have begun, in the development of their respective fields, to analyze matters which are primarily of a political nature. especially in what is designated as applied economics and applied sociology there is to be found material a large part of which relates directly to the regulation and administration of governmental affairs. thus in portions of the courses designated as labor problems, money and banking, public finance, trust problems, public utility regulation, problems in social welfare, and immigration, primary consideration is frequently given to government activities and to the influences and conditions surrounding government control. while these courses, then, deal in part with subject matter which belongs primarily to the science of politics and while any comprehensive survey of instruction in political science would include an account of the phases of the subject presented in other departments, for the present purpose it has been advisable to limit the consideration of the teaching of political science to the subjects usually offered under that designation.[ ] some attention, however, will be given later to the relation of political science to allied subjects. a difference of opinion exists as to the meaning of political science, some institutions using the term in a broad sense to embody courses offered in history, economics, politics, public law, and sociology, and others giving the word a very narrow meaning to include a few specialized courses in constitutional and administrative law. there is, nevertheless, a strong tendency to have the term "political science" comprise all of the subjects which deal primarily with the organization and the administration of public affairs. =courses usually offered in political science= through an exhaustive survey made by the committee on instruction of the american political science association, covering instruction in political science in colleges and universities, the subjects which are usually offered may be indicated in two groups: leading courses for colleges and universities[ ] (given in order of number of instruction hours, with highest ranked first.) _a._ major courses. . american government--including national, state, and local. . general political science--mainly political theory, with some comparative government. . comparative government--devoted chiefly to a study of england, france, germany, and the united states. . international law. . commercial law. . municipal government. . constitutional law. _b._ minor courses. . jurisprudence, or elements of law. . political theories. . diplomacy. . state government. . political parties. . government of england. . legislative methods of procedure. . roman law. . regulation of social and industrial affairs. while the purposes and objects of instruction in this rather extensive group of subjects vary considerably, it seems desirable to analyze the chief objects in accordance with which political science courses are presented to students of collegiate grade. =aims of instruction in government= the aims of instruction in government are ( ) to train for citizenship; ( ) to prepare for professions such as law, teaching, business, and journalism; ( ) to train experts and prepare specialists for government positions; ( ) to provide facilities and lead students into research material and research methods. each of these aims affects to a certain extent a different class of students and renders the problem as to methods of instruction correspondingly difficult. = . training for citizenship= in a certain sense all instruction may be looked upon as giving training for the duties and responsibilities of citizenship, and undoubtedly a great deal of instruction in other subjects aids in the process of citizenship training. nevertheless, a heavy responsibility rests upon departments of political science to lead students into the extensive literature on government as well as to instruct them with respect to the organizations and methods by which the political and social affairs are being conducted. in short, one of the primary aims of government instruction and one which is kept foremost in the arrangement of courses is elementary training for the average student in the principles, the practices, and the technique of governmental affairs. for such citizenship training, which is usually given in large elementary classes, a special method of instruction and system of procedure are pursued. it is necessary to provide subject matter which is informational in character, as the lack of knowledge of the governments of home and foreign countries is ordinarily appalling, and which will open up by way of discussion and comparison many of the leading problems of modern politics. more necessary and indispensable is a method of study which will aid in pursuing inquiries along the many and varied lines which will devolve upon the citizen performing his multifarious duties and discharging his many responsibilities. as many of the students will take but a single course, the opening up to them of the vast field of government literature is one of the aims to be constantly kept in mind. moreover, while all of the above are essential matters in the elementary courses, the most important consideration of all is that the teaching of politics and government will have utterly failed unless there are created a desire and an interest which will lead into many lines of investigation beyond those offered in a single introductory course. the development of this interest and appreciation is the all-important object. = . preparation for the professions= many who enter the introductory courses in government select the subject with the idea of continuing their preparation for professional life in their chosen fields. among the professions which particularly seek instruction in government are chiefly law, teaching, business, and journalism. for these groups of students, many of whom continue the study of the subject for several years, often going on into the advanced courses in graduate departments, it is recognized that beginning work which is too general and discursive may be less useful than a specialized course which may be rounded out by a series of correlated courses. consequently, there is a question whether the professional student, interested in the study of government, should begin his work under the same conditions and with the same methods as the student who does not expect to continue the subject. the number of those who are preparing for the professions is often so large as to require separate consideration and to affect seriously the determination of the method and content of the introductory course. this difficulty is obviated where professional courses are provided, giving instruction in government and citizenship, as is now the practice in certain law schools, in some departments of journalism, and in a few engineering schools. for each of the major professions in which government instruction is particularly sought a different type of course is desired. for the law student comparative public law, jurisprudence, and specialized government courses in various fields are usually demanded. for the journalist, general subjects dealing with specific countries and with the political practices of all governments are regarded of special benefit. for the teaching profession the study of some one line and specialization in a particular field seem to be a necessity. which is the better, such specialized government courses for professional students, or a general course for all introductory students, is still an undetermined problem. the fact that most of the conditions and problems of citizenship are similar for all these groups and that there is great difficulty in providing separate instruction for each group renders it necessary to provide an elementary course which is adapted to the needs and which will serve the purpose of the citizen seeking a general introduction in one course and the professional student who seeks entrance to advanced courses. = . training for public service and preparation of specialists for government positions= colleges and universities have recently begun to give special instruction for the training of those who desire to enter the government service. a few institutions are offering courses and a considerable number are beginning to adapt instruction which will be of service not only to those who anticipate entrance into some form of public work, but also to those who are engaged in performing public service in some department of government. as a matter of fact, the training of specialists must in large measure be cared for by professional and technical schools, such as the provision for directors of public health by medical schools, the training of sanitary engineers by the engineering schools, the training of accountants, statisticians, and financial experts by the schools of commerce and finance. nevertheless, departments offering instruction in general political subjects are expected to give some consideration to and to make special arrangements for advanced courses in the way of preparing those who seek to enter the various divisions of the government service, such as the consular and diplomatic affairs, charitable and social work, and the administrative regulation of public utilities, industrial affairs, and the public welfare. through the introduction of specialized courses in municipal, state, and national administration it is possible to prepare more adequately for various branches of public administration. = . special courses in research and research methods= although research methods and graduate courses of instruction in political science developed rather slowly, a substantial beginning has been made by the universities in the offering of advanced courses in which a specialized study is made of some of the problems of government and the methods of administration. through these courses valuable contributions have been made to the historical and comparative phases of the subject and to some extent to the analytical study of government in operation. the primary aim has been to provide an avenue and an opportunity for those who look forward to teaching or to entering the field of special research work in politics and governmental affairs. the results of the research work have been rendered available to government officials and departments through bureaus of research and other agencies devised to aid in improving the public service. only a few universities separate the graduate from the undergraduate students, and as a result the instruction cannot be of strictly graduate character and quality. much of the present research is done with small groups of students in a seminar where personal direction is given to investigations and where the methods of research are developed under direct supervision. =value of the subject= any determination of the value of a subject in the school curriculum is necessarily based upon the opinions of individuals whose judgment will vary in large measure according to their respective training, influences, and predilections. the value of the subject which is usually placed first is its usefulness in imparting information. much instruction in government is descriptive and informational in character and is offered primarily to increase the stock of knowledge and to give information with respect to the present and the future interests of the citizen. while this descriptive material has served a useful purpose, it is doubtful whether, as in the formal civics of the public schools, the method of imparting information has not been used so extensively as to have a detrimental effect. too much attention has been given to the memorization of facts and the temporary accumulation of information more or less useful, and correspondingly too little to thinking on the great political and social issues of the day. when governments are engaging in endless activities which affect the welfare of society in its social and æsthetic, as well as political aspects, government instruction becomes increasingly necessary and valuable as a cultural study. the recent development in european political affairs has impressed upon the citizens of this country as never before the results of a profound ignorance with respect to conditions in foreign countries. while the knowledge of the affairs of the great nations of the world has hitherto appeared advisable, it has now come to be regarded as a necessity. from the standpoint of culture a knowledge of the institutions of one's own country and of other countries is one of the cardinal elements of education and provisions for such instruction ought to be placed among the few primary topics in the preparation of all educational programs. if culture involves an understanding of the social and political conditions of the past and present as well as some appreciation of the problems which confront the individual in his activities of life, then the study of both history and government must be given a foremost rank among the subjects now classified as cultural. with respect to formal discipline government instruction has been rated lower than that of the more exact subjects, the languages and mathematics. while it is true that from the standpoint of formal discipline and exact methods government instruction has not measured up to that of some other subjects, it must be remembered that the standardization of instruction, and the methods pursued in other subjects, have developed through a long process of years to the present effectiveness in mental discipline. as the study of government becomes more specialized, the material in the field worked into more concrete form for purposes of instruction, the methods better developed with the formulation of standard plans and principles, the disciplinary value of the subject will be increased. the development now in process is bringing about changes which will greatly enhance not only the usefulness but in a large measure the disciplinary value of the subject. =place in college curriculum= instruction in government is usually offered only to students who have acquired sophomore standing. a few institutions now give a course in government in the freshman year, and the practice seems to be meeting with success. sentiment is growing in favor of this plan. the argument presented for this change is that a large percentage of the freshman class does not continue college work, and consequently many students have no opportunity to become acquainted with the special problems of politics and government. to meet the need of those who spend but one year in college, it is claimed that an introduction should be given to the study of government problems. while there are strong reasons in support of this change, the prevailing sentiment for the present favors the requirement of a year's work in college as a prerequisite. the advocates of this arrangement contend that in view of the fact that most of the high schools are now giving a half of a year or a year to civic instruction on somewhat the same plan as would be necessary in a first-year college course, it seems better from the standpoint of the student as well as of the department to defer the introductory course until better methods of study and greater maturity of mind are acquired. sophomore standing is the only prerequisite for the elementary course except in a few institutions where the selection of a course in history in the freshman year is required. a few colleges are offering to freshmen an introductory course in the social sciences, comprising mainly some elementary material from economics, sociology, and political science. while there are some advantages in the effort to give a general introduction to the social sciences, no practicable content or method for such a course has yet been prepared. moreover, it seems likely now that such a general introduction will be attempted either in the junior or in the senior high school. for advanced work in the senior high school and for the introductory college course reason and practice both favor a separation of these subjects, with close correlation and constant consideration of the interrelations. =the introductory course= it is customary to introduce students to the study of government through a general course in american government, dealing briefly with national, state, and local institutions. other subjects, such as comparative government,--including a consideration of some representative foreign countries along with american government,--an introductory course in political science, and international law, are sometimes used as basic courses to introduce students to subsequent work. the general practice in the introductory course seems to be approaching a standard in which either american government is made the basis of study, with comparisons from european practices and methods, or european governments are studied, with attention by way of comparison to the american system of government. the committee of seven of the american political science association offered the following suggestions relative to the introductory course, which it seems well to quote in full. the committee recommended that: american government be taken as the basis for the introductory course because it is convinced that there is an imperative need for a more thorough study of american institutions, because the opportunity for this study is not now offered in any but a few of the best secondary schools, and because it is exceedingly important that the attention of an undergraduate be directed early in his course to a vital personal interest in his own government, national, state, and local. instruction in political science is rarely given until the second or third year of the college work, and thus unless american government is selected for the first course only a small percentage of students receive encouragement and direction in the study of political affairs with which they will constantly be expected to deal in their ordinary relations as citizens. but the committee believes that this study of american government can be distinctly vitalized by the introduction of such comparisons with european practices and forms as will supply the student with a broader basis of philosophical conclusions as to constitutional development and administrative practices. the committee is of the opinion that despite the very marked increase of courses in american government within the past few years, one of the immediate needs is the further extension and enlargement of these courses. in only a few institutions is enough time given to the subject to permit anything more than the most cursory survey of the various features of the government, and almost invariably state and local government suffer in the cutting process which is necessary. about seventy institutions only give courses in which state and local government are the basis of special study. in order that state and local government shall be given more consideration, and in order that judicial procedure and administrative methods shall receive more than passing notice, it is absolutely necessary that the time allotted to american government be increased. nothing short of a full year of at least three hours a week gives the necessary time and opportunity do anything like full justice to the national, state, and local units.[ ] because of the fact that only a small percentage of the student body elects this course under present conditions, and because the majority of those who do elect it never have an opportunity to continue the study of government, it is thought that the selection of american government for the beginning subject has the tendency to foster provincialism. when but one course is taken this one, it is contended, should deal with foreign governments, to supply a broader basis for the comparison of political institutions. as the study of government is introduced in the grades and thorough and effective instruction is offered in the high school, it will become increasingly practicable to introduce the comparative method in introductory courses. =sequence of courses= one of the difficulties in the instruction in political science which has received less consideration than it deserves is that of the sequence of courses. in the determination of sequence it is customary to have an introductory course, such as american government, european government, or political theory, and to make this subject a prerequisite for all advanced courses. as the introductory course requires sophomore standing, it renders entrance into advanced courses open only to students of junior rank or above. after passing the first course, there are open for election a number of subjects, mainly along specialized lines. this condition is to be found, particularly, in the large universities, where a group of instructors offer specialized work, with either little or no advice to students as to the proper arrangement or sequence of courses. the ordinary classification is into three groups: ( ) an elementary course, prerequisite for advanced instruction; ( ) courses for graduate and undergraduate students, seldom arranged on a basis of sequence or logical order;--the lack of sequence is due in part to the fact that after taking elementary work the student in government frequently wishes to specialize in the field of federal government, or of state government, or of international law, or possibly of political theory; ( ) courses for graduate students, which are intended primarily for investigation and research. students who specialize in government are generally advised by the head of the department or the professor under whom their work is directed, as to the proper arrangement and correlation of courses. it is, however, questionable whether some plan of sequence more definitely outlined than that now to be found in most catalogs ought not to be prepared in advance for the consideration of those who look forward to specializing in political science. such an arrangement of sequence has been prepared by the department of political science of the university of chicago, which divides its work into ( ) elementary, ( ) intermediate, ( ) advanced--the advanced courses being subdivided into (_a_) theory, (_b_) constitutional relations, (_c_) public administration, and (_d_) law. suggestions are offered as to the principal and secondary sequences for various groups of students. the sequence of courses could be better arranged provided a freshman course were offered. a freshman course in american government could be given, with some attention by way of comparison to european methods and practices, and followed by an intermediate course dealing with some select foreign governments, again using the comparative method and viewpoint. two courses of this character would offer a greater opportunity to give the instruction now desired from the standpoint of the average student and citizen, and would serve as a better basis for advanced instruction than the single course now customarily offered either in american or comparative government. after taking the elementary courses the student could then be allowed to select from a group of subjects in one of the various lines, according to the special field in which he is interested. in short, the arrangement of the sequence of courses will necessarily be unsatisfactory as long as the elementary course is offered only to those of at least sophomore rank, a practice which unfortunately necessitates in many cases the beginning of the work in the junior or senior year. it will be necessary to introduce the subject earlier in the curriculum, in order to arrange such a sequence as would seem desirable from the standpoint of thorough and effective instruction. =methods of instruction= methods of instruction[ ] vary according to the size of the institution and the number in the classes. in the preliminary courses the system of informal lectures is combined with recitations, discussions, reports, and quizzes. the students in the advanced courses are obliged to carry on independent work under the supervision of the instructor. for seniors and graduate students the seminar has been found most satisfactory in developing a keen interest in the problems of politics. unfortunately, where the classes are small and the time is limited, it is customary to rely largely on textbooks and recitations, with a moderate amount of special readings and occasional class reports. but, on the other hand, courses in government have been improved recently by the appearance of good textbooks. american and european governments are now presented in texts which have proved satisfactory and which have aided in the development of standard courses for these elementary subjects. then, too, interest has been aroused and better results obtained through the use of texts and manuals dealing with the actual work and the problems of government. the neglected fields of state government and administrative practices are just beginning to receive attention. one method of government instruction, and a very valuable one, is to encourage the examination of evidence and to consider different viewpoints on public questions, with the purpose of forming judgments based on the facts. for this purpose extensive reading and frequent reports are necessary to check up the work completed. it is possible to keep in constant touch with the amount of work and the methods of study or investigation by means of discussions in small sections for one or two hours each week and by the use of the problem sheet. in the courses offered in departments of government in such subjects as constitutional law, international law, commercial law, and to some extent in courses in jurisprudence and government regulation of public utilities and social welfare, the case method has been adopted quite extensively. this method has been sufficiently tried and its effectiveness has been demonstrated in the teaching of law, so that nothing need be said in its defense. the introduction of the case method in political science and public law has undoubtedly improved the teaching of certain phases of these subjects. that the use of cases and extracts may be carried to an extreme which is detrimental is becoming apparent, for opinions and data change so rapidly that any collection of cases and materials is out of date before it issues from the press. moreover, the use of such collections encourages the reliance on secondary sources and secondary material, a tendency which ought to be discouraged. every encouragement and advantage should be given to have students and investigators in government deal with original rather than secondary sources. there is, in addition to the use of textbooks, lectures, extensive reference reading, case books, and the writing of papers, a tendency to introduce the problem method of instruction and to encourage field work, observation, and, so far as practicable, a first-hand study of government functions and activities. another line in which the study of government is undergoing considerable modification is the emphasis placed on administration and administrative practices. while special attention heretofore has been given either to the history of politics and political institutions or to political theories and principles, the tendency is now to give import to political practices and the methods pursued in carrying on government divisions and departments. the introduction of courses in the principles of administration, with the consideration of problems in connection with public administration in national, state, and local affairs, is tending to modify the content as well as the methods of the teaching of government. new methods and a new content are changing the emphasis from the formal, theoretical, and historical study of government and turning attention to the practical phases and to the technique of administration. as a result of this change and through the work which is being undertaken by bureaus of reference and research, instruction is brought much closer to public officers and greater service is rendered in a practical way to government administration. =some unsolved problems= among the difficulties and unsolved problems in the teaching of political science are, first, the beginning course; second, the relation of courses in government to economics, sociology, history, and law; third, the extent to which field investigation and the problem method can be used to advantage in offering instruction and the development of new standards and of new tests which are applicable to these methods; fourth, the introduction of the scientific method. = . the introductory course= while the elementary course in government is now usually american government and is, as a rule, offered to sophomores, both the content and the present position of the course in the curriculum are matters on which there is considerable difference of opinion. where the subject matter now offered to beginning students is comprised of comparative material selected from a number of modern governments, it is contended that this arrangement is preferable to confining attention to american institutions with which there is at least general but often vague familiarity. if provision is made in the high school, by which the majority of those who enter the university have had a good course in american government, there seems to be a strong presumption that the beginners' course should be devoted to comparative government. it is quite probable that the introductory course will cease to be confined to a distinct and separate study of either foreign governments or of american government and that the most satisfactory course will be the development of one in which main emphasis is given to one or the other of these fields and in which constant and frequent comparisons will be made for purposes of emphasis, discussion, and the consideration of government issues and problems. in some cases it is undoubtedly true that emphasis should be given to foreign governments, and as the high schools improve their instruction in our local institutions, national and state, it will become increasingly necessary in colleges to turn attention to the study of foreign governments in the beginners' course. there appears to be a desire to introduce government into the freshman year, and it is likely that provision will be made to begin the study of the subject in the first college year, thereby rendering it possible for those who enter college to profit by a year's work and to give an earlier start to those who wish to specialize. another difficulty in connection with the introductory course which is still not clearly determined is the time and attention which may be given to lectures, to discussions, to the writing of papers or theses, to the investigation and report on problems, and the extent to which use may be made of some of the practical devices such as field investigation. there is a general belief that in the elementary course only a slight use may be made of practical methods, but that it is necessary to begin these methods in the elementary years and to render instruction practical and concrete to a larger extent than is now done, by means of problems and the discussion of matters of direct interest to all citizens. no doubt as the problem method and field study are more definitely systematized and the ways of supervision and checking up the work developed, these devices will be used much more extensively. the preparation of problem sheets and of guides to the selection of concrete material gives promise of a more general and effective use of the problem method. = . relation of instruction in government to other subjects= the proper relationship and correlation of instruction in government with that of other subjects has not yet been determined satisfactorily. the matter of correlation is slowly being worked out along certain lines; for example, the relationship between courses in history and in government is coming to be much better defined. such subjects as constitutional history and the development of modern governments are being treated almost entirely in departments of history, and less attention is being given to the historical development of institutions in departments of political science. as long as it is impossible to make certain history courses prerequisites before beginning the study of government, it becomes necessary to give some attention in political science to the historical development of political institutions. by correlation and by proper arrangement of courses, however, the necessity of introducing government courses with historical introductions ought to be considerably reduced. the relation between work in government and in economics and sociology is a more difficult problem and one which has not as yet been satisfactorily adjusted. some of the courses given in departments of economics and sociology deal to a considerable extent with the regulation of public affairs. in these courses, including public finance, the regulation of public utilities, the regulation of trusts, labor organizations, and the administration and regulation of social and industrial affairs, a more definite correlation between political science and so-called applied economics and applied sociology must be made. while it is undoubtedly necessary for the economist and the sociologist to deal with government regulation of economic and social affairs, and while it is very desirable that these departments should emphasize the practical and applied phases of their subjects, it is nevertheless true that courses which are, to a large extent, comprised of government instruction should be given under the direction of the department of political science, or, at least, in an arrangement of definite coöperation therewith. there is no reason why in such a subject as the regulation of public utilities a portion of the course might not be given in the department of economics and a portion in the department of government. or it may be better, perhaps, for a course to be arranged in the regulation of public utilities, continuing throughout the year, in which the professors of economics, government, commerce, finance, and engineering participate in the presentation of various phases of the same subject. at all events, the present separation into different departments of the subject matter of government regulation of such affairs as public utilities, taxation, and social welfare regulation is, to say the least, not producing the best results. the relation of government courses to instruction in law is likewise a partially unsolved problem. a few years ago, when the curricula of law schools dealt with matters of law and procedure in which only the practitioner was interested, it became necessary to introduce the study of public law in departments of government and political science. thus we find courses in international law, constitutional law, roman law, and elements of law and jurisprudence being offered in large part in departments of political science. the recent changes in law school curricula, however, by which many of these subjects are now offered in the law school and in some cases are offered to qualified undergraduate students, render the situation somewhat more difficult to adjust. there is a tendency to introduce these courses into the law school for law students and to offer a similar course in the department of government for undergraduates and graduates. the problem has been further complicated by the provision in some of the leading law schools of a fourth year, in which the dominant courses relate to public and international law, legal history and foreign law, jurisprudence and legislative problems.[ ] as these courses become entirely legal in nature and content and require a background of three years of law, it becomes practically impossible for any but law students to be admitted to them. with the prospect of a permanent arrangement for a fourth year of law devoted primarily to subjects formerly given in departments of political science, it seems to be necessary to provide instruction in constitutional law and international law, at least, for those advanced students in political science who seek this instruction but who do not expect to take the private law instruction required to admit them to a fourth-year law class. the preferable arrangement may prove to be one in which a thorough course is offered which will be open to qualified seniors and graduate students and to law students, thus avoiding the duplication which is now characteristic of instruction in law and the public law phases of government. in this matter, as in the relation of economics and sociology, the most appropriate and effective adjustment for coöperation remains to be formulated. = . problem method of instruction= as the criticism of eminent specialists in government and politics has impressed upon instructors the idea that too large a portion of the teaching of the subject is theoretical, treating of what ought to be rather than of what actually occurs, dealing with facts only on a limited scale and with superficial attention to actual conditions, there has developed the necessity of revising the methods of instruction. this revision is being made largely in the introduction of field investigation, observation of government activities, and the problem and research methods. the prevailing practice of the teaching of politics, which involves lectures, recitations, and the reading and writing of theses, with a considerable amount of supplementary work, is being revised by means of a research and reference division, by the constant use of field investigation and by the study of governmental problems. the difficulty with all these devices lies in the indefinite and vague way in which so much of this work must be done. for the present, in only a few instances, such as the new york bureau of municipal research, has the technique for field investigation and the research method been effectively developed. one of the chief lines for the improvement of the teaching of government is in the standardization and systematization of the problem method and its more extensive use in the elementary and advanced government instruction. = . introduction of the scientific method= in the past and to a great extent at the present time that part of the study of government which has to do with political theory and with a descriptive and historical account of government has comprised the greater portion of what is usually designated as political science. the nature of these studies is such as to render inapplicable the use of the scientific method. if the study of government is to be developed as a science in the true sense, then the above subjects must be supplemented by exhaustive inductive studies and research in the actual operation of government. such methods are now being employed in the examination of government records and the comparison of administrative practices. and there is being developed also a science of government based on the practices and the technique of public administration. this science now finds its exemplification in some of the exceptional work of the graduate schools. unfortunately, the connection between these schools and the government departments has not been such as to secure the best results. moreover, departments of political science are not now doing their part to place the results of scientific investigations at the disposal of government officials. the introduction of courses in extension departments and evening classes has in part met this deficiency. but much remains to be done to render through the department of political science effective service in the practical operation of government. with the introduction of the problem method and field investigation in the elementary instruction, so far as seems feasible, with the development of standard methods and the technique of research for advanced instruction, the teaching of government will be rendered not only more valuable to the citizen, but colleges and universities may render aid to government officials and citizens interested in social and political affairs. a significant development as an aid for research and for rendering more effective public service has come in the establishment of bureaus of government research. the method of investigation and research which has been applied to the problems of government by private organizations has been found applicable to the handling of research material in the universities. through a bureau of this character recent publications and ephemeral material may be collected for the use of advanced students, digests may be prepared on topics of special interest to legislators and administrators, and publications of particular interest to the citizens may be issued. such a bureau serves as a government laboratory for the university and can be placed at the service of public officials and others who desire to use a reference department in securing reliable data on governmental affairs. thus it is coming to be realized that research in government may be encouraged and the resources of higher institutions may be so organized as to render a distinct and much appreciated public service. charles grove haines _university of texas_ bibliography allix, e. h. nÉzard, and meunier, a. _instruction civique._ paris, f. juven, ; pages . american political science association. report of the committee on instruction in political science in colleges and universities. _proceedings_, ; pages - . ---- report of committee of seven on instruction in colleges and universities. _political science review_, vol. ix, pages - . ---- the teaching of government. report to the american political science association by the committee on instruction. the macmillan company, ; pages - . baldwin, simeon e. _the relations of education to citizenship._ yale university press, ; pages . beach, w. g. the college and citizenship. _proceedings of the washington educational association._ school journal publishing co., ; pages - . beard, c. a. _the study and teaching of politics._ columbia university press, june, ; vol. xii, pages - . ---- _politics_, columbia university press, ; pages . ---- _training for efficient public service._ annals of the american academy of political and social science, march, . boitel, j., and foiguet, r. _notions elementaires d'instruction civique de droit usuel et d'économie politique._ paris, delagrave, ; pages . bourgueil, e. _instruction civique._ paris: f. nathan, ; pages . bryce, james. _the hindrances to good citizenship._ yale university press, ; pages . drown, thomas m. instruction in municipal government in american educational institutions. _national municipal league: proceedings_, boston, ; pages - . fairlie, john a. instruction in municipal government. _national municipal league: proceedings_, detroit, ; pages - . freund, ernst. correlation of work for higher degrees in graduate school and law school. _illinois law review_, vol. xi, page . hall, g. stanley. civic education. _educational problems_, new york, , vol. ii, pages - . hill, david j. _a plan for a school of the political sciences._ , pages . hinman, george w. the new duty of american colleges. d congress, st session. senate document no. , . lowell, a. lawrence. administrative experts in municipal governments. _national municipal review_, vol. iv, pages - . ---- the physiology of politics, _american political science review_, february, . ---- _public opinion and popular government_, chapters - . morey, william c. _american education and american citizenship._ rochester, n. y., pages . munro, w. b. the present status of instruction in municipal government in the universities and colleges of the united states. _national municipal league: proceedings._ pittsburgh, , pages - . ---- instruction in municipal government in the universities and colleges of the united states. _national municipal review_, vol. ii, pages - , and vol. v, pages - . national municipal league. report of the committee on instruction in municipal government. _proceedings_, rochester, ; pages - . report of the committee on organized coöperation between the massachusetts institute of technology and the commonwealth of massachusetts. _bulletin of the alumni association_, , no. . report of the committee on training for public service. columbia university. charles a. beard, chairman. _bulletin_, march , . robinson, frederick b. the municipal courses. _city college (n. y.) quarterly_, vol. xii, page . rowe, j. s. university and collegiate research in municipal government. _national municipal league: proceedings._ chicago, , pages - . schaper, w. a. what do students know about american government before taking college courses in political science? _journal of pedagogy_, june, . vol. xviii, pages - . society for the promotion of training for the public service. e. a. fitzpatrick, director. madison, wisconsin. _the public servant._ issued monthly. ---- universities and public service. _proceedings of the first national conference._ madison, , pages . training for public service. new york bureau of municipal research, annual reports. white, a. d. the provision for higher instruction bearing directly upon public affairs. _house executive document no. _, part , th congress, d session. ---- education in political science. baltimore, pages . ---- european schools of history and politics. _johns hopkins university studies_, series , vol. xii. wilson, woodrow. _the study of politics. an old master and other essays._ charles scribner's sons, , pages - . wolfe, a. b. shall we have an introductory course in social sciences? _journal of political economy_, vol. xxii, pages - . young, james t. university instruction in municipal government. _national municipal league: proceedings._ rochester, ; pages - . footnotes: [ ] the courses usually given in departments of political science are: . american government, (_a_) national, (_b_) state and local, (_c_) municipal. . general political science. . comparative government. . english government. . international law. . diplomacy. . jurisprudence or elements of law. . world politics. . commercial law. . roman law. . administrative law. . political theories (history of political thought). . party government. . colonial government. . legislative methods and legislative procedure. . current political problems. . municipal corporations. . law of officers and taxation. . seminar. . additional courses, such as the government of foreign countries, the regulation of public utilities, and the political and legal status of women. cf. _the teaching of government_, page . published by the macmillan company, . with the permission of the publishers some extracts from the report of the committee on instruction have been used. the report should be consulted for the presentation of data and for a further consideration of some questions of instruction which cannot be taken up fully within the compass of this chapter. [ ] cf. _the teaching of government_, page . [ ] _the teaching of government_, pages - . [ ] the discussion of methods follows in part the report of the committee on instruction, pages - . [ ] see especially article by ernst freund on "correlation of work for higher degrees in graduate school and law school," vol. xi, _illinois law review_, page . xiv the teaching of philosophy the study of philosophy covers such a wide range of subjects that it is difficult to generalize in attempting to answer the basal questions which call for consideration in a book like this. in the great european universities it includes psychology, logic, ethics, æsthetics, epistemology, metaphysics, the history of philosophy, and sometimes even the philosophy of religion, the philosophy of history, the philosophy of law, and the philosophy of the state. although special courses may not be offered in every one of these fields in our american colleges, their philosophical territory is sufficiently extensive and the separate provinces sufficiently unlike to baffle any one seeking to describe the educational aims and methods of the domain as a whole. in order, therefore, to do full justice to our task it would be necessary to treat each one of the various philosophical branches separately and to expand the space assigned to us into a fair-sized volume. since this is not to be thought of, we shall have to confine ourselves to a consideration of the traits common to all the subjects, without forgetting, however, such differences as may call for different educational treatment. =the unified college course in philosophy= the difficulty of which we have spoken becomes less formidable when the teacher of the traditional philosophical subjects regards them not as so many independent and disconnected fields of study, but as parts of a larger whole held together by some central idea. the great systematic thinkers, from plato down to herbert spencer, have aimed at "completely unified knowledge" and have sought to bring order and coherence into what may seem to the casual onlooker as a disunited array of phenomena. philosophical teaching will be the more fruitful, the more it is inspired by the thought of unity of aim, and the more consciously the teachers of the different disciplines keep this idea in mind. that is the reason why philosophical instruction given in a small college and by one man is, in some respects, often more satisfactory than in the large university with its numberless specialists, in which the beginning student frequently does not see the forest for the trees. it is not essential that the teacher present a thoroughly worked-out and definitive system of thought, but it is important that he constantly keep in mind the interrelatedness of the various parts of his subject and the notion of unity which binds them together,--at least as an ideal. and perhaps this notion of the unity of knowledge ought to be made one of the chief aims of philosophical instruction in the college. the ideal of philosophy in the sense of metaphysics is to see things whole, to understand the interrelations not only of the branches taught in the department of philosophy but of all the diverse subjects studied throughout the university. the student obtains glimpses of various pictures presented by different departments and different men, and from different points of view. each teacher offers him fragments of knowledge, the meaning of which, as parts of an all-inclusive system, the pupil does not comprehend. indeed, it frequently happens that the different pieces do not fit into one another; and he is mystified and bewildered by the seemingly disparate array of facts and theories crowding his brain which he cannot correlate and generally does not even suspect of being capable of correlation. to be sure, every teacher ought to be philosophical, if not a philosopher, and indicate the place of his specialty in the universe of knowledge; but that is an ideal which has not yet been realized. in the meanwhile, the study of philosophy ought to make plain that knowledge is not a mere heap of broken fragments, that the inorganic, organic, and mental realms are not detached and independent principalities but kingdoms in a larger empire, and that the world in which we live is not a chaos but a cosmos. an introductory course in philosophy, the type of course given in many german universities under the title "einleitung in die philosophie" and attended by students from all sections of the university, will help the young student to find his bearings in the multifarious thought-world unfolded before him and will, at the same time, put him in the way of developing some sort of world-view later on. philosophical instruction that succeeds in the task outlined above will have accomplished much. nevertheless, it cannot attain its goal unless the student is introduced to the study of the human-mental world which constitutes a large portion of the field assigned to the philosophical department: the study of psychology, logic, ethics, and the history of philosophy. these branches deal with things in which the human race has been interested from its early civilized beginnings and with which the young persons entering college have had little or no opportunity of becoming acquainted. and they deal with a world which no man can ignore who seeks to understand himself and his relation to the natural and social environment in which his lot is cast. a knowledge of the processes of mind (psychology), of the laws of thought (logic), of the principles of conduct (ethics), and of the development of man's interpretation of reality (history of philosophy) will supplement the knowledge acquired by the study of physical nature, preventing a one-sided and narrow world-view, and will serve as a preparation for intelligent reflection upon the meaning of reality (philosophy in the sense of metaphysics). =controlling aims in the teaching of philosophy= all these subjects, therefore, have as one of their aims the training of the powers of thought (judgment and reasoning); and philosophical teaching should never lose sight of this. thinking is a difficult business,--an art which is practiced, to be sure, in every field of study, but one for which the philosophical branches provide unusual opportunity and material. it has become a habit with many of recent years to decry the study of logic as an antiquated discipline, but it still remains, if properly taught, an excellent means of cultivating clear thinking; there is no reason why a consciousness of correct ways of thinking and of the methods employed in reaching reliable judgments should not prove useful to every one. we should say, therefore, that the study of philosophy has a high cultural value: it encourages the student to reflect upon himself and his human and natural surroundings (society and nature) and to come to grips with reality; it frees him from the incubus of transmitted opinions and borrowed beliefs, and makes him earn his spiritual possessions in the sweat of his face,--mindful of goethe's warning that "he alone deserves freedom and life who is compelled to battle for them day by day";--it helps him to see things in their right relations, to acquire the proper intellectual and volitional attitude toward his world through an understanding of its meaning and an appreciation of its values; in short, it strengthens him in his struggle to win his soul, to become a person. this is its ideal; and in seeking to realize it, philosophy coöperates with the other studies in the task of developing human beings, in preparing men for complete living, and is therefore practical in a noble sense of the term. it has a high disciplinary value in that it trains the powers of analysis and judgment, at least in the fields in which it operates. and the habit acquired there of examining judgments, hypotheses, and beliefs critically and impartially, of testing them in the light of experience and of reason, cannot fail to prove helpful wherever clear thinking is a requisite. the teacher should keep all these aims in view in organizing his material and applying his methods. he should not forget that philosophy is above all things a reflection upon life; he should endeavor to train his pupils in the art of interpreting human experience, of grasping its meaning. his chief concern should be to make _thinkers_ of them, not to fasten upon them a final philosophic creed,--not to give them a philosophy, but to teach them how to philosophize. if he succeeds in arousing in them a keen intellectual interest and a love of truth, and in developing in them the will and the power to think a problem through to the bitter end, he will have done more for them than would have been possible by furnishing them with ready-made formulas. there is nothing so hopelessly dead as a young man without the spirit of intellectual adventure, with his mind made up, with the master's ideas so deeply driven into his head that his intellectual career is finished. the germans call such a person _vernagelt_, a term that fitly describes the case. what should be aimed at is the cultivation of the mind so that it will broaden with enlarging experience, that it will be hospitable to new ideas and yet not be overwhelmed by them, that it will preserve inviolate its intellectual integrity and keep fresh the spirit of inquiry. such a mind may be safely left to work out its own salvation in the quest for a _weltanschauung_. "young, all lay in dispute; i shall know, being old." in emphasizing the need of such central aims in instruction we do not wish to be understood as not appreciating the utilitarian value of the philosophical branches and their importance as a preparation for professional activity. like all knowledge, these subjects have their worth not merely as means of developing human personality but also as means of equipping the student with such knowledge of facts, methods, and theories as will prove useful to him in his other studies and in the daily affairs of life. the teacher, the physician, the lawyer, the clergyman, the artist, the engineer, the business man, will be benefited by an understanding of the workings of the human mind, of the laws of human thinking, and of the principles of human conduct. it is not absolutely necessary, however, in our opinion, that separate classes specially designed for the different professions be formed in the colleges; after all, it is the same human mind that operates in all the fields of human activity, and a knowledge of mental life in general will serve the purposes of every vocation. doubtless, courses in psychology, logic, and ethics, for example, might be offered having in view the particular needs of prospective members of the various callings, but such courses would, in order to meet the situation, presuppose an acquaintance with the respective professional fields in question which only students well along in their professional studies could be expected to possess. courses of this character might profitably be given for the benefit of professional students who have already taken the introductory subjects necessary to their proper understanding. =introduction of philosophy in the college course= it is not easy to determine the most favorable period in a student's college career at which philosophical subjects should be taught. the more mature the student is, the more successful the instruction is apt to be; but this may be said of many other studies. there is no reason why an intelligent freshman may not begin the study of psychology and logic and perhaps of some other introductory philosophical branches; but as a rule better results may be obtained by admitting only such persons to these classes as have familiarized themselves with university methods. =problems of philosophy and the development of thought to be emphasized, rather than the historical sequence= we should recommend that every student in the college devote at least three hours a week for four terms to the study of psychology, logic, ethics, and the history of philosophy. in case not all these fundamental courses can be taken, the student will most likely derive the greatest benefit by giving a year to the study of the history of philosophy, or one term to the introduction to philosophy, where he has only that much time at his disposal. it seems easier, however, to arouse a philosophical interest in the average student through a study of the basal philosophical questions from the standpoint of contemporaneous thinking than through the study of the history of philosophy. he is generally lacking in the historic sense, and is apt to be wearied and even confused by the endless procession of systems. this is particularly the case when the teacher fails to emphasize sufficiently the progressive nature of philosophical thinking in its history, when he regards this as a mere succession of ideas rather than as a more or less logical unfolding of problems and solutions--as a continuous effort on the part of the universal mind, so to speak, to understand itself and the world. a course in the introduction to philosophy acquainting the student with the aims of philosophy and its relation to other fields of study, and placing before him an account of the most important problems of metaphysics and epistemology as well as of the solutions which have been offered by the great thinkers, together with such criticisms and suggestions as may stimulate his thought, will awaken in him a proper appreciation of a deeper study of the great systems and lead him to seek light from the history of philosophy. =methods of instruction= the place and relative worth of the various methods of instruction in the province of philosophy will, of course, depend, among other things, upon the character of the particular subject taught and the size and quality of the class. in nearly all the introductory philosophical branches in which the classes are large the lecture method will prove a valuable auxiliary. in no case, however, should this method be employed exclusively; and in formal logic, it should be used rather sparingly. ample opportunity should always be given in smaller groups for raising questions and discussing important issues with a view to clearing up obscure points, overcoming difficulties, developing the student's powers of thought, and enabling him to exercise his powers of expression. it is also essential that the student be trained in the difficult art of reading philosophical works. it is wise as a rule to refer him to a good textbook, which should be carefully studied, to passages or chapters in other standard manuals, and in historical study to the writings of the great masters. and frequent opportunity to express himself in the written word must be afforded him; to this end written reports giving the thought of an author in the student's own language, occasional critical essays, and written examinations appealing not only to his memory but to his intelligence should be required during the term. such exercises keep the student's interest alive, increase his stock of knowledge, develop maturity and independence of thought, and create a sense of growing intellectual power. the written tests encourage members of the class to review the work gone over and to discuss with one another important phases of it; in the effort to organize their knowledge they obtain a much better grasp of the subject than would have been possible without such an intensive re-appraisal of the material. =logic to be related to the intellectual life of the student= in the course on formal logic a large part of the time should be spent in examining and criticizing examples of the processes of thought studied (definitions, arguments, methods employed in reaching knowledge) and in applying the principles of correct thinking in written discourses. it is a pity that we have no comprehensive work containing the illustrative material needed for the purpose. as it is, the teacher will do well to select his examples from scientific works, speeches, and the textbooks used in other classes. as every one knows, nothing is so likely to deaden the interest and to make the study of logic seem trivial as the use of the puerile examples found in many of the older treatises. with the proper material this subject can be made one of the most interesting and profitable courses in the curriculum,--in spite of what its modern detractors may say. =students to be familiarized with sources and original writings of the leading philosophers= in the history of philosophy the lectures and textbook should be supplemented by the reading of the writings of the great philosophers. wherever it is possible, the learner should be sent to the sources themselves. it will do him good to finger the books and to find the references; and by and by he may be tempted to read beyond the required assignment--a thing greatly to be encouraged, and out of the question so long as he limits himself to some one's selections from the writings of the philosophers. in the advanced courses the research method may be introduced; special problems may be assigned to the student who has acquired a knowledge of the fundamentals, to be worked out under the guidance of the instructor. =lecture method should arouse dynamic interest and a desire to master the problems of philosophy= in the lecture intended for beginners the teacher should seek to arouse in his hearers an interest in the subject and the desire to plunge more deeply into it. he should not bewilder the student with too many details and digressions but present the broad outlines of the field, placing before him the essentials and leaving him to fill in the minutiæ by a study of the books of reference. each lecture ought to constitute an organic whole, as it were, in which the different parts are held together by a central idea; and its connection with the subject matter of the preceding lectures should be kept before the hearer's mind. all this requires careful and conscientious preparation on the part of the teacher, who must understand the intellectual quality of his class and avoid "shooting over their heads" as well as going to the other extreme of aiming below the level of their mental capacities. lecturing that is more than mere entertainment is an art which young instructors sometimes look upon as an easy acquisition and which older heads, after long years of experience, often despair of ever mastering. the lecture aims to do what books seldom accomplish--to infuse life and spirit into the subject; and this ideal a living personality may hope to realize where a dead book fails. =how to secure active participation by students through lecture method= in order, however, that the philosophical lecture may not fail of its purpose, the hearer must be more than a mere listener; he must bring with him an alert mind that grasps meanings and can follow thought-sequences. and he cannot keep his attention fixed upon the discourse and understand the relations of its parts unless other senses coöperate with the sense of hearing and unless the motor centers are called into play also. he should carefully cultivate the art of taking notes, an accomplishment in which the average student is sadly lacking and to acquire which he needs the assistance of the instructor, which he seldom receives. an examination of the student's notebook frequently reveals such a woeful lack of discrimination on the writer's part that one is led to doubt the wisdom of following this method at all; wholly unimportant things are set down in faithful detail and essential ones wholly ignored. the hour spent in the lecture room, however, can and should be made a fruitful means of instruction, one that will awaken processes of thought and leave its mark. but in order to get the best result, the student should be urged to study his notes and the books to which he has been referred while the matters discussed in the lecture are still fresh in his mind; he will be able to clear up points he did not fully grasp, see connections that have escaped him, understand the force of arguments which he missed; and he will assume a more independent and critical attitude toward what he has heard than was possible on the spur of the moment, when he was driven on and could not stop and reflect. at home, in the quiet of his study, he can organize the material, see the parts of the discourse in their relations to each other, and re-create the whole as it lived and moved in the mind of the teacher. in doing this work he is called on to exercise his thinking and takes an important step forward. it is for this reason that i am somewhat skeptical of the value of the syllabus prepared by the teacher for the use of classes in philosophy,--it does for the student what he should do for himself. whatever value the syllabus may have in other fields of study, its use in the philosophical branches ought to be discouraged. the great weakness of the lecture method lies in its tendency to relieve the hearer of the necessity of doing his own thinking, to leave him passive, to feed him with predigested food; and this defect is augmented by providing him with "helps" which rob him of the benefit and pleasure of putting the pieces of the puzzle-picture together himself. however, even at its best, the lecture method, unless supplemented in the ways already indicated, runs the danger of making the student an intellectual sponge, a mere absorber of knowledge, or a kind of receptacle for professors to shoot ideas into. as was said before, the student must cultivate the art of reading books and of expressing his thoughts by means of the spoken and written word. at the early stages and in some fields of philosophical study, however, the reading of many books may confuse the beginner and leave his mind in a state of bewilderment. it is indispensable that he acquire the working concepts and the terminology of the subject, and to this end it is generally wise to limit his reading until he has gained sufficient skill in handling his tools, as it were. in the elementary courses many members of the class will be unable to do more than follow the lectures and study the textbook; the more gifted ones, however, should be encouraged to extend the range of their reading under the guidance of the instructor. =organization of undergraduate courses in philosophy= an answer to the question concerning the desired sequence of courses in philosophy will depend upon many considerations,--upon one's conception of philosophy and of the various subjects generally embraced under it, upon one's notion of the aims of philosophical instruction, upon one's estimate of the difficulties encountered by the student in the study of the different branches of it, and so on. there is wide divergence of opinion among thinkers on all these points. philosophy is variously conceived as metaphysics, as theory of knowledge, as the science of mind (_geisteswissenschaft_), as the science of values (_werttheorie_), or as all of these together. logic is conceived by some thinkers as dependent upon psychology, by others as the presupposition of _all_ the sciences, including psychology. ethics is regarded both as a branch of psychology, or as dependent upon psychology, and as an independent study having nothing whatever to do with psychology. psychology itself is treated both as a natural science, its connection with philosophy being explained as a historical survival, and as the fundamental study upon which all the other subjects of the philosophical department must rest. where there is such a lack of agreement, it will not be easy to map out a sequential course of study that will satisfy everybody. even when philosophy is defined in the old historic sense as an attempt to reach a theory of the world and of life, men may differ as to the exact order in which the basal studies should be pursued. by many the history of philosophy is considered the best introduction to the entire field, while others would place it at the end of the series of fundamentals (psychology, logic, ethics), holding that a student who has studied these will be best equipped for a study that includes the history of their development. as a matter of fact, given students of mature mind and the necessary general preparation, either order may be justified. the average underclassman is, however, too immature to plunge at once into the study of the history of philosophy, and the present writer would recommend that it be preceded by courses in general psychology, logic and ethics. the average sophomore will have little difficulty in following courses in psychology and logic; and it is immaterial which of these he takes up first. the course in the theory of ethics should come in the junior or senior year and after the student has gained some knowledge of psychology (preferably from a book like stout's _manual of psychology_). and it would be an advantage if the course in ethics could be preceded by a study of the development of moral ideas, of the kind, let us say, presented in hobhouse's _morals in evolution_. for reasons already stated, the entire course in philosophy should be inaugurated by the introduction to philosophy. advanced courses in metaphysics and the theory of knowledge should come at the end and follow the history of philosophy. the ideal sequence would, therefore, be in the view of the present writer: introduction to philosophy, psychology or logic, the development of moral ideas, theory of ethics, history of philosophy, metaphysics, and theory of knowledge. it must be admitted, however, that a rigorous insistence upon this scheme in the american college, in which freedom of election is the rule, would impair the usefulness of the department of philosophy. few students will be willing to take all these subjects, and there is no reason why an intelligent junior or senior should not be admitted to a course in ethics or the history of philosophy without having first studied the other branches. a person possessing sufficient maturity of mind to pursue these studies will be greatly benefited by them even when he comes to them without previous preparation; and it would be a pity to deprive him of the opportunity to become acquainted with a field in which some of the ablest thinkers have exercised their powers. at all events, he should not leave college without having had a course in the history of philosophy, which will open up a new world to him and may perhaps stimulate him to read the best books in the other branches later on. it would not be possible, of course, to prescribe all the fundamental philosophical courses, even if it were desirable,--few faculties would go so far,--but it would be wise to require every candidate for the bachelor's degree to give at least six hours of his time (three hours a term, on the two-term basis) to one or two of the elementary courses, preferably in the sophomore year. ethics and the history of philosophy could then be chosen as electives and be followed by the more advanced and specialized courses. =moot questions: controversy between philosopher and psychologist= we have already touched upon some of the debatable questions in the sphere of philosophical education. the dispute concerning the place of psychology in the scheme of philosophical instruction has its cause in differences of view concerning the aims, nature, and methods of that subject. philosophers ask for an introductory course in psychology which shall serve as a propaedeutic to the philosophical studies, while teachers of education wish to have it treated in a way to throw light upon educational methods and theory. "some biologists treat mental phenomena as mere correlates of physiological processes.... others, including a number of psychologists also, regard psychological phenomena as fully explicable in terms of behavior, and as constituting therefore a phase of biological science." the committee of the american psychological association on the academic status of psychology recommends "that the association adopt the principle that the undergraduate psychological curriculum in every college or university, great or small, should be planned from the standpoint of psychology and in accordance with psychological ideals, rather than to fit the needs and meet the demands of some other branch of learning."[ ] this declaration of principle might lead to peace between the philosophers and the psychologists if there were agreement concerning the "psychological ideals" in accordance with which the subject is to be studied. the desideratum of the philosophers is a psychology which will give the student an understanding of the various phases of mental life; but they do not believe that this can be reached by an exclusive use of the natural-scientific method. the objection of some psychologists, that the philosophers wish to inject metaphysics into the study of mental processes, is met by the rejoinder that the natural-scientific psychology is itself based upon an unconscious metaphysics, and a false one at that. what the philosophers desire is psychological courses which will do full justice to the facts of the mental life and not falsify them to meet the demands of a scientific theory or method--courses of the kind given in european universities by men whose reputation as psychologists is beyond suspicion. =divergent views as to nature of introductory course in philosophy= we have likewise alluded, in this chapter, to the controversy over the need and nature of an introductory course in philosophy. of those who favor such a philosophical propaedeutic some recommend the history of philosophy, others an introduction to philosophy of the type described in the preceding pages. some teachers regard as the ideal course a study of the evolving attitudes of the individual toward the world, after the manner of hegel's phenomenology of the spirit; some the philosophy of history; some _kulturgeschichte_, that is, the study of "the evolution of science, morality, art, religion, and political life,--in short, the history of institutions"; some the study of the great literatures; and some would seek the approach to the subject through the religious interest.[ ] it is plain that the history of philosophy will receive help from all these sources; and a wise teacher will make frequent use of them. nor can the course in the introduction to philosophy afford to ignore them; it will do well to lay particular stress upon the philosophical attitudes, the embryonic philosophies which are to be found in the great literatures, in the great religions, in science, and in the common sense of mankind. wherever the human mind is at work, there philosophical conceptions,--world-views, crude or developed,--play their part; and they form the background of the lives of peoples as well as of individuals. in the systems of the great thinkers they are formulated and made more or less consistent; but everywhere they are the result of the mind's yearning to understand the meaning of life in its manifold expressions. when the student comes to see that philosophy is simply an attempt to do what mankind has always been doing and will always continue to do, in a rough way, that it is "only an unusually obstinate attempt to think clearly and consistently,"--to continue the process of thinking to the bitter end,--his attitude toward it will be one of intelligent interest and respect. but not one of these subjects taken by itself will serve the purpose of an introductory course. =the "case method" in the teaching of philosophy= another moot question is concerned with the use of the "case method," employed in law instruction, in ethics. the case method seeks to know what the moral law is by studying the moral judgments of society; or, more definitely, to quote the words of professor coxe,[ ] one of its champions: "to discover, if possible, a law running through the judgments _which society has made through its duly appointed officials_." "historical cases, properly attested, alone give us the means of objective judgment." there can be no doubt that this method will prove serviceable, if judiciously applied; but its exclusive use either as a method of study or as a method of instruction,--even in an introductory course in ethics,--is not to be recommended.[ ] the student will not gain an adequate conception of morality from a study of the varying and often contradictory "historical cases," much less from a study of the judgments which society has made "through its duly appointed officials." the legal "case" literature of our country does indeed furnish valuable and interesting material for ethical study, but it would require a riper mind than that of a beginner to discover and to evaluate the moral principles which lie embodied in it. =testing the results of instruction= the problem of testing the effectiveness of one's teaching presents few difficulties in classes which are small and in which individual instruction is possible. wherever teacher and student come in close personal contact and opportunity is afforded for full and frequent discussions as well as for written exercises, it is a comparatively easy matter to judge the mental caliber of the members of the class and to determine the extent of their progress. in the case of the large classes, however, which crowd into the lecture halls of the modern university, the task is not so simple. here every effort should be made to divide such concourses of students into numerous sections, small enough to enable the instructor to become acquainted with those under his charge and to watch their development. the professor who gives the lectures should take one or more of these sections himself in order that he may understand the minds to which he is addressing himself, and govern himself accordingly. the tests should consist of discussions, essays, and written and oral examinations; by means of these it is not impossible to determine whether the aims of the subject have been realized in the instruction or not. but the tasks set should be of such a character as to test the student's power of thought, his ability to understand what he has read and heard with all its implications, his ability to assume a critical attitude toward what he has assimilated, and his ability to try his intellectual wings in independent flights. a person who devotes himself faithfully to his work during the entire term, who puts his mind upon it, takes an active part in the discussions, and is encouraged to express himself frequently by means of the written word, will surely give some indication of the progress he has made, even in a written examination--it being a fair assumption that one who knows will somehow succeed in revealing his knowledge. care must be taken, of course, that the test is not a mere appeal to the memory; it is only when the examination makes demands upon the student's intelligence that it can be considered a fair measure of the value of philosophical instruction. it must not be forgotten, however, that the examination may reveal not only the weakness of the learner but the weakness of the teacher. it is possible for a student, even in philosophy, to make a fine showing in a written examination by repeating the words of the master which he does not understand, without having derived any real benefit from the course. the teacher may set an examination which will hide the deficiencies of the instruction, and the temptation to do this in large classes which he knows have not been properly taught is great. frank thilly _cornell university_ bibliography coxe, g. c. the case method in the study and teaching of ethics. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. x, , page . davies, a. e. education and philosophy, _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. vi, , page . hinman, e. l. the aims of an introductory course in philosophy. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. vii, , page . hÖfler, a. _zur propädeutik-frage._ hÖfler, a. zur reform der philosophischen propädeutik. _zeitschrift für die Österreichischen gymnasien_, vol. l, , page . hudson, j. w. hegel's conception of an introduction to philosophy. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. vi, , page . ---- an introduction to philosophy through the philosophy of history. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods._ vol. vii, , page . ---- the aims and methods of introduction courses: a questionnaire. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. ix, , page . lehmann, r. _der deutsche unterricht_, pages - . leuchtenberger, g. _die philosophische propädeutik auf den höheren schulen._ overstreet, h. a. professor coxe's "case method" in ethics. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. x, , page . paulsen, f. _german universities and university studies._ english translation by frank thilly and w. w. elwang, book iii and book iv. ---- _ueber vergangenheit und zukunft der philosophie im gelehrten unterricht, central-organ für die interessen des realschulwesens_, vol. xiv, , page . ---- _geschichte des gelehrten unterrichts_, conclusion. report of the committee on the academic status of psychology, published by the american psychological association, december, . tufts, j. h. garman as a teacher. _journal of philosophy, psychology, and scientific methods_, vol. iv, , page . weissenfels, o. die philosophie auf dem gymnasium. _zeitschrift für das gymnasialwesen_, vol. liii, , page . wendt, g. _didaktik und methodik des deutschen unterrichts, handbuch der erziehungs- und unterrichtslehre für höhere schulen._ footnotes: [ ] the sentences quoted are taken from the report of this committee, which was published in december, . [ ] see the articles of j. w. hudson and others in the bibliography. [ ] see bibliography. [ ] see professor overstreet's discussion mentioned in the bibliography. xv the teaching of ethics =interest in the study of ethics determined by the aim of instruction= nowhere does academic tediousness work a more dire mischief than in the teaching of ethics. it is bad to have students forever shun the best books because of poor instruction in literature; the damage is worse when it is the subject of moral obligation which they associate with only the duller hours of their college life. not that the aim of a course in ethics is to afford a number of entertaining periods. the object rather is to help our students realize that here is a subject which seeks to interpret for them the most important problems of their own lives present and to come. where this end is kept in view, the question of interesting them is settled. a sincere interpretation of life always takes the interest when once it is grasped that this is what is really being interpreted. =viewpoint in the past= the procedure in the past (and still quite common) was to introduce the subject by way of its history. a book like sidgwick's _history of ethics_ was studied, with supplements in the shape of the students' own reading of the classics, or lectures, with quotations, by the teacher. that this method was frequently of much service is undeniable. teachers there are with rare gifts of inspiration who can put freshness into any course which ordinary teachers leave hopelessly arid. but this should not blind us to the fact that certain modes of procedure are in general more likely to be fruitful than others. =the business of right living the aim of ethics teaching= these methods depend upon the aim; and the aim, we venture to hold, should be eminently practical. the content of ethics is not primarily a matter of whether kant's judgments are sounder than mill's or spencer's. its subject is human life and the business of right living: how should people--real people, that is, not textbook illustrations--live with one another? this is the essential concern of our subject matter, and in it our student is intimately and practically involved. charged with the fact, he may deny the impeachment. he refuses to worry over the merits of hedonism versus rigorism, the distinction between hypothetical and categorical imperatives, or the claim of ethics to be called a science. ethics, that is, as an intellectual discipline through the survey of historic disputations is indeed remote from the concerns that touch his life. but all the time there is no subject of greater interest when approached from the side of its bearing on practical problems. consider the earnestness with which the student will discuss with his friends such questions as these: what sense is there in a labor strike? is a conscientious objector justified in refusing military service? why should any one oppose easy divorce laws? may a lawyer defend a rogue whom he knows to be guilty? can one change the nature with which he was born? is violence justified in the name of social reform? if what is right in one age or place is wrong in another, is it fair to object when moral laws are broken? if a practice like prostitution is common, what makes it wrong? these do not sound like the questions likely to receive a welcome hearing in the classroom; but it is precisely upon the interest in such topics as these that the course in ethics should build; for its subject is right living, a matter in which the student may indeed be assumed to feel a genuine concern. if the questions that he wants answered are not all as broad in their significance as the foregoing, there are others of a more immediate personal kind which arise in his life as a student, as a friend, as a son and brother, problems in which standards of fair play and "decency" are involved, and upon which it may be taken for granted that he has done some thinking, howsoever crude. these interests are invaluable. out of them the finer product is to be created in the shape of better standards, higher ideals, and habits of moral thoughtfulness, leading in turn to still better standards and still worthier conduct. the course in ethics should be practical in the sense that both its starting point and its final object are found in the student's management of his life. =illustrations of the problems of right living= consider, for example, how his interest in problems of friendship may be used as the point of departure for an extremely important survey over general questions of right relationship. just because friendship is so vital a concern of adolescent years, he can be led to read what aristotle, kant, emerson, have to say upon this subject and be introduced as well to that larger life of ideal relationships from which these writers regard the dealings of friends. the topic of right attitudes toward a friend broadens out readily into such considerations as treating persons aright for their own sake or regarding them as ends _per se_, a dead abstraction when approached as it is by kant, but a living reality when the students get aristotle's point about magnanimous treatment of friends. they can then proceed by way of contrast to note, for example, how this magnanimity was limited to friends in the upper levels of athenian society, and went hand in hand with approval of slave labor and other exploitations which a modern conscience forbids. to give sharper edge to the conception of man as deserving right treatment for his own sake, the class might go on to examine other notable violations of personality in past and present; e.g., slavery (read for instance sparr's _history of the african slave trade_) or the more recent cruelties toward the natives in the rubber regions of the congo and the amazon. reference may also be made (without undue emphasis) to the white-slave traffic of today and the fact be noted that a right sense of chivalry will keep a man from partnership in the degradation which creates both the demand for white slavery and ultimately its supply. we mention this to show how a common practical interest can be employed to introduce the students to so fundamental an ethical conception as the idea of inviolable human worth. it may, no doubt, be highly unconventional for them to begin with a discussion of friendship and after a few periods find themselves absorbed in these other questions; but if care is exercised to sum up and to emphasize the big conceptions underlying the topic, we may be sure that their grasp of the subject will be no less firm than under the older method. their acquaintance with a study requiring hard, abstract thinking will surely not be hurt, to say the least, by an introduction which is concrete and practical. or take another matter of real concern to the student at this period of his life. he is certain to be giving some thought to the matter of his future vocation; and here again is a topic which, properly handled, broadens out into the most far-reaching inquiries. it is to be regretted that as yet the vocational-guidance movement has been occupied in the main with external features--comparing jobs, making objective tests of efficiency, and so on. the central ethical conceptions are usually slighted. that one's vocation is a prime influence in the shaping of personality in oneself, in one's fellow workers, in the public served (or disserved) by one's work, in the world of nations in so far as war and peace are connected with commerce and other interchange of vocational products--all this is matter for the teacher who wishes the ethics course to work over into better living.[ ] nor again, as will be noted later in the chapter, need the claims of the subject as a scholarly discipline suffer from such treatment. questions of the nature of moral standards, of the distinction between expedient and right, etc., can be taken up more profitably when, instead of dealing with the academic questions forming the stock in trade of most textbooks, the course examines a few vocations, let us say, business, teaching, art, law, medicine,--in the light of such standards as these: a history of the calling; e.g., what has it contributed to the elevation of mankind, to the development of the arts and sciences, and to specific kinds of human betterment? what is the best service it can accomplish today? what traits does it require in those who pursue it? what traits is it likely to encourage in them for better and for worse? report on great leaders in the calling, with special reference to what their work made of them. what are the darker sides of the picture? what efforts are being made today to raise the moral code in this vocation? sum up the ideal rewards. we do not mean, of course, that the only problems are those which center around the demands of today for a more just economic and social order. on the contrary, we believe that the movement for social justice is greatly in need of precisely that appreciation of the claims of moral personality which it is the main business of ethical study to promote. but we shall never get our students to profit from their work in social ethics, or in ethical theory, or in any branch of the subject whatever, unless we keep fresh and close the contact with their own experiences and ambitions. indeed, we venture to assert that unless this connection is kept unbroken, the subject is not ethics at all but an abstraction which ought to take some other name. ethics deals with human volitions; but the latter term is meaningless to the student save as he interprets it by his own experiences in the preference of better ways to lower. he knows the difficulties that arise in his own group-associations,--his home or his class or his club, for example,--the conflicts of ambitions, the readiness to shirk one's share of common responsibility, the discordant prides and appetites of one sort and another which lead to overt injustices. all these should be used to throw light upon the living moral problems of group-life in the vocations, in the civic world, in the international order. temperamentally, to be sure, the teacher may be inclined to handle his subject in what he prefers to regard as academic detachment. but where the subject is ethics and not dead print, complete aloofness is out of the question. there would be no textbooks in ethics if the men whose convictions are there recorded had not grappled earnestly with problems of vital moment to their day and generation. the crucial questions raised by a changing athenian democracy were no matters of air-born speculation to socrates and plato and aristotle. nor is it an accident that the philosopher who so sought to vindicate the worth of man as an end _per se_ should have sent from his apparently isolated study in königsberg his glad acclaim of the french revolution. the abounding interest of the english utilitarians in the economics, the politics, the social reform, of the nineteenth century needs no comment. there are texts for study today because the men who wrote them were keenly concerned about a nobler mode of life for mankind. to invite the student to share their reflections without expecting worthier conduct is to ignore the essential purpose by which those reflections were prompted. =governing aim in ethics teaching= hence our first recommendation--that the _content of the ethics courses be determined by the principal aim of so interpreting the experiences and interests of the student as to stimulate worthier behavior through a better understanding of the general problem of right human relationships_. our second recommendation as to aims is suggested by certain extremes in the practice of today. reference to problems of immediate concern does not mean that ultimate considerations are to be shelved. indeed, it must rather be stressed that such discussions miss their best object, _if they fail to lead to searching reflection upon ultimate standards_. the temptation to forego such inquiry today is strong. in their desire to be practical and up-to-date, many teachers are altogether too ready to rest the case for moral obligation upon a kind of easy-going hedonism, the fallacy of provisionalism, as professor felix adler calls it. tangible "goods" like happiness or "social values" are held up as standards, as if these values were ends in themselves and the problem of an ultimate human worth were irrelevant. it may very well be a modest attitude to say that we can no longer busy ourselves with the nature of ultimate ends and that we can best employ our energies in trying to define the various goods which contribute now and here to human betterment. let the effort be made, by all means. but when the last of empirical goods have been examined and appraised (assuming for the moment that we can indeed appraise without possessing ultimate norms) the cardinal question still waits for answer: to what are all these goods instrumental? what kind of life is best? what is it that permits man, with all his faults, his sordid appetites, his meannesses and gross dishonors, to hold his head erect as one yet worthy of the tribute implied in the fact that we have duties toward him? an answer satisfying to all may never be reached; but to evade these questions is to abdicate the teacher's function. many young people are led by the biologic teachings of the day to regard man as the utterly helpless product of his environment. or they are so impressed with the obvious and immediate needs of whole masses for better food, better homes, greater opportunities for culture, that they do not stop to ask whether these goods are worth while in themselves, or if not, what is the deeper purpose to which they should minister. a conception of personality is needed, sufficiently exalted to permit the various immediate utilities to find their due place as tributes to the ideal excellence latent in man; and on the other hand there is need for a view of the spiritual life free from the misuse to which that term is put by the various cults evoked by reaction against modern mechanism. painstaking inquiry into the grounds upon which the assurance of human dignity can justify itself, has never been more urgently required.[ ] =ideals and tendencies in ethics teaching= let us beware of surrendering to the common but often pernicious demand of our swift-moving america that in order to receive consideration a new idea should prove itself capable of yielding immediate dividends. there seems to be a certain hesitancy today among some in our educated classes about speaking of "ideals." ideals connote a long look ahead. they imply a sense that there is something perfect even though the steps toward embodying or approximating it will be many and arduous, perhaps discouragingly hard. they betoken the likelihood of appearing before men as the victims of ultimately unworkable dreams. in refreshing contrast is the seeming practicability of encouraging present tendencies. your tendency is no far-off projection of mere thought; it is something solid and "real," here and now, respected at the bank, in the newspaper office, and other meeting places of those whose heads are hard. tendencies turn elections; ideals carry no such palpable witness of their power. "hence let us study tendencies." this characterization is perhaps extreme, but the danger to which it refers is all too frequent. a strike, for instance, sets most of us to discussing ways by which this particular disturbance can be ended quickly. it is only the few who are willing to hold in mind both terms of the problem, namely the procedure for tomorrow morning and the positive ideal toward which all our vocational life should set its face even if the distant tomorrow is still so far ahead. so of our conceptions of political life. a given election may indeed involve an immediate moral issue; but even the issue of next month can be faced properly only when it is related to an ideal of public life which may have to wait long years for appreciation by the majority. nothing is more necessary in a democracy than a leadership trained in the long forward look, trained in distinguishing morally right and morally wrong from expedient, and best from merely better, trained in the courage to champion a distant ideal in the face of clamor to accept some inferior but belligerently present substitute. in short, the student should be offered every encouragement to thinking out the ultimate obligations of his own life and of his various groups and to reaching the conviction that there is such a reality as a permanent human worth, a fundamentally right way for men and women to seek, a rightness whose authority is undiminished by the blunders of the human mind in trying to define it. an ever more earnest attempt to find that way, and to find it by practice illumined by all the knowledge that can be brought to bear, should be the leading object. not a series of definitions and quotations, nor yet a little information about the social movements of our time, but a truer understanding of life as the result of interpreting it in terms of the obligation to create right human adjustments--such an aim saves college ethics alike from dryness and from superficial attempts to sprinkle interest over a subject of inherent and intense practical importance. it is not essential that an introductory course in ethics should enter into the philosophy of religion. this may be left to other agencies, like the church, or to later courses, with every confidence that the outcome will be sound if mind and soul and will (to use the old formula) are first enlisted in behalf of noble conduct. whatever thinking the student may do along these lines will be the better if its nurture is drawn first from moral thinking and moral practice.[ ] =course in ethics prescribed, and early in college course= from the foregoing it follows that the ethics course should be taken by all the students. the earlier it can be given the better, inasmuch as its demands upon their conduct apply to all the years of their life, and because the whole career at college is more likely to benefit from beginning early such reflections as this study particularly invites. =sequence determined by development of the student= the sequence of courses will perhaps be best determined by remembering the need of following the natural growth of the student. experiences come first and then the interpretations. hence the insistence upon the practical content of the introductory courses. theory and history should follow, not precede. nobody is interested in the history or the theory of a thing unless he is interested in the thing itself. furthermore, we must bear in mind the needs of those students who are not likely to care enough for the more theoretical aspects to continue the subject. if the introductory course is to be all that they take, obviously the more practical we can make it the better. =in teaching ethics follow the maxim from the concrete to the abstract= as to method, a variety of profitable ways abounds if only the contact with life is kept close and the principles studied are tested by their outcome in the life which the student knows best. in general, the best procedure is to work back from concrete instances to the principles underlying the problem, formulate the principles and test them in other fields. our illustrative strike, for instance, can be used to throw light upon the actual and the ideal principles involved in human relationship in some such manner as the following: =method of procedure illustrated= what do the employers want? what do they mean by liberty? what were the circumstances under which mill formulated his principle of "liberty within the limits of non-infringement?" what have been the consequences in america of reliance upon this formula? why does it break down in practice? compare it with the theory of the balance of power in international relations. what is likely to be the effect of the possession of power upon the possessor himself? restate the ideal of liberty in terms of duty, not of privilege. what are the obstacles to the fulfillment of such an ideal in industry? in homes? what are the personal obstacles to clear understanding of the meaning of right? what do the workers want? examine each of their demands--shorter hours, more pay, recognition of the union, etc. what should the granting of these demands contribute to their lives? give instances to show whether "better off" means better persons or not. compare the working man's use of the word "liberty" with that of the employer. why do workers often become oppressors when they themselves become employers? what is the difference between demanding a redress of your grievance and making a moral demand? what makes the cry of fraternity as uttered by the workers repugnant to those who otherwise would accept fraternity as an ideal? how would you formulate the ideal for the vocational life of the factory worker? apply it to other vocations--journalism, law, teaching. sum up the ideal rewards of work. make tentative definitions of liberty, rights, duty, justice. * * * * * each of the questions mentioned above--and many more will occur in the course of the discussion--furnishes occasion for extended considerations that call upon the student for scholarly gathering of facts, for close thinking, and--not least--for reflection upon his own experiences and volitions. other problems will suggest themselves. it is obvious how the interest of the student in prison reform, for example, can be employed in like manner as a motive to searching reflection upon questions of moral responsibility. the principle that punishment should be a means of awaking in the offender the consciousness of a self which can and should hold itself to account despite the magnitude of its temptations is of special usefulness, in the years when a broadening altruism (and we might add, a tendency to self-pity) is likely to lead to loose notions of personal obligation. =place of the textbook in ethics teaching= the use of a textbook is a minor matter. to prevent the courses from running off into mere talk--and even ethics classes are not averse to "spontaneous" recitation on their own part or to monologues by the teacher--a textbook may be required, with, let us say, monthly reports or examinations. so much depends, however, upon the enthusiasm of the instructor that here particularly recommendations can be only of the most general kind. some of the most effective work in this subject is being done by teachers who forget the textbook for weeks at a time in order to push home a valuable inquiry suggested by an unforeseen problem raised in the course of the discussion. others use no textbooks at all. some outline the year's work in a series of cases or problems with questions to be answered in writing after consulting selected passages in the classics or in current literature or in both.[ ] this method has the advantage of laying out the whole year's work beforehand and of guaranteeing that the student comes to the classroom with something more than a facility in unpremeditated utterance. it is generally found to be of greater interest because it follows the lines of his own ordinary thinking--first the problem and then the attempt to find the principles that will help to solve it. =moral concepts deepened by participation in social or philanthropic endeavors= more important than any of these details of technique is the need of helping the student to clarify his thinking by engaging in some practical moral endeavor. the broadening and deepening of the altruistic interests is a familiar feature of adolescent life. the instructor in ethics, in the very interest of his own subject, is the one who should take the lead in encouraging these expressions, not only because of the general obligation of the college to make the most of aptitudes which, neglected in youth, may never again be so vigorous, but also because of the truth in aristotle's dictum that insight is shaped by conduct. hence the work in ethics should be linked up wherever possible with student self-government and other participation in the management of the college, and with philanthropics like work in settlements or in social reform groups or cosmopolitan societies. for the students of finer grain it is eminently worth the trouble to form clubs to intensify the spirit of the members by activities more pointedly directed to the refining of human relationships. they might engage in activities in which the task of elevating the personality is specially marked, that is, in problems which have to do with mutual interpretation--e.g., black folk and white, foreign and native stocks in america, delinquents and the community, immigrant parents and unsympathetic children. they might organize clubs for one or more of these purposes, for discussing intimately the problems of personal life, for public meetings on the ethics of the vocations and on the more distinctly ethical phases of political and international progress. such organizations can be made to do vastly more good for their members then the average debating society, with its usual premium on mere forensic skill, or the fraternity, with its encouragement of snobbishness. the wholesome thing about the spirit of fraternity should be set to work upon some such creative activities as we have mentioned. not only does the comradeship strengthen faith in right doing, but these practical endeavors offer a notable help to the deepening, extending, and clarifying of that interest in moral progress without which there can be none of the intelligent leadership for which our democracy looks to its colleges. =peculiar difficulty of applying usual test to courses in ethics= to test how far the subject has been of value to the student is unusually difficult. his interest in the discussions is by no means an unfailing index. there are those who may be both eager and skilled in the intellectual combat incidental to the course but whose lives remain untouched for the better. the worthier outcome is hard to trace. it is quite possible for the teacher to take credit for the instilling of an ideal whose generation was due to some agency wholly unknown, perhaps even to the student himself. on the other hand, the best results may take years for overt appearance. in the nature of the case, their more intimate expressions can never be recorded. moreover, students vary in the force of character which they bring with them to the study. a lad whose home training has been deficient may take more time than the best teacher can give in order to reach the degree of excellence to which others among his classmates ascend more quickly. or a lad whom the course has moved with a desire to take up some philanthropic endeavor may hesitate to pursue it through lack of the necessary gift or failure in self-confidence. the forces which enter into the making of character are so complex, including as they do not only acquisitions of new moral standards, but temperamental qualities, early training, potent example, physical stamina, dozens of accidental circumstances, that it is unfair to use the tests applicable, let us say, to a course in engineering. hence we must be beware of testing the value of the work by immediate results. something may be gathered by having the students write confidentially what they think the course has done for them and where it could be improved. this they can do both at the end of the course and years later when time has brought perspective. but tests are of minor importance. the ethical shortcomings of our time, the constant need of our students for ever finer standards, convey challenge enough. even though the obvious results fall short of our hopes, we can make the most of our resources with every assurance that they are amply needed. are young men more likely to be the better for setting time aside to obtain with the help of an earnest student of life a clearer insight into the principles of the best living? if they are the courses are justified, even though some who take them can show little immediate profit. henry neumann, ph.d. _ethical culture school, new york_ footnotes: [ ] see adler: _the present world-crisis and its meaning_, chapter on "an ethical program of social reform": also _an ethical philosophy of life_, chapters , , , , . [ ] from this point of view the ethical justification for the war on the slum becomes: (_a_) to make possible for the slum-dweller the better performance of his various duties as parent, worker, citizen; (_b_) to drive home to all concerned the meaning of interdependence; (_c_) to clarify for all of us the ideals to which better living conditions should minister. there is every need today to further the conviction that the highest service we can perform for another is not to make him happier, but to help him make himself a better person through the better performance of his duties. [ ] note the emphasis placed by modern philosophy upon ethical value as the point of approach to the problem of godhead. [ ] professor sharp of wisconsin has found this method so serviceable that he has interested many teachers in his state and elsewhere in using it with high school students for purposes of moral instruction. see "a course in moral instruction for high schools," by f. c. sharp; _bulletin, university of wisconsin_. xvi the teaching of psychology =place of psychology in the curriculum= historically, as an offshoot, and rather a recent offshoot, from philosophy, psychology has been under the care of the department of philosophy in colleges and universities, foreign as well as american, and has been taught by professors concerned in part with the courses in philosophy. though this state of affairs still obtains to a considerable extent, the tendency is undoubtedly towards allowing psychology an independent position in the organization and curriculum of the college. in recent appointments, indeed, the affiliation of psychology with education has frequently been emphasized instead of its affiliation with philosophy, for the professional applications of psychology lie more in the field of education than elsewhere. as a required study, our science is more likely to find a place in the college for teachers than in the college of arts. but, on the other hand, the applications to medicine, business, and industry are increasing so rapidly in importance as to make it logical to maintain an independent position for the science. only in an independent position can the psychologist be free to cultivate the central body of his subject, the "pure" as distinguished from the applied science; and, with the multiplication of practical applications, it is more than ever important to center psychological teaching in the person of some one who is simply and distinctively a psychologist. =the introductory course to be general, not vocationally applied psychology= for a similar reason, psychologists are wont to insist that the introductory course in their subject, no matter for what class of students, with general or with professional aims, should be definitely a course in _psychology_ as distinguished from educational or medical or business psychology. illustrative material may very well be chosen with an eye to the special interests of a class of students, but the general principles should be the same for all classes, and should not be too superficially treated in the rush for practical applications. some years ago, a committee of the american psychological association was appointed to make a survey of the teaching of psychology in universities, colleges, and normal schools, and the report of this committee ( ), still the most important contribution to the pedagogy of the subject, emphasizes the concurrent view of psychologists to the effect just stated, that the study of psychology should begin with a course in the central body of doctrine. the psychological point of view must be acquired before intelligent application can be made, whether to practical pursuits or to other branches of study such as philosophy and the social sciences, to which psychology stands in the relation of an ancillary science. during the war, the applications of psychology in the testing and selection of men and training them for specified military and naval work, in rating officers, in morale and intelligence work, and in several other lines, became so important that it was decided to give psychology a place as an "allied subject" in the curriculum of the students' army training corps; and the report of the committee of psychologists that prepared the outline of a course for this purpose deserves attention as a contribution to the pedagogy of the subject. they proposed a course on "human action," to be free from questions of a speculative or theoretical nature and concentrated on matters relevant to military practice and the military uses of psychology. the aim was to enlist the student's practical concern at the very outset, and to give him the psychological point of view as applied to his problems as a member of the army and a prospective officer. in method, the course was to depend little on lectures, or even on extensive readings, and much on the student's own solution of practical psychological problems. evidently the psychologists who prepared this plan were driven by the emergency to abandon "academic" prepossessions in favor of a course in pure psychology as the necessary prerequisite to any study of applications; and it is quite possible that courses in psychology for different groups of students could be prepared that should follow this general plan and be intensely practical from the start. it would still remain true that the thorough psychologist should be the one to plan and conduct such courses. =the psychological point of view must be emphasized in the introductory course= the psychological point of view means attentiveness to certain matters that are neglected in the usual objective attitude toward things. it is identified by many with introspection, but there is at present considerable dissent from this doctrine, the dissenters holding that an objective type of observation of human behavior is distinctively psychological and probably more significant and fruitful than the introspective attitude. however this may be, both introspection and behavior study require attention to matters that are commonly disregarded. every one is of course interested in what people do, or at least in the outcome of their activities; but psychology is interested in the activities themselves, in how the outcome is reached rather than in the outcome itself. ordinarily, we are interested in the fact that an inventor has solved a problem, but regard it as rather irrelevant if he proceeds to tell us the mental process by which he reached the solution. we are interested in the fact that a child has learned to speak, but devote little thought to the question as to how he has learned. it is to bring such psychological questions to light and arouse intelligent interest in them, with some knowledge of the answers that have been found, that the psychologist is chiefly concerned when initiating beginners into his science. this primary aim is accomplished in the case of those students who testify, as some do, that the course in psychology has "opened their eyes" and made them see life in a different light than hitherto. =values of the study of psychology--cultural rather than disciplinary= whether this primary value of psychology is to be counted among the disciplinary or among the cultural values may be a matter of doubt. psychologists themselves have seldom made special claims in behalf of their science as a means of formal discipline, many of them, in fact, taking a very negative position with regard to the whole conception of such discipline. what psychology can give of general value is a point of view, and a habit of attentiveness to the mental factor. the need of some systematic attention to these matters often comes to light in the queer efforts at a psychology made by intelligent but uninstructed persons in the presence of practical problems involving the mental factor. =the practical value= besides this "cultural" value, and besides the special uses of psychology as a preparation for teaching and certain other professions, there is a very real and practical value to be expected from an understanding of the mental mechanism. since every one works with this mechanism, every one can make practical use of the science of it. most persons get on passably well, perhaps, without any expert knowledge of the machinery which they are running; yet the machine is not entirely "fool proof," by any means, but sometimes comes to grief from what is in essence a lack of psychological wisdom either in the person himself or in his close companions. mental hygiene, in short, depends on psychology. the college student, looking forward to a life of mental activity, is specially in a position to utilize information regarding the most economical working of the mental machine; and, as a matter of experience, some students are considerably helped in their methods of mental work by what they learn in the psychology class. among the results of recent investigation are many bearing on economy and efficiency of mental work. this value of psychology, it will be seen, is practical without being professional--except in so far as all educated men can be said to adopt the profession of mental engineer. much more emphasis than has been customary might well be laid on this side of the subject in elementary courses. =content of the introductory course in psychology= the content of the first course in psychology is just now undergoing a certain amount of revision. traditionally the aim has been, not so much, as in most other subjects, to initiate the student into a range of facts lying outside his previous experience, as to bring definitely to his attention facts lying within the experience of all, and to cause him to classify these so as to refer any given mental process to the class or classes where it belongs. this calls for definition, the making of distinctions, the analysis of complex facts, the use of a technical vocabulary, and in general for much more precision of statement than the student has been used to employ in speaking of such matters. some laws of mental action, verifiable within ordinary experience, are also brought to light in such a course, and some account of the neural mechanisms of mental life is usually included; but its chief accomplishment is in leading the student to attend to mental processes and gain a point of view that may remain his future possession. with the great expansion of psychological knowledge in recent decades, due to research by experimental and other empirical methods, it has become possible to give a course more informational in character and going quite beyond the range of the student's previous experience; and this new material is finding its way into elementary texts and courses. many of the results of research are not at all beyond the comprehension of the beginner; indeed, they are often more tangible than the distinctions and analyses that give the stamp to the traditional course. these empirical results also have the advantage, in many cases, of throwing light on the practical problems of mental health and efficiency; and some inclusion of such material is desirable if only to fit the needs of the considerable number of students who cannot become interested in a course of the traditional sort. practice in this matter is at present quite variable, some teachers basing the introductory course as far as possible on the results of experiment, and others adhering closely to the older plan. =methods of teaching psychology--practical exercises= there is certainly some advantage in keeping the first course untechnical. the student can then be set to observing for himself, instead of depending on books. many of the facts of psychology are so accessible, at least in a rough form, as to make the subject a good one for appealing to the spirit of independence in the student. some teachers are, in fact, accustomed to introduce each part of the subject by exercises, introspective or other, designed to bring the salient facts home to the student in a direct way, before he has become inoculated with the doctrine of the authorities. "the essential point is that the student be led to observe his own experience, to record his observation accurately--in a word, to psychologize; and to make the observation before, not after, discovering from book or from lecture what answers are expected to these questions. individual experiments should so far as possible be performed in like manner before the class discussion of typical results. in all cases the results of these introspections should be recorded in writing; representative records should be read and commented on in class; and the discussion based on them should form the starting point for textbook study and for lecture." the plan thus highly recommended by professor calkins[ ] she found not to be widely used at the time of her inquiry; a commoner practice was the assignment of reading for the student's first introduction to a given topic. this alternative plan is a line of less resistance; and it is also true that exercises in original observation by beginners in psychology are likely to be instructive mostly as evidence of the ineptness of the beginner in psychological observation. moreover, when the content of the course is informational and based on the results of research, preliminary exercises by the student are of rather limited value, though they still could serve a useful purpose in bringing forcibly to his attention the problems to be studied. the use of "exercises," somewhat analogous to the examples of algebra or the "originals" of geometry, is quite widespread in introductory courses in psychology, and several much-used textbooks offer sets of exercises with each chapter. several types are in vogue: ( ) some call for introspections, as, for example, "think of your breakfast table as you sat down to it this morning--do you see it clearly as a scene before your mind's eye?" ( ) some call for a review and generalization of facts presumably already known, as "find instances of the dependence of character upon habit;" ( ) many consist of simple experiments demanding no special apparatus and serving to give a direct acquaintance with matters treated in the text, such as after-images or fluctuations of attention; and ( ) many call for the application of the principles announced in the text to special cases, the object being to "give the student some very definite thing to do" (thorndike), in doing which he will secure a firm hold of the principles involved. in general, teachers of psychology aim to "keep the student doing things, instead of merely listening, reading, or seeing them done" (seashore, , page ). in a few colleges, laboratory work of a simple character forms part of the introductory course, and in one or two the laboratory part is developed to a degree comparable with what is common in chemistry or biology. as a rule, however, considerations of time and equipment have prevented the introduction of real laboratory work into the first course in psychology. =classroom methods--the lecture= of classroom methods, perhaps all that are employed in other subjects find application also in psychology, some teachers preferring one and some another. the lecture method is employed with great success by some of the leaders, who devote much attention to the preparation of discourse and demonstrations. one professor (anonymous) is quoted[ ] as follows: "i must here interject my ideas on the lecture system. the lecture has a twofold advantage over the recitation. ( ) it is economical, since one man handles a large number of students; the method of recitation is extravagant. this fact alone will mean the retention of the lecture system, wherever it can possibly be employed with success. ( ) it is educationally the better method, for the average student and the average teacher. for the reconstruction of a lecture from notes means an essay in original work, in original thinking; while the recitation lapses all too readily into textbook rote and verbal repetition. "it is, nevertheless, true that sophomore students are on the whole inadequate to a lecture course. they cannot take notes; they cannot tear the heart out of a lecture. (they are also, i may add, inadequate to the reading of textbooks or general literature, in much the same way.) hence one has to supplement the lecture by syllabi, by lists of questions (indexes, so to speak, to the lectures), and by personal interviews.... "the sum and substance of my recommendations is that you provide a competently trained instructor, and let him teach psychology as he best can. what the student needs is the effect of an individuality, a personality; and the lecture system provides admirably for such effect." =the recitation= though the lecture system is used with great success by a number of professors, the general practice inclines more to the plan of oral recitations on assigned readings in one or more texts, and large classes are often handled in several divisions in order to make the recitation method successful. not infrequently a combination of lectures by the professor and recitations conducted by his assistants is the plan adopted, the lecturer to add impressiveness to the course, and the recitations to hold the student up to his work. written exercises, such as those already mentioned, are often combined with the oral recitation; and in some cases themes are to be written by the students. probably the seminar method, in which the subject is chiefly presented in themes prepared by the students, is never attempted in the introductory course. =class discussion= on the other hand, a number of successful teachers reject both the lecture and the recitation methods, and rely for the most part upon class discussions, with outside readings in the textbooks, and frequent written recitations as a check on the student's work. a champion of the discussion method writes as follows:[ ] "a teacher has not the right to spend any considerable part of the time of a class in finding out by oral questions ... whether or not the student has done the work assigned to him. the good student does not need the questions and is bored by the stumbling replies which he hears; and even the poor student does not get what he needs, which is either instruction _a deux_, or else a corrected written recitation.... not in this futile way should the instructor squander the short hours spent with his students. the purpose of these hours is twofold: first, to give to the students such necessary information as they cannot gain, or cannot so expediently gain, in some other way; second, and most important, to incite them to 'psychologize' for themselves. the first of these purposes is best gained by the lecture, the second by guided discussion. 'guided discussion' does not mean a reversal of the recitation process--an hour in which students ask questions in any order, and of any degree of relevancy and seriousness, which the instructor answers. on the contrary, the instructor initiates and leads the discussion; he chooses its subject, maps out its field, pulls it back when it threatens to transgress its bonds, and, from time to time, summarizes its results. this he does, however, with the least possible show of his hand. he puts his question and leaves it to the student interested to answer him; he restates the bungling answer and the confused question; he leaves one student to answer the difficulties of another.... the advantage of the discussion over the lecture is, thus, that it fosters in the student the active attitude of the thinker in place of the passive attitude of the listener.... obviously it is simplest to teach large classes by lecturing to them. yet a spirited and relevant discussion may be conducted in a class of a hundred or so. of course no more than eight or twelve, or, at most, twenty of these will take even a small part on a given day; perhaps a half or two thirds will never take part; and some will remain uninterested. but there will be many intelligent listeners as well as active participants; and these gain more, i believe, by the give and take of a good discussion than by constant lectures however effective." =class experiments= brief mention should be made of a form of class exercise peculiar to psychology, the "class experiment." this is in some respects like a demonstration, but differs from that in calling for a more active participation on the part of the student. any psychological experiment is performed _on_ a human (or animal) subject, and many experiments can be performed on a group of subjects together, each of them being called on to perform a certain task or to make a certain observation. each of the class having made his individual record, the instructor may gather them together into an average or summary statement, and the individual variations as well as the general tendency may thus be brought to light. very satisfactory and even scientific experiments can thus be performed, with genuine results instructive to the class. =checking the work of the students= of methods of holding the student to his work, mention has already been made of the much-used written recitation. the usual plan is to have frequent, very brief written examinations. sometimes the practice is to correct and return all the papers; sometimes to place them all on file and correct samples chosen at random for determining the student's "term mark." a plan that has some psychological merit is to follow the examination immediately by a statement of the correct answers, with brief discussion of difficulties that may arise, and to ask each student to estimate the value of his own paper in the standard marking system. the papers are then collected and examined, and returned with the instructor's estimate. since an examination is, in effect, a form of psychological test, it is natural that psychologists should have attempted to introduce some of the technique of psychological testing into the work of examining students, in the interest of economy of the student's time as well as that of the examiner. the teacher prepares blanks which the student can quickly fill out if he knows the subject, not otherwise. to discover how far the student has attained a psychological point of view, written work or examination questions often demand some independence in the application to new cases of what has been learned. far-reaching tests of the later value to the student of a course in psychology have not as yet been attempted. =place of psychology in the college course= no attempt has yet been made to obtain the consensus of opinion among psychologists as to whether the introductory course should be required of all arts students, and probably opinions would differ, without anything definitive to be said on either side. in quite a number of colleges psychology forms part of a required general course in philosophy. where a separation has occurred between philosophy and psychology, the latter is seldom absolutely required. as a general rule, however, the introductory course, even if not required, is taken by a large share of the arts students. the traditional position for the course in psychology is late in the college curriculum, originally in the senior but more recently in the junior year. in many of the larger colleges it is now open to sophomores or even to freshmen. one motive for pushing the introductory course back into the earlier years is naturally to provide for more advanced courses in the subject; and another is the desire to make psychology prerequisite for courses in philosophy, education, or sociology. still another motive tending in the same direction is the desire to make the practical benefits of psychological study available for the student in the further conduct of his work as a student in whatever field. if considerable attention is devoted in the introductory course to questions of mental hygiene and efficiency, the advantage of bringing these matters early to the attention of the student outweighs the objection which is often raised by teachers of psychology, as of other subjects, to admitting the younger students, on the ground of immaturity. the teachers who get the younger students may have to put up with immaturity in order that the benefit of their teaching may be carried over by the students into later parts of the curriculum. =length of the introductory course= when the introductory course in psychology forms part of a course in philosophy, it is usually restricted to one semester, with three hours of class work per week. when psychology is an independent subject in the curriculum, a two-semester course is usually provided, since it is the feeling of psychologists that this amount of time is needed in order to make the student really at home in the subject, and to realize for him the values that are looked for from psychology. often there is a break between the two semesters of such a course, the second being devoted to advanced or social or applied psychology. sometimes, on the other hand, the two-semester course is treated as a unit, the various topics being distributed over the year; this latter procedure is probably the one that finds most favor with psychologists. still, good results can be obtained with the semester course supplemented by other courses. =content of advanced courses in psychology= the most frequent advanced course is one in experimental psychology. this is taken by only a small fraction of those who have taken the introductory course, partly because the laboratory work attached to the experimental course demands considerable time from the student, partly because students are not encouraged to go into the laboratory unless they have a pretty serious interest in the subject. for a student who has it in him to become somewhat of an "insider" in psychology, no course is the equal of the laboratory course, supplemented by judicious readings in the original sources or in advanced treatises. next in frequency to the experimental course stands that in applied psychology, since the recent applications of psychology to business, industry, vocational guidance, law, and medicine appeal to a considerable number of college students. other courses which appear not infrequently in college curricula are those in social, abnormal, and animal psychology. no precise order is necessary in the taking of these courses, and it is not customary to make any beyond the introductory course prerequisite for the others. robert s. woodworth _columbia university_ bibliography many of the textbooks contain, in their prefaces, important suggestions toward the teaching of the subject. there are also frequent articles in the psychological journals on apparatus for demonstrations and class or laboratory experiments. . report of the committee of the american psychological association on the teaching of psychology. _psychological monographs_, no. , . . american psychological association, report of the committee on the academic status of psychology, : "the academic status of psychology in the normal schools." . same committee, : "a survey of psychological investigations with reference to differentiations between psychological experiments and mental tests." concerned with the availability of mental tests as material for the experimental course. . courses in psychology for the students' army training corps. _psychological bulletin_, , , - . see also the outlines of parts of the course in the same journal, pages - , - ; and a note on the success of the courses by edgar s. brightman, in the _bulletin_ for , pages - . footnotes: [ ] in report, pages - . [ ] by sanford, , page . [ ] calkins, , pages - . xvii the teaching of education a. teaching the history of education in college =kinds of educational values= there are three main kinds of educational value; viz., practical, cultural, and disciplinary. these three types of educational value probably originated in the order in which they are here mentioned. in early educational periods, all values are practical, or utilitarian. with the growth of social classes, some values become cultural; viz., those pursued by the upper classes. the disciplinary values are recognized when studies cease to have the practical and cultural values. =meaning of educational values= by the "educational value" of a subject we mean, of course, the service which the pursuit of that subject renders. any one subject will naturally have all three values, but no two subjects will have the same values mixed in the same proportion. the practical value of a subject depends on the use in life to which it can be put, especially its use in making a living. the cultural value of a subject depends largely on the enjoyment it contributes to life. while culture does not make a living, it makes it worth while that a living should be made. the disciplinary value of a subject depends on the amount of mental training that subject affords. such mental training is available in further pursuit of the same, or a similar, subject. it is the fashion of educational thinking in our day to put greatest stress on the practical values, less on the cultural, and least on the disciplinary. there is no denying the reality of each type of value. =value of the history of education= now, what is the value of the history of education? there are no experimental studies as yet, nor scientific measurements, upon which to base an answer. the poor best we can do is to express an opinion. this opinion is based on the views of others and on the writer's experience in teaching the history of education ten years in a liberal college (dartmouth) and ten years in a professional graduate school (new york university). on this basis i should say that the aim of the history of education, at least as recorded in existing texts, is first cultural, then practical, and last disciplinary. texts yet to be written for the use of teachers in training may shift the places of the cultural and the practical. this new type of text will give the history, not of educational epochs in chronological succession, but of modern educational problems in their origin and development.[ ] =its cultural value= as cultural, the history of education is the record of the efforts of society to project its own ideals into the future through shaping the young and plastic generation. there comes into this purview the successive social organizations, their ideals, and the methods utilized in embodying these ideals in young lives. interpretations of the nature of social progress, the contribution of education to such progress, and the goal of human progress, naturally arise for discussion, and the history of education well taught as the effort of man to improve himself is both informing and inspiring. this is the cultural value of the history of education. the sense of the meaning and value of human life is enhanced. as president faunce says,[ ] "a college of arts and sciences which has no place for the study of student life past and present, no serious consideration of the great schools which have largely created civilization, is a curiously one-sided and illiberal institution." =its practical value= as practical, the history of education, even when taught from the customary general texts, throws some light on such everyday school matters as educational organization, the best methods of teaching, the right principles of education for women, how to manage classes, and the art of administering education. history cannot give the final answer to such questions, but it makes a contribution to the final answer in reporting the results of racial experience and in assisting students to understand present problems in the light of their past. the history of education has a practical value, but it is not alone the source of guidance. =its disciplinary value= as disciplinary, the history of education shows the value of all historical study. the appeal is mainly to the memory and the judgment. the teaching is inadequate, if the appeal is only to the memory. the judgment must also be requisitioned in comparing, estimating, generalizing, and applying. memory is indispensable in retaining the knowledge of the historical facts, and judgment is utilized in seeing the meaning of these facts. with all studies in general, history shares in training perceptive, associative, and effortful activities. training in history is commonly supposed also to make one conservative, in contrast with training in science, which is supposed to make one progressive. but this result is not necessary, being dependent upon one's attitude toward the past. if past events are viewed as a lapse from an ideal, the study of history makes one conservative and skeptical about progress. if, on the other hand, the past is viewed as progress toward an ideal, the study of history makes one progressive, and expectant of the best that is yet to be. but, even so, familiarity with the past breeds criticism of quick expedients whereby humanity is at last to arrive. on the whole, the disciplinary value of the history of education is attained as an incident of its cultural and practical values. we are no longer trying to discipline the mind by memorizing lists of names and dates, though they be such euphonious names as those of the native american indian tribes, but we are striving to understand man's past and present efforts at conscious self-improvement. =the various aims of students= college students will elect a course in the history of education with many different motives. they may like the teacher, they may like history in any form, they may like the hours at which the class is scheduled, some person who had the course recommended it, or they have an idea they may teach for a while after graduating. a few know they are going into teaching as a vocation in life, and appreciate in a measure the increasing exactitudes of professional training. thus, from the student standpoint, the aims are eclectic. the results with them will be that as human beings they have a wider view of life; as citizens, perhaps as members of school boards, they are more intelligent in school matters; and as teachers they make a start in their progressive equipment. the general course in the history of education is pursued by a group of students with varying but undifferentiated motives. =a student's reaction= once i asked a group of college students to write a frank reaction on a sixty-hour course they had just completed in the general history of education. one wrote as follows: "the history of education makes me feel that a number of what we call innovations today are a renaissance of something as 'old as the hills.' we hear a lot about pupil self-government, and we find it back in the seventeenth century. the trade school also is not a modern tendency. "i also feel that maybe we are not giving our boys and girls a liberal education; maybe we are too utilitarian (i was very much inclined that way myself before i took this course). "that when we wish to try something new, let's go back and see if it has not been tried before, study the circumstances, the mistakes made, the results attained, and see whether we can't profit by the experience given us by the past. "i was also very much surprised to learn the close connection that there is between civilization and education. "i feel that we are laying too much stress on the thinking side of training rather than on the volitional side: not doing in the sense of utility alone, but as a means of expression." it is easy to see the parts of the course that particularly gripped him. another wrote as follows: =another reaction= "the history of education makes me feel as follows about teaching: ( ) it shows the knowledge of method to be obtained from the experiences of others. ( ) it makes me feel the importance of the teacher. ( ) it shows a great field and encourages us to try to improve our own methods. ( ) it shows us the great responsibility of the profession in connection with the nation, for the school teacher to a marked degree determines the destiny of a nation. ( ) it shows the importance of free-thinking. (illustration omitted.) ( ) it shows us the great importance of individuality along the line of teaching, for, as soon as we begin to adopt the methods of others exactly without examining them carefully, progress stops, and we are like the teachers of the middle ages. ( ) it shows that every teacher should have a heartfelt interest in his pupil. ( ) it makes us feel that discipline is unnecessary, if we utilize the right methods. ( ) it tells us and makes us feel above everything else that a good education is worth as much as riches and that, since we are all brothers, we ought to try to teach everybody." an analysis of these two answers would show a combination of the cultural and practical values and, by implication at least, since they were able to say these things, a disciplinary value. =history of education should be an elective course= should the history of education be a required or an elective course in the college curriculum? in a school of education offering a bachelor's degree, it might well be required, for both cultural and professional reasons, but in the usual department of education in a college it will be offered as an elective course. its cultural and disciplinary values are not such as to make its pursuit a requisite for a liberal education, and its practical value for prospective teachers, as it has been commonly taught, is not such as to warrant its prescription. besides, the prospective teacher is animated by the vocational motive and will elect the history of education anyway, unless there are more practical courses to be had. students in all the college courses should have the privilege of electing the history of education in view of their future citizenship. =a forty-five-hour course= a three-hour-per-week elective course for a half year, about forty-five classroom hours, will meet the needs of the average undergraduate in this subject. this amount of time is adequate for a bird's eye view of the general field, affording a unit of accomplishment in itself preparing the way for more specialized study later, though it is only about half the time requisite for presenting the details of the subject. =first term senior year= in my judgment the study of the history of education would best fall between principles and methods. the study of the principles of education should come first, as it is closely related to preceding work in the natural and mental sciences, especially biology, physiology, sociology, and psychology; it also gives a point of view from which to continue the study of education, some standard of judgment. the study of educational methods, such as general method in teaching, special method for different subjects, the technique of instruction, class management, organization and administration of schools, should come last in the course, because it will be soonest used. these practical matters should be fresh in the mind of any young college graduate beginning to teach. the history of education is a good transition in study from the theory of the first principles to the practice of school matters, affording a panorama of facts to be judged by principles and racial experiments in educational practice. this means that the choice time for the course in the history of education is the first semester of the senior year in college. there is something to be said for making this course the introductory one in the study of education, connecting with preceding courses in history and being objective in character. there is also something to be said for giving only a practical course dealing with the history of educational problems to college undergraduates and reserving the general history of education as a complex social study for the graduate school. there is no unanimity of opinion or practice concerning the history of education.[ ] =texts and contents= what should be the content of the one-semester general course? three modern available texts are monroe, _a brief course in the history of education_ (the macmillan company); graves, _a student's history of education_ (the macmillan company); and duggan, _a student's textbook in the history of education_ (d. appleton & co.). of these monroe's book is the first ( ), and it has greatly influenced every later text in the field. there is a general agreement in these three texts as to the content of such a course; viz., a general survey of education in the successive periods of history, including primitive, oriental, greek, roman, early christian and medieval, renaissance, reformation, realism, locke and the disciplinary tendency, rousseau, the psychologists, and the scientific, sociological, and eclectic tendencies. all are written from the standpoint of the conflict between the interests of society and the individual. the pages of the three books number respectively , , and . graves pays most attention to the development of american education. duggan omits the treatment of primitive and oriental education (except jewish), "which did not contribute _directly_ to western culture and education." all are illustrated. all have good summaries, which graves and duggan, following s. c. parker, who derived the suggestion from herbart, place at the beginning of the chapter. all have bibliographical references, and duggan adds lists of questions also. perhaps in order of ease for students the books would be duggan, graves, and monroe, though teachers would not all agree in this. users of monroe have a valuable aid in his epoch-making _textbook in the history of education_ (the macmillan company), pages, , and users of graves likewise have his three volumes as supplementary material (the macmillan company). the same general ground is covered by p. j. mccormick, _history of education_ (the catholic educational press), , pages, with especial attention given to the middle ages and the religious organizations of the seventeenth century. this work contains references and summaries also. duggan is right in omitting the treatment of primitive and oriental education on the principle of strict historical continuity, but for purposes of comparison the chapters on primitive and oriental education in the other texts serve a useful purpose. =educational classics= a more intensive elective course in the history of education intended especially for those expecting to teach might well be offered in a college with sufficient instructors. these courses might be in educational classics, the history of modern elementary education, or the history of the high school. texts are now available in these fields. monroe's _source book for the history of education_ (the macmillan company), , is a most useful book in studying the ancient educational classics, in which, however, the anacharsis of lucian does not appear, though it can be found in the report of the united states commissioner of education, - , vol. i, pages - . the renaissance classics may be studied in the works of woodward and laurie. the realists may be studied in the various editions of comenius, locke, spencer, and huxley. likewise the modern naturalistic movement may be followed in the writings of rousseau, pestalozzi, herbart, and froebel. these four courses are available in educational classics: the ancient, the renaissance or humanistic, the realistic and the naturalistic. =history of elementary and high schools= _the history of modern elementary education_ (ginn and co.) by s. c. parker and _the high school_ (the macmillan company) by f. w. smith may be profitably used as texts in the courses on these topics. parker's has but little on the organization of the elementary school, is weak on the philosophical side of the theorists treated, has nothing on montessori, draws no lessons from history, is very brief on the present tendencies, and is somewhat heavy, prosaic, and unimaginative in style; but it is painstaking, covers all the main points well and has uncovered some valuable new material, and on the whole is the best history in english on its problem. dr. smith's book is really a history of education written around the origin and tendencies of the high school as central. it is a scholarly work, based on access to original latin and other sources, though diffuse. =american education= an elective course in the history of american education is highly desirable. chancellor e. e. brown's scholarly book on _the making of our middle schools_, or e. g. dexter's encyclopedic book on _history of education in the united states_, may profitably serve as texts. this course should show the european influences on american schools, the development of the american system, and the rôle of education in a democratic society. there is great opportunity for research in this field. =history of educational problems= there is room for yet another course for college undergraduates expecting to teach,--a history of educational problems. the idea is to trace the intimate history of a dozen or more of the present most urgent educational questions, with a view to understanding them better and solving them more wisely, thus enabling the study of the history of education to function more in the practice of teachers. such a text has not yet been written. the point of view is expressed by professor joseph k. hart as follows: "the large problem of education is the making of new educational history. the real reason for studying the history of education is that one may learn how to become a maker of history. for this purpose, history must awaken the mind of the student to the problems, forces, and conditions of the present; and its outlook must be toward the future."[ ] =methods of teaching= what should be the method of teaching the history of education in college? one of the texts will be used as a basis for assignments and study. not less than two hours of preparation on each assignment will be expected. the general account in the text will be supplemented by the reading of source and parallel material, concerning which very definite directions will have to be given by the teacher. each student will keep a notebook as one of the requirements of the course, which is examined by the instructor at the end. a profitable way to make a notebook is for each student to select a different modern problem and trace its origin and growth as he goes through the general history of education and its source material. in this way each student becomes a crude historian of a problem. the examination will test judgment and reason as well as memory. in the classroom the instructor will at times question the class, will at times be questioned by the class, will lecture on supplementary material, will use some half-dozen stereopticon lectures in close conjunction with the text, will have debates between chosen students, seeking variety in method without loss of unity in result. some questions for debate might be, the superiority of the athenian to the modern school product, the necessity of latin and greek for a liberal education, religious instruction in the public schools, formal discipline, whether the aim of education is cultural or vocational, whether private philanthropy is a benefit to public education, etc. it is very important in teaching so remote a subject as the history of education that the teacher have imagination, be constantly pointing modern parallels, communicate the sense that the past has made a difference in the present, and be himself kindled and quickened by man's aspirations for self-improvement. unless our subject first inspires us, it cannot inspire our pupils. whoever teaches the history of education because he has to instead of because he wants to must expect thin results. =testing results= in addition to the formal indication of the results of the course in the examination paper, teachers can test their results by asking for frank unsigned statements as to what the course has meant to each student, by securing suggestions from the class for the future conduct of the course, by noting whether education as a means of social evolution has been appreciated, by observing whether the attitude of individual students toward education as a life-work or as a human enterprise deserving adequate support from all intelligent citizens has developed. as future citizens, has the motive to improve schools been awakened? particularly do more men want to teach, despite small pay and slight male companionship? the history of education does not really grip the class until its members want to rise up and do something by educational means to help set the world right. the limits of this paper exclude the treatment of the subject in the professional training of teachers in normal schools, high schools, and graduate schools, as well as in extension courses for teachers or in their private reading. herman h. horne _new york university_ bibliography buisson, f. _dictionnaire de la pédagogie_, histoire de l'education. burnham, w. h. education as a university subject. _educational review_, vol. , pages - . burnham and suzzalo, _the history of education as a professional subject_, teachers college, new york, . cook, h. m. _history of the history of education as a professional study in the united states._ unpublished thesis. hinsdale, b. a. the study of education in american colleges and universities, _educational review_, vol. , pages - . horne, h. h. a new method in the history of education. _the school review monographs_, no. , chicago, ; pages - . discussion of same in _school review_, may, . kiehle, d. l. the history of education: what it stands for. _school review_, vol. , pages - . monroe, p., and others. history of education; in monroe's _cyclopedia of education_, vol. , new york, . monroe, p. opportunity and need for research work in the history of education. _pedagogical seminary_, vol. , pages - . moore, e. c. the history of education. _school review_, vol. xi, pages - . norton, a. o. scope and aims of the history of education. _educational review_, vol. . payne, w. h. practical value of the history of education. _proceedings national education association_, , pages - . rein, w. encyclopädisches handbuch der pädagogik. _historische pädagogik._ robbins, c. l. history of education in state normal schools. _pedagogical seminary_, vol. , no. , pages - . ross, d. _education as a university subject: its history, present position, and prospects._ glasgow, . sutton, w. l., and bolton, f. e. the relation of the department of education to other departments in colleges and universities. _journal of pedagogy_, vol. , nos. - . williams, s. g. value of the history of education to teachers. _proceedings national education association_, , pages - . wilson, g. m. titles of college courses in education. _educational monographs_, no. , , pages - . b. teaching educational theory in college and university departments of education =introductory= courses in education in a college or university department may be roughly classified into (_a_) the theoretical phases of education, (_b_) the historical phases, and (_c_) the applied phases. under the historical phases may properly be included courses in the general history of education as well as those in the history of education in special countries. the applied courses may include general and special method, organization, administration, observation, and practice. educational theory is discussed below. a couple of decades ago the terms "philosophy of education," "science of education," and "general pedagogy," or just "pedagogy," were most generally employed. at that time most of the work in education was given in the departments of philosophy or psychology. gradually departments of education came to have an independent status. among the earliest were those at michigan, under dr. joseph payne, and the one at iowa, under dr. stephen fellows. previous to the vigorous development of departments of education, the departments of psychology and philosophy gave no special attention to the educational bearings of psychology. but as soon as departments of education began to introduce courses in educational psychology and child study, the occupants of the departments of psychology rubbed their eyes, became aware of unutilized opportunities, and then began to assert claims. =place of educational theory in the curriculum= ordinarily the courses in educational theory are given in the junior year of college. in a few places, elementary or introductory courses are open to freshmen. there is a distinct advantage in giving courses to freshmen, if they can be made sufficiently concrete and grow out of their previous experiences. the college of education in the university of washington, for example, is so organized that the student shall begin to think of the profession of teaching immediately upon entering the university. while the main work in education courses does not come until the junior and senior years, the student receives guidance and counsel from the outset in selecting his courses and is helped to get in touch with the professional atmosphere that should surround a teacher's college. the foundation work in zoölogy and psychology is given as far as possible with the teaching profession in mind. it is planned to give some work of a general nature in education during the first two years, that will serve as vocational guidance and will assist the student to arrange his work most advantageously and to accomplish it most economically. by the more prolonged individual acquaintance between students and faculty of the college of education, it is hoped that the students will receive greater professional help and the faculty will be better able to judge of the teaching abilities of the students. the work in education and allied courses has been so extended that adequate professional preparation may be secured. the courses in zoölogy, psychology, and sociology are all directly contributory to a knowledge of, and to an interpretation of, the courses in education. the great majority of undergraduate students taking education are preparing to teach, and more and more they plan to teach in the high schools. however, not a few students of medicine, law, engineering, and other technical subjects take courses in education as a means of general information. it would be exceedingly desirable if all citizens would take general courses in education, and would come to understand the meaning of educational processes and past and present practices in educational procedure. if all parents and members of school boards could have a few modern courses in educational theory and organization, the work of school teachers would be very much simplified. so far as is known, no college or university makes education an absolute requirement such as is made with respect to foreign languages, science, mathematics, or philosophy. in a large majority of states, some work in education is required for teacher's certification. the number of states making such requirements is rapidly increasing. before long it will be impossible for persons to engage in teaching without either attending a normal school or taking professional courses in education in college. =the scope of college courses in educational theory= the theory of education as considered in this chapter will include all those courses which have for their purpose the consideration of the fundamental meaning of education and the underlying laws or principles governing the education process. educational theory is given in different institutions under a great variety of titles. the following are the most frequently offered: principles of education, philosophy of education, theory of education, educational psychology, genetic psychology, experimental education, child study, adolescence, moral education, educational sociology, social aspects of education. educational theory may be divided into courses which are elementary in character, and those which are advanced. the purpose of the former is to present to beginning students the fundamentals of reasonably well-tested principles and laws, and to indicate to them something of the various phases of education. the purpose of advanced courses, especially in experimental education, is to reach out into new fields and by study and experiment to test and develop new theories. the experimental phases of education seek to blaze new trails and to discover new methods of reaching more economically and efficiently the goals which education seeks. both of these phases should be given in a college course in the theory of education. enough of the experimental work should be given in the elementary course to enable students to distinguish between mere opinion and well-established theory, to understand how the theories have been derived, to know how to subject them to crucial tests, and to give them some knowledge of methods of experimentation. education as a science is constantly confronted by the questions, "what are the ends and aims of education?" and "what are the means of accomplishing these ends?" these mean that there must be a study of the ends of education as necessitated by the demands of society and the needs of the individual himself. in determining the ends of education, adult society, of which the individual is to be a part, must be surveyed, as must also the social group of which the child is now an integral part. in addition to these the laws of growth and development must be studied, to understand what will contribute effectively to the child's normal unfoldment. the interpretation of the ends and means of education will determine the field of the theory of education. this interpretation has been so splendidly stated by dewey that i venture to quote him at length. he says (_my pedagogic creed_): "i believe that this educational process has two sides--one psychological and one sociological: and that neither can be subordinated to the other or neglected without evil results following. of these two sides, the psychological is the basis. the child's own instincts and powers furnish the material and give the starting point for all education. save as the efforts of the educator connect with some activity which the child is carrying on of his own initiative independent of the educator, education becomes reduced to a pressure from without. it may, indeed, give certain external results, but cannot truly be called educative. without insight into the psychological structure and activities of the individual, the educative processes will, therefore, be haphazard and arbitrary. if it chances to coincide with the child's activity, it will get a leverage; if it does not, it will result in friction, or disintegration, or arrest of the child nature. "i believe that knowledge of social conditions, of the present state of civilization, is necessary in order properly to interpret the child's powers. the child has his own instincts and tendencies, but we do not know what these mean until we can translate them into their social equivalents. we must be able to carry them back into a social past and see them as the inheritance of previous race activities. we must be able to project them into the future to see what their outcome and end will be. in the illustration just used, it is the ability to see in the child's babblings the promise and potency of the future social intercourse and conversation which enables one to deal in the proper way with that instinct. "i believe that the psychological and social sides are organically related, and that education cannot be regarded as a compromise between the two, or a superimposition of one upon the other. we are told that the psychological definition of education is barren and formal--that it gives us only the idea of a development of all the mental powers without giving us an idea of the use to which these powers are put. on the other hand, it is urged that the social definition of education, as getting adjusted to civilization, makes a forced and external process, and results in subordinating the freedom of the individual to a preconceived social and political status. "i believe each of these objections is true when urged against one side isolated from the other. in order to know what a power really is we must know what its end, use, or function is; and this we cannot know, save as we conceive of the individual as active in social relationships. but, on the other hand, the only possible adjustment which we can give to the child under existing conditions is that which arises through putting him in complete possession of all of his powers. with the advent of democracy and modern industrial conditions, it is impossible to foretell definitely just what civilization will be twenty years from now. hence it is impossible to prepare the child for any precise set of conditions. to prepare him for the future life means to give him command of himself; it means so to train him that he will have the full and ready use of all his capacities, that his eye and ear and hand may be tools ready to command, that his judgment may be capable of grasping the conditions under which it has to work, and the executive forces be trained to act economically and efficiently. it is impossible to reach this sort of adjustment save as constant regard is had to the individual's own powers, tastes, and interests; say, that is, as education is continually converted into psychological terms. "in sum, i believe that the individual who is to be educated is a social individual, and that society is an organic union of individuals. if we eliminate the social factor from the child, we are left only with an abstraction; if we eliminate the individual factor from society, we are left only with an inert and lifeless mass. education, therefore, must begin with a psychological insight into the child's capacities, interests, and habits. it must be controlled at every point by reference to these same considerations. these powers, interests, and habits must be continually interpreted--we must know what they mean. they must be translated into terms of their social equivalents--into terms of what they are capable of in the way of social service." therefore, the fundamental course in educational theory must include ( ) the biological principles of education, ( ) the psychological principles of education, and ( ) the social principles of education. this does not mean that the sequence must be as enumerated here. in some places that is the sequence followed, in some other places the social principles are studied first. as a matter of fact, all three phases must be studied together to a considerable extent. probably a purely logical arrangement would place the social phases first, but it is almost futile to attempt to present them effectively until something of the biological and psychological laws are first established. again, the student in beginning the formal study of education is already in possession of a vast body of facts concerning society and the relation of education to it, so that reference can be advantageously made in connection with the study of biological and psychological laws of education. then the social principles and applications can be more thoroughly and scientifically considered in the light of the other phases. in administering a college course in the theory of education the great desideratum is to try to formulate a body of knowledge which will give the undergraduate students an idea of the meaning of education and its problems and processes. in so far as possible it is desirable to present material which in a certain sense will be practical. inasmuch as the majority of undergraduates who study education in a college department intend to go into the practical work of teaching, it is important to fortify them, as well as possible in the brief time which they devote to the subject, concerning the best means of securing definite results in education. the majority are not so much interested in the abstract science or the philosophy of education as they are in its practical problems. all courses in education should seek to deal with fundamental principles and not dole out dogmatic statements of practical means and devices, but at the same time no principles should be considered with which the student cannot see some relation to the educative processes. they are not primarily concerned with the place of education among the sciences or with ontological and teleological meanings of education or of its laws. =academic recognition of the introductory course= the course in elementary educational theory should be on a par with a course in principles of physics, one in principles of biology, principles of psychology, principles of political science, etc. a course in the principles of any of these subjects attempts to set forth the main problems with which the science deals. elementary courses attempt to select those principles which have frequent application in everyday life. the course in the principles of physics deals with the elementary notions of matter, motion, and force, and everyday illustrations and problems are sought. it would seem that in a similar manner the college course in the foundations of education should seek elementary principles which will enable the student to accomplish the purpose of education; namely, to produce modifications in individuals and in society in harmony with the ideals and ends of education. education is a process of adjusting individuals to their environment, natural and accidental, and the environment which is created through ideals held by society and by individuals themselves. all education has to do with the development of the individual in accordance with his potentialities and the ideals of education which are set up. it is a practical science, an applied science, in the same way that engineering is an applied science. engineering does not deal with ultimate theories of matter, force, and motion, except as they are important in considering practical ends to be secured through the application of forces. an elementary course in educational theory should seek to include the foundations rather than to encompass all knowledge about education. it is rather an introduction than an encyclopedia. although a complete and logical treatise on the theory of education might include a consideration of the course of study and the methods of instruction, the making of a course of study, the problem of the arrangement of the course of study, the various studies as instruments of experience, the organization and administration of education, etc., it is questionable from a practical point of view whether they should be given consideration in the undergraduate course. mere passing notice would at any rate seem sufficient. each topic of the scope of the foregoing is sufficient to form a course in itself, and the introductory course should do no more than define their relation to the general problem. in the principles of psychology the fields of abnormal psychology, comparative psychology, child psychology, adolescent psychology, etc., are defined and drawn upon for illustration, yet no separate chapters are devoted to them. in departments of political economy there are usually elemental courses designed as an introduction to the leading principles of economic science, but there are special courses in currency and banking, public finance, taxation, transportation, distribution of wealth, etc. similarly in the college course in the theory of education, the work should be concentrated upon fundamentals designed to introduce the student to the many special problems. for example, the course of study and the organization and administration of education should be regarded as accessory rather than as fundamental. the laws underlying processes of development and modification are what should occupy the attention of the student in this elemental survey. a study of the special means and agencies of education and forms of social organization should be given in other courses by special names. secondary education, the kindergarten, administration and supervision, methods in special subjects, etc., each deserve attention as a distinct and separate course. as shown by two surveys made by the writer, one in and the last in , the theory of education is most frequently given under the terms "principles of education," "educational psychology," "social phases of education," "educational sociology," and "child study." therefore, a brief special discussion of each of these fields may be desirable. =principles of education= under various names courses in principles of education are given in most departments of education. the term "principles of education" does not appear in all, being replaced by "principles of teaching," "philosophy of education," "fundamentals of teaching," "introduction to education," "science of education," "principles of method," "theory of education," etc. in some institutions the terms "educational psychology" and "child study" stand for essentially the same thing as the foregoing. in most institutions it is recognized that the teacher must understand (_a_) the meaning and aim of education, (_b_) the nature of the child considered biologically, psychologically, socially, and morally, (_c_) the foundations of society and the industries, (_d_) how to adapt and utilize educational means so as to develop the potentialities of the child's nature and cause him to achieve the aims of education. =biological principles= in this section there should be an attempt first to enlarge the notion of education, aiming to have it regarded as practically coincident with life and experience. of course there is the ideal side to which individuals will strive, but the student should be impressed with the fact that every experience leaves its ineffaceable effect upon all organisms. in order to convey this idea we may begin with a discussion of the effects of experience upon simple animal and plant life and the general modifications produced in the adjustment of such life to surroundings. some familiar, non-technical facts in the evolution of plant and animal life may be considered in their relation to the question of adaptation and adjustment. due notice should be taken of the facts of adjustment as manifested in such illustrations as the change of the eyes of cave animals, gradual modifications of plant and animal life, the change of animals from sea life to land life, some of the retrogressions, etc. a general study of the gradual evolution of sense organs and the nervous system should be made, because these illustrate in an excellent way the gradual modifications produced by experience in the race. after this general survey, the subject of innate tendencies may be considered through the discussion of such chapters as drummond's "the ascent of the body," "the scaffolding left in the body," "the arrest of the body," "the dawn of mind," "the evolution of language," etc. these discussions naturally lead to a consideration of the lengthening period of human infancy, and the importance of infancy in education. this in turn leads to a brief consideration of the periods of childhood, adolescence, and maturity, largely from a biological point of view. these should be followed by a discussion of such topics as instinct, heredity, from fundamental to accessory, the brain as an organ of mind, some of the facts of psycho-physical correlation, and the reciprocal influence of mind and body upon each other. before leaving this general field, thorough and designedly practical discussions of the importance of physical development and culture for education in general and for mental development, fatigue, habit, physical and mental hygiene, and play should be considered. =educational psychology= the next section should include what some authors term educational psychology, and others call the psychological aspects of education. in this section the first topic naturally considered is that of memory. it grows out of the biological discussion of instinct, heredity, etc. included in the subject of memory is that of association. following this come imagination, imitation, training of the senses, apperception, formal discipline, feeling, volition, motor training, induction, etc. periods of mental development and the specific topics of childhood and adolescence should receive definite consideration, though more exhaustive treatment should be reserved for a distinct course in child study. the genetic point of view should be emphasized throughout. while the number of students registered for educational psychology is not large, the numbers that are in reality pursuing this branch are increasing. fortunately, the "psychology for teachers" and "applied psychology" of a score of years ago are giving way to a kind of educational psychology that is much more vital. men like judd and thorndike are formulating a psychology of the different branches of study and of the teaching processes involved that will enable the teacher to see the connection between the psychological laws and the processes to be learned. this sort of work has been made possible by the work of hall and his followers in studying the child and the adolescent from the standpoint of growth periods and the types of activity suited to each period. educational psychology is therefore represented richly in principles of education, genetic psychology, mental development, child study, and adolescence, as well as in the courses labeled "educational psychology." =social aspects of education= twelve years ago courses on social phases of education were probably not offered anywhere, as they are not listed in my tabulation at that time. today they appear in some form or other in almost every department of education. in columbia the work is given as "educational sociology." the departments of sociology also emphasize various phases of educational problems. courses on vocational education, industrial education, and vocational guidance all emphasize the same idea. the introduction of these courses means that the merely disciplinary aim of education is fast giving way to that of adjustment and utility. educational means are ( ) to enable the child to live happily and to develop normally, and ( ) to furnish a kind of training which will enable him to serve society to the utmost advantage. in the courses on educational sociology, there should be an attempt to help the student feel that the highest aim of education is not individualistic, but social. the purpose is to fit the individual for coöperation, developing agencies of life that shall be mutually advantageous, for democratic society seeks the highest welfare of all its members through the coöperation and contribution of each of its members. it teaches us not only the rights and privileges of society but also its duties and obligations. the best individual development also comes only through the social interaction of minds, and consequently various phases of social psychology must receive consideration. various forms of coöperative effort which enlist the interest of children at various stages of development should be studied. inasmuch as educators should link school and home, typical illustrations of the manifold means of relating the school and society should be studied, so that the teacher will not be without knowledge of their possibilities. =the child the center= throughout the country there is evidence that the curricula in education departments have for their central object a scientific knowledge of the child, and the better adaptation of educational means to the development of the potentialities possessed by the child. this idea is evidenced by the fact that the foundation courses are psychology, principles of education, child study, educational psychology. the fact that the history of education is still so largely given as a relatively beginning course shows that the new idea has not gained complete acceptance. many specialized courses in child study are offered, among them being such courses as the "psychology of childhood," "childhood and adolescence," "psychopathic, retarded, and mentally deficient children," "genetic psychology," "the anthropological study of children," "the physical nature of the child." at the university of pittsburgh a school of childhood has been established which will combine in theory and practice the best ideals in the kindergarten, the modern primary school, and the montessori system. clark university has had for some years its children's institute, which attempts to assemble the best literature on childhood and the best materials of instruction in childhood. many of the courses in educational tests and measurements center around the study of the child. =methods of teaching the subject= naturally, methods of teaching the subject vary exceedingly in the different institutions. each instructor to a large extent follows his own individual inclinations. probably the great majority pursue the lecture method to a considerable extent. the lectures are generally accompanied by readings either from some textbook or from collateral readings. the writer has personally pursued the combination method. for years before his own book on _principles of education_ was completed the subject was presented in lecture form, and accompanied by library readings. even now, with a textbook at hand, each new topic is outlined in an informal development lecture. definite assignments are made from the text, and from collateral readings, which include additional texts, periodical literature, and selected chapters from various educational books. after students have had an opportunity to read copiously and to think out special problems, an attempt is made to discuss the entire topic orally. that is possible and very fruitful in classes of the right size,--not over thirty. in large classes numbering from sixty to one hundred or more, the oral discussion is not profitable unless the instructor is very skilled in conducting the discussion. the questions should never be for the purpose of merely securing answers perfectly obvious to all in the class. the questions should seek to unfold new phases of the subject. difficult points should be considered, new contributions should be made by the students and the instructor, and all should feel that it is really an enlargement, a broadening, and a deepening of ideas gained through the lectures and the assigned readings. very frequently individual students should be assigned special topics for report. a good deal of care must be exercised in this connection, for unless the material is a real contribution and is presented effectively, the rest of the students become wearied. if possible, the instructor should know exactly what points are to be brought out, and the approximate amount of time to be occupied. throughout, an attempt is made to make the work as concrete as possible, and to show its relation to matters pertaining to the schoolroom, the home, and the everyday conduct of the students themselves. each topic is treated with considerable thoroughness and detail. no endeavor is made to secure an absolutely systematic and ultra-logical system. the charge of being logically unsystematic and incomplete would not be resented. there is no desire for a system. as in the elementary stages of any subject, the first requisite is a body of fundamental facts. there is time enough later to evolve an all-inclusive and all-exclusive system. i am not aware that even the "doctors" have yet fully settled this question. the psychological order is the one sought. what is intelligible, full of living interest, and of largest probable importance in the life and work of the student teacher are the criteria applied in the selection of materials. the student verdict is given much weight in deciding. a rather successful plan of providing an adequate number of duplicates of books much used has been developed by the writer at the state university of iowa and at the university of washington. in all courses in which no single suitable text is found the students are asked to contribute a small sum, from twenty-five to fifty cents, for the purpose of purchasing duplicates. these books are placed on the reserve shelf, and this makes it possible for large classes to be accommodated with a relatively small number of books. ordinarily there should be one book for every four or five students, if all are expected to read the same assignment. if options are allowed, the proportion of books may be reduced. the books become the property of the institution, and a fine library of duplicate sets rapidly accumulates. in about five years about fifteen hundred volumes have been secured in this way at the university of washington. valuable pamphlet material and reprints of important articles also are collected and kept in filing boxes. frederick e. bolton _university of washington_ bibliography . articles on teaching of educational theory bolton, frederick e. the relation of the department of education to other departments in colleges and universities. _journal of pedagogy_, vol. xix, nos. , , december, , march, . ---- curricula in university departments of education. _school and society_, december , , pages - . judd, charles h. the department of education in american universities. _school review_, vol. , november, . hollister, horace a. courses in education best adapted to the needs of high school teachers and high school principals. _school and home education_, april, . . books on the general, biological, and psychological phases of education bagley, william c. _the educative process._ the macmillan company, . pages. ---- _educational values._ the macmillan company, . pages. bolton, frederick e. _principles of education._ charles scribner's sons, . pages. butler, nicholas murray. _the meaning of education, and other essays._ the macmillan company, . pages. revised edition. cubberley, ellwood p. _changing conceptions of education._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. davenport, eugene. _education for efficiency._ d. c. heath & company, . pages. dewey, john. _democracy and education: an introduction to the philosophy of education._ macmillan, . pages. freeman, frank n. _experimental education._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. ---- _psychology of the common branches._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. ---- _how children learn._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. gordon, kate. _educational psychology._ henry holt & co., . pages. groszmann, m. p. e. _some fundamental verities in education._ richard badger, . pages. guyer, michael. _being well-born._ bobbs-merrill company, . pages. hall, g. s. _educational problems._ d. appleton & co., . volumes, pages and pages. heck, w. h. _mental discipline and educational values._ john lane & co., . pages. henderson, charles h. _education and the larger life._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. ---- _what is it to be educated?_ houghton mifflin company, . pages. henderson, ernest n. _a textbook on the principles of education._ the macmillan company, . pages. horne, herman h. _the philosophy of education._ the macmillan company, . pages. ---- _the psychological principles of education._ the macmillan company, . pages. klapper, paul. _principles of educational practice._ d. appleton & co., . pages. moore, ernest c. _what is education?_ ginn and co., . pages. o'shea, m. vincent. _dynamic factors in education._ the macmillan company, . pages. ---- _education as adjustment._ longmans, green & co., . pages. ---- _linguistic development and education._ the macmillan company, . pages. pyle, william h. _the science of human nature._ silver, burdett & co., . pages. ---- _the outlines of educational psychology._ warwick & york, . pages. ruediger, william c. _principles of education._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. spencer, herbert. _education, intellectual, moral, and physical._ d. appleton & co., . pages. thorndike, edward l. _principles of teaching._ a. g. seiler, . pages. ---- _education: a first book._ the macmillan company, . pages. ---- _individuality._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. ---- _educational psychology._ teachers college, . vol. . the original nature of man. pages. . books on the social phases of education betts, george h. _social principles of education._ charles scribner's sons, . pages. cabot, ella l. _volunteer help to the schools._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. dewey, john. _the school and society._ university of chicago press, . pages. ---- _the schools of tomorrow._ e. p. dutton & co., . pages. ---- _democracy and education._ the macmillan company, . pages. dewey, john, and small, albion w. _my educational creed._ e. l. kellogg & co., . pages. dutton, samuel t. _social phases of education in the school and the home._ the macmillan company, . pages. gillette, john m. _constructive rural sociology._ sturgis & walton, . pages. king, irving. _education for social efficiency._ d. appleton & co., . pages. ---- _social aspects of education. a book of sources and original discussions, with annotated bibliographies._ the macmillan company, . mcdougall, william. _an introduction to social psychology._ john w. luce, . pages. o'shea, m. vincent. _social development and education._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. scott, colin a. _social education._ ginn and co., . pages. smith, walter r. _an introduction to educational sociology._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. . books on childhood and adolescence drummond, william b. _an introduction to child study._ longmans, green & co., . pages. gesell, beatrice c. and arnold. _the normal child and primary education._ ginn and co., . pages. groszmann, m. p. e. _the career of the child._ richard badger, . pages. hall, g. stanley. _youth, its education, regimen, and hygiene._ d. appleton & co., . pages. ---- _aspects of child life and education._ ginn and co., . pages. ---- _adolescence: its psychology and its relations to physiology, anthropology, sociology, sex, crime, religion, and education._ d. appleton & co., . vols., and pages. king, irving. _the high school age._ robbs-merrill company, . pages. kirkpatrick, edwin a. _fundamentals of child study._ the macmillan company, . pages. ---- _genetic psychology: an introduction to an objective and genetic view of intelligence._ the macmillan company, . pages. oppenheim, nathan. _the development of the child._ the macmillan company, . pages. sully, james. _studies of childhood._ d. appleton & co., . pages. swift, edgar j. _youth and the race._ charles scribner's sons, . pages. tanner, amy e. _the child: his thinking, feeling, and doing._ . pages. terman, lewis m. _the hygiene of the school child._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. tracy, frederick, and stimpel, james. _the psychology of childhood._ d. c. heath & co., . pages. tyler, john mason. _growth and education._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. waddle, charles w. _introduction to child psychology._ houghton mifflin company, . pages. footnotes: [ ] "a new method in the history of education," _school review monographs_, no. . h. h. horne. [ ] quoted in _school and society_, vol. , page , from president faunce's annual report. recent articles on the cultural value of courses in education are: j. m. mecklin, "the problem of the training of the secondary teacher," _school and society_, vol. , pages - . h. e. townsend, "the cultural value of courses in education," _school and society_, vol. , pages - . [ ] cf. thomas m. balliet, "normal school curricula," _school and society_, vol. iv, page . [ ] "can a college department of education become scientific?" _the scientific monthly_, vol. , no. , page . part four the languages and literatures chapter xviii the teaching of english literature _caleb t. winchester_ xix the teaching of english composition _henry seidel canby_ xx the teaching of the classics _william k. prentice_ xxi the teaching of the romance languages _william a. nitze_ xxii the teaching of german _e. prokosch_ xviii the teaching of english literature =scope of study of english literature in college= it should be understood at the outset that this paper is concerned with the study of literature, not in the university or graduate school, but in the college, by the undergraduate candidate for the bachelor's degree; and, furthermore, that the object of study is not the history, biography, bibliography, or criticism of literature, but the literature itself. perhaps also the term "literature" may need definition. as commonly--and correctly--used, the word "literature" denotes all writing which has sufficient emotional interest, whether primary or incidental, to give it permanence. as thus defined, literature would include, for example, history and much philosophical writing, and would exclude only writing of purely scientific or technical character. but in the following pages the word will be used in a narrower sense, as indicating those books that are read for their own sake, not solely or primarily for their intellectual content. this definition is elastic enough to comprise not only poetry, drama, and fiction, but the essay, oratory, and much political and satirical prose. it should be further understood that for the purpose of this paper, english literature may be considered to begin about the middle of the fourteenth century. earlier and anglo-saxon writings are by no means without great literary value, and it may at once be granted that no college teacher of english literature is thoroughly equipped for his work who is ignorant of them; but they can be read appreciatively only after considerable study of the language, the method and motives of which are linguistic rather than literary. =aims governing the teaching of english literature= perhaps it may be asked just here whether english literature, as thus defined, need be studied in college at all. until quite recently that question seems generally to have been answered in the negative. fifty years ago, few if any of our american colleges gave any study to texts of english classics. there were, indeed, in most colleges professors of rhetoric and _belles-lettres_, whose lectures upon the history and criticism of our literature were often of great value as an inspiration to literary study; but it was only in the decade from to that in most of our colleges the literature itself, with hesitating caution, began to be read and studied in the classroom. =can literary appreciation be developed?= nor was this hesitation without some reasons, at least plausible. the chief object of college training, it was said, is to discipline and strengthen the intellect, to give the student that grasp and power of thought which he may apply to all the work of later life. the college should not be expected to pay much attention to the cultivation of the imagination and the emotions. these faculties, to which literature makes appeal, are not, it was said, under the control of the will, and you cannot cultivate or strengthen them by sheer resolve or strenuous exertion. the first condition of any real appreciation of literature, so ran the argument, is spontaneous enjoyment of it; and you cannot command a right feeling for literature or for anything else. but a normal development of the imagination and the emotions does usually accompany the vigorous development of the intellect, so that the advancing student will be found to turn spontaneously to art and literature. and his appreciation of all the highest and deepest meanings in literature will be quickened because he brings to his reading a mind trained to accurate and vigorous thinking. moreover, all substantial advantages from the study of modern vernacular literature can be better obtained from the greek and latin classics. they afford the same richness of thought and charm of form as our modern writing; but they demand for their appreciation that careful attention and study which modern literature too often discourages. the survivors of a former generation sometimes ask us today, with a touch of sarcasm, "do you think the average new england college student of fifty to seventy-five years ago, when the emersons and longfellows and lowells were young men, the days of the old _north american review_ and the new _atlantic monthly_, had any less appreciation and enjoyment of whatever is good in literature, or any less power to produce it, than the young fellows who are coming out of college today after more than a quarter century of literary instruction?" and they occasionally suggest that, at all events, it is difficult to find any evidences of the result of such instruction in the quality of the literature produced or demanded today. =conflict of utilitarian and cultural standards= on the other hand, the study of english literature often fares little better with the advocates of the modern practical tendency in education. they have but scanty allowance for a study assumed to be of so little use in the actual work of life. an acquaintance with well-known english books, especially if they be modern books, is, they admit, a desirable accomplishment if it can be gained without too much cost, but not to be allowed the place of more valuable knowledge. a typical modern father, writing not long ago to a modern educator, after giving with equal positiveness the subjects that his boy must have and must not have included in his course of study, added by way of concession, "the boy might, if he has time, take english literature." =cultural and utilitarian standards harmonized= now in answer to this second class of objectors, it may be frankly admitted that the study of english literature is primarily, if not entirely, cultural. a boy may not make a better engineer or practical chemist for having studied in college the plays of shakespeare or the prose of ruskin. and to the older objectors, who urge that literary study can ever give that severe intellectual discipline afforded by the older, narrower college course, we reply that it is not merely the intellectual powers that need culture and discipline. the ideal college training will surely not neglect the imagination and emotions, the faculties which so largely determine the conduct of life. and at no period in the educational process is the need of wide moral training so urgent as in those years when the young man is forming independent judgments and his tastes are taking their final set. the study of english literature finds its warrant for a place in the college curriculum principally because, better than any other subject, it is fitted to cultivate both the emotional and the intellectual sides of our nature. for in all genuine literature those two elements, the intellectual and the emotional, are united; you cannot get either one fully without getting the other. in some forms of literature, as in poetry, the emotional appeal is the main purpose of the writing; but even here no really profound or sublime emotion is possible without a solid basis of thought. =appreciation the ultimate aim in the teaching of literature= this, then, let us understand, is the primary object of all college teaching in this department. it affords the student opportunity and incitement to read, during his four years, a considerable number of our best classics, representative of different periods and different forms of literature, and to read them with such intelligence and appreciation as to receive from them that discipline of thought and feeling which literature better than anything else is fitted to impart. if the student would or could do this reading by himself, without formal requirement or assistance, there might be little need of undergraduate teaching of literature; but every one who knows much of american college conditions knows that the average undergraduate has neither time, inclination, nor ability for such voluntary reading. =appreciative study of literary masterpieces involves vigorous mental exercise= just here lies a difficulty peculiar to the college teacher in this department. all studies that appeal primarily to the intellect and call only for careful attention and vigorous thinking can be prescribed, and mastery of them rigidly enforced. indeed, the ambitious student is often stimulated to more vigorous effort by the very difficulty of his subject. but the appreciative reading of any work of literature cannot thus be prescribed. of course the instructor may do much to help the student to such appreciation--that, indeed, is his chief duty; but he will not try to expound or enjoin emotional effects. recognizing these limitations upon his work, he often finds it difficult to avoid one or the other of two dangers that beset all efforts to teach a vernacular literature; the student must not think his reading an idle pastime, nor, on the other hand, must he think it a repellent task. in the first case, he is likely never to read anything well; in the second case, the things best worth reading he will probably never read at all. of the two dangers, the first is the more serious. the student ought early to learn that no really good reading is "light reading." and it may be remarked that this lesson was never more needed than today. there was never a time when people of all classes read more and thought less. we have what might almost be called a plague of reading, and an astonishing amount of what is called "reading matter" rolling out of our presses every year; while, significantly, we are producing very few books of permanent literary value. if the college study of literature is to encourage this indolent receptive temper, and relax the intellectual fiber of the student, then we might better drop it from the curriculum. the student must somehow learn that the book that is worth while will tax his thought, his imagination, his sympathies. he cannot be content merely to leave the door of his mind lazily open to it. every teacher knows the difficulty in any attempt to inspire or direct such a pupil. and the simpler the subject assigned him, the greater the difficulty. give him, for example, a group of the best lyrics in the language, in which the thought is simple and the sentiment homely or familiar. he will glance over them in half an hour, and then wonder what more you want of him. and you may not find it so easy to tell him. for he does not perceive nice shades of feeling, he has little sense of poetic form, he has not read the poems aloud to get the charm of their melody, and he will not let them linger in his mind long enough to feel that the simplest sentiments are often the most profound and moving. he simply tries to conjecture what sort of questions he is likely to meet on examination. doubtless from this type of pupil better results can be obtained by the reading of prose not too familiar, that suggests more questions for reflection and discussion. =suggestions for teaching of english literature--emotional appreciation to have an intellectual basis= it is perhaps impossible to lay down a detailed method for the teaching of english literature. much depends upon the nature of the literature read, the temperament of the teacher, the aptitude of the pupil. every teacher will, in great measure, discover his own methods. at all events, no attempts will be made here to give more than a few suggestions. in the first place, the teacher will remember that every work of literature--except purely "imagist" poetry, which it is hardly worth while to teach--is based upon some thought or truth; in most varieties of prose literature this forms the main purpose of the writing. the first object of the student's reading, therefore, must be to understand thoroughly the intellectual element in what he reads; and here the instructor can often be of direct assistance. and after such careful reading, the higher emotional values of what he has read will often disclose themselves spontaneously, so that the reader will need little further help. =abundant oral reading by teacher an aid to appreciation= just here it is worth while to note the great value of reading aloud, both by the teacher as a means of instruction, and by the pupil as a test of appreciation. all good writing gains vastly when read thus. mentally, at all events, we must image its sound if we are to get its full value. as to poetry, that goes without saying; for the essential, defining element in poetry is music. you may have truth, beauty, imagination, emotion, but without music you have not yet got poetry. but it is hardly less true that prose should be read aloud. "the best test of good writing," said hazlitt--and no man in his generation wrote better prose than he--"is, does it read well aloud." the sympathetic oral reading of a passage from any prose master, a reading that naturally indicates points of emphasis, shades of thought, nuances of feeling, is often better than any formal explanation, for it reproduces the living voice of the writer. the wise teacher will avoid the mannerisms of the professed elocutionist or dramatic reader, but he will not neglect the value of truthful oral interpretation for many passages of beautiful, or subtle, or powerful writing. and the student will often give a better proof of intelligent appreciation by reading aloud, "with good accent and discretion," than by any more elaborate form of examination. =knowledge of author's life and art and of ideals of the times necessary for comprehension and appreciation= some varieties of literature can best be approached indirectly, through a study of the life of the author, or of the age in which he lived. as any great work of pure literature must come out of the author's deepest life, it is evident that any knowledge of that life gained from other sources may be an important aid in the appreciation of his work. it is true that in the case of a writer of supreme and almost impartial dramatic genius, such knowledge may be of comparatively little value; though few of us will admit that it is merely an idle curiosity that would be gratified by a fuller knowledge even of the man william shakespeare. but all the more subjective forms of literature, such as the lyric and the essay, can hardly be studied intelligently without some biographical introduction. still more obvious is the need in many instances of some accurate knowledge of the period in which a given work is produced. for all such writing as grows directly out of political or social conditions, as oratory, or political satire, or various forms of the essay, this is clearly necessary. it would be folly to attempt to read the speeches of edmund burke or the political writings of swift without historical introduction and comment. but the historical setting is hardly less important in many other forms of literature. for the whole cast of an author's mind, the habitual tone of his feeling on most important matters, is often largely decided by his environment. it is only a very inadequate appreciation, for example, of the work not only of carlyle and ruskin but of tennyson, browning, and matthew arnold, that is possible without some correct knowledge of the varying attitude of these men toward important movements in english thought, social, economic, religious, between and . it must always be an important part of the duty of the college teacher of literature to provide such biographical and historical information. =knowledge of an author's style to be result of appreciative study of his works and not gathered from texts on literary criticism= all careful study of literature must involve some attention to manner or style--not so much, however, for its own sake, as a means for the fuller appreciation of what is read. in strictness, style has only one virtue, clearness; only one vice, obscurity. a perfect style is a transparent medium through which we plainly see the thought and feeling of the writer. such a style may, indeed, often have striking peculiarities, but these are really the marks of the writer's personality, which his style reveals without exaggerating. all rhetorical study ought, therefore, to accompany or follow, not to precede, the careful reading for appreciation. no good book ought ever to be considered a mere _corpus vile_ for rhetorical praxis. =careful attention to critical analysis= of much greater value is that distinctively critical analysis which endeavors to discover the different elements, intellectual, imaginative, emotional, that enter into any work of literature, and to determine their relative amount and importance. such analysis may well form the subject of classroom discussion, and advanced students should often be required to put the conclusions they have drawn from such discussion into the form of a finished critical essay. all exercises of this kind presuppose, of course, that the work criticized has been read with interest and intelligence; but no form of literary study is more stimulating or tends more directly to the formation of original and accurate critical judgments. it affords the best test of real literary appreciation. =content of college course in literature= obviously it is impossible with this method of study to cover the entire field of english literature in the four college years. it is wiser to read a few great books well than to read many smaller ones hurriedly. it becomes, therefore, an important question on what principle these books should be selected and grouped in courses. in the opinion of the present writer, it is well to begin with a brief outline sketch of the history of the literature given either in a textbook or by lectures, and illustrated by a few representative works, read carefully but without much detailed or intensive study. such an introductory course may have little cultural value; but it furnishes that knowledge of the chronological succession of english writers, and the varieties of literature dominant in each period, that is necessary for further intelligent study. this knowledge should, indeed, be given in the preparatory schools, but unfortunately it usually is not. when given in college, the course should, if possible, be assigned to the freshman year. in the later years, the works selected for study will best be grouped either by period or by subject. both plans have their advantages, but in most instances the first will be found the better. the study of a group of contemporary writers always gains in interest as we see how they all, with striking individual differences in temper and subject, yet reflect the social and moral life of their age. sometimes the two plans may be united; a particular form of literature may be studied as the best representative of a period, as the political pamphlet for the age of queen anne or the extended essay for the first quarter of the nineteenth century. and in some rare instances a single writer is at once the highest representative of the age in which he lived and the supreme master of the form in which he wrote--as shakespeare for the drama and milton for the epic. =gradation of courses and adaptation of methods to growing capacities of students= these courses should all--in the judgment of the present writer--be elective, but should be arranged in some natural sequence, those assigned to a lower year being preparatory to those of a higher. this sequence need not always be historical; the simpler course may well precede those which for any reason are more difficult. methods of instruction will also naturally change, becoming less narrowly didactic with the advancement of the student. in the senior year the teacher will usually prefer to meet his classes in small sections, on the seminar plan, for informal discussion and the criticism of papers written by his pupils on questions suggested by their reading. of such questions, students who for four years have been reading the masterpieces of english literature will surely find no lack. the number of courses that can be offered in the department will depend in some cases upon the relative size of the faculty and the student body. for in no other subject is it more important, especially in the later years, that the classes or sections should be small enough to allow some intimate personal touch between professor and student. it may be safely said that no college department of english literature is well officered or equipped that does not furnish at least four or five year-long courses of instruction. and certainly no student can maintain for four years such an acquaintance with the best specimens of a great literature without gaining something of that broad intelligence, heightened imagination, and just appreciation of whatever is best in nature and in human life, which combine in what we call culture. =undergraduate vs. graduate teaching of english literature= throughout this paper it has been assumed that what has been termed appreciation--that is, the ability to understand and enjoy the best things in literature--is the one central purpose to which all efforts must be subservient, in the teaching of english literature. but it should be remembered, as stated at the outset, that this paper has to do with the college undergraduate only, the candidate for the bachelor's degree. in the university, and to some extent in the graduate courses of the college leading to the master's degree, the subjects and methods of teaching may well be very different. studies in comparative literature, studies of literary origins, the investigation of perplexed or controverted questions in the life or work of an author, the study and elucidation of the work of an unknown or little-known writer--all these and many other similar matters may very properly be the subjects of specialized graduate study. but they will rarely be found of most profit to undergraduate classes. caleb t. winchester _wesleyan university_ xix the teaching of english composition[ ] =language an index of mental development= "deeds, not words," is a platitude--a flat statement which reduces the facts of the case to an average, and calls that truth. it is absurd to imply, as does this old truism, that we may never judge a man by his words. words are often the most convenient indices of education, of cultivation, and of intellectual power. and what is more, a man's speech, a man's writing, when properly interpreted, may sometimes measure the potentialities of the mind more thoroughly, more accurately, than the deeds which environment, opportunity, or luck permit. it is hard enough to take the intellectual measure even of the makers of history by their acts, so rapidly does the apparent value of their accomplishments vary with changing conceptions of what is and what is not worth doing. it is infinitely more difficult to judge in advance of youths just going out into the world by what they do. their words, which reveal what they are thinking and how they are thinking, give almost the only vision of their minds; and "by their words ye shall know them" becomes not a perversion, but an adaptation of the old text. would you judge of a boy just graduated entirely by the acts he had performed in college? if you did, you would make some profound and illuminating mistakes. this explains, i think, why parents, and teachers, and college presidents, and even undergraduates, are exercised over the study of writing english--which is, after all, just the study of the proper putting together of words. they may believe, all of them, that their concern is merely for the results of the power to write well--the ability to compose a good letter, to speak forcibly on occasion, to offer the amount of literacy required for most "jobs." but i wonder if the quite surprising keenness of their interest is not due to another cause. i wonder if they do not feel--perhaps unconsciously--that words indicate the man, that the power to write well shows intellect, and measures, if not its profundity, at least the stage of its development. we fasten on the defects of the letters written by undergraduates, on their faltering speeches, on their confused examination papers, as something significant, ominous, worthy even of comment in the press. and we are, i believe, perfectly right. speech and writing, if you get them in fair samples, indicate the extent and the value of a college education far better than a degree. =disappointing results from teaching of composition= it is this conviction which, pressing upon the schools and colleges, has caused such a flood of courses and textbooks, such an expenditure of time, energy, and money in the teaching of composition, so many ardent hopes of accomplishment, so much bitter disappointment at relative failure. i do not know how many are directly or indirectly teaching the writing of english in america--perhaps some tens of thousands; the imagination falters at the thought of how many are trying to learn it. thus the parent, conscious of this enormous endeavor and the convictions which inspire it, is somewhat appalled to hear the critics without the colleges maintaining that we are not teaching good writing, and the critics within protesting that good writing cannot be taught. =fixing responsibility for alleged failure of composition teaching= it is with the teachers, the administrators, the theorists on education, but most of all the teachers, that the responsibility for the alleged failure of this great project--to endow the college graduate with adequate powers of expression--must be sought. but these guardians of expression are divided into many groups, of which four are chief. there is first the great party of the know-nothings, who plan and teach with no opinion whatsoever as to the ends of their teaching. under the conditions of human nature and current financial rewards for the work, this party is inevitably large; but it counts for nothing except inertia. there is next the respectable and efficient cohort of the do-nothings, who believe that good writing and speaking are natural emanations from culture, as health from exercise or clouds from the sea. they would cultivate the mind of the undergraduate, and let expression take care of itself. they do not believe in teaching english composition. next are the formalists, who hold up a dictionary in one hand, the rules of rhetoric in the other, and say, "learn these, and good writing and good speaking shall be added unto you." the formalists have weakened in late years. there have been desertions to the do-nothings, for the work of grinding rules into unwilling minds is hard, and it is far easier to adopt a policy of _laissez-faire_. but there have been far more desertions into a party which i shall call, for want of a better name, the optimists. the optimists believe that in teaching to write and speak the american college is accepting its most significant if not its greatest duty. they believe that we must understand what causes good writing, in order to teach it; and that for the average undergraduate writing must be taught. =divergent views on teaching of composition= the best way to approach this grand battleground of educational policies is by the very practical fashion of pretending (if pretense is necessary) that you have a son (or a daughter) ready for college. what does he need, what must he have in a writing way, in a speaking way, when he has passed through all the education you see fit to give him? what should he possess of such ability in order to satisfy the world and himself? facts, ideas and imagination, to put it roughly, make up the substance of expression. facts he must be able to present clearly and faithfully; ideas he must be able to present clearly and comprehensively; his imagination he will need to express when his nature demands it. and for all these needs he must be able to use knowingly the words which study and experience will feed to him. he must be able to combine these words effectively in order to express the thoughts of which he is capable. and these thoughts he must work out along lines of logical, reasonable developments, so that what he says or writes will have an end and attain it. in addition, if he is imaginative--and who is not?--he should know the color and fire of words, the power of rhythm and harmony over the emotions, the qualities of speech whose secret will enable him to mold language to his personality and perhaps achieve a style. this he should know; the other powers he must have, or stop short of his full efficiency. alas, we all know that the undergraduate, in the mass, fails often to attain even to the power of logical, accurate statement, whether of facts or ideas. it is true that most of the charges against him are to a greater or less degree irrelevant. weighty indictments of his powers of expression are based upon bad spelling: a sign, it is true, of slovenliness, an indication of a lack of thoroughness which goes deeper than the misplacing of letters, but not in itself a proof of inability to express. great writers have often misspelled; and the letters which some of our capable business men write when the stenographer fails to come back after lunch are by no means impeccable. other accusations refer to a childish vagueness of expression--due to the fact that the american undergraduate is often a child intellectually rather than to any defects in composition _per se_. but it is a waste of time to deny that he writes, if not badly, at least not so clearly, so correctly, so intelligently, as we expect. the question is, why? it would be a comfort to place the blame upon the schools; and indeed they must take some blame, not only because they deserve it, but also to enlighten those critics of the college who never consider the kind of grain which comes into our hoppers. the readers of college entrance papers could tell a mournful story of how the candidates for our freshman classes write. here, for an instance, is a paragraph intended to prove that the writer had a command of simple english, correct in sentence structure, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation. the subject is "the value of organized athletics in schools"--not an abstruse one, or too academic: if fellows are out in the open and take athletics say at a certain time every-day; these fellows are in good health and allert in their lessons, while those who take no exercise are logy and soft. organized athletics in a school bring the former, while if a school has no athletics every-thing goes more or less slipshod, and the fellows are more liable to get into trouble, because they are nervious from having nothing to do. this is a little below the average of the papers rejected for entrance to college. it is not a fair sample of what the schools can do, but it is a very fair sample of what they often do not do. it was not written by a foreigner, nor, i judge, by a son of illiterate parents, since it came from an expensive eastern preparatory school. the reader, marking with some heat a failure for the essay from which this paragraph is extracted, would not complain of the writer's paucity of ideas. his ideas are not below the average of his age. he would keep his wrath for the broken, distorted sentences, the silly spelling, the lack (which would appear in the whole composition) of even a rudimentary construction to carry the thought. spelling, the fundamentals of punctuation, and the compacting of a sentence must be taught in the schools, for it is too late to cure diseases of these members in college. they can be abated; but again and again they will break out. it is the school's business to teach them; and the weary reader sees in this unhappy specimen but a dark and definite manifestation of a widespread slovenliness in secondary education, a lack of thoroughness which appears not only in the failures, but also, though in less measure, among the better writers, whose work is too good in other respects not to be reluctantly passed. again, it would be easy to place much of the blame for the slipshod writings of the undergraduate upon the standards set by his elders outside the colleges. editors can tell of the endless editing which contributions, even from writers supposed to be professional, will sometimes require. and when such a sentence as the following slips through, and begins an article in a well-known, highly respectable magazine, we can only say, "if gold rust, what will iron do?" yes the rot--and with a very big r--in sport: for that, thanks to an overdone and too belauded a professionalism by a large section of the pandering press, is what it has got to. again, any business man could produce from his files a collection of letters full of phrasing so vague and inconsequential that only his business instincts and knowledge of the situation enable him to interpret it. any lawyer could give numberless instances where an inability to write clear and simple english has caused litigation without end. indeed, the bar is largely supported by errors in english composition! and as for conversation conducted--i will not say with pedantical correctness, for that is not an ideal, but with accuracy and transparency of thought--listen to the talk about you! however, it is the business of the colleges to improve all that; and though it is not easy to develop in youth virtues which are more admired than practiced by maturity, let us assume that they should succeed in turning out writers of satisfactory ability, even with these handicaps, and look deeper for the cause of their relative failure. =democratizing education and immigration the cause of poor quality of expression= the chief cause of the prevalent inadequacy of expression among our undergraduates is patent, and its effects are by no means limited to america, as complaints from france and from england prove. the mob--the many-headed, the many-mouthed, figured in the past by poets as dumb, or, at best, an incoherent thing of brutish noises signifying speech--is acquiring education and learning how to express it. hundreds of thousands whose ancestors never read, and seldom talked except of the simpler needs of life, are doing the talking and the writing which their large share in the transaction of the world's business demands. indeed, democracy requires not only that the illiterate shall learn to read and write in the narrower sense of the words, but also that the relatively literate must seek with their growing intellectuality a more perfect power of expression. and it is precisely from the classes only relatively literate--those for whom in the past there has been no opportunity, and no need, to become highly educated--that the bulk of our college students today are coming, the bulk of the students in the endowed institutions of the east as well as in the newer state universities of the west. the typical undergraduate is no longer the son of a lawyer or a clergyman, with an intellectual background behind him. there is plenty of grumbling among college faculties, and in certain newspapers, over this state of affairs. in reality, of course, it is the opportunity of the american colleges. let the motives be what they may, the simple fact that so many american parents wish to give their children more education than they themselves were blessed with is a condition so favorable for those who believe that in the long run only intelligence can keep our civilization on the path of real progress, that one expects to hear congratulations instead of wails from the college campuses. nevertheless, we pay for our opportunity, and we must expect to pay. the thousands of intellectual immigrants, ill-supplied with means of progress, indefinite of aim, unaware of their opportunities, who land every september at the college gates, constitute a weighty burden, a terrible responsibility. and the burden rests upon no one with more crushing weight than upon the unfortunate teacher of composition. that these entering immigrants cannot write well is a symptom of their mental rawness. it is to be expected. but thanks to the methods of slipshod, ambitious america, the schools have passed them on still shaky in the first steps of accurate writing--spelling, punctuation, sentence structure, and the use of words. thanks to the failure of america to demand thoroughness in anything but athletics and business, they are blind to the need of thoroughness in expression. and thanks to the inescapable difficulty of accurate writing, they resist the attempt to make them thorough, with the youthful mind's instinctive rebellion against work. nevertheless, whatever the cost, they must learn if they are to become educated in any practical and efficient sense; the immigrants especially must learn, since they come from environments where accurate expression has not been practiced--often has not been needed--and go to a future where it will be required of them. not even the do-nothing school denies the necessity that the undergraduate should learn to write well. but how? =solutions proposed by four types of instructors= the know-nothing school proposes no ultimate solution and knows none, unless faithfully teaching what they are told to teach, and accepting the sweat and burden of the day, with few of its rewards, be not in its blind way a better solution than to dodge the responsibility altogether. the formalists labor over precept and principle--disciplining, commanding, threatening--feeling more grief over one letter lost, or one comma mishandled, than joy over the most spirited of incorrect effusions. they turn out sulky youths who nevertheless have learned something. the do-nothings propose a solution which is engaging, logical--and insufficient. they are the philosophers and the æsthetes among teachers, who see, what the formalists miss, that he who thinks well will in the long run write as he should. their special horror is of the compulsory theme, extracted from unwilling and idealess minds. their remedy for all ills of speech and pen is: teach, not writing and speaking, but thinking; give, not rules and principles, but materials for thought. and above all, do not force college students to study composition. the do-nothing school has almost enough truth on its side to be right. it has more truth, in fact, than its principles permit it to make use of. the umpire in this contest--who is the parent with a son ready for college--should note, however, two pervading fallacies in this _laissez-faire_ theory of writing english. the first belongs to the party of the right among the do-nothings--the older teachers who come from the generation which sent only picked men to college; the second, to the party of the left--the younger men who are distressed by the toil, the waste, the stupidity which accompany so much work in composition. the older men attack the attempt to teach the making of literature. their hatred of the cheap, the banal, and the false in literature that has been machine-made by men who have learned to express finely what is not worth expressing at all, leads them to distrust the teaching of english composition. they condemn, however, a method of teaching that long since withered under their scorn. the aim of the college course in composition today is not the making of literature, but writing; not the production of imaginative masterpieces, but the orderly arrangement of thought in words. through no foresight of our own, but thanks to the pressure of our immigrants upon us, we have ceased teaching "eloquence" and "rhetoric," and have taken upon ourselves the humbler task of helping the thinking mind to find words and a form of expression as quickly and as easily as possible. the old teacher of rhetoric aspired to make burkes, popes, or de quinceys. we are content if our students become the masters rather than the servants of their prose. the party of the left presents a more frontal attack upon the teaching of the writing of english. show the undergraduate how to think, they say; fill his mind with knowledge, and his pen will find the way. ah, but there is the fallacy! why not help him to find the way--as in latin, or surveying, or english literature? the way in composition can be taught, as in these other subjects. writing, like skating, or sailing a boat, has its special methods, its special technique, even as it has its special medium, words, and the larger unities of expression. the laws which govern it are simple. they are always in intimate connection with the thought behind, and worthless without it; but they can be taught. ask any effective teacher of composition to show you what he has done time and again for the freshman whose sprawling thought he has helped to form into coherent and unified expression. and do not be deceived by analogies drawn from our colleges of the mid-nineteenth century, where composition was not taught, and men wrote well; or from the english universities, where the same conditions are said (with dissenting voices) to exist. in the first place, they had no immigrant problem in the mid-century, nor have they in oxford and cambridge. in the second, the rigorous translation back and forward between the classics and the mother tongue, now obsolete in america, but still a requisite for an english university training, provides a drill in accuracy of language whose efficiency is not to be despised. the student must express his intellectual gains even as he absorbs them, or the crystallization of knowledge into personal thought will be checked at the beginning. the boy must be able to say what he knows, or write what he knows, or he does not know it. and it is as important to help him express as to help him absorb. the teachers in other departments must aid in this task or we fail; but where the whole duty of making expression keep pace with thought and with life is given to them, they will be forced either to overload, or to neglect all but the little arcs that bound their subjects. and since they are specialists in other fields, and so may neglect that technique of writing which in itself is a special study, their task, when they accept it, is hard, and their labor, when it is forced upon them, too often ineffective. composition must be taught where college education proceeds--that is the truth of the matter; and if not taught directly, then indirectly, with pain and with waste. the school of the optimists approaches this question of writing english with self-criticism and with a full realization of the difficulties, and of the tentative nature of the methods now in use, but with confidence as to the possibility of ultimate success. in order to be an optimist in composition you must have some stirrings of democracy in your veins. you must be interested in the need of the average man to shape his writing into a useful tool that will serve his purposes, whether in the ministry or the soap business. this is the utilitarian end of writing english. and you must be interested in developing his powers of self-expression, even when convinced that no great soul is longing for utterance, but only a commonplace human mind--like your own--that will be eased by powers of writing and of speech. it is here that composition is of service to the imagination, and incidentally to culture; and i should speak more largely of this service if there were space in this chapter to bring forward all the aspects of college composition. it is the personal end of writing english. if the average man turns out to be a superman with mighty purposes ahead, or if he has a great soul seeking utterance, he will have far less need of your assistance; but you can aid him, nevertheless, and your aid will count as never before, and will be your greatest personal reward, though no greater service to the community than the countless hours spent upon the minds of the multitude. in order to be an optimist it is still more important to understand that writing english well depends first upon intellectual grasp, and second upon technical skill, and always upon both. as for the first, your boy, if you are the parent of an undergraduate, is undergoing a curious experience in college. against his head a dozen teachers are discharging round after round of information. sometimes they miss; sometimes the shots glance off; sometimes the charge sinks in. and his brain is undergoing less obvious assaults. he is like the core of soft iron in an electro-magnet upon which invisible influences are constantly beating. his teachers are harassing his mind with methods of thinking: the historical method; the experimental method of science; the interpretative method of literature. unfortunately, the charges of information too often lodge higgledy-piggledy, like bird-shot in a signboard; and the waves of influence make an impression which is too often incoherent and confused. if the historians really taught the youth to think historically from the beginning, and the scientists really taught him to think scientifically from the beginning, and he could apply his new methods of thought to the expression of his own emotions, experiences, life, then the teacher of composition might confine himself to the second of his duties, and teach only that technique which makes writing to uncoil itself as easily and as vividly as a necklace of matched and harmonious stones. in the university of utopia we shall leave the organization of thought to the other departments, and have plenty left to do; but we are not yet in utopia. at present, the teacher of composition stands like a sentry at the gates of knowledge, challenging all who come out speaking random words and thoughts; asking, "have you thought it out?" "have you thought it out clearly?" "can you put your conclusions into adequate words?" and if the answers are unsatisfactory, he must proceed to teach that orderly, logical development of thought from cause to effect which underlies all provinces of knowledge, and reaches well into the unmapped territories of the imagination. but even in utopia composition must remain the testing ground of education, though we shall hope for more satisfactory answers to our challenges. and even in utopia, where the undergraduate perfects his thinking while acquiring his facts, it will be the duty of the teacher of writing to help him to apply his intellectual powers to his experiences, his emotions, his imagination, in short, to self-expression. and there will still remain the technique of writing. =how to teach college students the art of self-expression?= theoretically, when the undergraduate has assembled his thoughts he is ready and competent to write them, but practically he is neither entirely ready nor usually entirely competent. it is one thing to assemble an automobile; it is another thing to run it. the technique of writing is not nearly as interesting as the subject and the thought of writing; just as the method of riding a horse is not nearly as interesting as the ride itself. and yet when you consider it as a means to an end, as a subtle, elastic, and infinitely useful craft, the method of writing is not uninteresting even to those who have to learn and not to teach it. the technique of composition has to do with words. we are most of us inapt with words; even when ideas begin to come plentifully they too often remain vague, shapeless, ineffective, for want of words to name them. and words can be taught--not merely the words themselves, but their power, their suggestiveness, their rightness or wrongness for the meaning sought. the technique of writing has to do with sentences. good thinking makes good sentences, but the sentence must be flexible if it is to ease the thought. we can learn its elasticity, we can practice the flow of clauses, until the wooden declaration which leaves half unexpressed gives place to a fluent and accurate transcript of the mind, form fitting substance as the vase the water within it. this technique has to do with paragraphs. the critic knows how few even among our professional writers master their paragraphs. it is not a dead, fixed form that is to be sought. it is rather a flexible development, which grows beneath the reader's eye until the thought is opened with vigor and with truth. it is interesting to search in the paragraph of an ineffective editorial, an article, or theme, for the sentence that embodies the thought; to find it dropped like a turkey's egg where the first opportunity offers, or hidden by the rank growth of comment and reflection about it. such research is illuminating for those who do not believe in the teaching of composition; and if it begins at home, so much the better. and finally, the technique of writing has to do with the whole, whether sonnet, or business letter, or report to a board of directors. how to lead one thought into another; how to exclude the irrelevant; how to weigh upon that which is important; how to hold together the whole structure so that the subject, all the subject, and nothing but the subject shall be laid before the reader; this requires good thinking, but good thinking without technical skill is like a strong arm in tennis without facility in the strokes. the program i have outlined is simpler in theory than in practice. in practice, it is easier to discover the disorder than the thought which it confuses; in practice, technical skill must be forced upon undergraduates unaccustomed to thoroughness, in a country that in no department of life, except perhaps business, has hitherto been compelled to value technique. even the optimist grows pessimistic sometimes in teaching composition. and yet in the teaching of english the results are perhaps more evident than elsewhere in the whole range of college work. it is wonderful to see what can be accomplished by an enthusiast in the sport of transmuting brains into words. when the teacher seeks for his material in the active interests of the student--whether athletics or engineering or literature or catching trout--when he stirs up the finer interests, drawing off, as it were, the cream into words, the results are convincing. writing is one of the most fascinating, most engaging of pursuits for the man with a craving to grasp the reality about him and name it in words. and even for the undergraduate, whose imagination is just developing, and whose brain protests against logical thought, it can be made as interesting as it is useful. the teaching of english composition in this country is a vast industry in which thousands of workmen are employed and in which a million or so of young minds are invested. i do not wish to take it too seriously. there are many accomplishments more important for the welfare of the race. and yet, if it be true that maturity of intellect is never attained without that clearness and accuracy of thinking which can be made to show itself in good writing, then the failure of the undergraduate to write well is serious, and the struggle to make him write better worthy of the attention of those who have children to be educated. i do not think that success in this struggle will come through the policy of _laissez-faire_. all undergraduates profit by organized help in their writing; many require it. i do not think that success will come by a pedantical insistence upon correctness in form without regard to the sense. squeezing unwilling words from indifferent minds may be discipline; it certainly is not teaching. i think that success will come only to the teacher who is a middleman between thought and expression, valuing both. when we succeed in making the bulk of the undergraduates really think; when we can inspire them with a modicum of that passion for truth in words which is the moving force of the good writer; when the schools help us and the outside world demands and supports efficiency in diction; then we shall carry through the program of the optimists. henry seidel canby _yale university_ footnotes: [ ] reprinted in revised form from _college sons and college fathers_, harper and brothers. xx the teaching of the classics =significance of recent criticisms of the teaching of the classics= methods of teaching are determined to a large extent by appreciation of the objects to be attained. if teachers make clear to themselves just what they wish to accomplish, they will more easily develop the means. the storm of objection now rising against the study of the classics indicates clearly that there is a general dissatisfaction with the result of this study. there is a striking unanimity on this subject among persons of widely different talent and experience, of whom some are still students, while others are looking back upon their training in school and college after years of mature life. their adverse criticism is all the more significant because often expressed with obvious regret. some, who have had unusual opportunities for observation, state their opinion in no uncertain language. for example, mr. abraham flexner, in his pamphlet "a modern school," on page says: "neither latin nor greek would be contained in the curriculum of the modern school--not, of course, because their literatures are less wonderful than they are reputed to be, but because their present position in the curriculum rests upon tradition and assumption. a positive case can be made out for neither." the president of columbia university, in his annual report for - , page , speaking of the "teachers of the ancient classics," says: "they have heretofore been all too successful in concealing from their pupils the real significance and importance of greek and latin studies." such criticisms, however, do not prove that the study of the classics cannot accomplish all that its advocates claim for it, but only that it is not now accomplishing satisfactory results. undoubtedly there are various causes for a depreciation of classical studies at the present time. other subjects, such as mathematics, are suffering from a similar disparagement. in recent years interest has centered more and more in studies designed to develop powers of observation, give knowledge of certain facts, or provide equipment for some particular vocation, to the neglect of those which discipline the mind or impart a general culture. it is certainly important, therefore, to consider the relative values of these various studies. to do so it is desirable to examine the aims of classical teaching and the methods by which these aims may be realized; for it is at least possible that the widespread dissatisfaction with this teaching is due not so much to the subject itself as to defects and insufficiency in the methods employed. =the present aims of classical teaching= not all teachers of the classics agree in all respects as to the aims of their teaching. certain aims, however, are common to all the classical departments in american colleges. these are: . to train students, through the acquisition and use of the ancient languages, in memory, accuracy, analysis and logic, clearness and fluency of expression, and style. . to enable certain students to read with profit and enjoyment the masterpieces of greek and latin literature. . to impart to certain students a knowledge, as complete as possible, of the classical civilization as a whole. to a complete knowledge of this civilization belongs all that the ancients possessed or did, all that they thought or wrote, whether or not any particular part of it had an influence upon later times or is, in itself, interesting or valuable now. all parts alike are phenomena of the life of these ancient peoples and so of the life of the human race. . to impart a knowledge and understanding of the thoughts and ideas, the forms of expression, the institutions, and the experiences of the ancients, in so far as these are either actually valuable in themselves to the modern world or have influenced the development of modern civilization. besides these aims which are common to all, there are certain others less generally pursued by classical teachers in this country. among these are: . to make students familiar with "the greek (and latin) in english," i.e. with the etymology and history of words in our own language which had their origin in or through greek or latin.[ ] . to trace the influences of the classic literature upon modern literature and thought.[ ] . to train those who expect to teach the classics in pedagogical methods, and to familiarize them with modern pedagogical appliances.[ ] . to teach the language of the new testament and of the church fathers.[ ] the classical departments of some colleges also give courses in modern greek[ ]: such courses, however, belong properly to the field of modern languages. now it is by no means certain that all of these aims properly concern all classes of students. on the contrary, every one would doubtless agree that those described under nos. and do not concern the average student of the classics. it is also a debatable question whether it should be the aim of classical teaching to give all classical students some knowledge of the classic civilization as a whole; whether, for example, aristophanes and plautus, however important these authors may be for a complete understanding of the ancient life and literature, are worth while for all classical students alike. it is far more important, however, to determine whether, in that which seems to many persons the chief business of a classical department, all who study the masterpieces of the ancient literatures should be taught to study them in the original language. =teaching from the originals only= no one doubts that classical departments should provide courses on the ancient literature in the original, or that the æsthetic qualities of a literature can be _fully_ appreciated only in the original language. some people, however, maintain that every literary production is primarily a work of art, and consequently that its æsthetic qualities are its most essential qualities: that to teach the classical literature through the medium of translations would be aiming at an imperfect appreciation of its most essential qualities, and would also divert students from the study of its original form. yet in most colleges courses on painting and sculpture are given through the medium of photographs, casts and copies, and no one questions the value and effectiveness of such courses, or doubts that they tend to increase the desire of the students to know the originals themselves. similarly courses on greek literature in translations are given at many american colleges, for example at bucknell, california, colorado, harvard,[ ] idaho, illinois, kansas, lafayette, leland stanford, michigan, missouri, new york university, north dakota, pennsylvania, syracuse, tennessee, vermont, washington university, wesleyan, and wisconsin: courses in latin literature in translations at california, colorado, kansas, leland stanford, pennsylvania, tennessee, and washington university. besides these there are courses at some colleges on greek or roman life and thought,[ ] or life and letters,[ ] or civilization,[ ] most of which do not involve the use of the ancient languages on the part of the students. for example, at brown courses which require no knowledge of the ancient languages are given in both greek and roman "civilization as illustrated by the literature, history and monuments of art."[ ] harvard also offers courses entitled "a survey of greek civilization" and "a survey of roman civilization, illustrated from the monuments and literature," in which a knowledge of the ancient languages is not required. in deciding the question here at issue it is essential to distinguish between the different kinds of literature. the value of certain literary productions undoubtedly consists chiefly in the æsthetic qualities of their form; that is, the excellence and influence of these productions depends upon the particular language actually used by the author. such works of literature lose very much in translation, and it may be asserted with some reason that they lose their most essential qualities. it may well be doubted, therefore, whether any one can derive great pleasure or benefit from the study of the poems of sappho or the odes of horace, for example, unless these are studied in the original. the value of other literary productions, on the other hand, lies partly in their form and partly in their content, or in their content alone. it is quite a different question, therefore, whether one may derive a satisfactory pleasure and benefit from a translation of the _agamemnon_ of Æschylus or thucydides' _history of the peloponnesian war_, of lucretius or tacitus, to say nothing of such books as aristotle's _constitution of athens_. =teaching only from classical texts= there is another and still more important question connected with the theory of classical teaching, namely whether all classical courses should be based upon or begin with the study of some classical text. some are of the opinion that it is the business of classical teachers to teach the greek and latin languages, and the literatures in these languages, and that anything which cannot be taught best through the study of some portion of the classical literature in the original should be taught by some other department of the college. consequently in some institutions courses on ancient literature in english translations are given by the english department,[ ] courses on greek and roman history, archaeology, and philosophy by the departments of history, archaeology, and philosophy, respectively, courses on the methods and equipment of teaching the classics by the department of pedagogy. others, less extreme in their views, hold (_a_) that any study of the greek or roman civilization apart from the original ancient literature would be vague, discoursive, and unprofitable, and in particular that a discussion of a literature or of literary forms without an immediate, personal acquaintance with this literature or these literary forms in the original would not be useful, and (_b_) that such courses would have little permanent value for the students because it would not be possible to compel the students to make much effort for themselves. quite the opposite opinion on this most important question is held by those who believe (_a_) that the study of the classics should not be confined to those who are now able, or may in the future be expected, to read the ancient literature in the original, (_b_) that there are some things even about the ancient literature and civilization which can be taught more effectively without the loss of time and the division of attention involved in reading the ancient authors in the original, and (_c_) that in courses such as those dealing with ancient history ancient books on these subjects, either in the original or in translations, cannot properly be used as textbooks for the reason that, quite apart from their errors and misconceptions, these books do not contain, except incidentally, those phases of the ancient life which are the most interesting and valuable to the modern world. such persons consider that the attempt to convey an appreciation of the ancient literature through those limited portions of it which can be read by the students in the original is necessarily ineffective. they hold that to appreciate any literature one must study it as literature,--i.e., as english literature should be studied by english students, french literature by french students,--and that literary study of this sort properly begins where translation and exegesis leave off. and finally, they maintain that the effort to give students a lively knowledge of ancient life or ancient history through the ancient texts is precisely like the effort to illustrate ancient life by ancient works of art; e.g., to give a student an idea of an ancient soldier by showing him an ancient picture of a soldier. such illustrations convey instead the impression that ancient life was both unattractive and unreal, that the study of it is childish and unpractical.[ ] =courses in the ancient languages= many classical courses are designed primarily to teach the classical languages themselves, or to give mental training through the study and use of these languages. until recently most american colleges required for admission an elementary knowledge of these languages involving commonly at least three years of preparatory training in greek and from three to five years of preparatory latin. now, however, many colleges provide courses for beginners in greek, some also for beginners in latin. for example, courses for beginners in greek are given at bryn mawr, university of california, chicago, colorado, columbia, university of north dakota, dartmouth, harvard, idaho, illinois, johns hopkins, kansas, lafayette, leland stanford, michigan, new york university, northwestern, university of pennsylvania, university of tennessee, vanderbilt, vermont, washington university, wesleyan, williams, wisconsin, yale, and elsewhere. courses for beginners in latin are given, for example, at the universities of idaho, pennsylvania, and wisconsin. ordinarily these courses resemble in general plan and method the corresponding courses in secondary schools; but inasmuch as the students are more mature, the progress is much more rapid. =the "natural method"= in some institutions the attempt is made in teaching ancient greek and latin to employ methods used by the teachers of modern languages. some classical teachers have even adopted to some extent the so-called "natural" or "direct" method of language teaching[ ]: commonly such attempts have not been very successful, and where some degree of success has been attained the success seems due to the personality and enthusiasm of the individual teacher. others have contented themselves with devoting a part of certain courses to exercises designed to show the students that the classical languages were at one time in daily use among living people and were the media of ordinary conversation[ ]. students in such courses commonly memorize certain colloquial phrases and take part in simple conversations in which these phrases can be used. such methods, skillfully employed, undoubtedly relieve the tedium of the familiar drill in grammar and "prose composition," and may help materially in imparting both a knowledge of the ancient languages and a facility in reading the ancient authors. an interesting experiment is now being tried at the university of california in a course in greek for beginners, given by professor james t. allen. the description of the course in the university catalogue is as follows: "an introduction to the greek language based upon graded selections from the works of menander, euclid, aristophanes, plato, herodotus, and the new testament. the method of presentation emphasizes the living phrase, and has as its chief object the acquiring of reading power. mastery of essential forms; memorizing of quotations; practice in reading at sight." this course has had considerable success. more than three hundred students have been enrolled thus far in a period of six or seven years, and some of these have testified that it was one of the most valuable courses they have had in any subject. one of the chief advantages has been that the students, while learning forms and vocabulary, are reading some real greek, and that of first-rate quality.[ ] =use of modern literature in ancient greek or latin= various attempts have been made, especially in recent years, to provide for classical students modern stories in ancient latin, in the belief that modern students will acquire a practical knowledge of the language more readily from such textbooks than from any parts of the ancient literature.[ ] the story of robinson crusoe was translated into latin by g. f. goffeaux, and this version has been edited and republished by dr. arcadius avellanus, philadelphia, ( pages). an abridgement of the original edition was edited by p. a. barnett, under the title _the story of robinson crusoe in latin, adapted from defoe by goffeaux_, longmans, green and co., . among original compositions in ancient latin for students may be mentioned ( ) ritchie's _fabulae faciles_, a first latin reader, edited by john copeland kirtland, jr., of phillips exeter academy, longmans, green & co., ( pages). ( ) _the fables of orbilius_ by a. d. godley, london, edward arnold, two small pamphlets, illustrated, containing short and witty stories for beginners. ( ) _ora maritima_, a latin story for beginners, by e. a. sonnenschein, seventh edition, , london, kegan, paul and co.; new york, the macmillan company ( pages). this is the account of the experiences of some boys during a summer in kent. ( ) _pro patria_, a latin story for beginners by professor e. a. sonnenschein, london, swan, sonnenschein and co.; new york, the macmillan company, ( pages). ( ) _rex aurei rivi, auctore johanne ruskin, latine interpretatus est arcadius avellanus, neo-eboraci_, (published by e. p. prentice). ( ) f. g. moore: _porta latina_, fables of la fontaine in a latin version, ginn and co., . a series of translations of modern fiction is now being produced under the title of the mount hope classics, published by mr. e. p. prentice, wall street, new york city. the translator is dr. arcadius avellanus. the first of these appeared in under the title _pericla navarci magonis_, this being a translation of _the adventures of captain mago_, or _with a phoenician expedition, b. c. _, by léon cahun, scribner's, . the second volume, _mons spes et fabulae aliae_, a collection of short stories, was published in . the third, _mysterium arcae boule_, published in , is the well-known mystery of the boule cabinet by mr. burton egbert stevenson. the fourth, _fabulae divales_, published in , is a collection of fairy stories for young readers to which is added a version of ovid's _amor et psyche_. over these books a lively controversy has arisen between dr. avellanus and mr. charles h. forbes, of phillips academy, andover.[ ] undoubtedly the translator's style and vocabulary are far from being strictly in accord with the present canons of classical latin. he employs a multitude of words and idioms unfamiliar to those whose reading has been confined to the masterpieces of the ancient literature which are most commonly studied. on the other hand, the ancient language is made in these books a medium of modern thought. the stories presented hold the attention, the vividness of the narrative captivates the reader and carries him through the obscurities of diction and of style to a wholly unexpected realization that latin is a real language after all. it is a serious question whether students can ever acquire a mastery of a language, or even a sufficient knowledge of it really to appreciate its literature, unless they learn to use this language to express their own thoughts. but it is evident that it is impossible adequately to express modern ideas in the language of cæsar and cicero. those who would exclude the latin of comparatively recent authors such as erasmus from the canon of the latin which may be taught, as well as those who confine their teaching to the translation and parsing of certain texts, are raising the question whether the latin language should be taught at all in modern times. naturally less effort has been made to provide for students modern literature in ancient greek. at least one such book, however, is available, _the greek war of independence, - , told in classical greek for the use of beginners_ (with notes and exercises) by c. d. chambers: published by swan, sonnenschein and co. =courses in "prose composition"= in nearly all american colleges courses in greek and latin composition are given, either as a means of mental training or in order to give a more complete mastery of these languages and a greater facility in reading the literature. in some places, for example at the university of california, a series of courses is given in both greek and latin composition culminating in original compositions, translations of selections from modern literature, and conversation in the ancient languages. courses in latin conversation[ ] are given in other places also, and courses in the pronunciation of ancient greek and latin.[ ] all such courses belong to the general field of the study of the classical languages as distinguished from the study of the literature, history, or any other phase of the classical civilization. this branch of language study, of course, includes such purely linguistic courses as those in comparative philology, comparative grammar, the morphology of the ancient languages, syntax, dialects, etc. =courses in literature= the bulk of classical teaching in american colleges is devoted to the literature. the great majority of all college courses in latin and greek have the same general characteristics.[ ] a certain limited portion of text is assigned for preparation. this text is then translated by the students in class, and the translation corrected. grammatical and exegetical questions and the content of the passage are discussed. most of the time at each meeting of the class is consumed in such exercises. generally lectures or informal talks are given by the instructor upon the life and personality of each author whose work is read, upon the life and thought of his times, upon the literary activity as a whole, and upon the value of those selections from his works which are the subject of the course. sometimes the students are required to read more of the original literature than can be translated in class. generally some collateral reading in english is assigned. often the instructor reads to the class, usually from the original, other portions of the ancient literature. the number and extent of such courses in the different institutions vary according to the strength of the faculty, the plan of the curriculum, and the number and demands of the students in each. in the main, however, the list of selections from the ancient literature presented in such courses in all the colleges is much the same. many of these courses deal with one particular author and his works, such as sophocles, plato, plautus, or horace. others deal with some particular kind of literature, such as greek tragedy or oratory, latin comedy, etc., or with a group of authors of different types combined for the sake of variety.[ ] =methods commonly pursued= the methods as well as the aims of such courses are well exemplified in the following passages contained in the _circular of information_ for - of the university of chicago, page : "ability to read greek with accuracy and ease, and intelligent enjoyment of the masterpieces of greek literature are the indispensable prerequisites of all higher greek scholarship. all other interests that may attach to the study are subordinate to these, and their pursuit is positively harmful if it prematurely distracts the student's attention from his main purpose." it is not immediately apparent what distinction is made here, if there is any, between the "prerequisites" and the "main purpose" of classical scholarship. what the chief aim of classical teaching is according to this view, however, is made clear by the two paragraphs which follow, as well as by the descriptions of the individual courses offered by the chicago faculty. "in the work of the junior colleges the department will keep this principle steadily in view, and will endeavor to teach a practical knowledge of greek vocabulary and idiom, and to impart literary and historic culture by means of rapid viva voce translation and interpretation of the simpler masterpieces of the literature.... in the senior colleges the chief stress will be laid on reading and exegesis, but the range of authors presented to the student's choice will be enlarged." =value of such courses= the advantage of such courses is that they make the students who take them familiar with at least some limited portions of the best of the ancient literature in its original form, and most people are agreed that this is the only way in which students can be taught to appreciate that part of this literature, the value of which lies chiefly or wholly in its form. but people are not agreed upon two most serious questions which arise in this connection. the first is whether all students are capable of appreciating at all literature of this sort, especially when it is conveyed in an ancient and difficult language. the other question is how much of the classical literature really depends for its values chiefly upon its form. to say that the psalms and the gospels have no value or little value for the world apart from the original form and language in which they were written would, of course, be absurd. is it any less absurd to say that the study of the homeric poems, the attic tragedies, the works of thucydides and plato would have little value for students unless this literature were studied in the original language? these questions cannot properly be ignored any longer by teachers of the classics. =defects of these courses= the defects of such courses are manifest to most persons. students who pursue these courses through most of the years of secondary school and college fail to acquire either such a knowledge of the greek and latin languages as would enable them to read with pleasure and profit a greek or latin book, or such a knowledge of the greek and roman literature and civilization as would enable them to appreciate the value of classical studies. many of them graduate from college without even knowing that there is anything really worthy of their attention in the classical literatures. the fact stares the teachers of the classics grimly in the face that they are not accomplishing the aims which they profess. one explanation of this fact suggests itself. in the classical courses commonly given in american colleges the attention paid to the content of the literature, to the author and his times--the lectures and readings by the instructor, the discussion of archaeological, historical, literary, and philosophical matters introduced into the course,--distract attention from the study of the language itself, and check this study before a real mastery of the language has been secured. on the other hand, the time and still more the attention devoted in these courses to the mere process of translation detracts from the appreciation of the literature and obstructs the study of the life and thought. in attempting to accomplish both purposes in these courses the teachers fail to accomplish either, and the result is chiefly a certain mental training, the practical value of which depends largely upon the mental capacity and skill of each individual teacher, and is not readily appreciated. =courses not requiring knowledge of the ancient languages= to obviate some of these defects, and also to provide courses on greek and roman culture for those unfamiliar with the ancient languages, courses which require no use of these languages are now given at various colleges on classical literature or civilization.[ ] a course on the "greek epic" at the university of california is described as follows: "a study chiefly of the iliad and the odyssey; their form, origin, and content; homeric and pre-homeric aegean civilizations; relative merits of modern translations; influence of the homeric poems on the later greek, roman, and modern literature. lectures (partly illustrated), assigned readings, discussions, and reports." the course at harvard entitled "survey of greek civilization" is "a lecture course, with written tests on a large body of private reading (mostly in english). no knowledge of greek is required beyond the terms which must necessarily be learned to understand the subject." "the prescribed reading includes translations of greek authors as well as modern books on greek life and thought." the lecturer frequently reads and comments upon selections from the ancient literature. at brown university a course is given on greek civilization, including the following topics: i topography of greece, ii prehistoric greece, iii the language, iv early greece (the makers of homer, expansion of greece, tyrannies, the new poetry, etc.), v the transition century, - b. c. ((_a_) government and political life, (_b_) literature, (_c_) art), vi the classical epoch, - b. c. ((_a_) political and military history, (_b_) literature, (_c_) the fine arts), vii the hellenistic and græco-roman periods, ((_a_) history, (_b_) literature, (_c_) philosophy, (_d_) learning and science, (_e_) art), viii the sequel of greek history (the byzantine empire, the italian renaissance, mediæval and modern greece). this is described as "wholly a lecture course, with frequent written tests, examination of the notebooks, and a final examination on the whole. definite selections of the most conspicuous authors are required in english translations." the lecturer also reads selections from homer, the greek drama, pindar, etc. similar courses on roman civilization are given at both brown and harvard. there is also a course of fifteen lectures on "greek civilization" at vermont; "the culture history of rome, lectures with supplementary reading in english," at washington university; "greek civilization, lectures and collateral reading on the political institutions, the art, religion, and scientific thought of ancient greece in relation to modern civilization," at wesleyan; "the role of the greeks in civilization" at wisconsin.[ ] =defects of the lecture system= whatever success such courses may have, they are open to one criticism. most, if not all of them, appear to be primarily lecture courses, with more or less collateral reading controlled by tests and examinations. the experience of many, however, justifies to some extent the belief that college students derive little benefit from collateral reading controlled only in this way, because such reading is commonly most superficial. little mental training, therefore, is involved in courses such as those just described, and the ideas which the students acquire in them are chiefly those given to them by others. and it may reasonably be doubted whether the value to the students of ideas received in this way is comparable to the value of those which they are led to discover for themselves. so far, then, as such courses fail to accomplish the purposes for which they were designed, their failure may be due wholly to this cause. =the study of literature apart from its original language= it is entirely possible to conceive of courses in which no use of the ancient languages would be required, but in which the students would acquire by their own efforts a knowledge of the classical literature and civilization far more extensive and more satisfying than in courses largely devoted to translating from greek and latin. such courses would not merely substitute english translations for the originals, and treat these translations as the originals are treated in courses of the traditional type; the ancient literature would be studied in the same way as english literature is studied. for example, in a course of this kind on greek literature, in dealing with the odyssey the students would discuss in class, or present written reports upon, the composition of the poem as a whole, and the relation to the main plot of different episodes such as the quest of telemachus, his visit to pylos and lacedæmon, the scene in calypso's cave, the building of the raft, the arrival of odysseus among the phæacians, his account of his own adventures, his return to ithaca, the slaying of the wooers, etc.; also the characters of the poem, their individual experiences and behavior in various circumstances, and the ideas which they express, comparing these characters and ideas with those of modern times. in dealing with the drama, the students would study the composition of each play, present its plot in narrative form, and criticize it from the dramatic as well as from the literary standpoint; they would discuss the characters and situations, and the ideas embodied in each.[ ] in dealing with thucydides they would discuss the plan of his book and the artistic elements in its composition; also the critical standards of the author, his methods, his objectivity, and his personal bias. they would study the debates in which the arguments on both sides of great issues are presented, expressing their own opinions on the questions involved. they would study the great descriptions, such as the account of the siege of platæa, the plague at athens, the last fight in the harbor of syracuse, making a summary in their own language of the most essential or effective details. lastly they would discuss such figures as pericles, nicias and alcibiades, archidamus, brasidas and hermocrates, their characters, principles, and motives. in dealing with plato they would study the character of socrates and those ideas contained in the platonic dialogues which can be most readily comprehended by college students. =classical studies not confined to the ancient authors= the study of "the classics" is not properly confined to the greek and latin literatures: it includes the military, political, social, and economic history of the ancient greeks and romans, their institutions, their religion, morals, philosophy, science, art, and private life. the geography and topography of ancient lands, anthropology and ethnology, archaeology and epigraphy contribute to its material. it is not necessary that all these subjects be taught by members of a classical department. in particular it is the common practice in this country to relegate the study of ancient philosophy to the department of philosophy, whereas in england and on the continent such distinctions between departments are not recognized. but certainly these branches of the study of the classical civilization should be taught best by those most familiar with the classical civilization in all its phases, and most thoroughly trained in the interpretation and criticism of its literature. it is also obvious that the teaching of the classical literature would be emasculated if it were separated from these other subjects mentioned. only, such subjects as history should not be taught from the literary point of view. history should be an account of what actually took place, derived from every available source and not from a synthesis of a literary tradition. in this respect the teachers of the classics have from the earliest times made the most serious mistakes. to some extent the same charges may be brought against the methods and traditions of the teachers of modern history. the teaching of greek and roman history, however, is affected in a peculiar degree by the traditions of classical scholarship. the historical courses given by most classical teachers are based upon the translation and discussion of the works of certain ancient authors, whose accounts are not only false and misleading in many respects, but characteristically omit those factors in the ancient life which are the most significant and interesting to the modern world. such courses begin by implanting false impressions which no amount of explanation can eradicate. the ancient world, therefore, is made to appear to modern students unreal and unworthy of serious attention: it is not strange that they are dissatisfied with such teaching, and that it seems to many practically worthless. a true picture of the life and experience of the ancient greeks and romans would appear both interesting and profitable to a normal college student. =summary of objects to be sought in the teaching of the classics= the aims of the teaching of the classics in american colleges should be to give, in addition to a training of the mind: . an appreciation of the best of the classical literature. for this is, in many respects, the best literature which we have at all, even when without any allowances it is compared with the best of modern literatures. much of it is universal in character. it is also the foundation of the modern literatures. by learning to appreciate it, students would learn to judge and appreciate all literature. . a familiarity with the characters and narratives of the ancient literature. the knowledge of these characters, their behavior under various vicissitudes of fortune, and their experiences, would of itself be a valuable possession and equipment for life. . a knowledge of the ideas of the ancient greeks and romans, revealed and developed in their literature, and tested in the realities of their life. many of these ideas are of the utmost value today, and are in danger of being overlooked and forgotten in this materialistic age of ours, unless they are constantly recalled to our minds by such studies. . a knowledge of the actual experiences of the ancients, as individuals and as nations, their experiments in democracy and other forms of government, in imperialism, arbitration, and the like, their solutions of the moral, social, and economic problems which were as prominent in their world as in ours. to realize these aims old methods should be revised and improved, new methods developed. for there can hardly be a study more valuable and practical than this. william k. prentice _princeton university_ footnotes: [ ] for example, at the university of kansas. [ ] leland stanford, michigan, princeton. [ ] california, north dakota, harvard, idaho, illinois, kansas, leland stanford, michigan, oberlin, otterbein, pennsylvania, vermont, wisconsin, yale, etc. some of these courses are offered only to graduate students, and some are given by the departments of pedagogics. [ ] in new testament or patristic greek at austin, bucknell, california, cornell, harvard, illinois, lafayette, michigan, millsaps, trinity, wesleyan. in patristic latin, bucknell and elsewhere. [ ] brown, cornell, leland stanford. [_n. b._ these lists are by no means complete.] [ ] history of greek tragedy. lectures with reading and study of the plays of Æschylus, sophocles, and euripides. requires no knowledge of the greek language. [ ] e.g., columbia, lafayette. [ ] california, washington university. [ ] colorado, idaho, syracuse, vermont, washington university, wesleyan, wisconsin. [ ] it should be noted that at brown the titles of the classical departments are "the department of greek literature and history" and "the department of roman literature and history." [ ] at cornell and oberlin, for example. [ ] see especially clarence p. bill. "the business of a college greek department," _classical journal_, ix ( - ), pp. - . [ ] see the article by mr. theodosius s. tyng in _classical weekly_, viii ( ), nos. and . also m. j. russell: "the direct method of teaching latin," in the _classical journal_, xii ( ), pages - , and other articles on this subject in the _classical journal_ and the _classical weekly_ in recent years. [ ] for example, "latin conversation," at columbia; "oral latin," at leland stanford; "sight reading and latin speaking," at new york university. [ ] see professor allen's article, "the first year of greek," in the _classical journal_, x ( ), pages - . [ ] as early as the seventeenth century books were produced which may be regarded as the forerunners of this sort of modern composition in the ancient language. one of these was published in under the title: "iocorum atque seriorum tum novorum tum selectorum atque memorabilium libri duo, recensente othone melandro." another is the "terentius christianus seu comoediae sacrae--terentiano stylo a corn. schonaeo goudono conscriptae, editio nova amstelodami ": this includes dramas such as naaman (princeps syrus), tobaeus (senex), saulus, iuditha, susanna, ananias, etc. still another is the "poesis dramatica nicolai amancini s. j.," in two parts, published in and . a century later there appeared a story which, judging from its title, was designed primarily for students: "joachimi henrici campe robinson secundus tironum causa latine vertit philippus julius lieberkühn," zullich, . [ ] see the _classical journal_, xi ( ), pages - ; _classical weekly_, ix ( - ), pages - ; x ( ), pages f.; _classical weekly_, x ( ), pages f. [ ] see note , page . [ ] columbia. [ ] this is true of the courses in secondary schools and graduate courses in universities also; but in the secondary and graduate schools the proportion of translation courses to the others is smaller. [ ] for example, at harvard one course includes plato, lysias, lyric poetry, and euripides, with lectures on the history of greek literature; another livy, terence, horace and other latin poets. [ ] see above, page f. [ ] for a fuller list of institutions where classical courses not requiring a knowledge of the ancient languages are given see above, page . [ ] "die höchste aufgabe bei der lektüre des griechischen dramas sei das stück leben, das uns der dichter vor augen führt, in seinem vollen inhalt miterleben zu lassen." c. wunderer, in _blätter für das gymnasial-schulwesen_, vol. lii ( ), . xxi the teaching of the romance languages =the college course must emphasize power, not facts= it is well at times to emphasize old truths, mainly because they are old and are consecrated by experience. one of these, frequently combated nowadays, is that any college course--worthy of the name--has other than utilitarian ends. i therefore declare my belief that the student does not go to college primarily to acquire facts. these he can learn from books or from private instruction. _me judice_--he goes to college primarily to learn _how to interpret_ facts, and to arrive through this experience at their practical as well as their theoretic value: as respects himself, as respects others, and in an ever widening circle as regards humanity in general. the first object, thus, of a college course is to humanize the individual, to emancipate him intellectually and emotionally from his prejudices and conventions by giving him a wider horizon, a sounder judgment, a firmer and yet a more tolerant point of view. "our proclivity to details," said emerson, "cannot quite degrade our life and divest it of poetry." the college seizes upon the liberating instinct of youth and utilizes it for all it is worth. we summarize by saying that the college prepares not merely for "life" but for "living"; so that the society whom the individual serves will be served by him loyally, intelligently, and broad-mindedly, with an increasing understanding of its aims and purposes. =the college can attain its aim only when the student brings necessary facts from secondary schools= this, let us assume, is the somewhat lofty ideal. what about its concrete realization? especially when the subject is a language, which, considering that it consists of parts of speech, inflections, phonetics, etc., is a very practical matter and apparently far removed from the ideal in question. every language teacher is familiar with this stock objection. how often has he not been told that his business is not to teach french culture or spanish life, but french and spanish? and as everybody knows, french and spanish are not learned in a day, nor, indeed, if we judge by the average graduate of our colleges, in four years of classroom work. it is not my purpose to combat the contention that college french or spanish or italian could be taught better, and that from a utilitarian point of view the subject is capable of a great deal of improvement. as professor grandgent has trenchantly said "i do not believe there is or ever was a language more difficult to acquire than french; most of us can name worthy persons who have been assiduously struggling with it from childhood to mature age, and who do not know it now: yet it is treated as something any one can pick up offhand.... french staggers under the fearful burden of apparent easiness." i do not think these words overstate the case. all the more reason, then, to bear in mind that the burden of this accomplishment should not fall on the college course alone, or, i should even say, on the college course at all. for the fact is that a thorough knowledge of the romance tongues cannot be acquired in any college course, and to attack the problem from that angle alone is to attempt the impossible. it is on the school, and not on the college, that the obligation of the practical language problem rests. if our students are to become proficient in french--in the sense that they can not only read it but write and speak it with passable success--the language must be begun early, in the grade school (when memory and apperception are still fresh), and then carried forward systematically over a period of from six to seven years. but this will require on the part of our schools: ( ) a longer time allotment to the subject than it now generally has, ( ) a closer articulation between the grade-school, high-school, and college courses, and ( ) the appointment of better and higher-paid teachers of the subject. an encouraging move is being made in many parts of the country to carry out this plan, though of course we are still a long way from its realization; and when it is realized we shall not yet have reached the millennium. but at least we shall have given the practical teaching of the subject a chance, comparable to the opportunity it has in europe; and the complaint against the french and spanish teacher--if there still be a chronic complaint--will have other grounds than the one we so commonly hear at present. =limitations of elementary and intermediate courses as college courses= in the meantime, let us remember that the college has other, and more pressing, things to do than to attempt to supply the shortcomings of the school. it is certainly essential that the college should continue and develop the practical work of the school in various ways, such as advanced exercises and lectures in the foreign idiom, special conversation classes, and the like--if only for the simple reason that a language that is not used soon falls into desuetude and is forgotten. but assuredly the so-called elementary, intermediate, and advanced courses in french and spanish (as given in college) do not fall under that head. they exist in the college by _tolerance_ rather than by sound pedagogical theory, and the effort now being made to force all such courses back into the school by reducing the college "credits" they give is worthy of undivided support. not only are they out of place in the college program, but the burden of numerous and often large "sections" in these courses has seriously impeded the college in its proper language work. the college in its true function is the clarifier of ideas, the correlator of facts, the molder of personalities; and the student of modern languages should enter college prepared to study his subject from the college point of view. much of the apparent "silliness" of the french class which our more virile undergraduates object to would be obviated if a larger percentage of them could at once enter upon the more advanced phases of the subject. it is, then, to their interest, to the interest of the subject, and to the advantage of the college concerned, that this reform be brought about. =aim of the teaching of romance languages in the college= in any case, the function of a college subject can be stated, as president meiklejohn has stated it, in terms of two principles. he says: "the first is shared by both liberal and technical teaching. the second applies to liberal education alone. the principles are these: ( ) that activity guided by ideas is on the whole more successful than the same activity without the control of ideas, and ( ) that in the activities common to all men the guidance of ideas is quite as essential as in the case of those which different groups of men carry on in differentiation from one another." as applied to the romance languages, this means that while the college must of course give "technical" instruction in language, the emphasis of that instruction should be upon the "ideas" which the language expresses, in itself and in its literature. it is not enough that the college student should gain fluency in french or spanish, he must also and primarily be made conscious of the processes of language, its logical and æsthetic values, the civilization it expresses, and the thoughts it has to convey. while it may be said that all thorough language instruction accomplishes this incidentally, the college makes this _the_ aim of its teaching. the college should furnish an objective appraisal of the fundamental elements of the foreign idiom, not merely a subjective (and often superficial) mastery of details. for the old statement remains true that--when properly studied--"proverbs, words, and grammar inflections convey the public sense with more purity and precision than the wisest individual";[ ] and what shall we say when "literature" is added to this list? =status of romance languages in representative colleges--early status= from these preliminary observations let us now turn to the present status of romance languages in some of our representative colleges.[ ] one gratifying fact may be noted at once. whereas a quarter of a century ago greek and latin were still considered the _sine qua non_ of a liberal education, today french and german, and to a lesser extent spanish and italian, have their legitimate share in this distinction. indeed, to judge merely by the number of students, they would seem to have replaced latin and greek. to be sure, several colleges, as for instance amherst and chicago, alarmed by this swing of the pendulum, have reserved the b.a. degree for the traditional classical discipline. but in the first case the entire curriculum includes "two years of greek or latin," and in the second the b.a. students comprise but a very small percentage of the college body; and while in both cases latin and greek are required subjects, romance is admitted as an elective, in which--to mention only amherst--six consecutive semester courses, covering the main phases of modern french literature, can be chosen. as noted, the recognition of modern languages as cultural subjects is relatively recent. as late as a commission, appointed by the modern language association, found that "few colleges have a modern language requirement for admission to the course in arts; ... of the fifty reported, three require french, two offer an election between french and german, and two require both french and german." and of these same colleges, "eighteen require no foreign language, twenty-nine require either french or german, and eighteen require both french and german, for graduation in the arts." obviously, few (at most seven) of the colleges examined admitted students prepared to take advanced courses in french; and only eighteen, or per cent, allowed students to begin french in the freshman year, over one half of the entire number postponing the beginners' french until the sophomore, junior, or even senior year. it is clear, therefore, that as late as , and in spite of such illustrious examples as that set by harvard in the appointment of ticknor to the smith professorship in , the romance languages could hardly be classed as a recognized college subject. at best, they were taught on the principles that "it is never too late to learn," and although this teaching failed from the "practical" point of view, it yet had little or no opportunity to concern itself with the cultural aspects of the subject. no wonder the commission reported[ ] that in the circumstances "a mastery of language, as well as a comprehensive study of the literature, is impossible." with the part played by our greek and latin colleagues in keeping the modern languages out of the curriculum we need not deal in detail here. it is enough, in order to explain their attitude, to observe that previous to the teaching of modern languages was generally poor: it was intrusted for the most part to foreigners, who, being usually ignorant of the finer shades of english and woefully ignorant of american students, could not have been expected to succeed, or to native americans, who for various and often excellent reasons lacked the proper training, and therefore succeeded--when in rare cases they did succeed--in spite of their qualifications rather than because of them. add to all this the conviction natural to every classicist, that latin and greek are the keys to all western civilization and that without them romance literatures (not to say "languages") are incomprehensible, and the situation up to the 's is amply clear. =contemporary status of romance languages in college curricula= today, then, conditions are changed, and for better or worse the romance tongues are on a par with other collegiate subjects. a glance at the latest statistics is instructive. in , out of colleges and universities in the united states, taught french; (the universities) offered more than four years' instruction, offered four years, three years, two years, and only one year. the present status can easily be divined: the interest in spanish has certainly not waned, while the interest in french has grown by leaps and bounds. some curtailment there has been, owing to the adoption of the "group system" of studies on the part of most of the colleges, and as the colleges are relieved of more and more of the elementary work there doubtless will be more. but, in any case, it is safe to say that french, spanish, and italian are now firmly installed as liberal studies in the curricula of most of our colleges. now, how do they fulfill this function? what changes will be necessary in order that they may fulfill it better? what particular advantages have they to offer as a college subject? a brief consideration of each of these points follows. in general, our colleges require fifteen units of entrance credit and about twenty collegiate units for the college degree.[ ] of the entrance units, a maximum of four in french and two in spanish is allowed; and of the college units, an average of five, or about one fourth of the entire college work,[ ] must be taken consecutively in _one_ department of study or in not more than _two_ departments. this last group of approximately five units thus constitutes, so to speak, the backbone of the student's work. it is his so-called "principal sequence" (chicago) or his "two majors" (amherst) or his "major subject" (wisconsin and colorado); and while in the case of amherst it cannot be begun "until after the freshman year," in general it must be begun by the junior year. considerable variety prevails, of course, in carrying out this idea; for example, johns hopkins requires "at least two courses in the major and at least two in some cognate subject." harvard states that "every student shall take at least six of his courses in some one department, or in one of the recognized fields of distinction." princeton demands of "every junior and senior ... at least two -hour courses in some one department." but almost all representative colleges now recognize four general groups of study: philosophy (including history), language, science, and mathematics; and the student's work must be so arranged that while it is fairly evenly distributed over three of the groups it is at the same time definitely concentrated in one of them. =normal prescription in a romance language= in answer to our first question, it follows that the student entering with the maximum of french should be able, before graduation, to get enough advanced courses to give him an intelligent grasp of the literature as well as the language. in our better-equipped colleges this is undoubtedly the case. harvard, for instance, would admit him to a course (french ) in french prose and poetry, which includes some "composition," to be followed by ( ) a general view of french literature, ( ) french literature in the eighteenth century, ( ) french literature in the seventeenth century, ( ) comedy of manners in france, ( ) literary criticism in france; and in some of these courses the linguistic aspects would be considered in the form of "themes," "reports," etc., while the student could choose ( ) advanced french composition for that special purpose. other colleges (e.g., johns hopkins, chicago, stanford) offer the same or similar opportunities. so that, although titles of courses are often deceptive, the general plan of offering ( ) an introductory course in which both the language and the literature are treated, ( ) a survey-course in literature, leading to ( ) various courses in literature after , and supported by ( ) at least one specific course in language, now constitutes the normal collegiate "major" in french; and, on the whole, it would be difficult in the present circumstances to devise a better plan. =changes in current practice that will enhance effectiveness of teaching of romance languages--danger of minimizing the language phase= it is obvious that the success of any plan depends on the thoroughness with which it is carried out, and this in turn depends on the qualifications and energy of those who have the matter in hand. that contingency does not concern us here. but what is worth noting is that the fourth point mentioned above,--the specific language part of the "major"--might be strengthened, especially since some excellent institutions omit this consideration entirely. the danger of falling between two stools is never greater, it seems, than in treating both language and literature. an instructor who is bent on elucidating the range of anatole france's thought naturally has little time to deal adequately with his rich vocabulary, his deft use of tense, the subtle structure of his phrase--and yet who can be said really to "know" such an author if he be ignorant of either side of his work? "thought expands but lames," said goethe--unless it is constantly controlled by fact. in order to give the undergraduate that control, it is essential that he should be placed in the position everywhere to verify his author's thought. how difficult it is to bring even the best of our undergraduates to this point i need not discuss. but at least once in the process of his work he might be held to a stricter account than elsewhere. and if we ask ourselves by what method this can best be accomplished, i believe the answer is by some _special_ course in which the language of several representative writers is treated as such.[ ] the point could be elaborated, particularly in view of the present-day tendency to dwell unduly on so-called _realia_, french daily life, and the like--all legitimate enough in their proper time and place. but enough has been said to show that excellent as the present plan is, it could without detriment enlarge the place given to linguistics. in this bewildered age of ours we are forever hearing the cry of "literature," more "literature": not only our students but our teachers--and the connection is obvious--find language study dull and uninspiring, oblivious to the fact that the fault is theirs and not the subject's. yet, as we observed above, french is "hard," and its grammatical structure, apparently so simple, is in truth very complicated. manifestly, to understand a foreign literature we must understand the language in which it is written. how few of our students really do! moreover, language and literature are ultimately only parts of one indivisible entity: philology--though the fact often escapes us. "the most effective work," said gildersleeve,[ ] "is done by those who see all in the one as well as one in the all." and strange as it appears to the laity, a linguistic fact may convey a universal lesson. i hesitate to generalize, but i believe most of our colleges need to emphasize the language side of the french "major" more. =relative positions of french, spanish, and italian in a college course= as for italian and spanish, few of the colleges as yet grant these subjects the importance given to french. for one reason, entrance credit in italian is extremely rare, and neither there nor in spanish, in which it is now rather common, owing to the teaching of spanish in the high schools, does it exceed two units. some work of an elementary nature must therefore be done in the college; indeed, at amherst neither language can be begun until the sophomore year--though fortunately this is an isolated case. further, even when the college is prepared to teach these subjects adequately, it is still a debatable question whether they are entitled to precisely the same consideration as their more venerable sister. it is unnecessary to point out that such great names as dante, petrarch, boccaccio, alfieri, leopardi, carducci, cervantes, calderón, lope de vega, benavente, _e tutti quanti_, are abundant evidence of the value of italian and spanish culture. they unquestionably are. where the emphasis is cultural, it would certainly be unwise to neglect italian, since the renaissance is italian and underlies modern european culture in general. on the other hand, spanish is, so to speak, at our very doors because of our island possessions: it is the _one_ foreign language which calls for no argument to make the undergraduate willing to learn to speak, and spanish literature, especially in the drama, has the same romantic freedom as english literature and is thus readily accessible to the american type of mind. pedagogically, thus, the question is far from simple. but while it is impossible to lay down any fixed precept, it seems worth while to remember: that the french genius is preëminently the vehicle of definite and clear ideas, that in a very real sense france has been and is the intellectual clearinghouse of the world, and that potentially, at least, her civilization is of the greatest value to our intellectually dull and undiscriminating youth. from french, better than from italian and spanish, he can learn the discipline of accurate expression, of clear articulation, and the enlightenment that springs from contact with "general ideas." moreover, we must not forget that the undergraduate's time is limited and that under the "group system" some discrimination must necessarily be made. granted, then, that, all things considered, the first place will doubtless be left to french, the question remains whether the attention given to spanish and italian is at least adequate. and do the colleges extract from them the values they should? as a general proposition, we may take it for granted that the college should offer at least _four_ units in each of these subjects. for spanish, certainly, the tendency will be to make the proportion larger. but two units devoted to learning the language and two devoted to the literature may be regarded as essential, and are as a matter of fact the common practice. several illustrations will make this clear. _johns hopkins_ offers: in italian, . grammar, short stories, etc., . grammar, written exercises, selections from classic authors, lectures on italian literature; in spanish, . grammar, oral and written exercises, reading from alarcón, valdés, etc., . contemporary novel and drama, oral practice, grammar and composition, . the classic drama and cervantes, oral practice, etc., history of spanish literature. _illinois_: in italian, a- b elementary course, a- b italian literature, nineteenth century; in spanish, a- b elementary course, a- b modern spanish, a- b introduction to spanish literature, a- b business correspondence and conversation, a- b business practice in spanish, a- b the spanish drama of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a- b the spanish drama of the nineteenth century. _harvard_: in italian, . italian grammar, reading and composition, . general view of italian literature, . modern italian literature, . italian literature of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, . the works of dante; in spanish, . spanish grammar, reading and composition, . spanish composition, . spanish composition and conversation (advanced course), . general view of spanish literature, . spanish prose and poetry of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, . spanish literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.[ ] since spanish and italian fall into the department of romance languages, in order to make up his "major" the student is at present compelled to combine them with french. on the whole, this arrangement appears to me wise. to be sure, the deans of our colleges of commerce and administration will say that, granting the greater cultural value of french, the business interests of the country will force us nevertheless to give spanish the same place in the curriculum as french. and the more radical educators will affirm with mr. flexner:[ ] "languages have no value in themselves; they exist solely for the purpose of communicating ideas and abbreviating our thought and action processes. if studied, they are valuable only in so far as they are practically mastered--not otherwise." i have taken a stand against this matter-of-fact conception of education throughout this chapter. i may now return to the charge by adding that the banality of our college students' thinking stares us in the face; if we wish to quicken it, to refine it, we should have them study other media of expression _qua_ expression besides their own (that is what europe did in the renaissance, and the example of the renaissance is still pertinent); that if mr. flexner's reasoning were valid the french might without detriment convey their "ideas" in volapük or ido (i suggest that mr. flexner subject anatole france to this test); and that instead of being valueless in themselves, on the contrary, languages are the repositories of the ages: "we infer," said emerson, "the spirit of the nation in great measure from the language, which is a sort of monument in which each forcible individual in the course of many hundred years has contributed a stone." in other words, however great the claim of spanish as "a practical subject" may be and whatever concessions our schools and colleges may make to this fact, i still believe that spanish should be subordinated as a college subject to the study of french. in principle we may admit the spanish "major," as in fact we do at present with the italian "major"; but some knowledge of french on the part of the student should be presupposed, or if not, it should be a required part of the spanish sequence. this may seem extreme, but in reality few students would wish to proceed far in spanish without some french, and, practically, the knowledge of one romance tongue is always a great aid in the study of another. =training teachers of romance languages= thus we see that, with the addition here and there of an extra course (where the college is not up to the standard as we have outlined it), and an added stress on the advanced linguistics, the present curriculum in romance apparently provides an excellent working basis. if properly carried out--and the success of all teaching depends of course ultimately on the teacher--it ought to fulfill all legitimate needs, so far as the strictly collegiate aims are concerned. a word is now in order as to its fitness for those students who are planning to take romance as a profession. normally these students would coincide with those who are taking up "special honors" in romance languages; and for the latter group most of our colleges now make special provision--in the form of "independent work done outside the regular courses in the major subject and at least one other department during the junior and senior year (wisconsin)," or as amherst states it, "special work involving collateral reading or investigation under special conditions." in general, this gives the candidate certain professional options among the courses listed (in cases where the college is part of the university) as "primarily for graduates." in this way the student is able to add to his "major" such subjects as old french (chicago), introduction to romance philology (columbia), practical phonetics (chicago), a teachers' course (wisconsin), etc. personally i am of the opinion that the day has passed when any of our graduates who has not at least a master's degree in romance should be recommended to a teaching position. but evidently any such hard and fast rule is bound to be unfair, especially since a large percentage of our students is compelled to earn a living immediately upon graduation. thus here again--as in the elementary courses as now given in the colleges--we are confronted with a makeshift which only time and continued effort can correct. in the meantime the value of such professional courses depends to a very marked degree upon the success with which they can be carried out where they are counted toward a higher degree (m.a. or ph.d.) the difficulty is not so great, since their introductory nature is self-evident; but where they conclude, so to speak, the student's formal training the difficulty of making them "fit in" is often sadly apparent. at any rate, in this borderland between cultural and professional studies, where the college is merging with the university or professional school, the necessity for the able teacher is a paramount issue. if the transition is to be successful, the obligation rests upon the teacher so to develop his subject that the specializing will not drown out the general interest but will inform it with those values which only the specialist can impart. =final contributions of romance languages to the american college student= and now as to our final consideration: what particular advantages have the romance tongues to offer as a college subject? an obvious advantage is: an understanding of foreign peoples. the romance languages are modern. they are spoken today over a large part of the habitable globe. we stand in direct relations with those who speak them and write them. above all, a large share of the world's best thought is being expressed in them. the point requires no arguing, that translations cannot take the place of originals: _traduttore traditore_, says an excellent italian proverb. if we are really to know what other nations think,--whether we accept or reject their thought makes little or no difference here,--we can do so only by knowing their language. and the better we know it, the greater our insight will be. to speak at least _one_ foreign language is not only a parlor accomplishment: it is for whoever is to be a citizen-of-the-world a necessity. there is a turkish proverb that he who knows two languages, his own and another, has two souls. certainly there is no better way to approach a nation's soul than through its language. but, in the second place, the romance tongues have certain artistic qualities which english in a great measure lacks. the student who has intelligently mastered one of them has a better sense of form, of delicate shades of expression, and--if the language be french--of clarity of phrase: what pater termed _netteté d'expression_. he learns to respect language (as few americans now do), to study its possibilities in a way which a mere knowledge of english might never have suggested, and to appreciate its moral as well as its social power: for french forces him to curb his thought, to weigh his contention, to be simple and clear in the most abstruse matters. in a famous essay on the universality of french, rivarol said: "une traduction française est toujours une _explication_." and lastly, in themselves and in the civilizations they stand for, the romance tongues are the bridge between ourselves and antiquity. since the decline in the study of greek and latin, this is a factor to be seriously considered. it is the fashion today to berate the past, to speak of the dead hand of tradition, and to flatter ourselves with the delusion of self-sufficiency. to be sure, the aim of education is never to pile up information but to "fit your mind for any sort of exertion, to make it keen and flexible." but the best way to encompass this is to feed the mind on ideas, and ideas are not produced every day, nor for that matter every year, and luckily all ideas have not the same value. there are the ideas of taine, of rousseau, of voltaire, of descartes, of montaigne, of ficino, of petrarch, of dante, of cicero, of aristotle, of plato; and in a moment i have run the gamut of all the centuries of our western civilization. who will tell me which ideas we shall need most tomorrow? evidently, we cannot know them all. but we can at least make the attempt to know the best. and incidentally let it be said that he who professes the romance tongues can no more dispense with the classics than the classics can today afford to dispense with romance: french, italian, and spanish are the latin--and one might add the greek--of today. but to return to our theme: to deny our interest in the past is to throw away our heritage, to sell our mess of pottage to the lowest bidder. if the romance languages have one function in our american colleges, it is this: to keep alive the old humanistic lesson: _nihil humani a me alienum puto_; to the end that the modern college graduate may continue to say with montaigne: "all moral philosophy is applied as well to a private life as to one of the greatest employment. every man carries the entire form of the human condition. authors have thitherto communicated themselves to the people by some particular and foreign mark; i ... by my _universal_ being, not as a grammarian, a poet, or a lawyer." the college course in the romance languages should prepare for a profession, but it must first help to prepare thinking men and women. william a. nitze _university of chicago_ footnotes: [ ] the quotation is from emerson, _nominalist and realist_. [ ] i make no attempt in this article, written before , to treat actual teaching conditions: the premises are too uncertain. [ ] the above statistics are from c. h. handschin, _the teaching of modern languages in the united states_, washington, , pages ff. [ ] i cite the following figures: (_a_) entrance: harvard - / , amherst , wisconsin , columbia - / , colorado , illinois , chicago ; (_b_) collegiate degree: harvard - / "courses," amherst "courses," wisconsin "credits," columbia "points," colorado "hours of scholastic work," chicago "trimester majors." it is certainly desirable that our colleges adopt some uniform system for the notation of their courses. johns hopkins, at least, is specific in explaining the relationship of its " points" to its "courses"; see page of the _university register_, . [ ] at chicago exactly / or "at least coherent and progressive majors" must be taken in "one department or in a group of departments." but chicago also requires a secondary sequence of at least majors; columbia requires three years of "sequential study--in each of two departments." illinois, "a major subject ( hours)" and "an allied minor subject ( hours)." [ ] an excellent manner of procedure is that outlined by professor terracher in his interesting article in the _compte rendu du congrès de langue et de littérature française_, new york (fédération de l'alliance française), . [ ] from _johns hopkins university circular_, no. . [ ] it will be noted that throughout the amount offered in spanish exceeds that in italian. this is to be expected in view of the boom in spanish studies. moreover, most colleges now allow two units of entrance credit in spanish, and and above, under harvard, are half courses. columbia is, i believe, the only college accepting units of entrance credit in italian; but i have not examined the catalogues of all our colleges. [ ] publications of the general education board, , , page . xxii the teaching of german =our aim= the mechanical achievements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have obliterated geographical distances. the contact between nations, intermittent in former ages, has become a continuous one. it is no longer possible to ignore great cultural forces in foreign nations even temporarily--we may repudiate or appreciate them, as we see fit, but we should do so in a spirit of fairness and understanding, and not in ignorance. this, however, is not possible unless those who are to become leaders of the people are intimately familiar with those treasure chests of the nations that contain the true gems of racial spirit more abundantly than even art or literature, history, law or religion, stored up in the course of hundreds and thousands of years--the nations' languages. it is the clear duty of the college to instill, through the right way of teaching foreign languages, a cosmopolitan spirit of this character into the growing minds of our young men and women, after the secondary school has given them the first rudiments of knowledge and cultural training. according to one's point of view, there is as much to be said in favor of the classical as the modern languages. without doubt, their growing neglect in our institutions of learning is deeply to be regretted; however, its causes do not concern us here directly. the study of modern languages is, relatively speaking, so manifestly in the ascendency, that a return to the emphasis that was formerly laid upon latin and greek is hardly imaginable. the choice between several modern languages must very largely be determined by personal preferences and purposes. so much, however, can safely be said, that an intelligent reading knowledge of german and french is the least that should be expected of a college graduate. for, while in theory the humanistic importance of modern language study is the same for all languages, it rises, in practice, proportionately with the cultural level of the foreign nation--german and french obviously taking the lead in this regard. =place of german in the college curriculum= i am optimistic enough to assume it to be generally granted that the study of a foreign language ought to be started early in life--say, at the age of twelve. while hardly challenged in theory, this desirable condition is far from being carried out in practice. probably the time will never come when colleges will be able to dispense with elementary courses in modern foreign languages--not only for those who enter without any linguistic preparation, but also, and perhaps preëminently, for students who are taking up a second foreign language in addition to the one (or two) started in the preparatory school. thus, the starting point of the modern language course in college is easily fixed: it must begin at the very rudiments of the language. nor is it difficult to state, in general terms, the purpose of the most advanced work of the undergraduate curriculum: it must consist in adequate linguistic skill, literary knowledge and feeling, and cultural understanding to such an extent that the college graduate who has specialized in german may safely be intrusted with the teaching of german in secondary schools. at least, this holds good for the majority of institutions; a small number of colleges devote their whole effort to cultural training, and some of the larger institutions, particularly in the east, find it possible to postpone most of the professional preparation to a period of graduate work. but on the whole the average well-equipped college includes the training of teachers as one end of its foreign-language work. ordinarily, such mastery of the subject as would prepare for teaching cannot be gained within the four years' college course. rather, it might be said to require the average equivalent of something like six college years, with the understanding that not much more than one fourth of the student's time be devoted to german. this implies that only under uncommonly favorable conditions should students be encouraged to specialize in a foreign language that they begin on entering college. =organization of the german course= thus, the peculiar conditions of modern language instruction bring it about that a discussion of its organization in college must deal with a six years' course: elementary instruction must be offered to those entering without any knowledge of german; courses of a sufficiently advanced character must be provided for those who enter with three or four years of high-school german; and there must be advanced work for students who intend to make the study and teaching of german their life's work. in this six years' college course three divisions are clearly distinguishable: an elementary division devoted to such linguistic training as will enable a student to read with fair ease texts of moderate difficulty; an intermediate group during which literary and cultural appreciation should be developed, and an advanced group intended for the professional preparation of prospective teachers of german. these three divisions may be approximately equal, so that each of them covers about two years, with four or five hours a week. for graduation, all students should be required to present the equivalent of the first period for two languages (either classical or modern), one or both of which might with advantage be absolved in high school. the second division should be required of all students for at least one foreign language. colleges of high standing may find it possible to exceed these requirements; no college should remain below them. the first or elementary division should, at least for one foreign language, be finished before the student is admitted to the college. all that can reasonably be expected from this part of the work is a study of the elements of grammar, the development of a good pronunciation, a fair working vocabulary, and some ability to read, speak, understand, and write german. the second group should include, in the main, reading courses to introduce the student to what is best in german literature, but no general theoretical study of the history of literature need be contemplated. besides, it must offer such work in speaking and writing as will develop and establish more firmly the results gained in the first two years, and an appropriate study of german history and institutions. each of the three aims might be given about one third of the time available, but they may overlap to some extent. thus, writing and speaking can be connected with each of them, and historical readings and reports may furnish a part of language practice. the third group, intended for the training of teachers, must contain a course in the method of modern language teaching (connected with observation and practice), an advanced grammar course, and courses in the phonetics and historical development of the german language. these courses are indispensable for teachers, but will also be of advantage to students not intending to teach. =the elementary group= the first group is frankly of high school character. it is best to admit this fully and freely, and to teach these courses accordingly. through greater intensity of study (more home work and longer class periods), the work of three or even four high school years may be concentrated into two college years, but the method cannot differ essentially. the way of learning a new language is the same, in principle, for a child of twelve years and a man of fifty years; in the latter case, there is merely the difficulty to be overcome that older persons are less easily inclined to submit to that drill which is necessary for the establishment of those new habits that constitute _sprachgefühl_. it is a fallacy that the maturer mind of the college student requires a more synthetic-deductive study of the language than that of the high school student. it is sad but true that many college teachers are more reactionary in questions of method than the better class of high school teachers. the claim that elementary work in college requires a method different from that used in the high school is one symptom of this, and another symptom of the same tendency is the motto of so many college teachers that there is no "best method," and that a good teacher will secure good results with any method. at the bottom of such phrases there is usually not much more than indifference and unwillingness to look for information on the real character of the method at which they are generally aimed: the _direct method_. the regrettable superficiality appearing in the frequent confusion of the "direct" with the "natural" method is characteristic of this. i am, of course, willing to admit that what nowadays is termed the "direct method" is not the best way possible, but that it may and will be improved upon. however, it is not one of many methods that, according to circumstances, might be equally good, but it represents the application of the present results of psychological and linguistic research to the teaching of languages and distinctly deserves the preference over older ways. the first demand of the direct method is the development not only of a fair but of a perfect pronunciation--not so much as the independent aim, but as an indispensable condition for the development of _sprachgefühl_. it is immeasurably easier to obtain good pronunciation from the start than to improve bad pronunciation by later efforts. in the teaching of pronunciation a slight difference in the treatment of children of twelve years and of college students might be granted: young children are generally able to learn the sounds of a foreign language by imitation; students of college age can hardly ever do this well, and careful phonetic instruction is absolutely necessary with them. whoever wishes to keep aloof from phonetic _terms_ may do so; but not to know or not to apply phonetic _principles_ is bad teaching pure and simple. the use of phonetic _transcription_, however, is a moot question. its advantages are obvious enough: it insures a clear consciousness of correct pronunciation; it takes up the difficulties one by one: first pronunciation, then spelling; it safeguards greater care in matters of pronunciation in general. the objections are chiefly two: economy of time, and the fear of confusion between the two ways of spelling. the writer admits that until a few years ago he was skeptical as to the value of phonetic transcription in the teaching of german. but the nearly general recognition of its value by the foremost educators of european countries and the good results achieved with it by teachers of french in this country caused him to give it a trial, under conditions that afforded not more than an average chance of success. the result was greatly beyond his expectations. neither he nor, as far as he knows, any of his colleagues would contemplate abandoning phonetic script again. without wishing to be dogmatic, i believe that this at least can be asserted with safety: on purely theoretical grounds, no teacher has a right to condemn phonetic transcription; those who doubt its value should try it before they judge. in the writer's opinion it is best not to use any historical spelling at all during the first six or eight weeks of college german. if the confusing features of traditional orthography are eliminated during this period, it will be found that there results not a loss, but an actual _gain in time_ from the use of phonetic script. nor does the transition to common spelling cause any confusion. the less ado made about it, the better. it is a fact of experience, that students who have been trained in the use of phonetic script turn out to be better spellers than those who have not--simply because this training has made them more careful and has given them a clearer conception of the discrepancy between sound and letter. that elementary grammar should be taught inductively is true to an extent, but often overstated. it is true for the more abstract principles, such as the formation of the compound tenses, the formation and the use of the passive voice, and so on. but attempts at inductive teaching of concrete elements of mechanical memory, such as the gender and plural of nouns, or the principal parts of strong verbs, are a misunderstanding of the principles of induction. it goes without saying that thorough drill is much more valuable than the most explicit explanation. it holds good for college as well as for high schools that there is but very little to "explain" about the grammar of any language. unnecessary explanations rather increase than remove difficulties. =the use of english= the use of english is another debated question. as far as the teaching of grammar is concerned, it is unessential. if inductive drill takes the place of explanations and abstract rules, the question is very largely eliminated from practical consideration. in those very rare cases when theoretical discussions might seem desirable, it does not make much difference whether a few minutes a week are devoted to english or not. the question assumes greater importance when the development of the vocabulary is considered. in this, there are three fairly well-defined elements to be distinguished. the first vocabulary, say, of the first two or three months should be developed by concrete associations with objects and actions in the classroom; the use of the vernacular has no justification whatever during that time--not on account of any objection to an occasional english word or phrase, but simply because there is no need of it, and every minute devoted to german is a clear gain. after this, the vocabulary should be further developed through the thorough practice of connected texts. if they are well constructed, the context will explain a considerable portion of the words occurring; those that are not made clear through the context form the third division of the vocabulary and can without hesitation be explained by english equivalents. in general, the principle will go rather far that the use of an occasional english _word_ is entirely harmless, but that english _sentences_ should as much as possible be avoided in elementary work. connected translation, both from and into english, must absolutely be excluded from the first year's work, for the chief purpose of this year is not only the study of grammar and the development of an elementary vocabulary, but, even more than that, the cultivation of the right _attitude_ toward language study. reading should be our chief aim, and speaking a means to that end, but the student must be trained, from the very beginning, to understand what he is reading rather through an intelligent grasp of the contents than by fingering the dictionary. in this way he will become accustomed to associating the german sentences _directly_ with the thought expressed in them, instead of _indirectly_ through the medium of his native tongue. a great deal of misunderstanding is frequently involved in the emphasis laid upon speaking. there can hardly be a more absurd misinterpretation of the principles of the direct method than for college teachers to try to "converse" with the students in german--to have with them german chats about the weather, the games, the political situation. this procedure is splendidly fit to develop in the students a habit of guessing at random at what they hear and read--a slovenly contentedness with an approximate understanding. both teacher and students should speak and hear german practically all the time. but this should be distinctly in the service of reading and grammar work, containing almost exclusively words and forms that the student must _know_, not guess at. at the end of the first year a college student ought to have mastered the elements of grammar and possess good pronunciation and an active vocabulary of about six hundred or eight hundred words. if the second year is devoted to further drill on grammatical elements and to careful reading, its result ought to be the ability to read authors of average difficulty at a fair speed. during the first year all reading material should be practiced so intensively that an average of a little more than a page a week is not exceeded materially; but toward the end of the second year a limit of six or eight pages an hour may well be reached. by this time, translation into good english begins to be a valuable factor in the achievement of conscious accuracy; but it must under no circumstances be resorted to until the students have clearly obtained the habitual attitude of direct association between thought and sentence. it is little short of a misfortune that there exists no adequate german-german dictionary (such as la rousse's french dictionary). it would not be very difficult to write such a book, but until we possess it the irritating use of german-english dictionaries and vocabularies will be a necessary evil. the hardest problem of the second year--and this is progressively true of more advanced work--is the uneven preparation of the students. in large colleges it will often be feasible to have as many sections as possible at the same hour, distributing the students in accordance with their preparation. where this is not possible, special help for poorly prepared students is generally indispensable. =the literature group= the literature group is as distinctly of college character as the elementary group is admittedly high school work. it is here, in fact, that the best ideals of the american college find the fullest opportunity. this is true both for the teacher and for the student. in the elementary group, pedagogical skill and a fair mastery of the language are the chief prerequisites of a successful teacher. in the second group, other qualities are of greater importance. while a certain degree of pedagogical skill is just as necessary here as there, it is now no longer a question of the systematic development of habits, but of the ability to create sympathetic understanding, idealism, depth of knowledge, and literary taste--in short, to strive for humanistic education in the fullest sense of the word. this is true not only for colleges with a professedly humanistic tendency; the broadening and deepening influence of foreign language study is nowhere needed more urgently than in technical and other professional colleges. speaking and writing must no longer stand in the center of instruction in the courses of the second group, but their importance should not be underrated, as is done so frequently (it is a fact that students often know less german at the end of the third year in college than at the end of the second year). at least during the first year of this group, a practice course in advanced grammar, connected with composition, is absolutely necessary. the grammatical work should consist in review and observation, supported by the study of a larger reference grammar (e.g., chapters from curme's grammar, to introduce the students to the consistent use of this marvelous work). in composition, free reproduction should still be the main thing, but independent themes and translation from english into german--which would be distinctly harmful in elementary work--are now valuable exercises in the study of german style. it would be wholly wrong, however, to make linguistic drill the alpha and omega of this part of the college course. the preparatory years should have laid a sound basis, which during the college work proper should not be allowed to disintegrate, but the fact should not be lost sight of that the cultural aim must be stressed most in the second group. to reach this aim, a familiarity with the best works of german literature is the foremost means. german literature affords a scant choice of good and easy reading for the elementary stage: storm, ebner-eschenbach, seidel, and wildenbruch are justly favorites, but absurdities like baumbach's _schwiegersohn_ are, unfortunately, still found in the curriculum of many colleges. in contrast with the small number of good elementary texts, there exists an abundance of excellent material for the second group. aside from the classical poets, the novelists keller, meyer, fontane, raabe; the dramatists hebbel, grillparzer, kleist, hauptmann; poems collected in the _balladenbuch_ or the _ernte_ present an inexhaustible wealth, without our having to resort to the literary rubbish of benedix or moser or the sneering pretentiousness of heine's _harzreise_. the details of organization will vary greatly for this group, according to special conditions. but in general it may be said that during the first year of this period about two hours a week should be devoted to the continuation of systematic language practice as outlined above, and three hours to the reading of german authors for literary purposes. nor should this consist in "reading" alone. reading as such should no longer present any difficulty, if the work of the elementary group has been done well. special courses should be devoted to the study of the modern german novel, the drama, and the lyrics, and to individual authors like those mentioned. in these detached literature courses the principal endeavor must be to help the students to understand and feel, not so much the linguistic side of the texts read, as the soul of the author, and through him the soul of the german nation. reading must become more and more independent, the major part of the time in class being devoted to the cultural and æsthetic interpretation of what has been read at home. it is evident that in this, the most important part of the german college work, all depends upon the personality of the instructor: literary and human understanding cannot be instilled into the student's mind by one who does not possess them himself, together with a love for teaching and the power to create enthusiasm. all other requirements must be subordinate to this--even the instructor's mastery of the language. no doubt, in theory it would be most desirable that german be the exclusive language of instruction throughout; but in literary courses practical considerations will so often speak against this, that no sweeping answer to this question seems possible. for the chief aim must not be overshadowed by any other. if poor preparation on the part of the students or a deficient command of the language on the part of the instructor makes it doubtful whether the cultural aim can be attained, if german is the language of instruction, english should be used unhesitatingly. this implies that for this part of the work an instructor with a strong personality and an artistic understanding, although lacking in speaking knowledge, is far preferable to one who speaks german fluently but cannot introduce his students to the greatness of german literature and the spirit of the german people. on the other hand, written reports in literary courses should always be required to be in german; it is also a good plan to devote a few minutes of each period to prepared oral reports, in german, on the part of the individual students. where systematic practice in the colloquial use of the language is desirable for special reasons, a conversation course may be established in addition to the main work, but literary courses are not the place for starting conversational practice with classes that have been neglected in this respect during their preparatory work. the second year of the literary group should offer a choice between two directions of further literary development: about three hours of each week should be devoted either to a course on the general history of german literature, or to the intensive study of one of the greatest factors in german literature--such as goethe's _faust_. in large institutions both courses can probably be given side by side, the students taking their choice according to their preference, but in most colleges an alternation of two courses of this kind will be preferable. the method of instruction is determined by the students' preparation and the teacher's personality, in literature courses more than anything else. obviously, lectures (in german, where circumstances permit), extensive, systematic reading, written reports, and class discussion are the dominating features of such courses. some knowledge of german history and institutions is an indispensable adjunct of any serious work in german literature. probably in all colleges such instruction will be incumbent upon the german departments, and it is rarely possible to combine it with the course on the general history of german literature. therefore, a special course in german history and institutions should be offered during the second year of the literature group. =the professional group= the work of this group may overlap that of the second group to a considerable extent, in the sense that courses in both groups may be taken at the same time. the professional preparation of a teacher of german should include: a thorough knowledge of the structure of the german language, an appreciative familiarity with german literature, and a fair amount of specialized pedagogical training. the study of literature cannot be different for prospective teachers from that for all other types of college students, and, therefore, belongs to the second group. but their knowledge of language structure, though not necessarily of a specialistic philological character, must include a more detailed knowledge of german grammar, a familiarity with technical german phonetics, and at least an elementary insight into the historical development of the language. in addition to suitable courses in these three subjects, a pedagogical course, dealing with the methods of modern language teaching, and connected with observation and practice teaching, must be provided for. where the previous training has been neglected, a course in german conversation may be added; but, generally speaking, this should no longer be necessary with students in their fifth or sixth year of german instruction. wherever this need exists, the system of instruction is at fault. =conclusion= incomplete though this brief outline must necessarily be, the writer has attempted to touch upon the most important phases of the students' development of linguistic, cultural, and, where demanded, professional command of german. little has so far been said concerning the college teacher. the strong emphasis placed upon the direct method in this article should not be misinterpreted as meaning that a fluent command of the spoken language is a _conditio sine qua non_. nothing could be farther from the truth. first of all, the necessity of the exclusive use of the direct method exists obviously only in the elementary group. in this group, however, "conversation" in the generally accepted sense of the word should not be attempted--it will do more harm than good. the constant practice in speaking and hearing should be so rigidly subservient to the interpretation and practice of the texts being read and to grammatical drill, that only a minimum of "speaking knowledge" on the part of the teacher is unavoidably necessary; his pronunciation, of course, must be perfect. however desirable it may be that a teacher should know intimately well the language he is teaching in college, there are other requirements even higher than this; they are, in the first group, energy, thoroughness, and pedagogical skill, coupled with an intelligent understanding of the basic principles of the direct method; in the second group, literary appreciation and a sympathetic understanding of german thought, history, and civilization; and, for the third group, elementary philological training, theoretical as well as practical acquaintance with the needs of the classroom, and a long and varied experience in teaching. rarely will all three qualifications be combined in one person, nor are such fortunate combinations necessary in most colleges. a wise distribution of courses among the members of the department can in most cases be effected in such a way that each teacher's talents are utilized in their proper places. e. prokosch part five the arts chapter xxiii the teaching of music _edward dickinson_ xxiv the teaching of art _holmes smith_ xxiii the teaching of music =music a comparatively recent addition to the college curriculum= there is perhaps no more direct way of throwing a sort of flashlight upon the musical activity in the colleges of america than the statement that a volume of this kind, if prepared a dozen years ago, would either have contained no chapter upon music, or, if music were given a place at all, the argument would have been occupied with hopes rather than achievements. not that it would be literally true to say that music was wholly a negligible quantity in the homes of higher education until the twentieth century, but the seat assigned to it in the few institutions where it was found was an obscure and lowly one, and the influence radiating therefrom reached so small a fragment of the academic community that no one who was not engaged in a careful, sympathizing search could have been aware of its existence. it was less than twenty years ago that a prominent musical journal printed the very moderate statement that "the youth who is graduated at yale, harvard, johns hopkins, brown, dartmouth, bowdoin, amherst, cornell, or columbia has not even a smattering of music beyond the music of the college glee and mandolin club; and of course to cultivate that is the easiest road to musical perdition." one who looks at those institutions now, and attempts to measure the power and reach of their departments of music, will not deny the right to the satisfaction which their directors--men of national influence--must feel, and would almost expect them to echo the words of ancient simeon. the contrast is indeed extraordinary, and, i believe, unparalleled. the work of these men, and of others who could be named with them, has not been merely development, but might even be called creation. any one who attempts to keep track of the growth of musical education in our colleges, universities, and also in the secondary schools of the present day, will find that the bare statistics of this increase, to say nothing of a study of the problems involved, will engage much more than his hours of leisure. music, which not long ago held tolerance only as an outside interest, confined to the sphere of influence of the glee club and the chapel choir, is now, in hundreds of educational institutions, accorded the privileges due to those arts and sciences whose function in historic civilization, and potency in scholarly discipline and liberal culture, give them domicile by obvious and inalienable right. =history of the subject of music in the american college curriculum= the first university professorships in music were founded at harvard in , and at the university of pennsylvania at about the same time. vassar college established musical courses in , oberlin in . harvard took the lead in granting credit for certain courses in music toward the degree of a.b. in .[ ] progress thereafter for many years was slow; but in investigation showed that "approximately one half the colleges in the country recognize the value of instruction in music sufficiently to grant credit in this subject."[ ] since this date college after college and university after university have fallen into line, only a few resisting the current that sets toward the universal acceptance of music as a legitimate and necessary element in higher education. the problem with the musical educators of the country is no longer how to crowd their subject into the college preserve, but how to organize its forces there, how to develop its methods on a basis of scholarly efficiency, how to harmonize its courses with the ideals of the old established departments, and now, last of all, how to bring the universities and colleges into coöperation with the rapid extension of musical practice, education, and taste which has, in recent days, become a conspicuous factor in our national progress. =changing social ideals responsible for the new attitude toward the study of music in colleges= an investigation into the causes of this great change would be fully as interesting as a critical examination of its results. the limits of this chapter require that consideration be given to the present and future of this movement rather than to its past; but it is especially instructive, i think, to those who are called upon to deal practically with it, to observe that the welcome now accorded to music in our higher institutions of learning is due to changes in both the college and its environment. in view of the constitution and relationships of our higher schools (unlike those of the universities of europe), any alteration in the ideals, the practical activities, and the living conditions of the people of the democracy will sooner or later affect those institutions whose aim is fundamentally to equip young men and women for social leadership. it is unnecessary to remind the readers of such a book as this of the marked enlargement of the interests of the intelligent people of america in recent years, or of the prominent place which æsthetic considerations hold among these interests. the ancient thinker, to whom nothing of human concern was alien, would find the type he represented enormously increased in these latter days. the passion for the release of all the latent energies and the acquisition of every material good, which characterizes the american people to a degree hitherto unknown in the world since the outburst of the renaissance, issues, as in the renaissance, in an enormous multiplication of the machinery by which the enjoyment of life and its outward embellishment are promoted. but more than this and far better--the eager pursuit of the means for enhancing physical and mental gratification has coincided with a growing desire for the general welfare;--hence the æsthetic movement of recent years, and the zeal for social betterment which excludes no section or class or occupation, tend to unite, and at the same time to work inward and develop a type of character which seeks joy not only in beauty but also in the desire to give beauty a home in the low as well as in the high places. whatever may be one's view of the final value of the recent american productions in literature and the fine arts, the social, democratic tendency in them is unmistakable. the company of enthusiastic men and women who are preaching the gospel of beauty as a common human birthright is neither small nor feeble. the fine arts are emerging from the studios, professional schools, and coteries; they are no longer conceived as the special prerogative of privileged classes; not even is the creation of masterpieces as objects of national pride the pervading motive;--but they are seen to be potential factors in national education, ministering to the happiness and mental and moral health of the community at large. it was impossible that the most enlightened directors of our colleges, universities, and public schools should not perceive the nature and possibilities of this movement, hasten to ally themselves with it, and in many cases assume a leadership in it to which their position and advantages entitled them. =the educative function of music= the commanding claims which the arts of design, music, and the drama are asserting for an organized share in the higher education is also, i think, a consequence of the change that has come about in recent years in the constitution of the curriculum, the methods of instruction, the personnel of the student body, the multiplication of their sanctioned activities, and especially in the attitude of the undergraduates toward the traditional idea of scholarship. the old college was a place where strict, inherited conceptions of scholarship and mental discipline were piously maintained. the curriculum rested for its main support upon a basis of the classics and mathematics, which imparted a classic and mathematical rigidity to the whole structure. the professor was an oracle, backed by oracular textbooks; the student's activity was restricted by a traditional association of learning with self-restraint and outward severity of life. the revolutionary change came with the marvelous development of the natural sciences, compelling radical readjustments of thought both within and without the college, the quickening of the social life about the campus, and the sharp division of interest, together with a multiplication of courses which made the elective system inevitable. the consequence was, as president wilson states it, that a "disintegration was brought about which destroyed the old college with its fixed disciplines and ordered life, and gave us our present problem of reorganization and recovery. it centered in the break-up of the old curriculum and the introduction of the principle that the student was to select his own studies from a great variety of courses. but the change could not, in the nature of things, stop with the plan of study. it held in its heart a tremendous implication;--the implication of full manhood on the part of the pupil, and all the untrammeled choice of manhood. the pupil who was mature and well-informed enough to study what he chose, was also by necessary implication mature enough to be left free to _do_ what he pleased, to choose his own associations and ways of life outside the curriculum without restraint or suggestion; and the varied, absorbing life of our day sprang up as the natural offspring of the free election of studies."[ ] =the development of emotions as well as the intellect a vital concern of the college curriculum= into an academic life so constituted, art, music, and the drama must perforce make their way by virtue of their appeal to those instincts, always latent, which were now set in action. those agencies by which the emotional life has always been expressed and stimulated found a welcome prepared for them in the hearts of college youths, stirred with new zests and a more lively self-consciousness. but for a time they met resistance in the supremacy of the exact sciences, erroneously set in opposition to the forces which move the emotions and the imagination, and the stern grip, still jealously maintained, of the old conception of "mental discipline" and the communication of information as the prime purpose of college teaching. the relaxation came with the recognition of æsthetic pursuits as "outside interests," and organization and endowment soon followed. but a college art museum logically involves lectures upon art, a theater an authoritative regulation of the things offered therein, a concert hall and concert courses instruction in the history and appreciation of music. and so, with surprising celerity, the colleges began to readjust their schemes to admit those agencies that act upon the emotion as well as the understanding, and the problem how to bring æsthetic culture into a working union with the traditional aims and the larger social opportunities of the college faced the college educator, and disturbed his repose with its peremptory insistence upon a practical solution. =problems in teaching of music in the college= although the question of purpose, method, and adaptation presents general difficulties of similar character in respect to the college administration of all the fine arts, music is undoubtedly the most embarrassing item in the list. in this department of our colleges there is no common conviction as to methods, no standardized system; but rather a bewildering disagreement in regard to the subjects to be taught, the extent and nature of their recognition, the character of the response to be expected of the student mind, and the kind of gauge by which that response shall be measured by teachers, deans, and registrars. in the matter of literature and the arts of design, where there is likewise an implicit intention of enriching æsthetic appreciation, an agreement is more easily reached, by reason of their closer relationship to outer life, to action, and the more familiar processes of thought. few would maintain that the purpose of college courses in english literature is to train professional novelists and poets; the college leaves to the special art schools and to private studios the development of painters, sculptors, and architects. what remains to the college is reasonably clear. but in music, on the contrary, the function of the college is by no means so evident as to induce anything like general agreement. should the musical courses be exclusively cultural, or should they be so shaped as to provide training for professional work in composition or performance? should they be "practical" (that is, playing and singing), or simply theoretical (harmony, counterpoint, etc.), or entirely confined to musical history and appreciation? should credits leading to the a.b. degree be given for musical work, and if so, ought they to include performance, or only theory and composition? should musical degrees be granted, and if so, for what measure of knowledge or proficiency? one or two western colleges give credit for work done under the direction of private teachers in no way connected with the institution:--is this procedure to be commended, and if so, under what safeguards? should a college maintain a musical "conservatory" working under a separate administrative and financial system, many or all of whose teachers are not college graduates; or should its musical department be necessarily an organic part of the college of arts and sciences, exactly like the department of latin or chemistry? if the former, as is the case with many western institutions, to what extent should the work in the music school be supervised by the college president and general faculty; under what limitations may candidates for the a.b. degree be allowed to take accredited work in the music school? what should be the relation of the college to the university in respect to the musical courses? is it possible to establish a systematic progress from step to step similar to that which exists in many of the old established lines? what should be the relation between the college and the secondary schools? should the effort be to establish a continuity of study and promotion, such as that which exists in such subjects as latin and mathematics? should the college give entrance credits for musical work? if so, should it be on examination or certificate, for practical or theoretical work, or both? should the courses in the history and appreciation of music be thrown open to all students, or only to those who have some preliminary technical knowledge? these are some of the questions that face a college governing board when music is under discussion--questions that are dealt with on widely divergent principles by colleges of equal rank. some institutions in the west permit to music a freedom and variety in respect to grades, subjects, and methods which they allow to no other subject. the university of kansas undertakes musical extension work throughout the state. brown university restricts its musical instruction to lecture courses on the history and appreciation of music. between these extremes there is every diversity of opinion and procedure that can be conceived. the problem, as i have said, is twofold, and so long as disagreement exists as to the object of collegiate musical work, there can be no uniformity in administration. in a university the problem is or should be somewhat more simple, just as there is a more general accord concerning the precise object of university training. in place of the confusion of views in regard to ideals and systems and methods which exist in the present-day college, we find in the university a calmness of conviction touching essentials that results from the comparative simplicity of its functions and aims. a conspicuous tendency in our universities is toward specialization; their spirit and methods are largely derived from the professional and graduate schools which give them their tone and prestige. they look toward research and the advancement of learning as their particular _raison d'être_, and also toward the practical application of knowledge to actual life and the disciplining of special faculties for definite vocational ends.[ ] since our universities, unlike those of europe, consist of a union of graduate and undergraduate departments, any single problem, like that of music, is simplified by the opportunity afforded by the direct passage from undergraduate to graduate work, and the greater encouragement to specialization in the earlier courses. a graduate school which admits music will naturally do so on a vocational basis, and the question is not of the aim to be sought, but the much easier one of the means of its attainment, since there is no more of a puzzle in teaching an embryo composer or music teacher than there is in teaching an incipient physician or engineer. it seems to me that the opportunity before the university has been stated in a very clear and suggestive manner by professor albert a. stanley of the university of michigan: "if in the future the line of demarcation between the college and the university shall cease to be as sinuous and shadowy as at present, the university will offer well-defined courses in research, in creative work, possibly in interpretation--by which i do not mean criticism, but rather that which is criticized. [professor stanley evidently refers to musical performance.] the college courses will then be so broadened that the preparatory work will of necessity be relegated to the secondary schools. this will impose on the colleges and universities still another duty--the fitting of competent teachers. logically music will then be placed on the list of entrance studies, and the circle will be complete. the fitting of teachers who can satisfy the conditions of such work as will then be demanded will be by no means the least function of the higher institutions. there will be more and more demand for the broadly trained teacher, and there will be an even greater demand for the specialist. by this i mean the specialist who has been developed in a normal manner, and who appreciates the greater relations of knowledge and life."[ ] =problems in teaching of music in secondary schools are intelligently attacked= there is no question that the future of music in the colleges will greatly depend upon the developments in the secondary schools. if the time ever comes when the administrators of our public school system accept and act upon the assertion of dr. claxton, united states commissioner of education, that "after the beginnings of reading, writing, and mathematics music has greater practical value than any other subject taught in the schools," the college will find its determination of musical courses an easier matter than it is now. students will in that event come prepared to take advantage of the more advanced instruction offered by the college, as they do at present in the standard subjects, and the musical pathway through the college, and then through the university, will be direct and unimpeded. although such a prospect may seem to many only a roseate dream, it is a safer prophecy than it would have appeared a half-dozen years ago. the number of grammar and high schools is rapidly increasing in which the pupils are given solid instruction in chorus singing, ensemble playing, musical theory, and the history and appreciation of music; and in many places pupils are also permitted to carry on private study in vocal and instrumental music at the hands of approved teachers, and school credit given therefor. so apparent is the need of this latter privilege, and so full of fine possibilities, that the question of licensing private teachers with a view to an official recognition of the fittest has begun to receive the attention of state associations and legislatures. it is impossible that the colleges should remain indifferent to these tendencies in the preparatory schools, for their duty and their advantage are found in coöperating with them. the opportunity has been most clearly seen by those colleges which have established departments for the training of supervisors of public school music. such service comes eminently within the rôle of the college, for a disciplined understanding, a liberal culture, an acquaintance with subjects once unrecognized as related to music teaching, are coming to be demanded in the music supervisor. the day of the old country-school singing master transferred to the public school is past; the day of the trained supervisor, who measures up to the intellectual stature of his colleagues, is at hand. so clearly is this perceived that college courses in public school music, which at first occupied one year at the most, are being extended to two years and three years, and in at least one or two instances occupying four years. and the benefit is not confined to the schoolroom, for an educated man, conscious of his peculiar powers, will see and use opportunities afforded him not merely as a salaried preceptor but also as a citizen. =vital function of music in college curriculum is emotional and æsthetic= to revert to the difficulties which the college faces in adjusting musical courses to the general scheme of academic instruction: it is clear that these difficulties lie partly in the very nature of musical art. for music is not only an art but a science. it is the product of constructive ingenuity as well as of "inspiration"; its technique is of exquisite refinement and appalling difficulty; it appeals to the intellect as well as to the emotion. and yet the intellectual element is but tributary, and if the consciousness willfully shuts its gates against the tide of rapture rushing to flood the sense and the emotion, then in reality music is not, for its spirit is dead. what shall be done with an agency so fierce and absorbing as this? can it be tamed and fettered by the old conceptions of mental discipline and scholastic routine? only by falsifying its nature and denying its essential appeal. some colleges attempt so to evade the difficulty, and lend favor, so far at least as credit is concerned, only to the theoretical studies in which the training is as severe, and almost as unimaginative, as it is in mathematics. but to many this appears too much like a reversion to the viewpoint of the mediæval convent schools which classed music in the _quadrivium_ along with arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. neither the creative power nor the æsthetic receptivity is considered in such courses as these, and the spirit of music revolts against this confinement and gives its pedantic jailers no peace. =the practical course as disciplinary as the theoretical= shall practical courses in playing and singing be accepted? now the objection arises that any proficiency with which a student--at least a talented one--would be satisfied, entails hours each day of purely technical practice, involving little of the kind of mental activity that is presupposed in the tradition of college training. those institutions that have no practical courses are logical, at all events, and seem to follow the line of least resistance. but the opposition against the purely theoretical side of musical culture will not down, and the "practical" element makes steady headway as the truth shines more dearly upon the administrative mind that musical performance is not a matter of mechanical technique alone, but of scholarship, imaginative insight, keen emotional reaction, and interpretation which involves a sympathetic understanding of the creative mind. the objection to practical exercise dwindles as the conception of its nature and goal enlarges. =lack of college-trained teachers adds to difficulty of recognizing music as a college subject= another hindrance presents itself--not so inherent in the nature of the case as those just mentioned--and that is the lack of teachers of music whose educational equipment corresponds in all particulars to the standard which the colleges have always maintained as a condition of election to their corps of instructors. that one who is not a college graduate should be appointed to a professorship or instructorship in a college or university might seem to a college man of the old school very near an absurdity. yet as matters now stand it would be impossible to fill the collegiate musical departments with holders of the a.b. degree. the large and increasing number of college graduates who are entering the musical profession, especially with a view to finding a home in higher educational institutions, is an encouraging phase of present tendencies, and seems to hold out an assurance that this aspect of the college dilemma will eventually disappear.[ ] it is possible, however, that the colleges may be willing to agree to a compromise, making a distinction between the teachers of the history and criticism of music and those engaged in the departments of musical theory and performance. certainly no man should be given a college position who is not in sympathy with the largest purposes of the institution and able to contribute to their realization; but it must be remembered that broad intelligence and elevated character are to be found outside the ranks of college alumni, and are not guaranteed by a college diploma. =teaching of the history and appreciation of music= amid the jangle of conflicting opinions in regard to courses and methods and credits and degrees, etc., etc., one subject enjoys the distinction of unanimous consent, and that is the history and appreciation of music. this department may stand alone, as it does at brown university, or it may supplement theoretical and practical courses; but there seems to be a universal conviction that if the colleges accept music in any guise, they must use it as a means of enlarging comprehension and taste on the part of their young people, and of bringing them to sympathetic acceptance of its finest manifestations. it seems incredible that a college should employ literature and the fine arts except with the fixed intention of bringing them to bear upon the mind of youth according to the purpose of those who made them what they are in the spiritual development of humanity. even from the most rigid theoretical and technical drill the cultural aim must not be excluded if the college would be true to itself; how much more urgent is the duty of providing courses in which the larger vision of art, with the resultant spiritual quickening, is the prime intention! president nicholas murray butler, in his address of welcome to the music teachers' national association at their meeting in new york in , struck a note that must find response in the minds of all who are called upon to deal officially with this question, when he recognized as a department of music worthy of the college dignity "one which is not to deal merely with the technique of musical expression or musical processes, but one which is to interpret the underlying principles of musical art and the various sciences on which it rests, and to set out and to illustrate to men and women who are seeking education what those principles signify, how they may be brought helpfully and inspiringly into intellectual life, and what part they should play in the public consciousness of a cultivated and civilized nation." =emphasis on appreciation rather than technique= the first step in understanding the part which the principles of music should play in the consciousness of a civilized nation is to learn the part they have played in history. a survey of this history shows that all the phenomena of musical development, even those apparently transient and superficial, testify to a necessity of human nature, an unappeasable thirst for self-expression. in view of the relationship of musical art to the individual and the collective need, it is plain that musical history and musical appreciation must be taught together as a supplementary phase of one great theme. and, furthermore, this phase is one that is not only necessary in a complete scheme of musical culture, but is also one that is conveyed in a language which all can understand. it is significant of the broad democratic outlook of our american institutions of learning, in contrast to the universities of europe, that the needs of the unprepared students are considered as well as the benefit of those who have had musical preparation, and the mysteries of musical art are submitted to all who desire initiation. too much emphasis cannot be laid upon this wise and generous attitude toward the fine arts which is maturing in our american colleges; by which they demonstrate their belief in the power of adaptation of all manifestations of beauty to the condition of every one of intelligence, however slight the experience or limited the talent. there are, unquestionably, certain puzzling difficulties in imparting an understanding of musical structure and principles to those who have not even a preliminary smattering of the musical speech, but the experiment has gone far enough to prove that music, with all its abstruseness, complexity, and remoteness from the world of ordinary experience, has still a message so direct, so penetrating, so human and humanizing, that no one can be wholly indifferent to its eloquence when it comes through the ministry of a qualified interpreter. =the properly trained college teacher of music= a qualified interpreter!--yes, there's the rub. only a few years ago men competent to teach the history and philosophy of music in a manner which a college or university could consistently tolerate, were almost non-existent, and even today many colleges are out of sheer necessity giving over this department to men of very scanty qualifications. few men have faith enough to prepare for work that is not yet in sight. then with the sudden breaking out of musical history and appreciation courses all over the country, the demand appeared instantly far in excess of the supply. the few men who had prepared themselves for scholarly critical work were, as a rule, in the employ of daily newspapers, and the colleges were compelled to delegate the historical and interpretative lectures to those whose training had been almost wholly in other lines of musical interest. no reputable college would think for a moment of offering chairs of political science, or general history, or english literature to men with so meager an equipment. there is no doubt that the disfavor with which the musical courses are still regarded by professors of the old school is largely due to the feeling that their musical colleagues as a rule have undergone an education so narrow and special that it keeps them apart from the full life of the institution. that this is the tendency of an education that is exclusively special, no one can deny. it is equally undeniable that such an education is quite inadequate in the case of one who assumes to teach the history and appreciation of music. this subject, by reason of the multifarious relations between music and individual and social life, demands not only a complete technical knowledge, but also a familiarity with languages, general history, literature, and art not less than that required by any other subject that could be mentioned. the suggestion by a french critic that a lecturer on art must be an artist, a historian, a philosopher, and a poet, applies with equal relevance to a lecturer on music. it is only fair to the musical profession to say that its members are as eager to meet these requirements as the colleges are to make them. if music still holds an inferior place in many colleges, both in fact and in esteem, the fault lies in no small measure in the ignorance on the part of trustees, presidents, and faculties of the nature of music, its demands, its social values, and its mission in the development of civilization. with the enlightenment of the powers that control the college machinery, encouragement will be given to men of liberal culture and scholarly habit to prepare themselves directly for college work. the hundreds of college graduates now in the musical profession will be followed by other hundreds still more amply equipped as critics and expounders. the natural place for the majority of them, i maintain, is not in the private studio or newspaper office, but in the college and university classroom. there is no reason in the nature of things why our colleges and universities should not also be the centers of a concentrated and intensive activity, directed upon research and philosophic generalization in the things of music as in other fields of inquiry. for this they must provide libraries, endowments, and fellowships. such works as mr. elson's _history of american music_, mr. krehbiel's _afro-american folksongs_, and mr. kelly's _chopin as a composer_ should properly emanate from the organized institutions of learning which are able to give leisure and facility to men of scholarly ambition. the french musical historian, jules combarieu, enumerates as the domains constantly open to musical scholarship: acoustics, physiology, mathematics, psychology, æsthetics, history, philology, palæography, and sociology.[ ] every one of these topics has already an indispensable place in the college and university system--it is for trained scholarship to draw from them the contributions that will relate music explicitly to the active life of the intellect. but not for the intellect only. here the colleges are still in danger of error, due to their long-confirmed emphasis upon concepts, demonstrations, scientific methods, and "positive" results, to the neglect of the imagination, the emotions, the intuitions, and the things spiritually discerned. "the sovereign of the arts," says edmund clarence stedman, "is the imagination, by whose aid man makes every leap forward; and emotion is its twin, through which come all fine experiences, and all great deeds are achieved. youth demands its share in every study that can engender a power or a delight. universities must enhance the use, the joy, the worth of existence. they are institutions both human and humane."[ ] =the test of effective teaching of music in the college: does it enrich the life of the student through the inculcation of an æsthetic interest?= institutions which exclude the agencies which act directly to enhance "the joy and the worth of existence" are universities only in name. equally imperfect are they if, while nominally accepting these agencies, they recognize only those elements in them which are susceptible to scientific analysis, whose effects upon the student can be tested by examinations and be marked and graded--elements which are only means, and not final ends. the college forever needs the humanizing, socializing power of music, the drama, the arts of design, and it must use them not as confined to the classroom or to any single section of the institution, but as the effluence of spiritual life, permeating and invigorating the whole. in the mental life of the college there have always ruled investigation, comparison, analysis, and the temper fostered is that of reflection and didacticism. into this world of deliberation, routine, mechanical calculation, there has come the warm breath of music, art, and poetry, stirring a new fire of rapture amid the embers of speculation. the instincts of youth spring to inhale it; youth feels affiliation with it, for art and poesy, like nature, are ever self-renewing and never grow old. it works to unify the life of the college whose tendency is to divide into sealed compartments of special intellectual interests. it introduces a life that all may share, because men divide when led by their intellects, they unite when led by their emotions. among the fine arts music is perhaps supreme in its power to refine the sense of beauty, to soften the heart at the touch of high thought and tender sentiment, to bring the individual soul into sympathy with the over-soul of humanity. it is this that gives music its supreme claim to an honored place in the halls of learning, as it is its crowning glory. the whole argument, then, is reduced to this: that with all the scientific aspects of the art with respect to material, structure, psychological action, historical origins and developments and relations, of which the college, as an institution of exact learning, may take cognizance, music must be accepted and taught just because it is beautiful and promotes the joy of life, and the development of the higher sense of beauty and the spiritual quickening that issues therefrom must be the final reason for its use. at the same time it must be so cultivated and taught that it will unite its forces for a common end with all those factors which, within the college and without the college, are now working with an energy never known before in american history for a social life animated by a zeal for ideal rather than material ends, and inspired by nobler visions of the true meaning of national progress. among the worthy functions of our colleges there is none more needful than that of inspiring ardent young crusaders who shall go forth to contend against the hosts of mediocrity, ugliness, and vulgarity. one encouragement to this warfare is in the fact that these hosts, although legion, are dull as well as gross, and may easily be bewildered and put to rout by the organized assaults of the children of light. so may it be said of our institutions of culture, as matthew arnold said of oxford, that they "keep ever calling us nearer to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to perfection--to beauty, in a word, which is only truth seen from another side." edward dickinson _oberlin college_ footnotes: [ ] arthur l. manchester: "music education in the united states; schools and departments of music." united states bureau of education bulletin, , no. . [ ] papers and proceedings of the music teachers' national association, ; report by leonard b. mcwhood. [ ] _the spirit of learning_, woodrow wilson: in _representative phi beta kappa orations_, edited by northup, lane and schwab. boston, houghton mifflin company, . [ ] i wish to safeguard this statement by saying that i have in mind not the more conservative universities of the east, but the state institutions of the middle and western commonwealths. in speaking of universities as compared with colleges i am also considering the graduate and professional departments. it is difficult to make general assertions, on such a subject that do not meet with exceptions. [ ] papers and proceedings of the music teachers' national association, . [ ] there is an interesting statistical article on the college graduate in the musical profession by w. j. baltzell in the _musical quarterly_, october, . [ ] _music; its laws and evolution_: introduction. translation in appleton's international scientific series. [ ] _the nature and elements of poetry_, page . xxiv the teaching of art =art instruction defined= in this chapter an attempt is made to set forth the aims, content, and methods of art instruction in the college. in this discussion the word "college" will be regarded in the usual sense of the college of liberal arts, and art instruction as one of the courses which lead to the degree of bachelor of arts. there is no term that is used more freely and with less precision than the word "art." in some usages it is given a very broad and comprehensive meaning, in others a very narrow and exclusive one. the term is sometimes applied to a human activity, at other times to the products of but a small part of that activity--for example, paintings and statuary. in this chapter the term will be used in accordance with the definition evolved by tolstoi, who says: "art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one man consciously, by means of external signs, hands on to others feelings he has lived through, and that other people are affected by these feelings, and also experience them."[ ] the external signs by which the feelings are handed on are movements, as in dancing and pantomime; lines, masses, colors, as in architecture, painting and sculpture; sounds, as in music; or forms expressed in words, as in poetry and other forms of literature. the external signs with which art instruction in the college deals are lines, masses, and colors. this discussion, therefore, treats of instruction in the formative or visual arts, which include architecture, painting, sculpture, decoration, and the various crafts, in so far as they come within the meaning of the definition given above. =instruction in art should be an integral part of a liberal education= concerning the nature of art and the purpose of art instruction in the college, there is so much misunderstanding that it will be well to make an attempt at clarification. art is too commonly regarded as a luxury--a superfluity that may serve to occupy the leisure of the well-to-do--a kind of embroidery upon the edge of life that may be affixed or discarded at will. whereas, art is a factor that is fundamental in human life and development, a factor that has entered into the being of the race from the dawn of reason. its products, which antedate written history by thousands of years, form the most reliable source of information we possess of the habits and thoughts of prehistoric man. it has been the medium of expression of many of the choicest products of human thought throughout the ages. these products have been embodied in forms other than that of writing. its functions are limited neither to the citizen, the community, nor the country; they extend beyond national bounds to the world at large. art belongs to the brotherhood of man. it is no respecter of nationalities. it is obvious that in a general college course, a study of the religious, social, and political factors in civilization that does not include art among these factors is incomplete. the question under discussion concerns the teaching of art to the candidate for the bachelor of arts degree, and this question will be solely kept in view. since, however, graduates in science, engineering, law, medicine, etc., are not exempt from the needs of artistic culture, they too should have at least an effective minimum of art instruction. =art a social activity= art is recognized as a social activity. it enters largely into such practical and utilitarian problems of the community as town planning and other forms of civic improvement. as workers in such activities, college graduates are frequently called to serve on boards of directors and committees which have such work in charge. to most of such persons, education in art comes as a post-collegiate activity. surely the interests of the community would be promoted if the men and women into whose hands these interests are committed had had some formal instruction in art during their college years. if by practical education we mean training which prepares the individual for living, then the study of an activity that so pervades human life should be included in the curriculum of even a so-called practical college course. art education has a more important function than to promote the love of the beautiful, to purify and elevate public taste, to awaken intellectual and spiritual desires, to create a permanent means of investing leisure. important as all these purposes are, they are merely a part of a larger one--that of revealing to the student the relationship of art to living. =flexibility of art expression determines flexibility of art instruction= art expression has the quality of utmost flexibility. this flexibility appears also in art instruction, and it is for this reason that in no two institutions of higher learning is the problem of art instruction attacked in the same way. there is, consequently, a great diversity in the types of art courses, even in the college. the flexibility of art instruction is both advantageous and embarrassing. it is an advantage in that it can be adapted to almost any requirement. it can be applied to the occupations of the kindergarten, or it can be made an intensive study suitable for the graduate school. but this very breadth is also a source of weakness in that it tends to divert the attention from that precision of purpose which all formal instruction should have, however elementary or advanced. it is apt to be too scattering in its aims. it is not easy to determine exact values either in the subject studied or in the accomplishment of the student. estimates in art are, and should be, largely a matter of personal taste and opinion. they are not infrequently colored by prejudice, especially where the judgment of producing artists is invoked. this, again, is as it should be. an artist who assumes toward all works of art a catholic attitude, weakens that intensity of view and of purpose which animates his enthusiasm. it can easily be understood that to a larger extent than in other subjects the nature and scope of art instruction depends upon the personality of the instructor. =values of art instruction= the flexibility to which we have adverted adapts art instruction to diverse educational aims. in that it can be made to conduce to accurate observation of artistic manifestations, and to logical deduction therefrom, it may be given a disciplinary purpose. in its highest development, to which only the specially gifted can attain, the ability to observe accurately and to deduce logically demands the most exacting training of the eye, of the visual memory, and of the judgment. as an example of the exercise of this sort of discipline we may cite professor waldstein's recognition of a marble fragment in the form of a head in the louvre as belonging to a metope of the parthenon. when, after professor waldstein's suggestion of the probable connection, a plaster cast of the head was taken to the british museum and placed upon the headless figure of one of the metopes, the surfaces of fracture were found to correspond.[ ] the most useful application of this ability lies in the correct attribution of works of art to their proper schools and authorship. signor morelli in his method of identification used a system that is almost mechanical, yet the evidence supplied by concurrence or discrepancy of form in the delineation of anatomical details was supplemented by a highly cultivated sense for style, for craftsmanship, and for color as well as by an extensive historical knowledge. in that art instruction cultivates taste and the appreciation of works of art, it has a cultural purpose. by many persons it is assumed that this is its sole value. in that it serves to illuminate the study of the progress of civilization, it has an informative purpose. in that it enables the technical student to correlate his work with that of past and present workers, it aids in the preparation for professional studies. =difference between technical and lay courses in art one of emphasis= art has been defined as "the harmonic expression of the emotions."[ ] accepting this definition as a modified condensation of tolstoi's definition, it is clear that in a work of art two separate personalities are involved--that which makes the expression, and the other to whom the expression is addressed; thus, there are artists on the one hand, and the public on the other. since we shall have to speak of two distinct classes of students,--namely, those who are in training as future artists (as architects, painters, sculptors, designers, etc.), and those who are taking courses in the understanding or appreciation of art,--it will be convenient in this discussion to refer to the former as art students and to the latter as lay students. formal art instruction has been offered by colleges to both these groups. it is evident that for the training of the art student emphasis must be placed upon the technique of creative work, whereas for the lay student emphasis must be placed upon the study of the theory and the history of art. it would seem, however, that these two methods are not mutually exclusive; nor should they be, for the art student would surely gain by a study of the principles of art and its history, while the lay student would profit by a certain amount of practice directed by an observance of the principles. mr. duncan phillips, in an article entitled "what instruction in art should the college a.b. course offer to the future writer on art?" proposes a hypothetical course in which "the ultimate intention would be to awaken the æsthetic sensibilities of the youthful mind, to encourage the emergence of the artists and art critics, and the establishment of a residue of well-instructed appreciators."[ ] this proposal assumes the desirability of the completion of a general course designed for college students, before beginning the special courses designed for those individuals whose aptitudes seem to fit them for successful careers as artists on the one hand, or as successful writers on art, or art instructors on the other. in this place the question of professional training will not be discussed. the courses under consideration are designed to serve the group of lay students from which specialists may, from time to time, emerge. it is of the utmost importance that provision for the further training of such specialists should be made in the college, in the postgraduate school, or in an allied professional school of art. in view of the great diversity in the treatment of the subject in different colleges, it will be impossible to present a series of courses that might, under other conditions, be representative of a general practice throughout the country. on the other hand, the attempt to make an epitome of the various methods in use at the more important colleges would result in the presentation of a succession of unrelated statements drawn from catalogues which would be hardly less exasperating to the reader than it would be for him to follow, successively, the outlines as presented in the catalogues themselves. various summaries of these outlines have been made, and to these the reader is referred.[ ] =a general course of study--must be adjusted to local conditions= an attempt is here made to set forth a programme which is offered as a suggestion, upon which actual courses may be based, with such modifications as are demanded by local conditions, the number and personal training of the teaching staff, and the physical equipment available. the task before the college art instructor is to cultivate the lay student's understanding and appreciation of the works of art and to develop an ardent enthusiasm for his subject, tempered by good taste. this understanding will be based upon a workable body of principles which the student can use in making his artistic estimates and choices. such a body of principles will constitute his theory of art. =two methods of presenting art instruction to lay students= art instruction for lay students may be presented in two ways: . by the study of theory supplemented by the experimental application of theory to practice, as by drawing, design, etc. . by the study of theory supplemented by an application of theory to the analysis and estimation of works of art as they are presented in a systematic study of the history of art. consider now the relation of practice and history to theory: first as to practice: art instructors are divided into three camps on the question of giving to the lay student instruction in practice: ( ) those who believe that not only is practice unnecessary in the study of theory, but actually harmful; ( ) those who believe that practice will aid in a study of the theory of art; ( ) those who believe that practice is indispensable and who would, therefore, require that all students supplement their study of the theory of art by practice. as may be surmised, by far the largest number of advocates is found in the middle division. one form of practice is representation. in this form the student begins by drawing in freehand very simple objects either in outline or mass, and proceeds through more advanced exercises in drawing from still life, to drawing and painting of landscape and the human figure. with the addition of supplementary studies, such as anatomy, perspective, modeling, composition, craft work, theory, history, etc., this would be, broadly speaking, the method followed in schools of art, where courses, occupying from two to four or five years, are given, intended primarily for those who expect to make some sort of creative art their vocation. it is this kind of work which opponents to practice for the lay student have in mind. they claim that only by long and severe training can he produce such works as will give satisfaction to him or to others who examine his handiwork. they contend that the understanding of works of art is not dependent upon ability to produce a poor example. they offer many amusing analogies as arguments against practice courses for lay students. they maintain that the proof of the pudding is in the eating, rather than in the making; that to enjoy music one need not practice five-finger exercises; that other creatures than domestic fowls are capable of judging of the quality of eggs; that to appreciate the beauty of a tapestry it is not necessary to examine the reverse side. it will perhaps be sufficient, for the present, to point out that in so far as such alleged analogies can be submitted for arguments, they are equally applicable to laboratory courses in any subject which is studied with a non-professional or non-vocational purpose. it is true, however, that such a course as that outlined above demands a large amount of time, compared with the results attained; and while successful courses in representation are offered in certain colleges, the great mass of college students, who cannot hope to acquire a high degree of skill, would hesitate to devote a large part of their training to technical work, even if college faculties were willing to grant considerable proportions of credit for it toward the bachelor of arts degree. =relative value of freehand drawing and design= it will be understood by the reader that the value of elementary freehand drawing as a means of discipline or as an aid to the technical student is not under discussion. the value of drawing as a fundamental language for such purposes is universally admitted. the questions are these: can some form of practice in art be used to aid in the understanding of the principles of art? is representative drawing the only form of practice available for the lay student who undertakes the study of art? fortunately, the advocates of practice can offer an alternative; namely design. mr. arthur dow distinguishes between the drawing method (representation) and the design method by calling the former _analytical_ and the latter _synthetical_. in an article on "archaism in art teaching"[ ] he says: "i wish to show that the traditional 'drawing method' of teaching art is too weak to meet the new art criticism and new demands, or to connect with vocational and industrial education in an effective way; but that the 'design method' is broad and strong enough to do all of these things." "the drawing method," he continues, "is analytic, dealing with the small, the details, the _application_ of art; the design method is synthetic, dealing with wholes, unities, principles of art." mr. dow carries his exposition into the application of the design method to vocational work, but it can be used with equal effect in supplementing the lay student's study of art. but the questions immediately arise: is not a preparation as long and arduous required to make a designer as to make a painter or a sculptor? and is not the half-baked designer in as sorry a plight as the half-baked artist of any kind? the answer to both is simple: the lay student is not in any degree a painter or a sculptor or a designer, neither is he in training for any of these professions. the advantage of the design method is, that with no skill whatsoever in drawing, the beginner in the study of art can apply to his own efforts the same principles of design which have from time immemorial entered into the creation of great works of art. the college freshman planning a surface design with the aid of "squared" paper is applying the same principles that guided the hand of michelangelo as it swept across the ceiling of the sistine chapel. such principles as symmetry, balance, rhythm, emphasis, harmony in form, mass, value, and color can be inculcated by solving the simplest as well as the most complicated problems. a graded series of exercises can be undertaken by the student that will, with a comparatively small amount of manual skill carry him a considerable distance in the understanding of the principles of design upon which all creative art rests. another advantage is that, in the process, considerable skill in freehand drawing also can be acquired. but this advantage is merely incidental. the greatest value lies in the fact that the design method offers to the student an excellent means of self-expression. the student, through no fault of his, is too prone to absorb and too little inclined to yield of the fruits of his knowledge. herein lies a partial remedy for the tendency of college students to make receptacles of their minds into which knowledge is poured through the ear by listening to lectures, or through the eye by reading. herein is a means of overcoming mental inertia, for, certainly, the solution of a problem in design calls for thought--the amount of mental exertion being commensurate with the difficulty of the problem. in this, the design method is superior to the representation method, though it would be an error to assume that freehand drawing is chiefly a manual operation. such an error is entertained by those only who never have learned to draw. another considerable value lies in the fact that even if the lay student of design should in later life never set hand to paper,--as he probably will not, any more than he who has taken courses in drawing and painting will ever attempt to paint a picture,--yet he has come into practical contact with the leading principles of art, and has gained a knowledge that can be applied not merely to the discriminating understanding of the artistic qualities of the exhibits in art museums or in private galleries, but to the art of every day. it can be applied to the estimating of the artistic value of a poster, a book cover, or a title page; to the choosing of wall paper; to the arranging of the furniture in a room; to the laying out of a garden; to intelligent coöperation in the designing of a house or in replanning, on paper at least, the street system of a city; or to the selecting of a design for a public memorial. it is not to be assumed that in thus exercising a cultivated taste he would always make conscious application of the principles of design in making his estimates. these would have so entered into his habit of thought that he would unconsciously make what mr. dow calls "fine choices." the educational value of the design method is almost universally recognized in the art departments of our public schools and in our art schools, and it is probable that when its aims and methods are better understood by our college faculties, its disciplinary, cultural, and informative value will be more widely recognized in the college of liberal arts, and that it will take equal rank with theme and report writing as a means of cultivating a taste for literature, with the practice of harmony and counterpoint as a means of appreciating music, and with laboratory work in acquiring knowledge of a science. =art history as a means of inculcating principles of art= next, consider art history as a means of inculcating the principles of art. it is evident that the emotions or feelings of the artist and the methods he employs to express them may be studied in such masterpieces as the _hermes_ of praxiteles and the _lincoln_ of st. gaudens. in either he may observe the application of the principles of balance, mass, repose, harmony, and the analysis of character. in either he may study the technique which involves the material of the statues, the tools employed, and the manner of working. there is, however, great advantage in considering such examples in their place in the evolution of art, and their significance in their relation to the social and political development of the human race--in other words, in studying systematically the history and development of art. instruction in history of art is not without its pitfalls. it is too apt to lapse into a mere listing of names and dates of artists and their work, with the introduction of interesting biographical details and some discussion limited to the subjects treated in selected examples. it is often too much concerned with _who_, _when_, and _where_ and not sufficiently with _why_ and _how_. a person may possess a large fund of the facts of art history and yet have but little understanding or appreciation of the aims and underlying principles of art production. it should never be forgotten that for the college student the history of art is merely a convenient scheme or system upon which to base discussions of the principles of art as involved in the works themselves, an outline for the study of the artistic affiliations of any artist with the great company of his antecedents, his contemporaries, and his successors. the instructor should never regard practice or history as ends in themselves, but as means to the development of the understanding. =years in which art courses should be offered= in some colleges only the more advanced students are permitted to take art courses. it does not seem wise thus to limit the years in which courses may be taken. an elementary course should be offered in the freshman year, while other courses of increasing difficulty should be offered in each of the succeeding years. the greatest variety is seen in the colleges throughout the country in the amount of art taught, and the amount of credit given toward the a.b. degree. when the subject is elected as a "minor," it should be one-tenth to one-eighth of all the work undertaken by a candidate for the bachelor's degree; while a "major" elective usually should cover from one-fifth to one-fourth of all the work of a candidate for the same degree. some zealous advocates maintain that a certain amount of art training should be required for graduation. valuable as art training would be to every graduate, it does not seem wise to make art a required subject in the curriculum. to compel men and women to study art against their will would destroy much of the charm of the subject both for the teacher and the student. unless the subject is pursued with enthusiasm by both, it loses its value. =organization and content of courses in art= the courses suggested are as follows: _course i_ (_freshman year_). introduction to the study of art. a study of the various forms of artistic expression, together with the principles which govern those forms. the study would be carried on ( ) by means of lectures, ( ) by discussions led by the instructor and carried on by members of the class, ( ) by laboratory or studio practice in the application of the principles of art expression to graded problems in design, ( ) by collateral reading, ( ) by the occasional writing of themes and reports, ( ) by excursions to art collections (public and private), artists' studios, and craft shops. some of the topics for lectures and discussion would be: primitive art and the factors which control its rise and development; principles of harmony; design in the various arts; an outline study of historic ornament; composition in architecture, painting, and sculpture; concept in art, with a study of examples drawn from the master works of all ages; processes in the artistic crafts; application of the principles of design to room decoration. the studio or laboratory work would include: application of the principles of design; spacing of lines and spots; borders and all-over designs achieved by repetition of various units; studies in symmetry and balance; color study, including hue, value, intensity; exercises in color harmony; problems in form and proportions, decoration of given geometrical areas; applications to practical uses; studies in form and color from still life; use of charcoal, brush, pastel, water color; simple exercises in pictorial composition; problems in simplification necessitated by technique; application of principles of design to room decoration. (this course would be prerequisite for all subsequent courses in practice.) _course ii_ (_sophomore year_). a general course in the history of art. a consideration of the development of the arts of architecture, sculpture, and painting from prehistoric periods to recent times. in this course emphasis would be laid upon the periods of higher attainments in artistic expression, and the discussions would be directed toward the qualities of great masterpieces rather than toward those of the multitude of lesser works. the work would be carried on ( ) by means of lectures; ( ) by discussions led by the instructor and carried on by members of the class; ( ) by collateral reading; ( ) by study of original works of art, photographs, and other forms of reproduction; ( ) by the writing of themes and reports; ( ) by visits to art galleries and artists' studios. (this course would be prerequisite for subsequent courses in history, etc.) following these two general courses there should be two groups of courses: _group a, practice courses_; _group b, history courses_. candidates for the a.b. degree who expect to take postgraduate work in creative art or in the teaching of creative art would elect chiefly from group a. lay students who are candidates for the a.b. degree and who expect to make writing or criticism in art, or teaching of art to lay students, or art museum work their vocation, would elect chiefly from group b; as would, also, those composing the greater number, who study art as one means of acquiring general culture. in the following lists of courses the grade of each course is indicated by a roman numeral placed after the title of the course, the indications being as follows: i. elementary (primarily for freshmen and sophomores). ii. intermediate (primarily for sophomores and juniors). iii. advanced (primarily for juniors and seniors). iv. graduate (primarily for seniors and graduates). beyond these indications no attempt is here made to prescribe the subdivisions of the courses, nor the number of hours per week, nor the number of weeks per year in each course. group a: practice courses a _freehand drawing._ (i) drawing in charcoal and pencil from simple objects, plaster casts, still life, etc. elements of perspective with elementary problems. a _freehand drawing_ (_continued_). (ii) drawing in charcoal, pencil, pen and ink, brush (monochrome in water color) from plaster casts, still life and the costumed figure. out-of-door sketching. a _color_ (water color or oil color). (ii) drawing in color from still life and the costumed figure. out-of-door sketching. a _modeling._ (iii) modeling in clay from casts of antique sculpture and of architectural ornament as an aid to the study of form and proportion. a _advanced design._ (iii) theory and practice. (continuation of course i. introduction to the study of art.) a , a , ... etc. _advanced courses in drawing, painting, modeling, and applied design_ (iv) selected from the following: studies in various media from life. composition. illustration. portrait work. practical work in pottery, bookbinding, enameling, metal work, interior decoration, wood carving, engraving, etching. these courses would be supplemented by lectures on the theory and principles of art. topics of such lectures would be: theory of design, composition, technique of the various arts, artistic anatomy, perspective, shades and shadows, etc. group b: history courses b _ history of ancient art._ (ii) b _history of roman and medieval art._ (ii) b _history of renaissance art in italy._ (iii) b _history of modern art._ (iii) history of art in western europe during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. b , b , ... etc. _history of special periods; consideration of special forms of art, and of great masters in art_ (iv) selected from the following: art of primitive greece, greek sculpture, greek vases, early christian and byzantine architecture, history of mosaic; medieval illumination; sienese painters of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; florentine painting; domestic architecture of various countries; leonardo da vinci and his works; art of the netherlands; history of mural painting; history and principles of engraving; prints and their makers; chinese and japanese art; colonial architecture in america; painting and sculpture in america, etc., etc. =teaching equipment for college courses in art= no attempt will here be made to comment upon the general furnishing and equipment of lecture rooms, laboratories, and studios. nevertheless, some reference to the special teaching equipment is necessary for the further consideration of the methods of teaching. illustrations are of the greatest importance in the study of art. the best illustrations are original works of art. for manifest reasons these are not usually available in the classroom, and the teacher is dependent upon facsimiles and other reproductions. these take the form of copies, replicas, casts, models, photographs, stereopticon slides, prints in black and white and in color, including the ubiquitous picture postal card. the collections of public art museums and of private galleries are of great value for illustrative purposes; but of still greater value to the student is the departmental museum, with which, unfortunately, but few colleges are equipped. some colleges have been saddled by well-meaning donors with collections of various kinds of works of art which are but ill related to the instruction given in the department of art. the collections of the college museum need not be large but they should be selected especially with their instructional purpose in view. the problems of expense debars most colleges from establishing museums of art; but with a modest annual appropriation a working collection can be gradually gathered together. a collection which is the result of gradual growth and of careful consideration will usually be of greater instructional value than one which is acquired at one time. an institution which owns a few original works of painting, sculpture, and the crafts of representative masters is indeed fortunate, but even institutions whose expenditures for this purpose are slight may possess at least a few original lithographs, engravings, etchings, etc., in its collection of prints. fortunately, there are means whereby some of the unobtainable originals of the great public museums and private collections of the world may be represented in the college museums by adequate reproductions. the methods of casting in plaster of paris, in bronze and other materials; of producing squeezes in papier maché; and of reproducing by the galvano-plastic process, are used for making facsimiles of statues, vases, terra cottas, carved ivories, inscriptions and other forms of incised work, gems, coins, etc., at a cost which, when compared with that of originals, is trivial.[ ] paintings, drawings, engravings, etc., are often admirably reproduced by various photographic and printing processes in color or black and white. generally speaking, the most valuable adjunct of the college art museum or of the college art library is the collection of photographs properly classified and filed for ready reference by the instructor or student. a specially designed museum building would present opportunities for service that would extend beyond the walls of the art department, but if such a building is not available, a single well-lighted room furnished with suitable cabinets and wall cases, and with ample wall space for the display of paintings, prints, charts, etc., would be of great service. a departmental library of carefully chosen books on the theory, history, and the practice of the various arts, together with current and bound numbers of the best art periodicals of america and of foreign countries, is indispensable. =methods of teaching= methods will naturally depend somewhat upon the size of the class. in large classes--of, say, more than forty--the lecture method, supplemented by section meetings and conferences, would usually be followed. in the following discussion it is assumed that the classes will not exceed forty. under the head of methods of teaching are here included: work in class and work outside of class. the work in class consists of lectures; discussions by the members of the class; laboratory or studio work; excursions. there is no worse method than that of exclusive lecturing by the instructor. if the methods employed do not induce the student to do his own thinking, they have but little value. much of the instructor's time will be occupied in devising methods by which the students themselves will contribute to their own and their fellows' advancement. discussions led by the instructor and carried on by the members of the class should be frequent. from time to time a separate division of a general topic should be assigned to each member of the class, who will prepare himself to present his part of the topic before the class either by reading a paper or otherwise. discussions by the members of the class, concluded by the instructor, should generally follow this presentation. topics for investigation, study, and discussion should be so selected as to require the students to make application of their study to their daily life and environment. in this way their critical interest in the design of public and private buildings, of monuments, and of the innumerable art productions which they see about them would be stimulated. for the purpose of illustrating lectures and aiding in discussions, prints and photographs may be shown either directly or through the medium of the reflectoscope. or, they may be transferred to lantern slides and shown by means of the stereopticon. to a limited extent the lumière color process has been used in preparing slides. the methods of laboratory and studio work have already been briefly treated under the head of courses of instruction, and hardly need to be further amplified here. it has already been stated that original works of art are the best illustrations, and that these are but rarely available within the walls of the college. instructors in institutions which are situated within or near to large centers of population can usually supply this deficiency by arranging visits to museums and other places where works of art are preserved and exhibited; and to artists' studios and to workshops where works of art are produced. instructors in institutions which are not so situated may supply the deficiency, in some measure, by arranging for temporary exhibitions in the museum or other rooms of the department. rotary exhibitions of paintings, prints, craftwork, sculpture, designs, examples of students' work, etc., may be arranged whereby groups of institutions within convenient distances from each other may share the benefits offered by such exhibitions, as well as the expense of assemblage, transportation, and insurance. in arranging for such temporary exhibitions it is essential that only works of the highest quality, of their kind, should be selected. selections can best be made personally by the instructor or by capable and trustworthy agents who are thoroughly informed as to the purpose of the exhibition and as to the needs of the institutions forming the circuits. such rotary exhibitions possess a wider usefulness than that of serving as illustrative material for the college department of art: they serve also as an artistic stimulus to the members of the college at large, and to the community in which the college is situated.[ ] the work of students outside of class has already been mentioned. it consists of collateral reading, the study of prints and photographs, and the preparation of written themes and reports. notwithstanding the lavish production of books relating to art, there are but very few that are suitable for use as college textbooks. the instructor will usually assign collateral reading from various authors. =testing results of art instruction= in attempting to measure the success or failure of the work, the teacher must ask himself, what do our college graduates who have taken art courses possess that is lacking in those who have not taken such courses? the immediate test of the results of the work is in the attitude of mind of the students. do they think differently about works of art from what they did before entering the courses? is there a change in their habit of thought? have they done no more than accept the lessons they have been taught, or have they so absorbed them and made them their own that they are capable of self-expression in making their estimates of works of art? these questions may be answered by the result of the written examination and by the oral quiz. it must be confessed that the chief purpose of art instruction in the college is to supply a lack in our national and private life. citizens of the older communities of europe pass their lives among the accumulated art treasures of past ages. the mere daily contact with such forms of beauty engenders a taste for them. partly through our puritan origin, partly through our preoccupation with the development of the material resources of our country, we, as a people, have failed to cultivate some of the imponderable things of the spirit. so far as we have had to do with its creation, our environment in town and village is generally lacking in artistic charm. the study by lay students of the art of the past has one chief object; namely, to train them to understand the works of the masters in order that they may discriminate between what is beautiful and what is meretricious in the art of the present day; to learn the lessons of art from the monoliths of egypt, the tawny marbles of ancient greece, the balanced thrusts of the gothic cathedral, the gracious and reverent harmonies of the primitives, the delicate handicrafts of the orient, the splendors of the renaissance, the vibrant colors of the latest phase of impressionism, and to apply these lessons in the search for hidden elements of beauty in nature and art in their own country and in their own lives and surroundings. believing, as he does, in the value of artistic culture, it becomes the duty of the college art instructor to teach with enthusiasm unmarred by prejudice; to cultivate in the minds of his students a catholic receptivity to all that is sincere in artistic expression; to open up avenues of thought in the minds of those whose lives would otherwise be barren of artistic sympathy; to cull the best from the experience of the past, and, by its help, to impart to his hearers some of his own enthusiasm; for their lives cannot fail to touch at some point the borderlands of the magic realm of art. holmes smith _washington university_ bibliography ankeney, j. s., lake, e. j., and woodward, w. final report of the committee on the condition of art work in colleges and universities. _western drawing and manual training association._ oak park, illinois. . ankeney, j. s. the place and scope of art education in the university. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . beaux, celia. what instruction in art should the college a. b. course offer to the future artists? _the american magazine of art._ washington. d. c., october, . blayney, t. l. the history of art in the college curriculum. _proceedings of the american federation of arts._ washington, d. c., . brooks, alfred the study of art in universities. _education._ boston, february, . churchill, a. v. art in the college course. _the smith alumnæ quarterly._ new york, february, . clopath, h. the scope and organization of art instruction in the a. b. course. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ oak park, illinois, . cross, h. r. the college degree in fine arts. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ oak park, illinois, . dow, a. w. anarchism in art teaching. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ cincinnati, . dow, a. w. _theory and practice of teaching art._ teachers college, columbia university. d edition. new york, . dow, a. w. modernism in art. _the american magazine of art._ new york, january, . frederick, f. f. the study of fine art in american colleges and universities: its relation to the study in public schools. _addresses and proceedings of the national education association._ detroit, . heller, o. art as a liberal study. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ oak park. illinois, . jastrow, j. the place of the study of art in a college course. _western drawing and manual training association._ oak park, illinois, . kelley, c. f. art in american universities. _nation_, : . new york, july , . kelley, c. f. art education. _report of the commissioner of education._ (department of interior, bureau of education). washington, d. c., . leonard, william j. the place of art in the american college. _education_, ; - . boston, june, . low, w. h. the proposed department of art in columbia university. _scribner's magazine._ new york, december, . mann, f. m. coöperation among art workers in universities. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . marshall, h. r. the relation of the university to the teaching of art. _architectural record._ new york, april, . monroe, paul (editor). art in education, etc. _cyclopedia of education._ the macmillan company, new york, . norton, c. e. the educational value of the history of art. _educational review_, new york, april, . phillips, duncan. what instruction in art should the college a.b. course offer to the future writer on art? _the american magazine of art._ new york, march, . pickard, j. message of art for the collegian. _the american magazine of art._ washington, d. c., february, . robinson, d. m. reproductions of classical art. _art and archaelogy._ washington, d. c., april, . sargent, w. instruction in art in the united states. _biennial survey of education in the united states - _ (department of the interior, bureau of education). washington, d. c. seelye, l. c. the place of art in the smith college curriculum. _educational review._ new york, january, . smith, e. b. _the history of art in the colleges and universities of the united states._ princeton university press. princeton, . smith, holmes. art as an integral part of university work. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . smith, holmes. the future of the university round table. _western drawing and manual training association._ oak park, illinois, . smith, holmes, lake, e. j., and marquand, a. the college art association of america. report of committee appointed to investigate the condition of art instruction in the colleges and universities of the united states. _school and society._ garrison, new york, august , . stanley, h. m. our education and the progress of art. _education._ boston, october, . swift, f. h. what art does for life. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ springfield, illinois, . sylvester, f. o. esthetic and practical values in art courses. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . waldstein, c. _the study of art in universities._ harper & brothers. new york, . walker, c. h. art in education. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . woodward, w. art education in the colleges. art education in the public schools of the united states. _american art annual._ new york, . wuerpel, e. h. the relation of the art school to the university. _western drawing and manual training association, th annual report._ st. louis, . zantzinger, c. c. report of committee on education. _proceedings of the th annual convention of the american institute of architects._ washington, d. c., december, . note. for numerous discussions of problems of college art teaching, the bulletins of the college art association of america may be consulted. footnotes: [ ] tolstoi, l. n., _what is art?_ thomas y. crowell company, . chapter v, page . [ ] waldstein: _essays on the art of pheidias_, cambridge university press. , pages et seq. [ ] _new princeton review_, ii, . [ ] _the american magazine of art_, vol. , no. , page . [ ] woodward, w. "art education in the colleges," _art education in the public schools of the united states_, edited by j. p. haney; american art annual, new york, . ankeney, j. s., woodward, w., lake, e. j., "final report of the committee on the condition of art instruction in colleges and universities." _seventeenth annual report of the western drawing and manual training association._ minneapolis, . kelley, c. f., "art education." _report of the commissioner of education_, vol. i, chap. xv. washington, d. c., . smith, e. b., _the study of the history of art in the colleges and universities of the united states._ university press, princeton, . [ ] _nineteenth annual report, western drawing and manual training association_, cincinnati, , page . [ ] robinson, d. m., "reproductions of classical art," _art and archaeology_, vol. v, no. , pages - . [ ] rotary art exhibitions for educational purposes are arranged by the american federation of arts, , new york avenue, washington, d. c. part six vocational subjects chapter xxv the teaching of engineering subjects _ira o. baker_ xxvi the teaching of mechanical drawing _j. d. phillips and h. d. orth_ xxvii the teaching of journalism _talcott williams_ xxviii business education _frederick b. robinson_ xxv the teaching of engineering subjects each of the preceding chapters of this volume treats of a subject which is substantially a unit in method and content; but the subjects assigned to this chapter include a variety of topics which are quite diverse in scope and character. for example, such subjects as german and physics represent the work of single collegiate departments; while engineering subjects represent substantially the entire work of an engineering college, of which there are many in this country, each having a thousand or more students. it is necessary, then, to inquire as to the scope of this chapter. i. scope of this chapter =contents of engineering curricula= the contents of the representative four-year engineering curriculum of the leading institutions may be classified about as in the table on page . in addition to the subjects listed, most institutions require freshmen to take gymnasium practice and lectures on hygiene, and many colleges require freshmen, and some also sophomores, to take military drill and tactics. formerly many institutions required all engineering freshmen to take elementary shop work; but at present in most institutions this practice has been discontinued, owing to the establishment of manual-training high schools and to the development of other engineering subjects. the order of the subjects varies somewhat in the different institutions. for example, instead of as in the table on page , rhetoric may be given in the sophomore year and language in the first. again, in some institutions a little technical work is given in the freshman year. further, the total number of semester-hours varies somewhat among the different institutions. however, the table is believed to be fairly representative. contents of engineering curricula the unit is a semester-hour; i.e., five class-periods a week for half a year. --------------------------------------+-----------------------+-------- | collegiate year | general subject +-----+-----+-----+-----+ total | i | ii | iii | iv | --------------------------------------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-------- mechanical drawing and descriptive | | | | | geometry | | ... | ... | ... | | | | | | rhetoric | | ... | ... | ... | | | | | | modern language | ... | | ... | ... | | | | | | pure mathematics | | | ... | ... | | | | | | science--physical and social | | | | | | | | | | theoretical and applied mechanics | ... | | | ... | | | | | | technical engineering | ... | | | | | ----| ----| ----| ----| ---- total | | | | | --------------------------------------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-------- =the different engineering curricula= below is a list of the principal four-year curricula offered by the engineering colleges of this country. the list contains forty different engineering curricula. no one institution offers all of these, but some of the larger and better equipped offer fifteen or sixteen different curricula for which a degree is given. . _architecture_ (which is usually classified as an engineering subject): general architecture; architectural design; architectural construction. . _ceramics engineering:_ general ceramics and ceramics engineering; ceramics; ceramics engineering. . _chemical engineering_: general chemical engineering; metallurgical engineering; gas engineering; pulp and paper engineering; electro-chemical engineering. . _civil engineering_: general civil engineering; railway civil engineering; municipal engineering; structural engineering; topographic or geodetic engineering; hydraulic engineering; irrigation engineering; highway engineering. . _electrical engineering_: general electrical engineering; telephone engineering; electrical design; power-plant design; electrical railway engineering. . _marine engineering:_ general marine engineering; naval architecture; marine engineering. . _mechanical engineering:_ general mechanical engineering; steam engineering; railway mechanical engineering; hydro-mechanical engineering; machine design and construction; heating, ventilating, and refrigerating; industrial engineering; automobile engineering; aëronautical engineering. . _mining engineering:_ general mining engineering; metallurgical engineering; coal mining; ore mining. the first engineering curriculum established was civil engineering, which was so called to distinguish it from military engineering. at first the course contained only a little technical work, but in course of time specialized work was increased; and later courses were established in mining and mechanical engineering, and more recently followed specialized courses in architecture, electrical engineering, marine engineering, chemical engineering, and ceramic engineering--about in the order named. the order of the various special courses in the several groups above is roughly that of their establishment. =number of engineering subjects= in the preceding list are eight groups of curricula, each of which contains about semester-hours peculiar to itself; and, considering only a single curriculum in each of the eight groups, there are semester-hours of specialized work. in addition there are in the list thirty-two subdivisions, each of which differs from the parent by at least semester-hours. hence the total number of engineering subjects offered is at least semester-hours. it is safe to assume that for administrative reasons, each semester-hours on the average represents a distinct title or topic, and that therefore the engineering colleges of the country offer instruction in different engineering subjects. however, the diversity is not so great as the preceding statement seems to imply, since for convenience in program making and in bookkeeping many subjects are listed under two or more heads. for example, a subject which runs through two semesters will for administrative reasons appear under two different heads in the above computations. again, the lecture or textbook work in a subject will usually appear under one head and the laboratory work under a separate title. finally, some subjects which differ but little in character may for convenience be listed under two different titles. if the subjects that are subdivided for the above reasons were listed under a single head, the number of topics would be reduced something like to per cent. therefore, the topics of engineering instruction which differ materially in character number about . this, then, is the field assigned to this chapter. obviously it is impossible to consider the several subjects separately. ii. differentiation in engineering curricula for a considerable number of years there has been much discussion by both college teachers and practicing engineers concerning differentiation in engineering curricula; and the usual conclusion is that undue differentiation is detrimental. but nevertheless specialization has gone on comparatively rapidly and extensively--as shown in the previous article. since the degree of differentiation determines in a large measure ( ) the spirit with which a student does his work, ( ) the method of teaching that should be employed, and ( ) the results obtained, it will be wise briefly to consider the merits of specialization. the arguments against specialization have been more widely and more earnestly presented than those in favor of specialization. the usual arguments pro and con may be summarized as follows: . it is frequently claimed that the undergraduate is incapable of wisely choosing a specialty, and that hence specialization should come after a four-year course,--i.e., in the graduate school or by self-instruction after graduation. but the parents and friends of a student usually help him in deciding upon a profession or on a special line of study, and therefore it is not likely that a very serious mistake will be made. of necessity a decision must be made whether or not to seek a college education; and a decision must also be made between the great fields of knowledge,--liberal arts, agriculture, engineering, etc. if the student decides to take any branch of engineering, he usually has his whole freshman year in which to make a further specialization. at the end of the sophomore year the specialization has not gone very far; and therefore if the student finds he has made a mistake, it is not difficult to change. . "the undergraduate seldom knows the field of his future employment, and hence does not have the data necessary for an intelligent decision." the young man will never have all of the data for such a decision until he has actually worked in that field for a time, and there is no reason why he should not make a decision and try some particular line of preparation. . some opponents of specialization claim that the more general the engineering training, the easier to obtain employment after graduation; but this is not in harmony with the facts. the opposite is more nearly true. for example, who ever heard of a practicing engineer preferring a liberal arts student to a civil engineering student as a rodman? . specialized courses require that the college should have larger equipment and a more versatile staff. the larger institutions can prepare for specialized sections nearly as easily and cheaply as for duplicate sections; and institutions having only a few students or meager financial support should not offer highly specialized courses. . the opponents of specialization claim that to be a successful specialist one should have a broad training, and that therefore the broader the curriculum the better. it is true that to be a successful specialist requires a considerable breadth of knowledge, but that does not prove that the student should be required to get all of his general knowledge before he gives attention to matters peculiar to his specialty. no engineer can be reasonably successful in any field with only the knowledge obtained in college, whether that be general or special. . it is claimed that specialization should be postponed to a fifth year. it seems to have been settled by experience that four years is about the right length of the college course for the average engineering student, and that in that time he should test his fitness and liking for his future work by studying some of the subjects relating to his proposed specialized field. . the chief reason in favor of specialization is that the field of knowledge is so vast that it is absolutely necessary for every college student--engineering or otherwise--to specialize; and in engineering this specialization is vitally important, since fundamental principles can be taught most effectively in connection with their application to specialized problems. in no other way is it possible to invest theoretical principles with definite meaning to the student, and by this process it is possible to transform abstract theory into glowing realities which under a competent teacher arouse the student's interest and even his enthusiasm. . specialization in engineering curricula is a natural outgrowth of the evolution of engineering knowledge, and is in harmony with sound principles of teaching. for example, all engineering students should have a certain amount of mechanical drawing; but the best results will be obtained if the civil engineer, after a study of the elementary principles, continues his practice in drawing by making maps, while the mechanical engineer continues his by making details of machinery. both will do their work with more zest and much more efficiency than if both were compelled to make drawings which meant nothing to them except practice in the art of drawing. similar illustration can be found throughout any well-arranged engineering curriculum. a vitally essential element in any educational diet is that the subject shall not pall upon the appetite of the student. he should go to every intellectual meal with a hearty gusto. the specialized course appeals more strongly to the ambition of the student than a general course. the engineering student selects a specialized course because he has an ambition to become an architect, a chemical engineer, a civil engineer, or perhaps a bridge engineer, a highway engineer, a mechanical engineer, or perhaps a heating engineer or an automobile engineer; and having an opportunity to study subjects in which he is specially interested, he works with zest and usually accomplishes much more than a student who is pursuing a course of study only remotely, if at all, related to the field of his proposed activities after leaving college. further, the more specialized the course, the greater the energy with which the student will work. many of those who have discussed specialization seem to assume that the only, or at least the chief, purpose of an engineering education is to give technical information, and that specialization is synonymous with superficiality. from this point of view the aim of a college education is to give a student information useful in his future work, and the inevitable result is that the student has neither the intellectual power nor the technical knowledge to enable him to render efficient service in any position in which he will work whole-heartedly. the weakness and superficiality of such a student, it is usually said, is due to excessive specialization, while in reality it is primarily due to wrong methods of teaching. within reasonable limits specialization has little or nothing to do with the result; and under certain conditions, as previously stated, specialization helps rather than hinders intellectual development. if a subject has real educational value and is so taught as to train a student to see, to analyze, to discriminate, to describe, the more the specialization the better; but if a subject is taught chiefly to give unrelated information about details of practice, the more the specialization the less the educational value. . experience has conclusively shown that an engineering student is very likely to slight a general subject in favor of a simultaneous technical or specialized subject. this fact, together with the necessity of a fixed sequence in technical engineering subjects, makes it practically impossible to secure any reasonable work in most general subjects when a student is at the same time carrying one or more technical studies. for these reasons it is necessary to make the later years of the curriculum nearly wholly technical, which makes specialization possible, if it does not invite it. iii. aim of engineering education =disciplinary values of engineering subjects= the three elements of engineering education, as indeed of all education, should be development, training, and information. the first is the attainment of intellectual power, the capacity for abstract conception and reasoning. the second includes the formation of correct habits of thought and methods of work; the cultivation of the ability to observe closely, to reason correctly, to write and speak clearly; and the training of the hand to execute. the third includes the acquisition of the thoughts and experiences of others, and of the truths of nature. the development of the mental faculties is by far the most important, since it alone confers that "power which masters all it touches, which can adapt old forms to new uses, or create new and better means of reaching old ends." without this power the engineer cannot hope to practice his profession with any chance of success. the formation of correct habits of thinking and working, habits of observing, of classifying, of investigating, of discriminating, of proving instead of guessing, of weighing evidence, of patient perseverance, and of doing thoroughly honest work, is a method of using that power efficiently. the accumulation of facts is the least important. the power to acquire information and the knowledge of how to use it is of far greater value than any number of the most useful facts. the value of an education does not consist in the number of facts acquired, but in the ability to discover facts by personal observation and investigation and in the power to use these facts in deducing new conclusions and establishing fundamental principles. there is no comparison between the value of a ton of horseshoe nails and the ability to make a single nail. =utilitarian aim of the engineering subjects: information and training= the engineering student usually desires to reverse the above order and assumes that the acquisition of information, especially that directly useful in his proposed profession, is the most valuable element of an education; and unfortunately some instructors seem to make the same mistake. the truth is that methods of construction, details of practice, mechanical appliances, prices of materials and labor, change so rapidly that it is useless to teach many such matters. however important such items are to the practicing engineer, they are of little or no use to the student; for later, when he does have need of them, methods, machines, and prices have changed so much that the information he acquired in college will probably be worse than useless. technical details are learned of necessity in practice, and more easily then than in college; whereas in practice fundamental principles are learned with difficulty, if at all. a man ignorant of principles does not usually realize his own ignorance and limitations, or rather he is unaware of the existence of unknown principles. the engineering college should teach the principles upon which sound engineering practice is based, but should not attempt to teach the details of practice any further than is necessary to give zest and reality to the instruction and to give an intelligent understanding of the uses to be made of fundamental principles. as evidence that technical information is not essential for success in an engineering profession, attention is called to the fact that a considerable number of men who took a course in one of the major divisions of engineering have practiced in another branch with reasonable success. the only collegiate training one of the most distinguished american engineers of the last generation had was a general literary course followed by a law course. further, a considerable number have successfully practiced engineering, after only a general college education, and this in recent years when engineering curricula have become widely differentiated. examples in other lines of business could be cited to show that a knowledge of technical details is not the most important element in a preparation for a profession or for business. the all-important thing is that the engineering student shall acquire the power to observe closely, to reason correctly, to state clearly, that he shall be able to extract information from books certainly and rapidly, and that he shall cultivate his judgment, initiative, and self-reliance. a student may have any amount of technical information, but if he seriously lacks any of the qualities just enumerated, he cannot attain to any considerable professional success. however, if he has these qualities to a fair degree, he can speedily acquire sufficient technical details to enable him to succeed fairly well. the chief aim of the engineering college should be to develop the intellectual power that will enable the student not only to acquire quickly the details of practice, but will also enable him ultimately to establish precedents and determine the practice of his times. incidentally the engineering college should seek to expand the horizon and widen the sympathy of its students. in college classes there will be those who are either unable or unwilling to attain the highest educational ideals, and who will become only the hewers of wood and drawers of water of the engineering profession; but a setting before them of the highest ideals and even an ineffective training in methods of work will prepare them the better to fill mediocre positions. the nearly universal engineering college course requires four years. the field properly belonging to even a specialized curriculum is so wide and the importance of a proper preparation of the engineers of the future is so great as appropriately to require more than four years of time; but the consensus of opinion is that for various reasons only four years are available for undergraduate work--the only kind here under consideration. hence it is of vital importance that the highest ideals shall be set before the engineering students and that the methods of instruction employed shall be the best attainable. iv. methods of teaching instruction in technical engineering subjects is given by lectures, recitations from textbooks, assigned reading, laboratory work, surveying, field-practice, problems in design, memoirs, and examinations. each of these will be briefly considered. =lecture system= the term "lecture system" will be used to designate that method of instruction in which knowledge is presented by the instructor without immediate questioning of, or discussion by, the student. in the early history of engineering education, when instruction in technical engineering subjects was beginning to be differentiated from other branches of education, the lecture was the only means of acquainting the student with either the principles or details of engineering practice, since textbooks were then few and unsatisfactory. but at present, when there are so many fields of technical knowledge in which there are excellent books, the lecture system is indefensible as a means either of communicating knowledge or of developing intellectual strength. it is a waste of the student's time to present orally that which can be found in print. at best the lecturer can present only about one third as much as a student could read in the same time; and, besides, the student can understand what he reads better than what he hears, since he can go more slowly over that which he does not understand. the lecturer moves along approximately uniformly, while some students fail to understand one part, and others would like to pause over some other portion. a poor textbook is usually better than a good lecturer. it is a fundamental principle of pedagogy that there can be no development without the activity of the learner's mind; and hence with the lecture system it is customary to require the student to take notes, and subsequently submit himself to a quiz or present his lecture notes carefully written up. if the student is required to take notes, either for future study or to be submitted, his whole time and attention are engrossed in writing; and at the close of the lecture, if it has covered any considerable ground, the student has only a vague idea of what has been said. further, the notes are probably so incomplete as to afford inadequate material for future study. if the subject matter is really new and not found in print, the lecture should be reproduced for the student's use. it is more economical and more effective for the student to pay his share of the cost of printing, than to spend his time in making imperfect notes and perhaps ultimately writing them out more fully. the lecture system is less suitable for giving instruction in engineering subjects than in general subjects, such for example as history, sociology, and economics, since technical engineering subjects usually include principles and more or less numerical data that must be stated briefly and clearly. if a student has had an opportunity to study a subject from either a textbook or a printed copy of the lecture notes, then comments by the teacher explaining some difficult point, or describing some later development, or showing some other application or consequence of the principle, may be both instructive and inspiring; but the main work of teaching engineering subjects should be from carefully prepared textbooks. however, an occasional formal lecture by an instructor or a practicing engineer upon some subject already studied from a textbook can be a means of valuable instruction and real inspiration, provided the lecture is well prepared and properly presented. in the preceding discussion the term "lecture" has been employed as meaning a formal presentation of information; but there is another form of lecture, a demonstration lecture, which consists of an explanation and discussion by the instructor of an experiment conducted before the class. the prime purpose of the experiment and the demonstration lecture is to explain and fix in mind general principles. this form of lecture is an excellent method of giving information; and if the student is questioned as to the facts disclosed and is required to discuss the principles established, it is an effective means of training the student to observe, to analyze, and to describe. =recitation system= this system of instruction consists in assigning a lesson upon which the student subsequently recites. in subjects involving mathematical work, the recitation may consist of the presentation of the solution of examples or problems; but in engineering subjects the recitation usually consists either of answers to questions or of the discussion of a topic. the question may be either a "fact" question or a "thought" question. if the main purpose is to give information, the "fact" question is used, the object being to determine whether the student has acquired a particular item of information. not infrequently, even in college teaching, the question can be answered by a single word or a short sentence; and usually such a question, even if it does not itself suggest the answer, requires a minimum of mental effort on the part of the student. this method determines only whether the student has acquired a number of unrelated facts, and does not insure that he has any knowledge of their relation to each other or to other facts he may know, nor does it test his ability to use these facts in deducing conclusions or establishing principles. apparently this method of conducting a recitation, or quiz as it is often called, is far too common in teaching engineering subjects. it is the result chiefly of the mistaken belief that the purpose of technical teaching is to give information. the "thought" question is one which requires the student to reflect upon the facts stated in the book and to draw his own conclusions. this method is intermediate between the "fact" question and the topical discussion; it is not so suitable to college students as to younger ones, and is not so easily applied in engineering subjects as in more general subjects such as history, economics, or social science. it will not be considered further. the topical recitation consists in calling upon the student to state what he knows upon a given topic. this method not only tests the student's knowledge of facts, but also trains him in arranging his facts in logical order and in presenting them in clear, correct, and forceful language. ( ) one advantage of this method of conducting the recitation is that it stimulates the student to acquire a proper method of attacking the assigned lesson. many college students know little or nothing concerning the art of studying. apparently, they simply read the lesson over without attempting to weigh the relative importance of the several statements and without attempting to skeletonize or summarize the text. the ability to acquire quickly and easily the essential statements of a printed page is an accomplishment which will be valuable in any walk of life. in other words, this method of conducting a recitation forces the student to adopt the better method of study. ( ) a second advantage of the topical recitation is that it trains the student in expressing his ideas. it is generally conceded that the engineering-college graduate is deficient in his ability to use good english, which is evidence that either the topical recitation is not usually employed, or good english is not insisted upon, or perhaps both. ( ) a third advantage of the topical recitation is that it trains the student in judgment and discrimination--two elements essential in the practical work of all engineers. apparently many college teachers think it more creditable to deliver lectures than to conduct recitations. the formal lecture is an inefficient means of either conveying information or developing intellectual power, and hence no one should take pride in it. the textbook and quiz method of conducting a recitation is more effective than the lecture system, but is by no means an ideal method of either imparting information or giving intellectual training. neither of these methods is worthy of a conscientious teacher. the textbook and topical recitation affords an excellent opportunity to teach the student to analyze, to observe, to discriminate, to train him in the use of clear and correct language, and in the presentation of his thoughts in logical order--an object worthy of any teacher and an opportunity to employ the highest ability of any person. in the conduct of such a recitation in engineering subjects, there is abundant opportunity to supplement the textbook by calling attention to new discoveries and other applications, and to introduce interesting historic references. it is often instructive to discuss differences in construction which depend upon differences in physical conditions or in preferences of the constructor, and such discussions afford excellent opportunities to train the student in discovering the causes of the differences and in weighing evidence, all of which helps to develop his powers of observation and analysis and above all to cultivate his judgment. if a teacher is truly interested in his work, such a recitation gives opportunity for an interchange of thoughts between the student and teacher that may be made of great value to the former and of real interest to the latter. the conduct of such a recitation should be much more inspiring to the teacher than the repetition of a formal lecture which at best can have only little instructional value. =suggestions for increasing effectiveness of the recitation= the recitation is such an important method of instruction that it is believed a few suggestions as to its conduct may be permissible, although a discussion of methods of teaching does not properly belong in this chapter. ( ) the students should not be called upon in any regular order. ( ) if at all possible, each student should be called upon during each recitation. ( ) the question or topic should be stated, and then after a brief pause a particular student should be called upon to recite. ( ) the question or topic should not be repeated. ( ) the student should not be helped. ( ) the question should be so definite as to admit of only one answer. ( ) "fact" questions and topical discussions should be interspersed. ( ) irrelevant discussion should be eliminated. ( ) the thoughtful attention of the entire class and an opportunity for all to participate may be secured by interrupting a topical discussion and asking another to continue it. ( ) clear, correct and concise answers should be insisted upon. ( ) in topical discussions the facts should be stated in a logical order. ( ) commend any exceptionally good answer. =assigned reading= a student is sometimes required to read an assigned chapter in a book or some particular article in a technical journal as a supplement to a lecture or a textbook. sometimes the whole class has the same assignment, and sometimes different students have different assignments. each student should be quizzed on his reading, or should be required to give a summary of it. the method of instruction by assigned reading is most appropriate when the lecture presentation or textbook is comparatively brief. this method is only sparingly permissible with an adequate textbook. =laboratory work= the chief purpose of laboratory work is to illustrate the principles of the textbook and thereby fix them in the student's mind. the manipulation of the apparatus and the making of the observations is valuable training for the hand and the eye, and the computation of the results familiarizes the student with the limitations of mathematical processes. the interpretation of the meaning of the results cultivates the student's judgment and power of discrimination, and the writing up of the report should give valuable experience in orderly and concise statement. sometimes the student is not required to interpret the meaning or to discuss the accuracy of his results, and sometimes he is provided with a tabular form in which he inserts his observed data without consideration of any other reason for securing the particular information. he should not be provided with a sample report nor with a tabular form, but should be required to plan his own method of presentation, determine for himself what matter shall be in tabular form and what in narrative form, and plan his own illustrations. of course, he should be required to keep neat, accurate, and reasonably full notes of the laboratory work, and should be held to a high standard of clearness, conciseness, and correctness in his final report. providing the student with tabular forms and sample reports may lessen the teacher's labors and improve the appearance of the report, but such practice greatly decreases the educational value to the student. =surveying field-practice.= in its aims surveying field-practice is substantially the same as engineering laboratory work, and all the preceding remarks concerning laboratory work apply equally well also to surveying practice. ordinarily the latter has a higher educational value than the former in that the method of attack, at least in minor details, is left to the student's initiative, and also in that the difficulties or obstacles encountered require the student to exercise his own resourcefulness. the cultivation of initiative and self-reliance is of the highest engineering as well as educational value. further, in the better institutions the instructor in surveying usually knows the result the student should obtain, and consequently the latter has a greater stimulus to secure accuracy than occurs in most laboratory work. finally, the students, at least the civil engineering ones, always feel that surveying is highly practical, and hence are unusually enthusiastic in their work. =design.= when properly taught an exercise in design has the highest educational value; and, besides, the student is usually easily interested, since he is likely to regard such work as highly practical and therefore to give it his best efforts. instruction in design should accomplish two purposes; viz., ( ) familiarize the student with the application of principles, and ( ) train him in initiative. different subjects necessarily have these elements in different degrees, and any particular subject may be so taught as specially to emphasize one or the other of these objects. sometimes a problem in design is little more than the following of an outline or example in the textbook and substituting values in formulas. the design of an ordinary short-span steel truss bridge, as ordinarily taught, is an example of this method of instruction. another example is the design of a residence for which no predetermined limiting conditions are laid down and which does not differ materially from those found in the surrounding community or illustrated in the textbook or the architectural magazine. such work illustrates and enforces theory, gives the student some knowledge of the materials and processes of construction, and also trains him in drafting; but it does not give him much intellectual exercise nor develop his mental fiber, although it may prepare him to take a place as a routine worker in his profession. such instruction emphasizes utilitarian training but neglects intellectual development, mental vigor, and breadth of view. the exercise in design which has the highest educational value is one in which the student must discover for himself the conditions to be fulfilled, the method of treatment to be employed, the materials to be used, and the details to be adopted. an example of this form of problem is the design of a bridge for a particular river crossing, without any limitations as to materials of construction, type of structure, time of construction, etc., except such as are inherent in the problem and which the student must determine for himself. a better example is the architectural design of a building to be erected in a given locality to serve some particular purpose, with no limitations except perhaps cost or architectural style. experience of several teachers with a considerable number of students during each of several years conclusively shows that students who have had only comparatively little of the design work mentioned in the preceding paragraph greatly exceed other students having the same preparation except this form of design work, in mental vigor, breadth of view, intellectual power, and initiative. this difference in capacity is certainly observable in subsequent college work, and is apparently quite effective after graduation. =examinations= the term "examination" will be used as including the comparatively brief and informal quizzes held at intervals during the progress of the work and also the longer and more formal examinations held at the end of the work. usually the examination is regarded as a test to determine the accuracy and extent of the student's information, which form may be called a question-and-answer examination or quiz. a more desirable form of examination is one which requires the student to survey his information on a particular topic, and to summarize the same or to state his own conclusions concerning either the relative importance of the different items or his interpretation of the meaning or application of the facts. such an examination could be called a "topical examination." the remarks in the earlier part of this chapter concerning the relative merits of the question-and-answer and the topical recitation apply also with equal force to these two forms of examinations. however, the topical examination can be made of greater educational value than the topical recitation, since the student is likely to be required to survey a wider field and organize a larger mass of information, and also since the examination is usually written and hence affords a better opportunity to secure accuracy and finish. it is much easier for the instructor to prepare and grade the papers for the question-and-answer examination than for the topical examination, and perhaps this is one reason why the former is nearly universally employed. of course, the topical examination should not be used except in connection with the topical recitation. some executives of public school systems require that at least a third, and others at least a half, of all formal examinations shall be topical; and as the examination papers and the grades thereon are subject to the inspection of the executive, this requirement indirectly insures that the teacher shall not neglect the topical recitation. apparently a somewhat similar requirement would be beneficial in college work. =memoir= the term "memoir" is here employed to designate either a comparatively brief report upon some topic assigned in connection with the daily recitation or the graduating thesis. the former is substantially a form of laboratory work in which the library is the workroom and books the apparatus. this method of instruction has several merits. it makes the student familiar with books and periodicals and with the method of extracting information from them. it stimulates his interest in a wider knowledge than that obtained only from the textbook or the instructor's lectures. it is valuable as an exercise in english composition, particularly if the student is held to an orderly form of presentation and to good english, and is not permitted simply to make extracts. the value to be obtained from such literary report depends, of course, upon the time devoted to it, and also upon whether the instructor tells the student of the articles to be read or requires him to find the sources of information for himself. =thesis= the thesis may be a description of some original design, or a critical review of some engineering construction, or an account of an experimental investigation. the thesis differs from other subjects in the college curriculum in that in the latter the student is expected simply to follow the directions of the instructor, to study specified lessons and recite thereon, to solve the problems assigned, and to read the articles recommended; while the preparation of the thesis is intended to develop the student's ability to do independent work. there is comparatively little in the ordinary college curriculum to stimulate the student's power of initiative, but in his thesis work he is required to take the lead in devising ways and means. the power of self-direction, the ability to invent methods of attack, the capacity to foresee the probable results of experiments, and the ability to interpret correctly the results of experiments is of vital importance in the future of any engineering student. within certain limits the thesis is a test of the present attainments of the student and also a prophecy of his future success. therefore, the preparation of a thesis is of the very highest educational possibility. unfortunately many students are too poorly prepared, or too lacking in ambition, or too deficient in self-reliance and initiative to make it feasible for them to undertake the independent work required in a thesis. such students should take instead work under direction. further, it is unfortunate that, for administrative reasons, the requirement of a thesis for graduation is made less frequently now than formerly. the increase in number of students has made it practically impossible to require a thesis of all graduates, because of the difficulty of providing adequate facilities and of supervising the work. again, it is difficult to administer a requirement that only part of the seniors shall prepare a thesis. consequently the result is that at present only a very few undergraduate engineering students prepare theses. =graduate work= all of the preceding discussion applies only to undergraduate work. only comparatively few engineering students take graduate work. a few institutions have enough such students to justify, for administrative reasons, the organization of classes in graduate work, but usually such classes are conducted upon principles quite different from those employed for undergraduates. no textbooks in the ordinary sense are used. often the student is assigned an experimental or other investigation, and is expected to work almost independently of the teacher, the chief function of the latter being to criticize the methods proposed and to review the results obtained. such work under the guidance of a competent teacher is a most valuable means for mental development, training, and inspiration. ira o. baker _university of illinois_ bibliography below is a list of the principal articles relating to engineering education, arranged approximately in chronological order. . the annual _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, from to date, contain many valuable articles on various phases of engineering education. each volume consists of to vo pages. the society has no permanent address. all business is conducted by the secretary, whose address at present is university of pittsburgh, pittsburgh, pennsylvania. the more important papers of the above _proceedings_ which are closely related to the subject of this chapter are included in the list below. many of the articles relate to the teaching of a particular branch of engineering, and hence are not mentioned in the following list. . "methods of teaching engineering: by textbook, by lecturing, by design, by laboratory, by memoir." professor c. f. allen, massachusetts institute of technology. an excellent presentation, and discussion by others. _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, vol. vii, pages - . . "two kinds of education for engineers." dean j. b. johnson, university of wisconsin. an address to the students of the college of engineering of the university of wisconsin, . pamphlet published by the author; vo pages. reprinted in _addresses of engineering students_, edited by waddell and harrington, pages - . . "potency of engineering schools and their imperfections." professor d. c. jackson, university of wisconsin. an address presented at the quarto-centennial celebration of the university of colorado, . _proceedings_ of that celebration, pages - . . "technical and pedagogic value of examinations." professor henry h. norris, cornell university. a discussion of the general subject, containing examples of questions in a topical examination in an electrical engineering subject. discussed at length by several others. _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education._ vol. xv, pages - . . "limitations of efficiency in engineering education." professor george f. swain, harvard university. an address at the opening of the general engineering building of union university, . a discussion of various limitations and defects in engineering education. pamphlet published by union university; small vo pages. reprinted in _addresses of engineering students_, edited by waddell and harrington, pages - . . "the good engineering teacher: his personality and training." professor william t. magruder, ohio state university. an inspiring and instructive presidential address. _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, vol. xxi, pages - . . "hydraulic engineering education." d. w. mead, university of wisconsin. an interesting discussion of the elements an engineer should acquire in his education. the article is instructive, and is broader than its title; but it contains nothing directly on methods of teaching engineering subjects. _bulletin of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, vol. iv, no. , , pages - . . "some considerations regarding engineering education in america." professor g. f. swain, harvard university. a paper presented at the international engineering congress in in san francisco, california. a brief presentation of the early history of engineering education in america, and an inquiry as to the effectiveness of present methods. _transactions of international engineering congress_, miscellany, san francisco, , pages - ; discussion, pages - . . "technical education for the professions of applied science," president ira n. hollis, worcester polytechnic institute. a discussion of the methods and scope of engineering education, and of the contents of a few representative engineering curricula. _transactions international engineering congress_, san francisco, , miscellany, pages - . . "what is best in engineering education." professor h. h. higbie, president tau beta pi association. an elaborate inquiry among graduate members of that association as to the value and relative importance of the different subjects pursued in college, of the time given to each, and of the methods employed in presenting them. pamphlet published by the association, vo pages. . "some details in engineering education." professor henry s. jacoby, cornell university. a president's address, containing many interesting and instructive suggestions concerning various details of teaching engineering subjects and the relations between students and instructor. _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, vol. xxiii, pages. . "report of progress in the study of engineering education." professor c. r. mann. several of the national engineering societies requested the carnegie foundation to conduct a thorough investigation of engineering education, and the foundation committed the investigation to professor c. r. mann. first report of progress, _proceedings of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, vol. xxiii, pages - ; second report, bulletin, same, november, , pages - ; final report: a study of engineering education by charles riborg mann, _bulletin number , carnegie foundation for advancement of teaching_, . . "relation of mathematical training to the engineering profession." h. d. gaylord, secretary of the association of teachers of mathematics in new england, and professor paul h. hanus, harvard university. an elaborate inquiry as to the opinion of practicing engineers concerning the importance of mathematics in the work of the engineer. _bulletin of the society for the promotion of engineering education_, october, , pages - . . "does present-day engineering college education produce accuracy and thoroughness?" professor d. w. mead, university of wisconsin, and professor g. f. swain, harvard university. an animated discussion as to the effectiveness of a collegiate engineering education. _engineering record_, vol. (may , ), pages - . . "teach engineering students fundamental principles." professor d. s. jacobus, stevens institute. address of the retiring president of the american society of mechanical engineers. a clear and forceful discussion of general methods of studying and teaching, and of the choice of subjects to be taught. _engineering record_, december , , pages - . . a considerable number of thoughtful articles on the general subject of technical education appeared in the columns of _mining and scientific press_ (san francisco, california) during the year . in the main these articles discuss general engineering education, and give a little attention to mining engineering education. . since the preceding was written there has appeared a little book, the reading of which would be of great value to all engineering students, entitled _how to study_, by george fillmore swain, ll.d., professor of civil engineering in harvard university and in the massachusetts institute of technology. mcgraw-hill book company, new york city, . x - / inches, paper, pages, cents. xxvi the teaching of mechanical drawing =mechanical drawing a mode of expression= drawing is a mode of expression and is therefore a form of language. as applied in the engineering field drawing is mechanical in character and is used principally for the purpose of conveying information relative to the construction of machines and structures. it seems logical that the methods employed and the standards adopted in the teaching of engineering drawing should be based on an analysis of conditions found in the engineering world. in the best engineering practice the technical standards of drawing are high, so high in fact that they may be used as an ideal toward which to work in the classroom. examples of good draftsmanship selected from practice may well serve to furnish standards for classroom work, both in technique and methods of representation. =mechanical drawing disciplinary as well as practical in value= engineering drawing demands intellectual power quite as much as it does skill of hand. the draftsman in conceiving and planning his design visualizes his problem, makes calculations for it, and graphically represents the results upon the drafting board. the development of the details of his design makes it necessary that he be a trained observer of forms. since new designs frequently involve modifications of old forms, in his efforts to recall old forms and create new ones, he develops visual memory. if the requirements of a successful draftsman or designer be taken as typical, it is evident that the young engineer must develop, in addition to a technical knowledge of the subject, and a certain degree of skill of hand, a habit of quick and accurate observation and the ability to perceive and retain mental images of forms. modern methods of instruction recognize both the motor and mental factors involved in the production of engineering drawings. it is the aim of the drawing courses in engineering colleges to familiarize the student with the standards of technique and methods of representation found in the best commercial practice; likewise to develop in him the powers to visualize and reason, which are possessed by the commercial draftsman and designers. =organization and content of courses in mechanical drawing= the drawing courses of engineering curricula may be divided into two groups: ( ) _general courses_, in which the principles and methods of representation are taught, together with such practice in drawing as will develop a satisfactory technique. ( ) _technical courses_, the aim of which is to assist the student to acquire technical knowledge or training, drawing being used primarily for the purpose of developing or testing a student's knowledge of the subject matter. the general courses usually include an elementary course and a course in descriptive geometry. these courses deal with the fundamental principles and methods which have universal application in the advanced and technical courses. while the courses of the two groups may overlap, the general courses precede the courses of the technical group. there is no general agreement as to the order in which the subjects belonging to the general group should be given. each of the following orders is in use: . a course in descriptive geometry followed by an elementary technical course. . an elementary course and a course in descriptive geometry given simultaneously. . an elementary course followed by a course in descriptive geometry. the _first plan_ is followed by a number of institutions which conclude, because of the general practice of offering courses in drawing in the secondary schools, that pupils entering college have a knowledge of the fundamentals ordinarily included in an elementary course. in other institutions it is held that the principles of projection can be taught to students of college age in a course of descriptive geometry without preliminary drill. where the _second plan_ is used, the courses are so correlated that the instruction in the use of instruments given in an elementary course is applied in solving problems in descriptive geometry, while the principles of projection taught in descriptive geometry are applied in the making of working drawings. this plan is followed by several of the larger engineering colleges. under the _third plan_ the principles of projection are taught through their applications in the form of working drawings. in this way the principles may be taught in more elementary form than is possible in any adequate treatment of descriptive geometry. the illustration of the principles in a concrete way makes it possible for those who find visualizing difficult, to develop that power before abstract principles of projection are taken up in the descriptive geometry. the skill of hand developed in the elementary course makes it possible to give entire attention to a study of the principles in the course in descriptive geometry. while excellent results are being obtained under each of the three plans, this plan is the one most generally adopted. the order of courses in the technical drawing groups is determined by other considerations than those relating to drawing, such as prerequisites in mathematics, strength of materials, etc. =the elementary courses= the elementary courses have undergone a number of important changes during recent years. in those of the present day more attention than formerly is given to the making of complete working drawings. in the earlier courses the elements were taught in the form of exercises. in the latter part of the courses the elements were combined in working drawings. in the modern courses, however, there is a very marked tendency to eliminate the exercise and make the applications of elements in the form of working drawings throughout the course. in the early type of course the theory of projection was taught by using the synthetic method; i.e., by placing the emphasis first upon the projection of points, then lines, surfaces, and finally geometrical solids. in the modern type of course, however, this order is reversed and the analytic method is used; i.e., solids in the form of simple machine or structural parts are first represented, then the principles of projection involved in the representation of their surfaces, edges, and finally their corners are studied. in this type of course the student works from the concrete to the abstract rather than from the abstract to the concrete. =fundamentals of the elementary course= _geometrical constructions_, which were formerly given as exercises and which served as a means of giving excellent practice in the use of instruments, are now incorporated in working drawings and emphasized in making views of objects. it is believed that in the applied form these constructions offer the same opportunity for the training in accuracy in the use of instruments that was had in the abstract exercises, to which is added interest naturally secured by making applications of elements in working drawings. _conventions_ are also taught in an applied form and are introduced as the skill for executing them and the theory involved in their construction are developed in the progress of the course. the type of _freehand lettering_ most generally taught is that used in practice; i.e., the single-stroke gothic. the best commercial drafting-room practice suggests the use of the vertical capitals for titles and subtitles, and the inclined, lower case letters and numerals for notes and dimensions. the plan generally found to produce satisfactory results is to divide the letters and numerals of the alphabet into groups containing four or five letters and numerals on the basis of form and to concentrate the attention of the student on these, one group at a time. the simple forms are considered first, and enough practice is given to enable the student to proportion the letters and numerals and make the strokes in the proper order. it is more natural to make inclined letters than vertical ones, and they are therefore easier to execute. if both vertical and inclined letters are taught, the instruction on the vertical should be given first, as it is more difficult to make vertical strokes after becoming accustomed to the inclined strokes. _freehand perspective sketching_ affords the most natural method of representing objects in outline. it is of particular value in interpreting orthographic drawing. the student who first draws a perspective sketch of an object becomes so familiar with every detail of it that he cannot fail to have a clearer mental image of its form when he attempts to draw its orthographic views. it gives a valuable training in coördinating the hand and eye in drawing freehand lines and estimating proportions. it also serves as an intermediate step between observing an object and drawing it orthographically. _freehand orthographic sketching_ is now quite commonly incorporated in modern courses in mechanical drawing. such sketches serve as a preliminary step in the preparation of the mechanical drawing. they correspond to the sketches made by the engineer or draftsman for drafting-room or shop use. the experience of many instructors seems to indicate that the early introduction of freehand perspective and orthographic sketching in a course of mechanical drawing serves as a means of developing that skill in freehand execution which is so necessary in rendering the freehand features of a mechanical drawing. when this type of skill is acquired before the mechanical work is started, the mechanical and freehand technique may be simultaneously developed. the organization of an elementary course composed largely of a progressive series of working drawings necessitates the giving of considerable attention to the selection of problems involving the use of the above-named fundamentals to make the course increasingly difficult for the student. the drawing of views involves geometrical constructions and conventions, while the dimensions, notes, and title invoke the making of arrowheads, letters, and numerals. in such an elementary course the student receives not only the training in the fundamentals, but also in their application in working drawings which furnish complete and accurate information in the desired form. =descriptive geometry= the modern methods of teaching descriptive geometry apply the theory of the subject to applications in problems taken from engineering practice. the introduction of practical applications adds interest to the subject and makes the theory more easily understood. the number of applications should be as great as possible without interfering with the development of the theory. such a treatment of descriptive geometry, following a thorough course in elementary drawing, should make it possible to deal with abstract principles of projection with a few well-chosen applications. descriptive geometry aids materially in developing the power of visualization which is so essential to the training of the engineer. the graphical applications of the subject in the solution of engineering problems may be used as a means of testing the student's ability to visualize. there is now very little discussion relative to the advantages and disadvantages of the first and third angle projection. since the third angle is generally used in the elementary course as well as in engineering practice, it seems logical that it should be emphasized in descriptive geometry. recent textbooks on this subject confirm the tendency toward the use of the third angle. the use of the third angle presents new difficulties, such as that of locating the positions of magnitudes in space in relation to their projections. magnitudes must be located behind or below the drawing surface. to obviate such difficulties, some instructors demonstrate principles by first angle constructions. others invert surfaces which in the first angle have their bases in the horizontal plane. this undesirable device may be overcome by using a second horizontal plane in the third angle. such means of demonstration may be avoided altogether by considering the space relations of magnitude to one another instead of relating them to the planes of projection. this method centers the attention of the student on the relation of magnitudes represented and develops visualization. it has been found to give excellent results in both elementary drawing and descriptive geometry. to bring the teaching of descriptive geometry into closer harmony with its application in practice, auxiliary views are frequently used instead of the method of rotations. briefly, then, it appears that the modern course in descriptive geometry should contain enough applications to hold the interest of the student and to test his power of visualization; that the third angle should be emphasized, and some use should be made of auxiliary views. above all, the development of visualizing ability should be considered one of the chief aims of the course. =methods of instruction in general courses= in teaching drawing and descriptive geometry, lectures, demonstrations, and individual instruction each have a place. principles can best be presented in the form of lectures. the manual part of the work can be presented most effectively by means of demonstrations. the instructor should illustrate the proper use of instruments and materials by actually going through the process himself, calling attention to important points and explaining each step as he proceeds. individual instruction given at the student's desk is a vital factor in teaching drawing, as it offers the best means of clearing up erroneous impressions and ministering to the needs of the individual student. frequent recitations and quizzes serve the purpose of keeping the instructor informed as to the effectiveness of his instruction and as a means by which the student can measure his own progress and grasp upon the subject. =methods of instruction in technical drawing courses= those drawing courses which have for their primary object the teaching of technical subject matter make use of the drawings as an instrument to record facts and to test the student's knowledge of principles and methods. in the technical courses it should be possible to assume a knowledge of the material given in the general courses. some effort is usually necessary, however, to maintain the standards already established. the effort thus expended should result in improving technique and increased speed. =the four-year drawing course= in an institution where drawing courses are given throughout the four years, much can be done by organization and coöperation to make the time spent by the student productive of the best results. more time than can usually be secured for the general courses is necessary to develop skill that will be comparable with that found in practice. the conditions in technical drawing courses approximate those in practice. they apply methods taught in the general courses. the limited time, frequently less than clock hours, devoted to the general courses makes it desirable that advantage be taken in the technical courses for further development of technique and skill. in a number of institutions all work in drawing is so organized as to form a single drawing unit. this plan calls for coöperation on the part of all drawing teachers in the institution. the results obtained by this method seem amply to justify the effort put forth. =conclusion= the final test in any course or group of drawing courses may be measured by the student's ability to solve problems met with in engineering practice. measured upon this basis, the newer types of courses discussed herein, those founded upon the analytic method and developed largely as a progressive series of working drawings, seem to be meeting with better results than did those of the older type in which the synthetic method predominated and in which abstract problems were principally used. while the college man is not fitting himself to become a draftsman, it is quite true that many start their engineering careers in the drafting office. those who think well and are proficient in expressing their thoughts through the medium of drawing are most apt to attract attention which places them in line for higher positions. those who do not enter the engineering field through the drafting office will find the cultural and disciplinary training and the habits of precision and neatness instilled by a good course in drawing of great value. j. d. phillips and h. d. orth _university of wisconsin_ xxvii the teaching of journalism the education of the journalist or newspaper man has been brought into being by the evolution of the newspaper during the last half century. addison's _spectator_ two centuries ago counted almost wholly on the original and individual expression of opinion. it had nothing beyond a few advertisements. the news sheet of the day was as wholly personal, a billboard of news and advertisements with contributed opinion in signed articles. a century ago, nearly half the space in a daily went to such communications. in the four-page and the eight-page newspaper of sixty to eighty years ago, taking all forms of opinions,--leaders contributed, political correspondence from capitals, state and federal, and criticism,--about one fourth of the space went to utterance editorial in character. the news filled as much more, running to a larger or smaller share as advertisements varied. the news was little edited. the telegraph down to was taken, not as it came, but more nearly so than today. in an eight-page new york paper between and , a news editor with one assistant and a city editor with one assistant easily handled city, telegraph, and other copy. none of it had the intensive treatment of today. it was not until that telegraph and news began to be sharply edited, the new york sun and the springfield _republican_ leading. between and , the daily paper doubled in size, and the sunday paper quadrupled and quintupled. the relative share taken by editorial and critical matter remained about the same in amount, grew more varied in character, but dropped from per cent of the total space in a four-page newspaper to to per cent in the dailies with sixteen to twenty pages, and the news required from three to five times as many persons to handle it. the circulation of individual papers in our large cities doubled and quadrupled, and the weekly expenditure of a new york paper rose from $ , a week to thrice that. these rough, general statements, varying with different newspapers as well as issue by issue in the same newspaper, represent a still greater change in the character of the subjects covered. when the newspaper was issued in communities, of a simple organization, in production, transportation, and distribution, the newspaper had some advertising, some news, and personal expression of opinion--political-partisan for the most part, critical in small part. this opinion was chiefly, though even then not wholly, expressed by a single personality, sometimes dominant, able, unselfish, and in nature a social prophet, but in most instances weak, time-serving, and self-seeking, and partisan, with one eye on advertising, official preferred, and the other on profits, public office, and other contingent personal results. in the complex society today, classified, stratified, organized, and differentiated, the newspaper is a complex representation of this life. the railroad is a far more important social agency than the stagecoach. it carries more people; it offers the community more; but the individual passenger counted for more in the eye of the traveling public in the stagecoach than today in the railroad train; but nobody would pretend to say that the railroad president was less important than the head of a stage line, mr. a. j. cassatt, president of the pennsylvania railroad and builder of its terminal, than john e. reeside, the head of the express stage line from new york to philadelphia, who beat all previous records in speed and stages. the newspaper-complex, representing all society, still expressing the opinion of society, not merely on politics but on all the range of life, creating, developing, and modifying this opinion, publishes news which has been standardized by coöperative news-gathering associations, local, national, and international. in the daily of today "politics" is but a part and a decreasing part, and a world of new topics has come into pages which require technical skill, the well-equipped mind, a wide information, and knowledge of the condition of the newspaper. the early reporter who once gathered the city news and turned it in to be put into type and made up by the foreman,--often also, owner and publisher,--in a sheet as big as a pocket-handkerchief, is as far removed from the men who share in the big modern daily, as far as is the modern railroad man from the rough, tough individual proprietor and driver of the stagecoach, though the driver of the latter was often a most original character, and a well-known figure on the highway as railroad men are not. =evolution of the profession of journalism= as this change in the american newspaper came between and , the public demand came for the vocational training of the journalist and experiments in obtaining it began. when charles a. dana bought the new york _sun_ in , he made up his staff, managing editor, news editor, city editor, albany correspondent and political man, from among the printers he had known on the new york _tribune_. in ten years these were succeeded by college graduates, and the _sun_ became a paper whose writing staff, as a whole, had college training, nearly all men from the colleges. college men were in american journalism from its early beginnings; but, speaking in a broad sense, the american newspaper drew most of its staff in the eighteenth century and in the first half of the nineteenth century from among men who had the rough but effective training of the composing room, with the common school as a beginning. when the high school developed from on, it began to furnish a large number of journalists, particularly in philadelphia, where the central high school manned many papers. by , college men began to appear in a steadily growing proportion, so far as the general writing staff was concerned. if one counted the men at the top, they were in a small proportion. in journalism, as in all arts of expression, a special and supreme gift will probably always make up for lack of special training. between and , the american newspaper as it is today was fairly launched, and joseph pulitzer, the ablest man in dealing with the journalism of and for the many, was the first conspicuous figure in the newspaper world to see that the time had come for the professional training of the journalist, the term he preferred to "newspaper men." neither the calling nor the public were ready when he made his first proposal, and with singular nobility of soul and sad disappointment of heart he determined to pledge his great gift of $ , , , paying $ , , of it to columbia university before his death and providing that the school of journalism, to which he furnished building and endowment, should be operated within a year after his death. this came october , , and the school opened the following year. =journalism today requires general and technical training= the discussion of the education of the journalist has been in progress for twoscore years. in whitelaw reid published his address on the "school of journalism" and urged systematic training, for which in the bitter personal newspaper of the day he was ridiculed as "the young professor of journalism." in , mr. charles e. fitch, but just gone after long newspaper service, delivered a course of lectures on the training of the journalist, at cornell university. two years later mr. brainerd smith, before and after of the new york _sun_, then professor of elocution in the same university, began training in the work of the newspaper in his class in composition, sending out his class on assignments and outlining possible occurrences which the class wrote out. this experiment was abruptly closed by mr. henry w. sage, chairman of the cornell board of trustees, because the newspapers of minneapolis inclined to treat the university as important, chiefly because it taught "journalism." mr. fred newton scott, professor of rhetoric in the university of michigan in , began, with less newspaper notice, training in newspaper english, continuing to the present time his happy success in teaching style to his students. in , mr. walter williams, for twenty-four years editor, first of the boonville _advertiser_, and then of the columbia, missouri, _herald_, became dean of the first school of journalism opened in the same year by the university of missouri. this example was followed under the direction of willard g. bleyer in the university of wisconsin. by , nearly a score of colleges, universities, and technical schools were giving courses in journalism. by , the directory of teachers of journalism compiled by mr. carl f. getz, of the university of ohio, showed universities and colleges which gave courses in journalism, state universities, state colleges and schools of journalism, and colleges, endowed, denominational, or municipal. the teachers who offered courses in journalism numbered . of these, were in trade, industrial, and agricultural schools, their courses dealing with aspects of writing demanded in the fields to which the institution devoted its work. the number of students in all these institutions numbered about . this gave about students a year, who had completed their studies and gone out with a degree recording college or technical work in which training in journalism played its part. with about , men and women who were "journalists" in the country at this time, there are probably--the estimate is little better than a guess--about posts becoming vacant each year, in all branches of periodical work, monthly, weekly, and daily. the various training in journalism now offered stands ready to furnish a little less than half this demand. i judge it actually supplies yearly somewhat less than a fourth of the new men and women entering the calling, say about in all. as in all professional schools, a number never enter the practice of the calling for which they are presumably prepared and still larger numbers leave it after a short trial. in addition, training for the work of the journalist opens the door to much publicity work, to some teaching, and to a wide range of business posts where writing is needed. no account also has been made here of the wide range of miscellaneous courses in advertising provided by universities, colleges and schools of journalism by advertising clubs, by private schools, and by teachers, local, lecturing and peripatetic. it will take at least ten years more before those who have systematic teaching in journalism will be numerous enough to color the life of the office of the magazine or newspaper, and a generation before they are in the majority. =development of courses and schools of journalism= but numbers are not the only gauge of the influence of professional study on the calling itself. the mere presence, the work, the activities, and the influence of professional schools raise the standards of a calling. those in its work begin to see their daily task from the standpoint which training implies. since the overwhelming majority of newspaper men believe in their calling, love it, rejoice in it, regret its defects, and honor its achievements, they begin consciously to try to show how good a newspaper can be made with nothing but the tuition of the office. inaccuracy, carelessness, bad taste, and dubious ethics present themselves at a different angle when judged in the light of a calling for which colleges and universities furnish training. a corporate spirit and a corporate standard are felt more strongly, and men who have learned all they know in a newspaper office have a just, noble, and often successful determination to advance these standards and endeavor to equal in advance anything the school can accomplish. this affects both those who have had college training and those who come to their work as newspaper men with only the education of the public schools, high or elementary. more than letters have been received by the school of journalism in columbia university, since it was opened, asking advice as to the reading and study which could aid a man or woman unable to leave the newspaper office to study to improve their work. college graduates, in particular on newspapers, begin systematic study on their own account, aware of an approaching competition. definite standards in newspaper writing and in diction begin to be recognized and practiced in the office, and slips in either meet a more severe criticism. newspaper associations of all orders play their part in this spontaneous training. advertising clubs and their great annual gatherings have censored the periodic publicity of the advertising column as no other agency whatever could possibly have done. how far this educating influence has transformed this share of the american periodical in all its fields only those can realize who have studied past advertisements. every state has its editorial association. these draw together more men from the weeklies and the dailies in cities under , of population than from cities of more than , . these associations thirty years ago were little more than social. they have come to be educational agencies of the first importance. they create and assert new norms of conduct and composition. the papers read are normally didactic. all men try to be what they assert they are. from the american newspaper publishers' association, bringing together nearly of our leading newspapers to meetings of the weeklies of a county, a region in a state, a whole state, sections like new england or the southern states of particular classes of periodicals, these various organizations are rapidly instituting a machinery, and breathing a spirit whose work is a valid factor in the education of the newspaper man. not the least influence which the schools of journalism exert on the active work of the calling is through these associations, particularly in the states west of the mississippi where, at the present stage of journalism in this region, state universities can through schools of journalism bring newspapers together at a "newspaper week." =journalism raised to dignity of a profession by schools of journalism= the rapid growth in students registered in "journalism" courses did not gauge the demand for professional teaching in the craft of the newspaper or the magazine. a large share of the "journalism" taught consisted simply in teaching newspaper english. the college course has been nowhere so vehemently and vigorously attacked as in the training it gave in writing english. few were satisfied with it, least of all those who taught it. at least one college professor, whose method and textbooks were launched thirty years ago, has recanted all his early work in teaching composition and pronounced it valueless or worse. the college graduate, after courses in english composition (at least one in the freshman year and often two or three more), in many instances found himself unable to write a business letter, describe a plan projected in business affairs, compose advertisements, or narrate a current event. this was not invariably the case, but it occurred often enough to be noted. books, pamphlets, and papers multiplied on this lack of training for practical writing in college composition courses. the world of education discovered, what the newspapers had found by experience, that the style of expression successful in literature did not bring results in man's daily task of reaching his fellow man on the homely and direct issues of daily life. in literature, genius is seeking to express itself. in the newspaper and in business, the writer is trying--and only trying--to express and interpret his subject so as to reach the other and contemporary man. if he does this, he wins. if not, he fails. genius can, should be, careless of the immediate audience, and wait for the final and ultimate response. no newspaper article and no advertisement can. for them, style is only a means. in letters, form is final. the verdict of posterity and not of the yearly subscriber or daily purchaser is decisive. =journalistic writing demands a distinctive style and calls for immediate response= in the high school and college, from on, there came courses in english which turned to the newspaper for methods and means of expression, and were called "courses in journalism." they were really courses in the english of the newspaper, besprinkled with lectures on the diction of the newspaper and the use of words--futile efforts, through lists of words that must not be used, to give a sound rule of the selection of language by the writer, and, above all, attempts to secure simple, direct, incisive narrative and discussion. these are all useful in their place and work. they prepare a man for some of the first steps of the newspaper office, particularly in the swift, mechanical routine and technique of "copy," indispensable where what is copy now is on the street for sale within an hour. where an instructor has himself the gift of style and the capacity to impart it, where he is himself a man who sells his stuff and knows what stuff will sell, where he has taste and inspiring, effective teaching power, a course in newspaper english may carry a man far in acquiring command of his powers of expression to their profitable use. these "courses in journalism" sometimes run for only a single semester. many run for the normal span of three hours a week through a year. sometimes there are two in succession, the second assuming the task of teaching work which a newspaper beginner usually reaches in from three to five years: the special article, the supplement, study of a subject, the "feature" story, criticism, and the editorial. when these courses are based on assignments which lead a man to go out and get the facts on which he writes, they furnish a certain share of training in the art of reporting. where this is done in a college town and a college community, however, the work is a far remove from that where the reporter must dive and wrestle in the seething tide of a great city, to return with news wrested from its native bed. =courses in "newspaper english"= newspaper english has its great and widest value to the man who wishes to learn how he can affect the other man. a course in it is certain, if the instruction is effective, to leave a student better able to express himself in the normal needs of life. this work is taken by many students as part of the effective training of college life, with no expectation of entering active newspaper work. the demand for publicity work in all business fields, and its value to the social worker, the teacher, and the clergyman, lead others to this specialized training. in at least one of our state universities, half those who take the courses in journalism do not look to the newspaper in the future. the curriculum is often so arranged that in a four-year college course it will be practicable to combine these courses in newspaper english with the parts of work offered, required for, or preparatory to the three learned professions, social service, business, and the applied sciences. such an arrangement of studies frankly recognizes the value in general education and after life of training in the direct expression the newspaper uses. in no long time every college will have at least one such course in its english department. but this course in direct writing stands alone, without any systematic training in journalism; it should not be called a course in journalism any more than a course in political science dealing with law, or a course in physiology or hygiene, can be called courses in law or medicine, because they cover material used in schools of law or schools of medicine. it is an advantage for any educated man to learn to write clearly, simply, to the point; to put the purpose, object, and force of an article at the beginning, and to be as much like daniel defoe and franklin, and as little like walter pater or samuel johnson, as possible; it is well for him to have a general view of the newspaper and its needs; it is a mistake to leave him with the impression that he has the training journalism demands. he is no better off at this point than any college graduate who has picked up for himself, by nature or through practice and imitation, the direct newspaper method. =functions of a school of journalism: to select as well as to train= president eliot, when the organization of a school of journalism came before him, cast his august and misleading influence for the view that a college education was enough training for newspaper work. many still believe this. in more than one city-room today college men are challenging the right of the graduates of a school of journalism to look on themselves as better fitted for the newspaper office than those who are graduates of a good college. if the training of the school has done no more than graft some copy-writing and some copy-editing on the usual curriculum, they are right. if the coming journalist has got his training in classes, half of whose number had no professional interest in the course offered, the claim for the college course may be found to be well based. men teach each other in the classroom. a common professional purpose creates common professional ideals and common professional aims as no training can, given without this, though it deal with identically the same subjects. the training of the journalist will at this point go through the same course as the training of other callings. the palpable thing about law, the objective fact it presents first to the layman, is procedure and form. this began legal education. a man entered a law office. he ran errands and served papers which taught him how suits were opened. a bright new york office boy in a law firm will know how many days can pass before some steps must be taken or be too late, better than the graduate of a law school. the law students in an office once endlessly copied forms and learned that phase of law. for generations men "eat their dinners" at the inns of court and learned no more. the law itself they learned through practice, at the expense of their clients. anatomy was the obvious thing about medicine when vesalius, of the strong head and weak heart, cleaned away the superstitions of part of the medical art and discovered a new world at twenty-eight. the medical training of even seventy years ago, twenty years after cellular pathology had dawned, held wearisome hours of dissection now known to be a waste. it is the functions of the body and its organs which we now know to be the more important, and not the bones, muscles, nerves, and organs considered as mere mechanism. the classroom is the patent thing about instruction. the normal schools lavished time on the tricks of teaching until flocks of instructors in the high schools and colleges could not inaccurately be divided into those who could teach and knew nothing and those who knew something and could not teach. our colleges early thought they could weave in hebrew and theology, and send out clergymen, and later tried to give the doctor a foundation on which eighteen subsequent months could graft all he needed of medicine. reporting is the obvious aspect of journalism which the ignorant layman sees. many hold the erroneous view that the end of a school of journalism is to train reporters. reporting is not journalism. it is the open door to the newspaper office, partly because there are very few reporters of many years' service. some of them are, but able men before long usually work out of a city-room, or gain charge of some field of city news, doing thus what is in fact reporting, but combined with editorial, critical, and correspondent work. such is the wall street man, the local politics man, the city hall man, or the police headquarters man, who gathers facts and counts acquaintance as one of his professional assets. but these men are doing, in their work, far more than reporting as it presents itself to those who see in the task only an assignment. such men know the actual working of the financial mechanism, not as economists see it, but as bagehot knew it. they understand the actual working of municipal machinery besides having a minute knowledge of character, decision, practice, and precedent in administration. in our real politics, big and little, they and the washington and albany correspondents are the only men who know both sides, are trusted with the secrets of both parties, and read closed pages of the book of the chronicles of the republic. as for the police headquarters man, he too alone knows both police and crime, and no investigation surprises him by its revelations. if a man, for a season, has had the work of one of these posts, he comes to feel that he writes for an ignorant world, and if he have the precious gift of youth, looks on himself as favored of mortals early, seeing the events of which others hear, daily close to the center of affairs, knowing men as they are and storing confidence against the day of revelation. men like these are the very heart's core of a newspaper. their posts train them. so do the key posts of a newspaper, its guiding and directing editors and those who do the thinking for thinking men by the hundred thousand in editorial, criticism, and article. it is for this order of work on a newspaper that a school of journalism trains. it is to these posts that, if its men are properly trained, its graduates rapidly ascend, after a brief apprenticeship in the city-room and a round in the routine work of a paper. dull men, however educated, will never pass these grades, and not passing they will drop out. a school should sift such out; but so far, in all our professional training, it is only the best medical schools which are inflexible in dealing with mediocrity. most teachers know better, but let the shifty and dull pass by. the newspaper itself has to be inexorable, and no well-organized office helps twice the man who is dull once; but he and his kind come often enough to mar the record. journalism, like other professions, has its body of special tasks and training, but, as in other callings, clear comprehension of this body of needs will develop in instruction slowly. the case system in law and the laboratory method in medicine came after some generations or centuries of professional work and are only a generation old. any one who has sought to know the development of these two methods sees that much in our schools of journalism is where law and medical schools were sixty years ago. we are still floundering and have not yet solved the problem of giving background, concision, accuracy, and interest to the report, of really editing copy and not merely condensing and heading it, of recognizing and developing the editorial and critical mind, and most of all, of shutting out early the shallow, the wrong-headed, the self-seeking, and the unballasted student. =the average college student lacks expressional power: reasons= the very best law and medical schools get the better of this, and only the best. they are greatly aided by a state examination which tests and tries all their work, braces their teaching, stimulates their men, and directs their studies. this will inevitably come in journalism, though most practicing newspaper men do not believe this. neither did doctors before expect this. as the newspaper comes closer and closer into daily life, inflicts wounds without healing and does damage for which no remedy exists, the public will require of the writer on a daily at least as much proof of competency as it does of a plumber. this competency sharply divides between training in the technical work of the newspaper and in those studies that knowledge which newspaper work requires. capacity to write with accuracy, with effect, with interest, and with style is the first and most difficult task among the technical requirements of the public journal. as has already been said, a gift for expression is needed, but even this cannot be exercised or developed unless a man has acquired diction and come in contact with style, for all the arts rest on the imitation of accepted models. many students in all schools of journalism come from immigrant families and are both inconceivably ignorant of english and inconceivably satisfied with their acquirement of english, as we all are with a strange tongue we have learned to speak. even in families with two or more generations of american life, the vocabulary is limited, construction careless, and the daily contact with any literature, now that family prayers and bible reading are gone; almost nil. of the spoken english of teachers in our public schools, considered as the basis of training for the writer, it is not seemly to speak. everybody knows college teachers who have never shaken off the slovenly phrases and careless syntax of their homes. the thesis on which advanced degrees are conferred is a fair and just measure of the capacity to write conferred by eleven years of education above the "grammar grades." the old drill in accurate and exact rendering of greek and latin was once the best training for the writer; but slovenly sight reading has reduced its value, and a large part of its true effect was because the youth who studied the classics fifty years ago came in a far larger share than today from families whose elders had themselves had their expression and vocabulary trained and developed by liberal studies. the capacity for good writing apparent at oxford and cambridge rests in no small measure on the classical family horizon in teacher and taught. =kind of training in composition to be given students of journalism= those who turn to journalism naturally care for writing, but in an art to "care" is little and most have never had the personal environment, the training, or the personal command of english to enable them to do more than write a stiff prose with a narrow vocabulary and no sense of style. even those who have some such capacity are hampered by the family heritage already outlined. college writing is in the same condition; but the average college man is not expecting to earn his living by his typewriter. in order to receive a minimum capacity in writing enough to pass, every year of study for journalism must have a writing course and the technical work must run to constant writing. from start to finish there must be patient, individual correction. the use of the typewriter must be made obligatory. rigid discipline must deal with errors in spelling, grammar, the choice of words and phrases. previous college training in composition must in general be revised and made over to secure directness and simplicity. at the end, the utmost that can be gained for nineteen out of twenty is some facility, a little sense of style and diction, and copy that will be above the average of the newspaper and not much above that. examine the writing in the newspapers issued by some schools and the work in schools that do not, and a distressingly large portion is either dull or "smart," the last, worst fault of the two. =effective training in reporting must be given in large urban centers= reporting is the first use to which writing is put and through which the writer is trained. for this, abundant material is indispensable, as much as clinical material for a medical school. as the medical schools gravitate to cities, and the rural institutions flicker out one by one, so in the end the effectively trained reporter will gravitate to a large city. towns of under , population furnish a very tame sort of reporting, and those who get this training in them find reporting is under new conditions in a great metropolis. in such a place the peril is that routine news will take too much of the precious time for training the reporter and the demands of academic hours will interfere with sharing in the best of big stories. =aims in teaching the art of reporting= routine is the curse of the newspaper, and it is at its worst in reporting. in its face the four hard things to get are the combination of the vivid, the accurate, and the informed and the condensed story. equipped newspapers of high standards like the new york _world_ require recourse to reference books, the "morgue," and the files in every story where details can be added to the day's digging in that particular news vein. condensation comes next. the young cub reporter generally shuns both. he hates to look up his subject. he spreads himself like a sitting hen over one egg. both must be required for efficient training. compression it is difficult to enforce in a school where paper bills are small or do not exist and the space pressure of the large daily is absent. a number of dailies of large circulation are cultivating very close handling of news and space for feature and woman stuff with very great profit, and the schools give too little attention to this new phase of the newspaper. in all papers, the old tendency to print anything that came by wire is gone and mere "news" has not the place it once had. in particular, local news was cut down one half in a majority of dailies in cities of , and over from august, , to the close of the war. the small daily in places of less than , and weeklies did not do this, which is one reason why great tracts of the united states were not ready for war when it came. woe to the land whose watchmen sleep! =the teaching of copy-editing= copy-editing is the next task in the training of the coming newspaper man. on the small daily and weekly, there is little of this, but it is practiced on the metropolitan daily. there ten to twelve men are needed, doing nothing else but editing copy. in the office, two or three years are needed to bring a man to this work. no school can teach this unless its men give at least a full day to editing a flood of copy that will fill a to page newspaper. where the work of the students runs day by day on the copy of one of the lesser dailies, editing for that purpose is secured, but not the intensive training needed to handle the copy-desk requirements of newspapers in a city of , , population or more in its urban ring. success in this field is proved when men go direct from the classroom to such a desk. this carries with it tuition in heads for all needs, make-up, and the close editing of special articles, features, and night associated press copy. =a liberal curriculum must be part of training for journalism= newspaper training will always deal also with subjects and needs a course containing a larger proportion of the studies usually taught in college or offered in its curriculum. medicine requires the same chemistry, organic and inorganic, the same physics, and the same elementary biology as our college courses cover; these sciences are more or less like a mother hubbard, no very close fit and concealing more than is revealed. johns hopkins has been able at this point to apply tests, personal and particular, gauging both teacher and taught, more searching than are elsewhere required. the fruits abundantly justify this course, and in time some school of journalism will apply like tests to history,--ancient, medieval, and modern,--political economy, political science, and the modern languages, which are the basis of its work. the practical difficulty is that it is far easier to test the three sciences just mentioned than history, politics, and economics. no one will seriously assert that these are as rigorously taught as chemistry, physics, and biology. the personal equation of the teacher counts for more, it is both easier and more tempting to inject social theories, not yet tested by current facts, than in science. sciolism is less easily detected in courses which deal with the humanitarian held than in science, but it is not less perilous and it is not less possible to apply the same experimental tests as in the scientific laboratory. he is blind, however, who does not see that much advance in the current teaching at any time of history, politics, and economics has had its experimental tests as complete and as convincing as in any laboratory, which certain teachers wholly refuse to accept--sometimes because they are behind the times, sometimes because they are before the times; sometimes they are in no time whatever but the fool time of vain imaginings that somewhere, somewhen, and somehow there is a place where human desires are stronger than the inevitable laws which guide and guard the physics, the chemistry, and the biology of social bodies. =social sciences must be related to life= a notable difference exists between the views of law taught and discussed in a law school and in a school of political science. the medical lectures preserve a sobriety in discussing sundry biological problems not always present in advanced courses of biology. both lecturers, in both instances, are scientific men, both are faithful to the truths of science, but as a distinguished economist, who in his early years had been accused of being an advanced socialist, said, after he had won a comfortable fortune by judicious investments in business, banking, and realty, to a friend of earlier and far-distant years: "my principles remain exactly the same, but, i admit, my point of view has changed." there is not one biology of the medical school, another of the biological laboratory. neither does the body of law differ in a law school or in a school of political science. the principles remain exactly the same. of necessity, however, the point of view has changed and treatment has changed with it. so has responsibility. the subject offers some difficulties. the analogy is not at all points exact. medicine and law have a definite body of doctrine. schools of biology and political science have not, but granting all this, it still remains true that exactly as the law student and the medical student must have what is defined, established, and unmistakable in the world of law and of life, so the student looking to journalism needs and must have what is defined, established, and unmistakable in economics and political science. here, again, no one will pretend that the usual college course in either of these branches is taught with the same determination to keep within the same metes and bounds of recorded, tested, and ascertained facts as is true of courses in physics, chemistry, and biology. the boundary marked is less distinct. the periodic law by which the atomic values of elements are established is more definite than the periodic law under which wealth is distributed through society, though in the end some mendelléeff will record the periodic law of social elements in their composition and action. research is needed and must be free. theory and speculation are as necessary to secure an experiment and observation. the principle is clear, however, that the student who is to make professional use of a topic needs to have a definite and established instruction, not required in one to whom topic is incidental. the medical student or law student who has a new view of economic results or a new theory of the cause and purpose of our judicial and constitutional system as organized to protect the few against the many will work this off in the school of life, and is unaffected in his professional work. the journalist within his first year's work must apply his college economics and political science, and a wrong starting point may have serious consequences to his own career in the end, perhaps to society. fortunately the work of the journalist so brings him in contact with things as they are, that the body of newspaper writers, taken as a whole, represents the stability of society. the convictions and principles created by their daily work tend this way. the labor union has few illusions to the reporter, and it was the editorial writers of the land who carried the gold standard in , when many a publisher was hazy and scary. the causes of crime grow pretty clear to a police reporter, and a few assignments in which a newspaper man sees a riot convinces him of the value of public order, rigidly enforced. none the less, the reporter should start right on these sciences, basic in his calling; in the end, as the medical school has steadied the college teaching of chemistry and biology, so the school of journalism, the school of business, and the school of railroad practice _et al_ will steady economics and political science. but the duty of the college and university remains clear, to be as watchful that the sciences of social action and reaction shall be taught with the same adherence to the established and the same responsibility to their professional use as the sciences of physical, chemical, and biological action and reaction. =especially adapted content in social sciences to meet professional needs= the college studies needed as preparation for journalism call for a special proficiency and content as much as for a professional viewpoint. the journalist makes precisely the same use of his fundamental studies as does the medical student of his. if a future lawyer neglects his chemistry and biology, it is of little moment. he can get up what he needs of a case. a medical student who neglects these studies will find that the best schools bar him. in time the school of journalism will refuse the college passing mark for admission. the newspaper man almost from the start has to use his economics, his political science, and his history. elementary economics is in great measure given to theory, though a change has begun. for the journalist, this course needs to be brought in close contact with the actual economic working of society. the theory may be useful to the man who expects in the end to teach economics. it is of next to no value to the writer on public affairs. of what possible use is it to him to learn the various theoretic explanations of boehm-bawerk's cost and value? the newspaper man needs to see these things and be taught them as bagehot wrote on them and walker and sumner taught them. =general science course of inestimable worth to the journalist= in columbia, this change is already recognized as necessary. so in political science, the actual working of the body politic needs to be taught, and this is too often neglected for explanatory theories and a special interpretation. a single elementary course in chemistry, physics, or biology presupposes two or three more courses which fill out the special opening sketch. newspaper works requires a general account of science, derided by the scientist who is himself satisfied in his own education with a similar sketch in history. these general science courses are being smuggled in as "history of science," or "scientific nomenclature." much can be done in a year with such a three-hour course, if the teaching be in exceptional hands; but adequate treatment requires two years of three hours, one on organic and one on inorganic science. the latter should give a view of anthropology and the former dwell on the application of science in modern industry. =in history attention must be focalized on modern movements= college history courses end thirty to fifty years ago. the journalist needs to know closely the last thirty years, at home and abroad. weeks given to colonial charters in american history are as much waste as to set a law student to a special study of the year books of edward i and ii. college students have to put up with a good deal of this kind of waste. if twelve hours can be assigned to history, three should be on the classical period, three introductory to the modern world, three to european history since , and three hours for american history; at least two of these three hours should go to american history since garfield. =recent progress in all subjects must be summed up for the student of journalism= the writing course should be used to supplement this by articles on both these fields so that a student will learn the sources of history for the last thirty years, its treaties, its elections, its movements, its statutes, its reference works. he will need all this knowledge as soon as he has to write as a correspondent, a feature writer, or an editor, on the important topics of the day. statistics need to supplement economics and advanced courses, two, if possible, should give knowledge and method in the approach to new problems in currency, banking, trusts, and unions. at least one general course in philosophy is needed, and freud is as important for him here as aristotle. the contact of the newspaper man with book reviewing, book advertising, and the selection of fiction and news in supplements and magazines calls for the "survey course in english literature" and a knowledge of the current movement in letters for thirty years back. in science, in politics, in history, in economics, in philosophy, and in letters, it is indispensable that the young newspaper man should be introduced by lecture, and still more by reading, to the speaking figures of his own day on affairs, political life, letters, the theatre, and art. =the journalist must ever be a student of human affairs= these things are indispensable. the man who knows them can learn to write and edit, but the man who can only write and edit and does not know them will speedily run dry in the newspaper, weekly and monthly. news is today standardized. each president, each decade, each great war, the associated press and city press associations cover more completely the current news. presentation, comment, handling special articles, grow each year more important and more in demand. the price of supplement and magazine articles has trebled in the last twenty years. the newspaper grows more and more to be a platform, particularly the sunday newspaper and popular magazine. if a man is to be a figure in the day's conflict and on its wider issues, he needs the special training just outlined, and when this outline is begun, he will find the toil of the years in these fields has but begun. about the safe harbors of journalism where men come and go, dealing with the affairs of and ending the ready market of the day, are the reefs strewn with the wrecks of ready and often "brilliant" writers whose few brief years left them empty and adrift, telling all they meet that no man can long earn a fair income and hold his own through the years in journalism. a school can ameliorate all this by one course which requires much reading of the bible and shakespeare, by furnishing in the school library abundant access to the best current prose and verse of the day which will directly appeal to the young reader, since each decade has its new gods in letters, and by selecting teachers for the professional courses who have shown that they can write at least well enough to be paid by newspapers and magazines for their work. the teacher in writing whose work is not salable is not as likely to teach students how to write so that their work can sell as one who has earned his living by selling his stuff. talcott williams _school of journalism, columbia university_ xxviii business education =evolution of business education= business education of collegiate grade is a very recent development. the world's first commercial college was established at antwerp in , while the forerunner of american institutions of this sort, the wharton school, was founded in . others followed in the nineties, but the general establishment of schools of commerce as parts of colleges and universities, as well as the inclusion of business subjects in the curricula of liberal colleges, took place after . this sudden flowering at the top was preceded by a long evolution quite typical of the development of education in all the branches of learning to which institutions devote time because of their cultural or professional worth. some practical end and not the desire for abstract knowledge prompted early instruction and stimulated business education as well as education in general through various stages of progress. of course all education is a process whereby technical operations and abstract truth developed by many generations are systematized, compressed, and imparted to individuals in a relatively short time. the first stage in the evolution in a given field may be called the _apprentice stage_. just as physicians, lawyers, and in fact practitioners in all the professions and crafts trained their assistants in their establishments for the purpose of making them proficient in their daily work, so did merchants at this stage give apprentice training in commercial branches to their employees. traditional ways of carrying out certain transactions, convenient rules of thumb, and habits of neatness and reliability were passed on in a given establishment. as industry grew and guilds were formed, the training tended to become more standardized and merchants joined in establishing guild schools for their employees. many such schools were conducted in the various crafts, and their modern counterparts are the well-known vocational or trade schools. this _vocational training_ stage was developed by business men for persons not employed as productive craftsmen but rather as workers in business offices which administered production and directly attended to selling and exchange, and for others looking forward to such employment. at this stage there grew up also private schools, usually conducted by teachers especially proficient in particular lines of service. thus inventors of shorthand systems, devisers of systems of penmanship, and authors of methods of bookkeeping and accounting set up schools in these specialties. here we have training outside the business house itself to prepare for participation in business, and the enterprises flourish because there is a demand for the people they train. at this stage rules of thumb are supplanted by systems based on principles, and the way is paved for the _technical school stage_. the training here is practical, but it is broad and based on scientific knowledge. this stage is not reached in all fields of endeavor, for some stop at the first or the second, while on the other hand the existence of a higher stage of education does not preclude the continuation at the same time of agencies carrying on instruction after the mode of the lower stages. with the rise of the factory system and the extension of capitalistic production and industrial integration in the form of "big business," there came a demand in the business world for men widely informed and thoroughly trained. not only did men to meet this demand have to have good foundations of general education, but they needed technical preparation in the specialized field of business itself. business science is not only applied science, but it is secondary or derived from a number of the fundamental sciences. it draws its principles from the physical sciences of physics, chemistry, geology, and biology; it utilizes the engineering applications of these sciences; it derives valuable information from physiology and psychology, and it makes use of the modern languages. borrowing from all the pure sciences and their applied counterparts, it formulates its own regulations so that it may manage the work of the world _economically_, so that it may bring about the production of goods necessary to meet humanity's many, varied, and recurrent wants, and make these commodities available in advantageous times and places with individual title to them established according to existing standards of personal justice and social expediency. the final stage, the _cultural stage_, is reached when the educator determines that the field in question is so much a part of the general civilization or intellectual wealth of the world that it ought to receive some consideration, not only by specialists in the field but also by the student pursuing a well-planned course of a general or non-technical character designed to enable him to appreciate and play some rôle in the world in which he lives. it is because new branches of human endeavor constantly blossom forth into this stage, while more ancient branches wither and no longer bear fruit of contemporary significance, that the very humanities themselves change as well as realities. business as a field of human thought and activity has reached this stage, and educators reckon with it in laying out courses of general elementary, secondary, and collegiate study. no one would contend that educators should in any way cease to offer general or cultural courses, but they should insist that these general courses embrace all of humanity's wealth, including that which modern society contributed, and that they should with each addition reshape their general offerings so that appropriate proportions will be preserved. =definition of business education= before the development of modern highly organized production, business training would have been synonymous with commercial training; that is, training to prepare men to play their parts in the _exchange_ of goods. this would embrace correspondence with customers, the keeping of records of stock, the cost of stock, making out bills, and attending to all financial operations which were associated with marketing and exchange. successful training would imply, of course, the broad foundational grasp of arithmetic, reading, and writing of the mother tongue and of such foreign languages as the nature of the market might require, a grasp of various money values, banking procedure, and other information concerning financial affairs, the means of transportation, freight charges, etc. manual skill had to be developed in penmanship, in the technique of bookkeeping, general office organization, and filing. with the invention of mechanical and labor-saving office devices, facility in operating them was required to supplement skill in penmanship. of course, with the development of the market the complexity of office management increased. in modern times the business man concerns himself not only with the duties of the merchant and exchanger, but also with the organization of industry and economical procedure. the modern business man, entrepreneur or manager, and all those assisting him in the discharge of his duties, perform functions in two directions: first, in the direction of the market in the establishment of price, in the selling of his goods, and in attending to all matters which flow therefrom, and secondly toward the production plant itself; while he employs technicians who know how to perform operations skillfully according to the laws of science, nevertheless he must know how to buy labor and how to organize labor and materials and put them in coördinate working relationship most economically. we can therefore define business _education as education which directly prepares people to discharge the business function: namely, the economical organization of men and materials in production and the most advantageous distribution and exchange of the commodities or service for consumption_. in the modern world it is hard sometimes to draw the line between the field of technology in production and the field of business management in production, but in general the two functions are fairly distinct. the technician is interested in operations of production, while the business manager is interested in their economical organization and in their government with relation to market conditions. the very engineers themselves must be selected, engineered, and paid by the business man. the business manager is interested in keeping the total price of his commodities above his total entrepreneur's cost. the technician is interested in inventing and operating the machinery of production, if and when the business man determines what operations will be profitable. =aims and curricula of business education= the aims of business education are, first and foremost, professional; second, civic; and third, cultural. at no time can the three be separated, but it is possible to devise a curriculum which stresses one or two of the aims. it is also possible to treat a subject so as to emphasize technical and practical skill or to promote philosophical reflection. the professional aim prompted the establishment of the first schools or colleges of commerce, and it is kept to the fore not only in institutions giving courses of study which lead to distinctive degrees in commerce, but also in places which give specialized instruction in particular fields. we shall consider curricula of the following types: _type i._ curriculum designed to give the student training to meet a definite professional requirement established by law. _type ii._ curriculum designed to make a student proficient in a particular narrow field. _type iii._ curriculum leading to a baccalaureate degree in commerce or business, vertical type. _type iv._ curriculum leading to a baccalaureate degree in commerce or business, horizontal type. type i. technical course, designed to prepare students to meet the state requirements for certified public accountants _entrance requirements_ for students matriculating for the whole course as candidates for a diploma of graduate in accountancy--high school graduation, college entrance or a state regents' c.p.a. qualifying certificate. non-matriculated students--mature persons wishing to pursue certain subjects without academic credit. _prescribed_ accounting, theory, practice and problems terms, hours a week-- hours this course covers general accounting for the single proprietor, partnerships and corporations, embracing financing, manufacturing, and selling operations, with agencies and branches, the formation of mergers, syndicates, holding companies, etc.; dissolutions and reorganizations. cost accounting term, hours a week-- hours auditing term, hours a week-- hours public utilities accounting term, hours a week-- hours judicial (fiduciary) accounting term, hours a week-- hours advanced accounting, theory, and problems term, hours a week-- hours commercial law terms, hours a week hours covering general principles of law, contracts, and all forms of special contracts of interest to the business man, especially those related to personal property, risk insurance, credit and real property, and forms of business associations. economics economic principles term, hours a week-- hours economic development of the united states term, hours a week-- hours money and banking term, hours a week-- hours english--written, business english terms, hours a week-- hours oral english--public speaking terms, hour a week-- hours _additional electives_--one course of at least hours in government and enough other elective subjects in technical commercial work or political science to accrue at least a total of hours. the available additional electives in accounting are advanced courses in different special fields such as advanced cost accounting, municipal accounting--general and departmental, systems for particular industries or forms of business, public utilities rate making and regulation, etc. in government the available electives include such subjects as american government and citizenship, american constitutional law, international law, political theory, comparative government, state legislation and administration, municipal administration, etc. in political science, courses in economics and business, such as economic problems, business organization and management, public finance, foreign trade, foreign exchange, insurance, advertising, salesmanship, etc., are available, while general and special courses may be taken in sociology and statistics. courses of study of this sort in a specialized field are offered in colleges usually at night for students who are in active business during the day. with more or less extensive additions in scientific, literary, and linguistic fields they become the curricula leading to baccalaureate degrees as represented by type iii, to follow. large private institutes or schools conducted for profit and also correspondence institutions offer similar courses. other groups of studies in particular fields are: in banking, in transportation or traffic, in sales management, including advertising and salesmanship, and in foreign trade. a group in foreign trade will typify this sort of course of study, which differs from the one in accountancy just given because the make-up will be determined wholly by each institution quite independent of legally established professional standards. type ii. to prepare students for work in a special field, foreign trade principles of economics term, hours a week-- hours economic resources of the u. s. term, hours a week-- hours commercial geography term, hours a week-- hours money and banking term, hours a week-- hours foreign exchange term, hours a week-- hours foreign credit term, hours a week-- hours international law term, hours a week-- hours tariff history of the u. s. term, hours a week-- hours u. s. and foreign customs administrations term, hours a week-- hours export technique term, hours a week-- hours practical steamship operation term, hours a week-- hours marketing and salesmanship general course term, hours a week-- hours special courses as desired on south american markets, mediterranean markets, russian markets, northwest empire markets, etc. foreign languages: practical courses in conversation and correspondence in french, spanish, portuguese, german, russian, etc., according to market in which trade is specialized, at least terms, hours a week-- hours total (in years, with weekly schedule of or hrs.) hours a special course of this sort usually leads to a certificate but not a diploma or degree. obviously the technical aim is very prominent, though civic and cultural benefits of no mean character will of necessity be derived. new groups will be found as new fields of business become important and develop definite, recognizable requirements of a scientific sort. naturally each such specialty goes through the usual evolution and contributes its philosophical distillation or essence to the cultural college course. when we come to the construction of a curriculum leading to a bachelor's degree in business, economics, or commerce, we have the problems of the engineering schools. just how far will specialization be carried, in what sequence will the foundational subjects and the specialties be taken up, and to what extent will other more general subjects not directly contributing to a technical end be admitted? in most institutions of good standards the degree is regarded as representing not only technical proficiency in business but also some acquaintance with science, politics, and letters in general. the question (already an old one in schools of engineering) arises then concerning the best way to arrange the special or distinctively business subjects in relation to the more general. although there are a number of variations, two outstanding types are recognizable. we may devise labels for them: the _vertical_ curriculum, which offers both general and special courses side by side right up through the college course, and the _horizontal_, which requires a completion of the whole or nearly all of the general group during the first two years of college before the special subjects are pursued in the last two. type iii. vertical type of undergraduate curriculum, leading to the degree of b. s. in economics _entrance_: college entrance requirements. _requirement for graduation_: units, of which must be in general business and in liberal subjects, with in specialized fields of business activity, to be taken after the freshman year. a unit here represents successful work for one hour a week for two semesters. therefore the total is equivalent to of the usual collegiate units. _freshman required work_ english composition hours a week-- terms english, history of the language hour a week-- terms english literature hour a week-- terms chemistry--general ) or } hours a week-- terms business law ) physical education hours a week-- terms government--federal and state hours a week-- terms principles of economics hours a week-- terms economic resources hours a week-- terms accounting--general course hours a week-- terms _sophomore required work_ english literature and composition hours a week-- terms physical education hours a week-- terms general history hours a week-- terms _required before end of junior year_ additional political science hours a week-- terms physical education hour a week-- terms _required before graduation_ additional history hours a week-- terms physical education hour a week-- terms a modern language beyond the first year in college hours a week-- terms total required units units elect after the freshman year courses aggregating additional units in fields of i. business law courses, units available ii. commerce and transportation courses, units available iii. economics courses, units available iv. finance and accounting courses, units available v. geography and industry courses, units available vi. insurance courses, units available vii. political science courses, units available viii. sociology courses, units available total required for the degree, units there is a school which grants a degree in commerce for the equivalent of of these units or of the usual college credits, if the student has business experience, and for the equivalent of of these units or of the usual college credits if he has not. the course is essentially like type i and includes no broad liberal requirements in literature, foreign language, and history and on the other hand is not so strictly prescribed as type i. a strictly technical degree may be desirable for such a short course, provided the prescription is severe and includes languages. generally it seems best to reserve degrees for full college courses of four years or more which include a reasonable general requirement in languages and science. this leads us to type iv, or the curriculum which requires the first regular two years of the college course prescribed for one of the liberal degrees and permits business specialization in the last two undergraduate years or these with an additional postgraduate year. one institution requires the first three years as a foundation for a two-year course in business, and one conducts a postgraduate school of business administration leading to the degree of ph.d. in business economics. no doubt postgraduate work will be continued mainly in the research direction, but undergraduate day and continuation courses will be devoted mainly to preparation for business. it is not necessary to illustrate type iv, because the first two years consist simply of the freshman and sophomore work of any sort of liberal college course, classical, scientific, or modern language, while the succeeding years are made up of special work in economics and business of more or less concentrated character. the advantage of the type is obviously administrative. the whole vexing problem of insuring fairly wide cultivation along with opportunities for specialization is conveniently settled by giving general training, most of it remote from business work, for two years, after which the student is considered cultivated enough to withstand the blighting effect of specialization. but there are serious pedagogical objections to this arrangement which make the vertical plan seem preferable. a student coming from one of our constantly improving high schools of commerce is checked for two years and given time to forget all the bookkeeping and other commercial work which he has learned and on which advanced commercial instruction may be built, while he pursues an academic course. it would be far better to continue the modern languages, the mathematics, and natural sciences, along with business courses. furthermore there is much to be done by educators in arranging such parallel sequences of subjects so that advantage may be taken of vocational interest to stimulate broad and deep study of related fundamentals. considerable improvement could be made over type iii, but that type seems better than the one we have styled "horizontal." in all these courses of study we quite properly find both the philosophical and analytical courses, those which are historical and descriptive and those of detailed practical technique; we find economic theory, industrial history, business management, and practical accounting; we find theory of money and banking, history of banking in the united states, and practical banking; we find theory of international exchange, tariff history, and the technique of customs administration. concerning methods of teaching particular subjects we shall speak later. seldom do we find curricula drawn up with the purely civic end in view, though many schools and associations throughout the country are agitating the question of organized training of men for public service. strictly speaking, this kind of training is both professional and civic because it is designed to make men proficient in carrying on the business of the state. in new york city the municipal college conducts courses of this sort for persons in the city service, while private bureaus of municipal research conduct their own courses. so far in america no courses are yet accepted officially for entrance into public service or as the only qualification for advancement in the service. nevertheless, progress is being made in this direction. the curricula offered include courses in government and especially municipal government, public finance and taxation, the practical organization and administration of various departments such as police, charities, public works, the establishment and maintenance of special systems of municipal accounts. but the great civic benefit comes from general courses in business, for the business man who has a real grasp of his work and sees it in the light of general social welfare becomes a good citizen. business education gives some sense of the interdependence of industry, personal ethics, and government. the broadly trained business man realizes that he is in a sense a servant of the community, that his property is wrapped up with the welfare of his fellow men, and that what he has is a trust which society grants to him to be conducted after the manner of a good steward. such training reveals to him the _raison d'être_ of labor legislation, factory laws, the various qualifications of the property right, the necessity for taxation, and the importance of good government to all the citizens of the state both as coöperative agents in production and as consumers. continued and improved business education will elevate the mind of the merchant and the manager so that its horizon is no longer the profit balance but the welfare of all society. the cultural aim of business courses is consciously kept in mind by the makers of curricula for colleges of liberal arts and sciences which permit a rather free choice of electives in the department of economics and business or of political science, according to the departmental organization of the institution. here, of course, we find economics, which bears to practical business much the relation which philosophy bears to active life in general. we find also courses in money and banking, usually offered from the historical and descriptive rather than the technical point of view. recently, however, colleges have included in this field of election practical courses in accountancy and commercial law. the tendency is in the direction of including more and more of the practical and technical courses, although the historical and philosophical courses are retained. nevertheless the cultural value is undiminished, unless one were to maintain that nothing which is exact can be cultural. =methods of teaching= the field of business is so wide and embraces so many subjects that the methods of teaching giving the best results will be varied and used in different combinations with different subjects. those subjects which are practical and largely habit forming, such as stenography, typewriting, bookkeeping, and the manipulation of mechanical and labor-saving office devices, are of course taught by some method of training which will insure quick reaction. in these courses the object is to cultivate habits of manual dexterity and habits of orderliness and neatness. here we find that exposition is reduced to a minimum, lectures are few, recitations do not exist to any great extent, but that practice, st, to secure proper form, and d, to secure speed, is the controlling aim of the method. the teachers show their ingenuity in devising exercises which will give accuracy of form and then develop speed without sacrifice of accuracy. in colleges these courses are reduced to a minimum because they are usually cared for in lower schools, but for students who come directly to the commercial college without them, preparatory courses of this sort are often conducted. among the technical subjects the one which calls for the most practice is, of course, accountancy, first for the single proprietor, next for the partnership, and finally for the corporation. various methods of presenting accountancy have been suggested. very few teachers employ extensive recitation work in this field. it is found most desirable to have periods of at least two hours' duration, so that the teacher can give such exposition and lecture work at the beginning of the period as he may see fit, and the class may then take up practice. in some schools it is customary to have one course in theory, another course in practical accounting, and another course in problems of accounting. however, the tendency seems to be in the direction of making these three aspects of the work mutually helpful, and the course is offered as a course in accounting, theory, practice, and problems. the theory is set forth in a lecture, practice is given with typical situations in mind, and then related problems are taken up for solution. many excellent texts are now appearing and can be used in the customary manner. assignments in these books tend to make unnecessary many long or formal lectures, but there still remains the need for classroom talks and quizzes. as the course progresses, the problems become more and more difficult and complicated, and the final problem work is exceedingly difficult and calls for a considerable power of analysis, clarity of statement, and care in arrangement on the part of the student. a complete course of this sort usually covers two and a half or three years. at the end of the first year of general accountancy, special subjects may be pursued parallel with the general course. the order in which these specialties are introduced is usually cost accounting, auditing systems, judicial or fiduciary accounting, and then other special branches such as brokers' accounts, public utilities accounting, foreign exchange accounting, etc. general accounting is very important both as an instrument for the business man to use and as a training to insure the grasp of general business organization. it is the opinion of the writer that whether a business man expects to become an accountant or not, he should have a thorough and technical grasp of this subject. in these specialties it is necessary to depend upon lectures rather than textbooks, not only because textbooks here are few and other works are not well adapted to teaching use, but also because the subject matter must be kept up to date and in keeping with changing practice. the lecturers should be practical experts in each particular field as well as acceptable teachers. closely related to accountancy is commercial law. commercial law should, of course, be understood by every business man, not because he expects to become a practitioner of law but because he wishes to avoid unnecessary disputes and to shape his course wisely from a legal standpoint in dealing with his employees, his business associates, and his customers. there are various methods of teaching commercial law. the one which has been in vogue thus far has been the textbook method, in which the principles of law of interest to the business man are set forth. lessons are assigned in the book, and recitations are held. the lecture method also is advocated. in some universities which have both law schools and schools of commerce, the commercial students receive lectures in the school of law in such subjects as contracts, agencies, insurance, etc. it seems to the writer that neither of these practices is desirable but that the proper way to teach commercial law to the commercial students is the case method, in which the principles of law of interest to the business man are developed from an examination of actual cases of business litigation. we may very likely look forward to the publication of case books which can be used either alone or in conjunction with textbooks on legal principles. lectures on law to commercial students should be reduced to a minimum, and then they should confine themselves to very broad principles which need no lengthy exposition or to fields in which the students may be expected to have a general grasp but no very detailed knowledge. but such subjects as contracts, agency, bankruptcy, sales, insurance, negotiable instruments, and forms of business association should be taught thoroughly to the student in the classroom through the case method, in which each case is fully discussed by the class and from which discussion legal principles are evolved. it is interesting to note that the states which stand highest in the matter of certified public accountancy licenses are requiring very thorough preparation in law. to meet such requirements a course in law covering at least three semesters, three hours a week, with a case method is certainly necessary. the modern languages taught in schools of commerce should be by the direct method, and always with the vocational end clearly before the student. actual business transactions, such as selling to a foreign customer in the foreign language, correspondence, newspapers, catalogues and other documents of business, should be the supplementary reading and exercise material of the class. facility in conversation and writing should be developed as rapidly as possible, and the grasp of the methodical rules should follow. it would probably be presumptuous to take a strong position here on the question of teaching modern languages, but experience with commercial students has clearly indicated that greatest progress can be made if the language is taught by a conversation or direct method from the very start, and if paradigms and rules of syntax are evolved after some vocabulary has been developed and some facility in speech has been acquired. we may say here, incidentally, that it seems wise to teach the spoken language for a while before taking up the problem of the written language, especially where the foreign language assigns different phonetic values to the printed symbols from those assigned in english. while the various technical subjects offer different problems because of differences in their character, we may say in general that the aim of the school should always be to keep in touch with the actual practice in the business world; to have the lecturer use material which is up to the minute, and, where possible, to give the students the advantage of field work or at least to take them on tours of inspection in the different houses engaged in this or that line of business. the curriculum of any good commercial college or university department of business includes courses in economics, commercial geography, industrial history, business management, and similar subjects. no doubt other chapters of this book discuss methods of teaching these subjects. but it may not be out of place here to indicate that the best approach to the study of economics is through practical business courses in accountancy, commercial law, and practical management. economics is the philosophy of business, and it cannot be understood by one who is unfamiliar with the facts of business. certainly it cannot be related to real business life by the academic student. it would seem, therefore, best to reserve the course in economic theory for the senior year of a business course and precede it with courses in accounting, law, industrial history, and management. then, when it is taught, it should be presented through practical problems from which the general principles may, by induction, be derived. =relations with the business world= it is important that commercial education should not grow academic and remote from the real world of affairs. therefore schools of business should keep in close contact with merchants' associations, chambers of commerce, and such other bodies of business men as may be in the neighborhood of the school. committees from such associations should have either a voice in the conduct of the school, or at least have very strong advisory representation on committees. in france, germany, and in fact most european countries, colleges of commerce were directly established by chambers of commerce and associations of merchants, and the work is to a large extent conducted under their direction. whether the college of commerce in america be a private institution or one supported by the public, it should form some sympathetic contact with the leading business organizations. of course certain business associations have their own technical schools of training. the american bankers' association conducts its own courses, drawing upon various universities for lecturers in some subjects and drawing upon experts in business for other kinds of technical work. so also various corporations have their corporation schools which seek to develop business executives by progressive courses of training for those in the lower ranks. nevertheless, the collegiate institutions offering organized courses in commerce will do well to keep in touch with business men. another way in which such schools and colleges can keep abreast of the times is to employ lecturers who do not make teaching their main business of life but who are expert in certain particular fields. indeed, it is almost impossible to teach certain of the very advanced and specialized courses without employing men of this sort. they are attracted to teaching not by the pay but by the honor of being connected with an institution of learning, and by sincere desire to contribute something to the development of the work in which they are interested. these men, of course, can be scheduled only for a relatively few hours a week, and sometimes they can be had only for evening lectures, but in any event they are very much worth while. obviously the director of studies in the college should give these men all possible assistance of a pedagogical sort, so that their advantages as experts in business will not be offset by deficiencies as teachers. =evening work in commercial courses= this brings us to another consideration which is very important. it seems to the writer that the ideal training for a student who has reached the stage of entrance to college and who wishes to go into business is as follows: he should enroll in the college course which is preparatory for business training and pursue his modern languages, mathematics, english, and the social sciences, and also take up such accounting and technical work as he can have the first two years of his course. then he should enter the world of business itself, be in a business house during the day, and continue his studies at night. it seems very desirable that this parallel progress, in organized theory and instruction, on the one hand, and in actual business with its difficulties which arise almost haphazard, should be carried on. the relationship is very helpful. of course a substitute for this is the coöperative plan, in which the student spends a part of his time in college and a part of the time in a business house. another alternative in institutions which have the three-term year is to put two terms in at college and one term in at business. the calendar arrangement of any institution will suggest variations of this suggested arrangement, the purpose of which will be to insure progressive development in business practice and also in collegiate instruction. =recent developments= it is to be noticed that in the last few years business has become more and more intense. the developments are in two directions. the first direction is saving and efficiency through organization. this tends to keep down cost. the other direction is in the stimulation of the market and in perfecting advertising and selling methods. naturally there have been developments in the recording, accounting, and clerical ends of the business, but scientific management in production on the one hand, and scientific selling on the other, are the two great developments. in both, engineering plays a prominent part and dictates a close correlation of the business and the engineering curricula of a college or university seeking to give most effective training either to the student of business or the student of engineering. on the selling side we are having the further developments which come with the growth of foreign trade. in order to meet the demand for men competent to organize production wisely and from a business viewpoint, more courses will be given in what we may call production management or commercial engineering. furthermore, the sales engineer must be trained. the curriculum of the course of collegiate grade should be made up somewhat as follows: a two years' prescribed course in the general sciences and in general principles of business, followed by a two or three year curriculum in technical business management, on the one hand, including especially accounting, cost accounting, wage systems, employment management, and some branch of engineering on the other hand. the engineering course should be general but thorough. it should not go up into specialized fields of design, but it should include all the fundamental courses of engineering--of mechanical, electrical, and civil engineering. a combination course in engineering and business management is needed also to prepare men for places in banks as investment managers. the banks must advance funds to industrial concerns, and such loans cannot be made wisely save upon the advice of one who is thoroughly acquainted with plant management, equipment, and mechanical operations as well as costs of production and market possibilities. in addition, such a man must be well acquainted with systems of accounting and methods of preparing financial statements. in the field of salesmanship, engineering training is growing in importance. in short, the highly organized state of modern production and the tremendous part played by engineering in modern industry indicate the need for a close coördination of business and engineering education. in conclusion we may say that business education is now at the stage where it has its own technology, is in close touch with other fields of technology, and is making its contribution to the general fund of modern culture. texts and scientific treatises in the field of business are increasing, the pedagogy of the various included subjects is receiving satisfactory attention, and schools of collegiate and university grade are keeping abreast of the demands of the business world for adequate general and specific training in business. frederick b. robinson _college of the city of new york_ bibliography cooley, e. g. _vocational education in europe._ commercial club of chicago, chicago, illinois, . chapters on vocational education in general, commercial schools, and the conclusion. farrington, f. e. _commercial education in germany._ the macmillan company, . herrick, c. a. _meaning and practice of commercial education_, and other works in the macmillan commercial series, . there is an excellent bibliography on the whole subject of commercial education as an appendix to herrick's commercial education. hooper, frederick, and graham, james. _commercial education at home and abroad._ the macmillan company, . there are numerous contributions on particular aspects and general methods and special methods in commercial subjects. the best printed bibliography of these is in the back of herrick's book. a typical work on methods is klein and kahn's _methods in commercial education_. index accountancy. _see_ business education adapting course of study, - , , , , adler, felix, , Æsthetic aim, in teaching, , ; in music, aims, in teaching, - ; modified for different students, ; in organization of knowledge, ; in teaching biology, - ; in teaching mathematics, ; in physical education, - ; in teaching economics, - ; in teaching american history, ; in teaching political science, - ; in teaching philosophy, ; in teaching ethics, - ; in teaching psychology, ; in teaching english literature, - , - ; in teaching classics, ; in teaching romance languages, - ; in teaching music, - , ; of art instruction, ; in teaching engineering subjects, - ; in teaching mechanical drawing, - ; in business education, . _see_ civic, disciplinary, utilitarian allen, j. t., angell, j. b., application of knowledge, art, - art instruction, athletics. _see_ physical education author's life, in literary study, biological basis of education, - , , biology, - brown, e. e., brown university, business education, - butler, n. m., , calkins, mary w., canby, h. s., case method, in political science, ; in philosophy, ; in ethics, ; in psychology, - ; in commercial law, - cattell, j. m., chemistry, - chronological viewpoint in history, citizenship, training for, civic aim in economics, classics, - ; in colonial colleges, - ; status in college teaching, ; through the vernacular, ; through ancient authors, coeducation, - college teaching, why ineffective, - collegiate institute, colonial period, columbia university, , commercial education. _see_ business education commercial law, - committee on standards of american universities, comparisons in teaching, composition and journalism, composition teaching, status of, . _see_ english correlation, , , - , , - , course of study, , - , - ; in biology, - ; logical and psychological, ; in chemistry, ; in physics, - , - ; in geology, - , ; in hygiene and physical training, ; in economics, ; in sociology, - ; determined by community, ; in american history, - ; in european history, - ; in political science, - ; in philosophy, - ; in education, ; in english literature, ; in classics, ; in romance languages, - ; in german, - ; in engineering, - ; in mechanical drawing, - ; in business education, - cultural aim, , , , - dartmouth college case and college development, - democracy, descriptive geometry, design in engineering, development method, , - _see_ recitation dewey, j., - dexter, e. g., , differentiated courses, - direct method, disciplinary aim, - ; in physics, - ; in geology, - ; in history, ; in psychology, ; in education, ; in literature, - ; in romance languages, ; in music, - draper, a. s., duggan, s. p., economic viewpoint in history, economics, , - education as college subject, - educational and instructional aim, - elective system, - elementary language courses as college courses, eliot, charles w., emotional reaction in literature, engineering subjects, - english, teaching of, , - , - . _see_ composition, literature equipment for art instruction, ethics, - evening session for business education, examination, . _see_ tests experimental work in psychology, . _see_ laboratory method expressional limitations of college students, field work, , , finance, teaching of. _see_ business education flexner, a., , foster, w. t., functional aspect in teaching, geology, - german, - german influence on american college, gradation of subject matter, , graduate schools, - graves, habits, , . _see_ aims, disciplinary aim handschin, c. h., harper, w. r., hart, harvard, health instruction, . _see_ physical education heuristic method. _see_ development method, recitation high school preparation, in physical education, ; in music, , history, of american college, ; of college mathematics, ; of sociology, ; of music as college subject, ; of teaching of journalism, - ; of business education in the college, - holliday, c., horne, h. h., , illustrations, immigration and status of english teaching, . informal aim in teaching, informal examination, introductory course, in ethics, ; in political science, , ; in philosophy, , ; in psychology, ; in mechanical drawing, - jefferson and founding of american college, johns hopkins university, journalism as college subject, , - junior college, - king's college, kingsley, c. d., laboratory method, , ; in chemistry, , ; in biology, ; in physics, ; in geology, ; in psychology, ; in engineering, language as index of mentality, law, ; commercial, - lecture method, ; in chemistry, - ; in physics, , ; in mathematics, ; in economics, , - ; in sociology, ; in history, , ; in philosophy, - ; in psychology, - ; in classics, - ; in engineering, - ; in commercial education, - length of periods in accountancy, literary analysis, literary appreciation, . _see_ aims, cultural, Æsthetic literary style, literature and the classics, - , . _see_ english logical association, - maclean, g. e., mathematics, , - mechanical drawing, - medicine, mental development and acquisition of language, methods of teaching conditioned by aims, . _see_ aims mezes, s. f., modern languages, when introduced, ; in business education, modern literature and the classics, monroe, p., morrill act, motivation in teaching, - municipal research, . _see_ laboratory method, sociology, political science music in secondary schools, natural method in classics, , - newspaper english, - non-sectarianism in american colleges, notebook of students, oberlin and coeducation, oral composition in german, oral reading and english literature, ordinance of , organization of subject matter, - outlines in biology, parker, s. c., pennsylvania university, philosophy, , - , , , - physical education, , - physics, - pitkin, w. b., - place in curriculum, of political science, ; of ethics, ; of psychology, , ; of history of education, ; of educational theory, ; of german, ; of art education, point of contact in teaching, - political science, - preparatory training, in chemistry, ; in physics, ; in mathematics, , - ; in physical education, ; in german, ; for journalism, problem method, in economics, , - ; in sociology, - professional preparation, for women, ; through political science, prose composition and the classics, psychology, , - , public service, training for, quiz, how to conduct, recitation, , , - , - reduction of college course, reference reading, , , , relating course to students, , ; in chemistry, ; in sociology, ; in philosophy, ; in ethics, - , - ; in psychology, ; in music, ; in business education, . _see_ adapting course of study relative importance in organization of knowledge, religious character of american college, - , reporting, teaching art of, research, . _see_ reference reading, problem method, seminar research scholars as teachers, - , , , robinson, m. l., romance languages, - scholarship as preparation for teaching, science, teaching of, - ; place of, in journalism course, scientific methods, in political science, ; in psychology, scope of course in educational theory, self-activity, self-government, seminar, senior college, - sequence of courses in political science, skill to be developed in biology, smith, f. w., snow, l. f., social museum, the, social sciences, place in journalism course, sociology, - socratic method. _see_ recitation, development method stanley, a. a., student army training corps, summaries in teaching, teacher, as scholar, . _see_ research, teacher training teacher training, , , - , - , , - technical subjects in college curriculum, , - , , - technique, as aim in teaching, testing results of instruction, ; in economics, ; in history, , ; in psychology, ; in music, ; in art, - ; in engineering subjects, - textbook, in geology, ; in mathematics, ; in economics, , - ; in sociology, ; in history, ; in ethics, theology, in separate school, thoroughness, - , thwing, c. f., time to be given to subjects, , . _see_ place in curriculum topical method in history, types of instruction, - undergraduate and graduate teaching, unified courses, , utilitarian aim, ; of physics, ; of geology, ; of political science, ; of psychology, ; of history of education, values, . _see_ aims vernacular, in teaching 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($ . .) world book company yonkers-on-hudson, new york prairie avenue, chicago transcriber's notes: passages in italics indicated by underscore _italics_. sidenotes indicated by =sidenote=. the note between footnotes and refers to footnotes - . the original text's usage of the greek letter sigma in a formula has been trancribed in this text as "s". misprints corrected: missing "by" added (table of contents) "asisstant" corrected to "assistant" (table of contents) "is is" corrected to "is" (page ) missing "to" added to sidenote (page ) "scupltors" corrected to "sculptors" (page ) "coöperaton" corrected to "coöperation" (page ) missing hyphens added as necessary additional spacing after some of the quotations is intentional to indicate both the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as presented in the original text. [ transcriber's note: every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible; some minor changes have been made to correct typographical errors, and some inconsistent spelling. ] university education in ireland. by the rev. samuel haughton, m.d, f.r.s., fellow of trinity college, dublin. london: williams & norgate. dublin: mcglashan & gill. . _price one shilling._ dublin: printed at the university press, by m. h. gill. university education in ireland. introduction. the political condition of ireland is, at present, grave; and, in the event of a war with the united states, would become menacing, to england. irish politicians assert--and it is partly admitted by their opponents--that, in the existing state of ireland, three questions demand an immediate solution: these questions are, the land question, the church question, and the education question. the tenant farmers of ireland wish for fixity of tenure, and care but little for compensation for improvements, except as a means of obtaining a practical fixity of tenure; and they would, unquestionably, rejoice to see transferred to themselves, as occupiers of the soil, the rights now enjoyed by absentee noblemen and landlords. it is the opinion of many that the land question cannot be settled without such a change of owners as would practically amount to a revolution. with respect to the question of the church, the more intelligent laymen of the irish national party openly avow their wish to alienate the property of the church, on the ground that its existence forms a barrier to the union of irish protestants with the catholic majority in the formation of a truly national irish party. it is asserted, and apparently not without reason, that if the irish protestants felt themselves cast off by england, and their church endowments confiscated, they might become more willing to join their countrymen in an anti-english policy, which the rude breath of war might some day fan into a demand for an irish republic, under the guarantee of france and america. it is for english politicians to decide how far the advantages of religious equality would compensate for the risk of national disloyalty. the questions of the land and church in ireland will, doubtless, be fully discussed in the house of commons by persons acquainted with those questions, and competent to do them justice; but it may be fairly doubted whether the question of education in ireland will be examined with as full a knowledge as will be brought to bear on the other questions. the following lines are written in the hope of adding a contribution of facts towards the discussion of one branch of the education question--that which relates to university education in ireland. my apology for writing on this question is, that i have been a fellow of trinity college for nearly a quarter of a century, during which time i have taken an active part in the educational reforms which have placed the graduates of trinity college foremost in all the competitions for the public services of india, of the army, and of the colonies. i am also entitled to be heard as a clerical fellow of trinity college, holding in trust for his brother protestants the precious gift of education based on pure religion, handed down to us by our forefathers, in defence of which all true protestants are prepared, if necessary, to sacrifice their lives. two proposals were discussed, and a third was incidentally alluded to, in the summer of , in the house of commons, respecting university education in ireland; one of these proposals involves a betrayal of the religious base on which the protestant college of elizabeth was founded; and another involves a surrender for ever of the high literary and scientific standard of dublin university, and a permanent lowering of high class education in ireland. against the one i feel bound to protest, as an earnest protestant, and against the other as an advocate for the advancement of science and letters. the proposals made in parliament respecting university education are all founded on the generally admitted fact that roman catholics in ireland have not got the same facilities for university education as the protestants of that country, and that it is expedient at once to redress this grievance. in order to do so, it has been proposed to do one or other of three things:-- i. to secularize trinity college, by throwing open its fellowships and scholarships to all students, irrespective of religious qualification. ii. to open the university of dublin to other colleges than trinity college, thus transforming the university of dublin into a national irish university, on the model of the university of france. iii. to grant a charter and endowment to a roman catholic university, in which the education given shall be based on religion, as in trinity college at present. i shall endeavour to state briefly the objections which seem to me to be so fatal to either of the first two proposals, as to leave us no alternative but to accept the third horn of the educational dilemma:-- i. secularization of trinity college. trinity college was founded in dublin by queen elizabeth, in , as a protestant university, and for the purpose of giving to irish protestants a university education, based on the doctrines and discipline of the reformed church of england. this infant university was fostered by the guiding hand of the great lord burghley, its interests were defended by the ill-fated essex, and its statutes were drafted by the highly gifted bishop bedell. trinity college has been well described by her enemies as a "handful of protestant clergymen;" because her fellows, with the exception of three, were required to take holy orders in the english church; and at the present moment five only of her thirty-two fellowships are permitted by statute to be held by laymen. trinity college is now nearly three centuries in existence, and may be regarded as the only english institution that ever succeeded in ireland. the sons of the alma mater founded by elizabeth may be excused if they point with pride to the names of ussher, king, and magee, among her theologians; to berkeley, brinkley, and hamilton, among her thinkers and mathematicians; and to swift, goldsmith, burke, and plunket, amongst those whom she has given to literature, oratory, and politics, whose names shall live so long as religion, science, and letters attract the respect and claim the study of educated englishmen. trinity college has never been, and never was intended to be, a national institution; her emoluments, her fellowships and scholarships, are the property of the irish members of the english church; and the proposal to throw them open to the competition of roman catholics and dissenters is a proposal for the confiscation, so far, of the property of irish protestants. trinity college has well and faithfully discharged the part she was required to fill; she has maintained the pure doctrine of the english church against all opponents; she has reared her students as faithful children of that church; she has given them an education that enables them to compete successfully with all rivals in the walks of literature and science; and it cannot be fairly alleged against her as a fault that she has not provided for the educational wants of irish catholics; she was never intended to do so. the lovers of the gorgeous rose need not blush because she wants the colour and grace of the beautiful lily; and i may well be pardoned for believing that no brighter or fairer flower blooms in the garden of the west, than the tudor rose planted in dublin by the proud elizabeth. in order to estimate rightly the effects of the secularization of trinity college, both upon the protestants and the roman catholics of ireland, it will be necessary to give a numerical view of the relative proportions of the different religions and professions among the students of that college. taking an average of the past ten years, there are students on the books of trinity college. of these students, are in daily attendance upon lectures, and may be classified as follows:-- . divinity students, . medical students, . law students, . engineering students, . civil service of india, . non-professional students, ---- total, in order to find the proportion of roman catholics,[ ] i have taken, at random, five years from to , during which students entered trinity college, of whom were roman catholics, and were protestant dissenters and jews. we may, therefore, assume that the students are distributed as follows:-- . english church, . roman catholic church, . protestant dissenters, ---- total, the preceding figures give an average of six per cent. of roman catholic students in trinity college, and in no department of the college do they exceed ten per cent. thus, in the medical school, in which there is a larger proportion than in other professional schools, during the four years ending , out of students matriculated in medicine, exactly thirty were roman catholics, and three were jews. let us now examine briefly the effect of secularizing trinity college upon the protestant and roman catholic students respectively. it cannot be believed by any one, that the passing of an act of parliament secularizing trinity college would alter in the slightest degree the sentiments and wishes of the students of the english church, or those of the parents and guardians who placed them in trinity college, knowing and expecting that they would there receive, not only a liberal education, but instruction and training in the principles of the church of england. those young and intelligent students would still demand an education based upon religion; a demand which would be promptly answered by the clerical fellows of the college; and it cannot be doubted that, if they were well led by earnest and competent teachers, they would found a second trinity college within the walls, which would perpetuate the principles of the college founded by elizabeth. such a movement the parliament would find itself unable to control; for the portion of the funds of trinity college that is now expended on the education of the clergy would be allowed, in common justice, to be allocated in future to the same object; and the clerical professors and fellows would gather round them the germ of the trinity college of the future, faithful to the traditions of the past, and perchance surpassing the reputation of the old college for learning. from what i know of the earnest spirit of irish protestants, and of their determination to secure for their children an education founded on the pure word of god, i believe that the clerical tutors of the college would at once transfer to themselves the great majority of the protestant students of trinity college. some or students might prefer to receive the instruction, and reward the care, of such lay fellows as might find their way into the secularized corporation, and thus a permanent domestic schism would become established between the clerical and lay elements of the college, which are now happily at peace. whatever might be the future of the college, it is certain that, at the outset, the secular fellows of the college would have to undergo the rivalry of a trained band of protestant teachers, supported by sympathizing students, both smarting under an angry sense of wrong and injustice. let us now inquire how the secularization of trinity college would please the roman catholic party in ireland. the roman catholic clergy warn their flocks against trinity college as a protestant institution, necessarily dangerous to the principles of catholic students; and, in thus warning them, they are practically wise, for it is simply impossible for seventy catholics to associate with protestants, as equals and fellow students, without renouncing, more or less, the narrow views respecting protestants that prevail among the higher circles of their hierarchy. trinity college, however, although considered dangerous, has never been placed by the roman catholic clergy in the same category as the queen's colleges, which are essentially secularized institutions, without a recognized religion, and "godless:" as such they are absolutely condemned by the hierarchy, and faithful catholics are prohibited from entering their walls. the practical effect of secularizing trinity college, if the experiment were successful, would be to convert it into a fourth queen's college, and it would thus become one of a class of educational institutions which the church of rome has always, and consistently, forbidden her children to enter. it is hard to see how such a plan as this can be rationally advocated, on the ground that it would satisfy the just demands of the catholics of ireland. so far, therefore, as irish roman catholics are concerned, the secularization of trinity college would be to them a loss, and not a gain; for it would transfer education in this college from the list of dangerous to that of prohibited enjoyments. i need scarcely add how mean and vindictive would be the spirit that would secularize trinity college, in order to injure the irish protestants, without any corresponding benefit to the irish catholics. i believe, therefore, that it would be impolitic for the english parliament to secularize trinity college, for the following reasons:-- . it would irritate the irish protestants to deprive them of a college founded on the principles of their church, which has done its duty, and has possessed their confidence for three centuries. . it would not satisfy the just demand of the irish catholics for university education, merely to admit them to the fellowships and scholarships of a secularized college, the principle of which they must feel bound to condemn. ii. national university of ireland. the second plan that has been suggested for solving the university question in ireland, in one form or other, amounts to a proposal to throw open the university of dublin, or the queen's university in ireland, or both, so as to embrace in one university a number of colleges, each retaining its own system of religious training and discipline, and its own endowments, and sending up its students to pass the examinations of the central university, whose functions would be reduced to those of an examining board. i readily admit that this proposal is free from one of the objections i have urged against the proposal to solve the university problem by secularizing trinity college, and that it leaves both protestants and catholics free to train their sons in the religious faith and traditions of their forefathers. this advantage, although great, would, however, in my opinion, be purchased at the cost of degrading for ever the standard of university education in ireland. if this objection can be established, it ought to have peculiar weight in considering the question of irish university education. england differs essentially from ireland, in affording to her young men countless openings in every walk of life, with or without the benefits of university education, which in england may be regarded as a luxury enjoyed by the rich; whereas in ireland an university education is frequently a necessity imposed upon the sons of the less wealthy middle classes. the openings in life for young men of this class in ireland are so very limited, that they must either emigrate, or rely on their talents and education, in pushing their way in the learned professions in england and the colonies. hence it follows, that any lowering of the standard of university education in ireland would be followed by peculiarly disastrous effects. at the present moment, trinity college may be regarded as a manufactory for turning out the highest class of competitors for success in the church, at the english bar, in the civil service of india, and in the scientific and medical services of the army and navy; and any legislation which would produce the effect of lowering the present high standard of her degrees, would tend to destroy the prospects of the educated classes in ireland, and become to those classes little short of a national calamity. in order to establish my objection, it is necessary to call to our recollection the ancient and true notion of an university. with the exception of oxford and cambridge, there is no example of an ancient university in europe composed of a collection of free colleges, united by the common bond of an university, of which all are members, and which conducts the examinations for degrees. all other ancient universities resemble the university of trinity college in dublin, in consisting of a single college possessing, either from the pope or from the crown, the university privilege of granting degrees. in modern times, no nation but france has seen fit to depart from this ancient form of university education; and in that country centralization is so popular and so complete, that the university of france, with its affiliated colleges, has met with a success very certain not to follow a similar experiment in ireland. all the colleges in france are moulded upon the same type, from which no deviation is permitted; and all are under state control, which in france restrains freedom of education by the same trammels as freedom of speech, or liberty of the press. the minister of public instruction can boast that when the clock strikes his telegraphed order sets in motion the tongues of his professors in paris, in strasburgh, in lyons, and that the same lectures, in almost the same words, are delivered within the same hour to all the educated youth of france. this drilling of the intellect by the sergeants of the emperor pleases for the present the fancy of the french; it would infallibly fail in ireland. the condition essential to success in uniting several colleges into a common university is sameness of type in the education given, and sameness of discipline in the various colleges. this condition is attained in france by the centralizing and irresistible power of the state; in oxford and in cambridge it has grown up spontaneously, and has partially succeeded; in oxford, however, as in cambridge, the multiplicity of colleges and of rival, though similar interests, has produced feebleness in the government of the central authority, which is a fault little complained of in the university of france. i shall presently inquire whether the colleges of ireland present that similarity of type which is essential to the success of the experiment of fusing them all into a common university; but in the meantime, admitting, for the sake of argument, that the experiment would succeed, it is worth while to ask whether it would be an advantage to the country. in france we see the perfection of centralization and identity in the lyceums and colleges of the entire country; in germany, on the contrary, we witness the full development of the ancient collegiate idea of the university; twenty-seven distinct and independent university centres of education exist among forty millions of germans, each university differing from the other, and each possessing its peculiar type of excellence, to attract its students. i believe that all who are acquainted with the present condition of science and letters in the two countries will be disposed to agree in thinking that the intellect of france is cramped by the imperial cradle in which it is reared, while the genius of germany is fostered by the freedom of thought, stimulated by such excellent, though diverse centres of development, as vienna, munich, heidelberg, bonn, or berlin. university education in france pleases the doctrinaire, just as parterres of flowers of similar hue please the eyes of the gardener; while the universities of germany delight the thinker, as the graceful forms and varied colours of the flowers of some tropical forest please the traveller, whose instinctive taste prefers the charms and grace of nature to the symmetry and rules of art. the experiment of the union of different colleges in a common university has succeeded in france, in oxford, and in cambridge, in consequence of the similarity of the colleges united together; but such an experiment attempted in ireland would fail, as certainly as an attempt to unite oxford and cambridge into one university would fail. we possess in ireland three distinct types of collegiate education, of which may be cited as examples--trinity college, in dublin; the roman catholic college of carlow, and queen's college, in belfast. these colleges represent, respectively, the religious protestant type, the roman catholic type, and the secular or mixed type, of collegiate discipline and training. any person of education acquainted with ireland knows the impossibility of fusing such distinct elements in a common crucible; and yet each system, in its way, is excellent, and will produce good fruits, if left to develope itself, and not forced upon those who conscientiously dissent from its fundamental principles. let us suppose, however, the experiment tried by persons only partially acquainted with education, and with the condition of ireland--and by such only could it be attempted--then it is easy to see that success could be obtained only at the expense of lowering the standard of education. it is plain that one or other of two things would happen: either the university senate would be composed of persons altogether independent of the colleges, and appointed by the state, or it would consist, as in oxford and cambridge, of heads of colleges and persons representing their varied interests. in the first case supposed we should witness the painful and degrading spectacle of irish colleges submitted to the rule of state-appointed, perhaps, state-paid governors, who, under the name of an university senate, would prescribe the curriculum for degrees, appoint examiners, and confer the titles awarded by those examiners. it is not possible to suppose that a senate appointed by an authority outside the colleges, and consisting of persons removed from the details of university education, would be competent to decide the weighty and important questions that must come before them; in fact, a senate constituted as i have supposed, in discussing questions of education, would be about as likely to come to a wise decision as a collection of shoemakers speculating on the structure of a watch, and making proposals for its improvement, who will certainly destroy the delicate machinery they are unable to understand, unless they have the sagacity to call in the watchmakers to their aid. it might be imagined that the standard of education could be maintained by such a system, on the hypothesis that a state-nominated senate would always appoint competent examiners; but in such a case those examiners would themselves become the university, and would regulate the value of the degrees conferred by it, and the country could have no guarantee that the standard of education would continue to be maintained; for this would be to suppose, on the part of successive governments, a purity in their appointment of senators which no rational man expects will ever be found outside the boundaries of the kingdom of laputa. if the senate of the national university were composed of state officials, they would feel themselves bound to maintain the interests of all the colleges committed to their care, and it would be impossible to maintain the standard of degrees at a point higher than the attainments of the weakest college in the partnership, whose defective standard would regulate that of the university degree, just as the sailing of the slowest tub in the squadron regulates the manoeuvres of the entire fleet. if, on the other hand, the senate of the national irish university should be composed, after the model of oxford and cambridge, of the heads and representatives of the various irish colleges, although liberty of education might be preserved, the standard of the degrees would become degraded by the simple operation of a natural law easy to explain. the heads of the irish colleges, united into a "happy family" university by the hands of a paternal government, would either struggle with each other for supremacy, or enter into a compromise for peace sake, on some such plan as the following:-- after a few preliminary skirmishes, to try each other's skill, in arranging a common curriculum in morals or history, it would be found that profound and irreconcileable differences existed among the colleges on the most elementary principles, and that it would be impossible for the heads of trinity college, of st. patrick's college of maynooth, of queen's college of belfast, and of other institutions, to agree upon a common curriculum of education, or even of examination for degrees, that would satisfy the reasonable and conscientious scruples of all parties. under these circumstances, a sort of bargain would be made between the heads of the various colleges, who would agree to take each other's certificates without challenge, and confer the degrees recommended by each independently of the others. the university and its senate would thus become simply a machinery for authorizing the students of the various colleges to add certain letters, such as m. a., or ll. b., after their names; and it would become the interest of all the colleges in which a really good education was given, that such letters should have a formal significance only; the education itself, testified by the addition of the name of the college, having alone a real market value readily appreciated by the public. each college of reputation would be careful to have its own name inserted after the letters signifying the university degree, and thus would be practically created as many universities as there are colleges in ireland, and a disastrous competition downwards would be the inevitable result. the degrees of the so-called national university would be like the bills of a weak firm--dishonoured by the public unless endorsed by the name of a solvent trader--and the letters m. a., or ll. b., would become like the praises on a bad man's gravestone, purchaseable at so much a letter. i believe, therefore, that i am entitled to protest against the scheme of forming a national university by fusing together the different colleges in ireland, on the following grounds:-- . because such a scheme for a national university would prove to be a failure, on account of the want of similarity in the colleges composing the university. . because such a scheme would, in the long run, infallibly lower the standard and degrade the character of irish university degrees; a result that would prove peculiarly disastrous to the educated classes in ireland. iii. roman catholic university of ireland. having disposed of the first two schemes for satisfying the demand of the irish catholics for university education, and shown one to be impolitic, and the other to be injurious, it might naturally be expected that i should now proceed to advocate the advantages of the remaining plan, which consists in a charter and endowment for a roman catholic university in ireland, in which the irish catholics and their clergy should be allowed to arrange their own programme of university education without the interference of irish protestants, or of english doctrinaires; but this course i feel to be unnecessary, as it mainly concerns roman catholics themselves to state their wishes and explain their views respecting it. protestant interference in such a question is as irritating and as useless as would be the interference of a mutual friend in a quarrel between a man and his wife. english politicians, in the matter of university education for the irish catholics, have hitherto imitated the doctrine laid down by mr. bumble--that "the great principle of out-of-door relief is, to give the paupers exactly what they don't want; and then they get tired of coming." twenty-seven out of twenty-nine of the irish catholic bishops ask for a catholic university charter and endowment, and are supported in this claim by an overwhelming majority of their flocks. the irish catholics asked the english parliament for bread, and they gave them a stone: instead of a chartered university, with a fair endowment and perfect freedom of education, they received queen's colleges, which were condemned as godless, and which they were prohibited by their church from using. let the parliament of england for once try an experiment which will meet with the approval of irishmen of all classes, and give to ireland a third university, in which the highest and best type of catholic education shall be developed freely. protestantism cannot suffer by the contrast, and education must certainly benefit. if germans can proudly boast of their twenty-seven universities--if italians can point to twenty-one universities, awaking from their slumbers at the call of liberty--if little belgium can support her four universities, all active, and required by the wants of her people--surely it cannot be too much for the irish people, divided as they unhappily are by distinctions of religion and bitter recollections of ancient feuds, to ask that the protestant university of elizabeth, and the secular university of victoria, shall be supplemented by a catholic university, possessing the confidence of irish catholics, and sharing with her friendly rivals, no longer jealous sisters, the glorious task of leading the youth of ireland into the pleasant paths of literature and science. the milk-white lily is not less beautiful than the crimson rose; let them flourish side by side in the garden of ireland. footnotes: : roman catholics were first admitted into trinity college by an act passed by the irish parliament in . none daddy-long-legs by jean webster copyright by the century company to you blue wednesday the first wednesday in every month was a perfectly awful day--a day to be awaited with dread, endured with courage and forgotten with haste. every floor must be spotless, every chair dustless, and every bed without a wrinkle. ninety-seven squirming little orphans must be scrubbed and combed and buttoned into freshly starched ginghams; and all ninety-seven reminded of their manners, and told to say, 'yes, sir,' 'no, sir,' whenever a trustee spoke. it was a distressing time; and poor jerusha abbott, being the oldest orphan, had to bear the brunt of it. but this particular first wednesday, like its predecessors, finally dragged itself to a close. jerusha escaped from the pantry where she had been making sandwiches for the asylum's guests, and turned upstairs to accomplish her regular work. her special care was room f, where eleven little tots, from four to seven, occupied eleven little cots set in a row. jerusha assembled her charges, straightened their rumpled frocks, wiped their noses, and started them in an orderly and willing line towards the dining-room to engage themselves for a blessed half hour with bread and milk and prune pudding. then she dropped down on the window seat and leaned throbbing temples against the cool glass. she had been on her feet since five that morning, doing everybody's bidding, scolded and hurried by a nervous matron. mrs. lippett, behind the scenes, did not always maintain that calm and pompous dignity with which she faced an audience of trustees and lady visitors. jerusha gazed out across a broad stretch of frozen lawn, beyond the tall iron paling that marked the confines of the asylum, down undulating ridges sprinkled with country estates, to the spires of the village rising from the midst of bare trees. the day was ended--quite successfully, so far as she knew. the trustees and the visiting committee had made their rounds, and read their reports, and drunk their tea, and now were hurrying home to their own cheerful firesides, to forget their bothersome little charges for another month. jerusha leaned forward watching with curiosity--and a touch of wistfulness--the stream of carriages and automobiles that rolled out of the asylum gates. in imagination she followed first one equipage, then another, to the big houses dotted along the hillside. she pictured herself in a fur coat and a velvet hat trimmed with feathers leaning back in the seat and nonchalantly murmuring 'home' to the driver. but on the door-sill of her home the picture grew blurred. jerusha had an imagination--an imagination, mrs. lippett told her, that would get her into trouble if she didn't take care--but keen as it was, it could not carry her beyond the front porch of the houses she would enter. poor, eager, adventurous little jerusha, in all her seventeen years, had never stepped inside an ordinary house; she could not picture the daily routine of those other human beings who carried on their lives undiscommoded by orphans. je-ru-sha ab-bott you are wan-ted in the of-fice, and i think you'd better hurry up! tommy dillon, who had joined the choir, came singing up the stairs and down the corridor, his chant growing louder as he approached room f. jerusha wrenched herself from the window and refaced the troubles of life. 'who wants me?' she cut into tommy's chant with a note of sharp anxiety. mrs. lippett in the office, and i think she's mad. ah-a-men! tommy piously intoned, but his accent was not entirely malicious. even the most hardened little orphan felt sympathy for an erring sister who was summoned to the office to face an annoyed matron; and tommy liked jerusha even if she did sometimes jerk him by the arm and nearly scrub his nose off. jerusha went without comment, but with two parallel lines on her brow. what could have gone wrong, she wondered. were the sandwiches not thin enough? were there shells in the nut cakes? had a lady visitor seen the hole in susie hawthorn's stocking? had--o horrors!--one of the cherubic little babes in her own room f 'sauced' a trustee? the long lower hall had not been lighted, and as she came downstairs, a last trustee stood, on the point of departure, in the open door that led to the porte-cochere. jerusha caught only a fleeting impression of the man--and the impression consisted entirely of tallness. he was waving his arm towards an automobile waiting in the curved drive. as it sprang into motion and approached, head on for an instant, the glaring headlights threw his shadow sharply against the wall inside. the shadow pictured grotesquely elongated legs and arms that ran along the floor and up the wall of the corridor. it looked, for all the world, like a huge, wavering daddy-long-legs. jerusha's anxious frown gave place to quick laughter. she was by nature a sunny soul, and had always snatched the tiniest excuse to be amused. if one could derive any sort of entertainment out of the oppressive fact of a trustee, it was something unexpected to the good. she advanced to the office quite cheered by the tiny episode, and presented a smiling face to mrs. lippett. to her surprise the matron was also, if not exactly smiling, at least appreciably affable; she wore an expression almost as pleasant as the one she donned for visitors. 'sit down, jerusha, i have something to say to you.' jerusha dropped into the nearest chair and waited with a touch of breathlessness. an automobile flashed past the window; mrs. lippett glanced after it. 'did you notice the gentleman who has just gone?' 'i saw his back.' 'he is one of our most affluential trustees, and has given large sums of money towards the asylum's support. i am not at liberty to mention his name; he expressly stipulated that he was to remain unknown.' jerusha's eyes widened slightly; she was not accustomed to being summoned to the office to discuss the eccentricities of trustees with the matron. 'this gentleman has taken an interest in several of our boys. you remember charles benton and henry freize? they were both sent through college by mr.--er--this trustee, and both have repaid with hard work and success the money that was so generously expended. other payment the gentleman does not wish. heretofore his philanthropies have been directed solely towards the boys; i have never been able to interest him in the slightest degree in any of the girls in the institution, no matter how deserving. he does not, i may tell you, care for girls.' 'no, ma'am,' jerusha murmured, since some reply seemed to be expected at this point. 'to-day at the regular meeting, the question of your future was brought up.' mrs. lippett allowed a moment of silence to fall, then resumed in a slow, placid manner extremely trying to her hearer's suddenly tightened nerves. 'usually, as you know, the children are not kept after they are sixteen, but an exception was made in your case. you had finished our school at fourteen, and having done so well in your studies--not always, i must say, in your conduct--it was determined to let you go on in the village high school. now you are finishing that, and of course the asylum cannot be responsible any longer for your support. as it is, you have had two years more than most.' mrs. lippett overlooked the fact that jerusha had worked hard for her board during those two years, that the convenience of the asylum had come first and her education second; that on days like the present she was kept at home to scrub. 'as i say, the question of your future was brought up and your record was discussed--thoroughly discussed.' mrs. lippett brought accusing eyes to bear upon the prisoner in the dock, and the prisoner looked guilty because it seemed to be expected--not because she could remember any strikingly black pages in her record. 'of course the usual disposition of one in your place would be to put you in a position where you could begin to work, but you have done well in school in certain branches; it seems that your work in english has even been brilliant. miss pritchard, who is on our visiting committee, is also on the school board; she has been talking with your rhetoric teacher, and made a speech in your favour. she also read aloud an essay that you had written entitled, "blue wednesday".' jerusha's guilty expression this time was not assumed. 'it seemed to me that you showed little gratitude in holding up to ridicule the institution that has done so much for you. had you not managed to be funny i doubt if you would have been forgiven. but fortunately for you, mr.--, that is, the gentleman who has just gone--appears to have an immoderate sense of humour. on the strength of that impertinent paper, he has offered to send you to college.' 'to college?' jerusha's eyes grew big. mrs. lippett nodded. 'he waited to discuss the terms with me. they are unusual. the gentleman, i may say, is erratic. he believes that you have originality, and he is planning to educate you to become a writer.' 'a writer?' jerusha's mind was numbed. she could only repeat mrs. lippett's words. 'that is his wish. whether anything will come of it, the future will show. he is giving you a very liberal allowance, almost, for a girl who has never had any experience in taking care of money, too liberal. but he planned the matter in detail, and i did not feel free to make any suggestions. you are to remain here through the summer, and miss pritchard has kindly offered to superintend your outfit. your board and tuition will be paid directly to the college, and you will receive in addition during the four years you are there, an allowance of thirty-five dollars a month. this will enable you to enter on the same standing as the other students. the money will be sent to you by the gentleman's private secretary once a month, and in return, you will write a letter of acknowledgment once a month. that is--you are not to thank him for the money; he doesn't care to have that mentioned, but you are to write a letter telling of the progress in your studies and the details of your daily life. just such a letter as you would write to your parents if they were living. 'these letters will be addressed to mr. john smith and will be sent in care of the secretary. the gentleman's name is not john smith, but he prefers to remain unknown. to you he will never be anything but john smith. his reason in requiring the letters is that he thinks nothing so fosters facility in literary expression as letter-writing. since you have no family with whom to correspond, he desires you to write in this way; also, he wishes to keep track of your progress. he will never answer your letters, nor in the slightest particular take any notice of them. he detests letter-writing and does not wish you to become a burden. if any point should ever arise where an answer would seem to be imperative--such as in the event of your being expelled, which i trust will not occur--you may correspond with mr. griggs, his secretary. these monthly letters are absolutely obligatory on your part; they are the only payment that mr. smith requires, so you must be as punctilious in sending them as though it were a bill that you were paying. i hope that they will always be respectful in tone and will reflect credit on your training. you must remember that you are writing to a trustee of the john grier home.' jerusha's eyes longingly sought the door. her head was in a whirl of excitement, and she wished only to escape from mrs. lippett's platitudes and think. she rose and took a tentative step backwards. mrs. lippett detained her with a gesture; it was an oratorical opportunity not to be slighted. 'i trust that you are properly grateful for this very rare good fortune that has befallen you? not many girls in your position ever have such an opportunity to rise in the world. you must always remember--' 'i--yes, ma'am, thank you. i think, if that's all, i must go and sew a patch on freddie perkins's trousers.' the door closed behind her, and mrs. lippett watched it with dropped jaw, her peroration in mid-air. the letters of miss jerusha abbott to mr. daddy-long-legs smith fergussen hall th september dear kind-trustee-who-sends-orphans-to-college, here i am! i travelled yesterday for four hours in a train. it's a funny sensation, isn't it? i never rode in one before. college is the biggest, most bewildering place--i get lost whenever i leave my room. i will write you a description later when i'm feeling less muddled; also i will tell you about my lessons. classes don't begin until monday morning, and this is saturday night. but i wanted to write a letter first just to get acquainted. it seems queer to be writing letters to somebody you don't know. it seems queer for me to be writing letters at all--i've never written more than three or four in my life, so please overlook it if these are not a model kind. before leaving yesterday morning, mrs. lippett and i had a very serious talk. she told me how to behave all the rest of my life, and especially how to behave towards the kind gentleman who is doing so much for me. i must take care to be very respectful. but how can one be very respectful to a person who wishes to be called john smith? why couldn't you have picked out a name with a little personality? i might as well write letters to dear hitching-post or dear clothes-prop. i have been thinking about you a great deal this summer; having somebody take an interest in me after all these years makes me feel as though i had found a sort of family. it seems as though i belonged to somebody now, and it's a very comfortable sensation. i must say, however, that when i think about you, my imagination has very little to work upon. there are just three things that i know: i. you are tall. ii. you are rich. iii. you hate girls. i suppose i might call you dear mr. girl-hater. only that's rather insulting to me. or dear mr. rich-man, but that's insulting to you, as though money were the only important thing about you. besides, being rich is such a very external quality. maybe you won't stay rich all your life; lots of very clever men get smashed up in wall street. but at least you will stay tall all your life! so i've decided to call you dear daddy-long-legs. i hope you won't mind. it's just a private pet name we won't tell mrs. lippett. the ten o'clock bell is going to ring in two minutes. our day is divided into sections by bells. we eat and sleep and study by bells. it's very enlivening; i feel like a fire horse all of the time. there it goes! lights out. good night. observe with what precision i obey rules--due to my training in the john grier home. yours most respectfully, jerusha abbott to mr. daddy-long-legs smith st october dear daddy-long-legs, i love college and i love you for sending me--i'm very, very happy, and so excited every moment of the time that i can scarcely sleep. you can't imagine how different it is from the john grier home. i never dreamed there was such a place in the world. i'm feeling sorry for everybody who isn't a girl and who can't come here; i am sure the college you attended when you were a boy couldn't have been so nice. my room is up in a tower that used to be the contagious ward before they built the new infirmary. there are three other girls on the same floor of the tower--a senior who wears spectacles and is always asking us please to be a little more quiet, and two freshmen named sallie mcbride and julia rutledge pendleton. sallie has red hair and a turn-up nose and is quite friendly; julia comes from one of the first families in new york and hasn't noticed me yet. they room together and the senior and i have singles. usually freshmen can't get singles; they are very scarce, but i got one without even asking. i suppose the registrar didn't think it would be right to ask a properly brought-up girl to room with a foundling. you see there are advantages! my room is on the north-west corner with two windows and a view. after you've lived in a ward for eighteen years with twenty room-mates, it is restful to be alone. this is the first chance i've ever had to get acquainted with jerusha abbott. i think i'm going to like her. do you think you are? tuesday they are organizing the freshman basket-ball team and there's just a chance that i shall get in it. i'm little of course, but terribly quick and wiry and tough. while the others are hopping about in the air, i can dodge under their feet and grab the ball. it's loads of fun practising--out in the athletic field in the afternoon with the trees all red and yellow and the air full of the smell of burning leaves, and everybody laughing and shouting. these are the happiest girls i ever saw--and i am the happiest of all! i meant to write a long letter and tell you all the things i'm learning (mrs. lippett said you wanted to know), but th hour has just rung, and in ten minutes i'm due at the athletic field in gymnasium clothes. don't you hope i'll get in the team? yours always, jerusha abbott ps. ( o'clock.) sallie mcbride just poked her head in at my door. this is what she said: 'i'm so homesick that i simply can't stand it. do you feel that way?' i smiled a little and said no; i thought i could pull through. at least homesickness is one disease that i've escaped! i never heard of anybody being asylum-sick, did you? th october dear daddy-long-legs, did you ever hear of michael angelo? he was a famous artist who lived in italy in the middle ages. everybody in english literature seemed to know about him, and the whole class laughed because i thought he was an archangel. he sounds like an archangel, doesn't he? the trouble with college is that you are expected to know such a lot of things you've never learned. it's very embarrassing at times. but now, when the girls talk about things that i never heard of, i just keep still and look them up in the encyclopedia. i made an awful mistake the first day. somebody mentioned maurice maeterlinck, and i asked if she was a freshman. that joke has gone all over college. but anyway, i'm just as bright in class as any of the others--and brighter than some of them! do you care to know how i've furnished my room? it's a symphony in brown and yellow. the wall was tinted buff, and i've bought yellow denim curtains and cushions and a mahogany desk (second hand for three dollars) and a rattan chair and a brown rug with an ink spot in the middle. i stand the chair over the spot. the windows are up high; you can't look out from an ordinary seat. but i unscrewed the looking-glass from the back of the bureau, upholstered the top and moved it up against the window. it's just the right height for a window seat. you pull out the drawers like steps and walk up. very comfortable! sallie mcbride helped me choose the things at the senior auction. she has lived in a house all her life and knows about furnishing. you can't imagine what fun it is to shop and pay with a real five-dollar bill and get some change--when you've never had more than a few cents in your life. i assure you, daddy dear, i do appreciate that allowance. sallie is the most entertaining person in the world--and julia rutledge pendleton the least so. it's queer what a mixture the registrar can make in the matter of room-mates. sallie thinks everything is funny--even flunking--and julia is bored at everything. she never makes the slightest effort to be amiable. she believes that if you are a pendleton, that fact alone admits you to heaven without any further examination. julia and i were born to be enemies. and now i suppose you've been waiting very impatiently to hear what i am learning? i. latin: second punic war. hannibal and his forces pitched camp at lake trasimenus last night. they prepared an ambuscade for the romans, and a battle took place at the fourth watch this morning. romans in retreat. ii. french: pages of the three musketeers and third conjugation, irregular verbs. iii. geometry: finished cylinders; now doing cones. iv. english: studying exposition. my style improves daily in clearness and brevity. v. physiology: reached the digestive system. bile and the pancreas next time. yours, on the way to being educated, jerusha abbott ps. i hope you never touch alcohol, daddy? it does dreadful things to your liver. wednesday dear daddy-long-legs, i've changed my name. i'm still 'jerusha' in the catalogue, but i'm 'judy' everywhere else. it's really too bad, isn't it, to have to give yourself the only pet name you ever had? i didn't quite make up the judy though. that's what freddy perkins used to call me before he could talk plainly. i wish mrs. lippett would use a little more ingenuity about choosing babies' names. she gets the last names out of the telephone book--you'll find abbott on the first page--and she picks the christian names up anywhere; she got jerusha from a tombstone. i've always hated it; but i rather like judy. it's such a silly name. it belongs to the kind of girl i'm not--a sweet little blue-eyed thing, petted and spoiled by all the family, who romps her way through life without any cares. wouldn't it be nice to be like that? whatever faults i may have, no one can ever accuse me of having been spoiled by my family! but it's great fun to pretend i've been. in the future please always address me as judy. do you want to know something? i have three pairs of kid gloves. i've had kid mittens before from the christmas tree, but never real kid gloves with five fingers. i take them out and try them on every little while. it's all i can do not to wear them to classes. (dinner bell. goodbye.) friday what do you think, daddy? the english instructor said that my last paper shows an unusual amount of originality. she did, truly. those were her words. it doesn't seem possible, does it, considering the eighteen years of training that i've had? the aim of the john grier home (as you doubtless know and heartily approve of) is to turn the ninety-seven orphans into ninety-seven twins. the unusual artistic ability which i exhibit was developed at an early age through drawing chalk pictures of mrs. lippett on the woodshed door. i hope that i don't hurt your feelings when i criticize the home of my youth? but you have the upper hand, you know, for if i become too impertinent, you can always stop payment of your cheques. that isn't a very polite thing to say--but you can't expect me to have any manners; a foundling asylum isn't a young ladies' finishing school. you know, daddy, it isn't the work that is going to be hard in college. it's the play. half the time i don't know what the girls are talking about; their jokes seem to relate to a past that every one but me has shared. i'm a foreigner in the world and i don't understand the language. it's a miserable feeling. i've had it all my life. at the high school the girls would stand in groups and just look at me. i was queer and different and everybody knew it. i could feel 'john grier home' written on my face. and then a few charitable ones would make a point of coming up and saying something polite. i hated every one of them--the charitable ones most of all. nobody here knows that i was brought up in an asylum. i told sallie mcbride that my mother and father were dead, and that a kind old gentleman was sending me to college which is entirely true so far as it goes. i don't want you to think i am a coward, but i do want to be like the other girls, and that dreadful home looming over my childhood is the one great big difference. if i can turn my back on that and shut out the remembrance, i think, i might be just as desirable as any other girl. i don't believe there's any real, underneath difference, do you? anyway, sallie mcbride likes me! yours ever, judy abbott (nee jerusha.) saturday morning i've just been reading this letter over and it sounds pretty un-cheerful. but can't you guess that i have a special topic due monday morning and a review in geometry and a very sneezy cold? sunday i forgot to post this yesterday, so i will add an indignant postscript. we had a bishop this morning, and what do you think he said? 'the most beneficent promise made us in the bible is this, "the poor ye have always with you." they were put here in order to keep us charitable.' the poor, please observe, being a sort of useful domestic animal. if i hadn't grown into such a perfect lady, i should have gone up after service and told him what i thought. th october dear daddy-long-legs, i'm in the basket-ball team and you ought to see the bruise on my left shoulder. it's blue and mahogany with little streaks of orange. julia pendleton tried for the team, but she didn't get in. hooray! you see what a mean disposition i have. college gets nicer and nicer. i like the girls and the teachers and the classes and the campus and the things to eat. we have ice-cream twice a week and we never have corn-meal mush. you only wanted to hear from me once a month, didn't you? and i've been peppering you with letters every few days! but i've been so excited about all these new adventures that i must talk to somebody; and you're the only one i know. please excuse my exuberance; i'll settle pretty soon. if my letters bore you, you can always toss them into the wastebasket. i promise not to write another till the middle of november. yours most loquaciously, judy abbott th november dear daddy-long-legs, listen to what i've learned to-day. the area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids. it doesn't sound true, but it is--i can prove it! you've never heard about my clothes, have you, daddy? six dresses, all new and beautiful and bought for me--not handed down from somebody bigger. perhaps you don't realize what a climax that marks in the career of an orphan? you gave them to me, and i am very, very, very much obliged. it's a fine thing to be educated--but nothing compared to the dizzying experience of owning six new dresses. miss pritchard, who is on the visiting committee, picked them out--not mrs. lippett, thank goodness. i have an evening dress, pink mull over silk (i'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of red veiling with oriental trimming (makes me look like a gipsy), and another of rose-coloured challis, and a grey street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. that wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for julia rutledge pendleton, perhaps, but for jerusha abbott--oh, my! i suppose you're thinking now what a frivolous, shallow little beast she is, and what a waste of money to educate a girl? but, daddy, if you'd been dressed in checked ginghams all your life, you'd appreciate how i feel. and when i started to the high school, i entered upon another period even worse than the checked ginghams. the poor box. you can't know how i dreaded appearing in school in those miserable poor-box dresses. i was perfectly sure to be put down in class next to the girl who first owned my dress, and she would whisper and giggle and point it out to the others. the bitterness of wearing your enemies' cast-off clothes eats into your soul. if i wore silk stockings for the rest of my life, i don't believe i could obliterate the scar. latest war bulletin! news from the scene of action. at the fourth watch on thursday the th of november, hannibal routed the advance guard of the romans and led the carthaginian forces over the mountains into the plains of casilinum. a cohort of light armed numidians engaged the infantry of quintus fabius maximus. two battles and light skirmishing. romans repulsed with heavy losses. i have the honour of being, your special correspondent from the front, j. abbott ps. i know i'm not to expect any letters in return, and i've been warned not to bother you with questions, but tell me, daddy, just this once--are you awfully old or just a little old? and are you perfectly bald or just a little bald? it is very difficult thinking about you in the abstract like a theorem in geometry. given a tall rich man who hates girls, but is very generous to one quite impertinent girl, what does he look like? r.s.v.p. th december dear daddy-long-legs, you never answered my question and it was very important. are you bald? i have it planned exactly what you look like--very satisfactorily--until i reach the top of your head, and then i am stuck. i can't decide whether you have white hair or black hair or sort of sprinkly grey hair or maybe none at all. here is your portrait: but the problem is, shall i add some hair? would you like to know what colour your eyes are? they're grey, and your eyebrows stick out like a porch roof (beetling, they're called in novels), and your mouth is a straight line with a tendency to turn down at the corners. oh, you see, i know! you're a snappy old thing with a temper. (chapel bell.) . p.m. i have a new unbreakable rule: never, never to study at night no matter how many written reviews are coming in the morning. instead, i read just plain books--i have to, you know, because there are eighteen blank years behind me. you wouldn't believe, daddy, what an abyss of ignorance my mind is; i am just realizing the depths myself. the things that most girls with a properly assorted family and a home and friends and a library know by absorption, i have never heard of. for example: i never read mother goose or david copperfield or ivanhoe or cinderella or blue beard or robinson crusoe or jane eyre or alice in wonderland or a word of rudyard kipling. i didn't know that henry the eighth was married more than once or that shelley was a poet. i didn't know that people used to be monkeys and that the garden of eden was a beautiful myth. i didn't know that r. l. s. stood for robert louis stevenson or that george eliot was a lady. i had never seen a picture of the 'mona lisa' and (it's true but you won't believe it) i had never heard of sherlock holmes. now, i know all of these things and a lot of others besides, but you can see how much i need to catch up. and oh, but it's fun! i look forward all day to evening, and then i put an 'engaged' on the door and get into my nice red bath robe and furry slippers and pile all the cushions behind me on the couch, and light the brass student lamp at my elbow, and read and read and read one book isn't enough. i have four going at once. just now, they're tennyson's poems and vanity fair and kipling's plain tales and--don't laugh--little women. i find that i am the only girl in college who wasn't brought up on little women. i haven't told anybody though (that would stamp me as queer). i just quietly went and bought it with $ . of my last month's allowance; and the next time somebody mentions pickled limes, i'll know what she is talking about! (ten o'clock bell. this is a very interrupted letter.) saturday sir, i have the honour to report fresh explorations in the field of geometry. on friday last we abandoned our former works in parallelopipeds and proceeded to truncated prisms. we are finding the road rough and very uphill. sunday the christmas holidays begin next week and the trunks are up. the corridors are so filled up that you can hardly get through, and everybody is so bubbling over with excitement that studying is getting left out. i'm going to have a beautiful time in vacation; there's another freshman who lives in texas staying behind, and we are planning to take long walks and if there's any ice--learn to skate. then there is still the whole library to be read--and three empty weeks to do it in! goodbye, daddy, i hope that you are feeling as happy as i am. yours ever, judy ps. don't forget to answer my question. if you don't want the trouble of writing, have your secretary telegraph. he can just say: mr. smith is quite bald, or mr. smith is not bald, or mr. smith has white hair. and you can deduct the twenty-five cents out of my allowance. goodbye till january--and a merry christmas! towards the end of the christmas vacation. exact date unknown dear daddy-long-legs, is it snowing where you are? all the world that i see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. it's late afternoon--the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and i am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you. your five gold pieces were a surprise! i'm not used to receiving christmas presents. you have already given me such lots of things--everything i have, you know--that i don't quite feel that i deserve extras. but i like them just the same. do you want to know what i bought with my money? i. a silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time. ii. matthew arnold's poems. iii. a hot water bottle. iv. a steamer rug. (my tower is cold.) v. five hundred sheets of yellow manuscript paper. (i'm going to commence being an author pretty soon.) vi. a dictionary of synonyms. (to enlarge the author's vocabulary.) vii. (i don't much like to confess this last item, but i will.) a pair of silk stockings. and now, daddy, never say i don't tell all! it was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk stockings. julia pendleton comes into my room to do geometry, and she sits cross-legged on the couch and wears silk stockings every night. but just wait--as soon as she gets back from vacation i shall go in and sit on her couch in my silk stockings. you see, daddy, the miserable creature that i am but at least i'm honest; and you knew already, from my asylum record, that i wasn't perfect, didn't you? to recapitulate (that's the way the english instructor begins every other sentence), i am very much obliged for my seven presents. i'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in california. the watch is from father, the rug from mother, the hot water bottle from grandmother who is always worrying for fear i shall catch cold in this climate--and the yellow paper from my little brother harry. my sister isabel gave me the silk stockings, and aunt susan the matthew arnold poems; uncle harry (little harry is named after him) gave me the dictionary. he wanted to send chocolates, but i insisted on synonyms. you don't object, do you, to playing the part of a composite family? and now, shall i tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? i hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in 'as such'. it is the latest addition to my vocabulary. the girl from texas is named leonora fenton. (almost as funny as jerusha, isn't it?) i like her, but not so much as sallie mcbride; i shall never like any one so much as sallie--except you. i must always like you the best of all, because you're my whole family rolled into one. leonora and i and two sophomores have walked 'cross country every pleasant day and explored the whole neighbourhood, dressed in short skirts and knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. once we walked into town--four miles--and stopped at a restaurant where the college girls go for dinner. broiled lobster ( cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup ( cents). nourishing and cheap. it was such a lark! especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the asylum--i feel like an escaped convict every time i leave the campus. before i thought, i started to tell the others what an experience i was having. the cat was almost out of the bag when i grabbed it by its tail and pulled it back. it's awfully hard for me not to tell everything i know. i'm a very confiding soul by nature; if i didn't have you to tell things to, i'd burst. we had a molasses candy pull last friday evening, given by the house matron of fergussen to the left-behinds in the other halls. there were twenty-two of us altogether, freshmen and sophomores and juniors and seniors all united in amicable accord. the kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall--the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler. four hundred girls live in fergussen. the chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons--i can't imagine where he got so many--and we all turned ourselves into cooks. it was great fun, though i have seen better candy. when it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlour, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. we serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. they accepted politely but dubiously. we left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless. so you see, daddy, my education progresses! don't you really think that i ought to be an artist instead of an author? vacation will be over in two days and i shall be glad to see the girls again. my tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit. eleven pages--poor daddy, you must be tired! i meant this to be just a short little thank-you note--but when i get started i seem to have a ready pen. goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me--i should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. examinations come in february. yours with love, judy ps. maybe it isn't proper to send love? if it isn't, please excuse. but i must love somebody and there's only you and mrs. lippett to choose between, so you see--you'll have to put up with it, daddy dear, because i can't love her. on the eve dear daddy-long-legs, you should see the way this college is studying! we've forgotten we ever had a vacation. fifty-seven irregular verbs have i introduced to my brain in the past four days--i'm only hoping they'll stay till after examinations. some of the girls sell their text-books when they're through with them, but i intend to keep mine. then after i've graduated i shall have my whole education in a row in the bookcase, and when i need to use any detail, i can turn to it without the slightest hesitation. so much easier and more accurate than trying to keep it in your head. julia pendleton dropped in this evening to pay a social call, and stayed a solid hour. she got started on the subject of family, and i couldn't switch her off. she wanted to know what my mother's maiden name was--did you ever hear such an impertinent question to ask of a person from a foundling asylum? i didn't have the courage to say i didn't know, so i just miserably plumped on the first name i could think of, and that was montgomery. then she wanted to know whether i belonged to the massachusetts montgomerys or the virginia montgomerys. her mother was a rutherford. the family came over in the ark, and were connected by marriage with henry the viii. on her father's side they date back further than adam. on the topmost branches of her family tree there's a superior breed of monkeys with very fine silky hair and extra long tails. i meant to write you a nice, cheerful, entertaining letter tonight, but i'm too sleepy--and scared. the freshman's lot is not a happy one. yours, about to be examined, judy abbott sunday dearest daddy-long-legs, i have some awful, awful, awful news to tell you, but i won't begin with it; i'll try to get you in a good humour first. jerusha abbott has commenced to be an author. a poem entitled, 'from my tower', appears in the february monthly--on the first page, which is a very great honour for a freshman. my english instructor stopped me on the way out from chapel last night, and said it was a charming piece of work except for the sixth line, which had too many feet. i will send you a copy in case you care to read it. let me see if i can't think of something else pleasant-- oh, yes! i'm learning to skate, and can glide about quite respectably all by myself. also i've learned how to slide down a rope from the roof of the gymnasium, and i can vault a bar three feet and six inches high--i hope shortly to pull up to four feet. we had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the bishop of alabama. his text was: 'judge not that ye be not judged.' it was about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not discouraging people by harsh judgments. i wish you might have heard it. this is the sunniest, most blinding winter afternoon, with icicles dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of snow--except me, and i'm bending under a weight of sorrow. now for the news--courage, judy!--you must tell. are you surely in a good humour? i failed in mathematics and latin prose. i am tutoring in them, and will take another examination next month. i'm sorry if you're disappointed, but otherwise i don't care a bit because i've learned such a lot of things not mentioned in the catalogue. i've read seventeen novels and bushels of poetry--really necessary novels like vanity fair and richard feverel and alice in wonderland. also emerson's essays and lockhart's life of scott and the first volume of gibbon's roman empire and half of benvenuto cellini's life--wasn't he entertaining? he used to saunter out and casually kill a man before breakfast. so you see, daddy, i'm much more intelligent than if i'd just stuck to latin. will you forgive me this once if i promise never to fail again? yours in sackcloth, judy dear daddy-long-legs, this is an extra letter in the middle of the month because i'm rather lonely tonight. it's awfully stormy. all the lights are out on the campus, but i drank black coffee and i can't go to sleep. i had a supper party this evening consisting of sallie and julia and leonora fenton--and sardines and toasted muffins and salad and fudge and coffee. julia said she'd had a good time, but sallie stayed to help wash the dishes. i might, very usefully, put some time on latin tonight but, there's no doubt about it, i'm a very languid latin scholar. we've finished livy and de senectute and are now engaged with de amicitia (pronounced damn icitia). should you mind, just for a little while, pretending you are my grandmother? sallie has one and julia and leonora each two, and they were all comparing them tonight. i can't think of anything i'd rather have; it's such a respectable relationship. so, if you really don't object--when i went into town yesterday, i saw the sweetest cap of cluny lace trimmed with lavender ribbon. i am going to make you a present of it on your eighty-third birthday. ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! that's the clock in the chapel tower striking twelve. i believe i am sleepy after all. good night, granny. i love you dearly. judy the ides of march dear d.-l.-l., i am studying latin prose composition. i have been studying it. i shall be studying it. i shall be about to have been studying it. my re-examination comes the th hour next tuesday, and i am going to pass or bust. so you may expect to hear from me next, whole and happy and free from conditions, or in fragments. i will write a respectable letter when it's over. tonight i have a pressing engagement with the ablative absolute. yours--in evident haste j. a. th march mr. d.-l.-l. smith, sir: you never answer any questions; you never show the slightest interest in anything i do. you are probably the horridest one of all those horrid trustees, and the reason you are educating me is, not because you care a bit about me, but from a sense of duty. i don't know a single thing about you. i don't even know your name. it is very uninspiring writing to a thing. i haven't a doubt but that you throw my letters into the waste-basket without reading them. hereafter i shall write only about work. my re-examinations in latin and geometry came last week. i passed them both and am now free from conditions. yours truly, jerusha abbott nd april dear daddy-long-legs, i am a beast. please forget about that dreadful letter i sent you last week--i was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night i wrote. i didn't know it, but i was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe and lots of things mixed. i'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. the head nurse is very bossy. but i've been thinking about it all the time and i shan't get well until you forgive me. here is a picture of the way i look, with a bandage tied around my head in rabbit's ears. doesn't that arouse your sympathy? i am having sublingual gland swelling. and i've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. how futile a thing is education! i can't write any more; i get rather shaky when i sit up too long. please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful. i was badly brought up. yours with love, judy abbott the infirmary th april dearest daddy-long-legs, yesterday evening just towards dark, when i was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a long white box addressed to me, and filled with the loveliest pink rosebuds. and much nicer still, it contained a card with a very polite message written in a funny little uphill back hand (but one which shows a great deal of character). thank you, daddy, a thousand times. your flowers make the first real, true present i ever received in my life. if you want to know what a baby i am i lay down and cried because i was so happy. now that i am sure you read my letters, i'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them--only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. i'd hate to think that you ever read it over. thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable freshman cheerful. probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. but i do. goodbye--i'll promise never to be horrid again, because now i know you're a real person; also i'll promise never to bother you with any more questions. do you still hate girls? yours for ever, judy th hour, monday dear daddy-long-legs, i hope you aren't the trustee who sat on the toad? it went off--i was told--with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter trustee. do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the john grier home? every spring when the hoptoad season opened we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. we were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect. and one day--well, i won't bore you with particulars--but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, juciest toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the trustees' room, and that afternoon at the trustees' meeting--but i dare say you were there and recall the rest? looking back dispassionately after a period of time, i will say that punishment was merited, and--if i remember rightly--adequate. i don't know why i am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. the only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it. after chapel, thursday what do you think is my favourite book? just now, i mean; i change every three days. wuthering heights. emily bronte was quite young when she wrote it, and had never been outside of haworth churchyard. she had never known any men in her life; how could she imagine a man like heathcliffe? i couldn't do it, and i'm quite young and never outside the john grier asylum--i've had every chance in the world. sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that i'm not a genius. will you be awfully disappointed, daddy, if i don't turn out to be a great author? in the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, i feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. there are such lots of adventures out in the fields! it's much more entertaining to live books than to write them. ow ! ! ! ! ! ! that was a shriek which brought sallie and julia and (for a disgusted moment) the senior from across the hall. it was caused by a centipede like this: only worse. just as i had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next--plump!--it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. i tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. sallie whacked it with the back of my hair brush--which i shall never be able to use again--and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped. this dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. they are dreadful creatures. i'd rather find a tiger under the bed. friday, . p.m. such a lot of troubles! i didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then i broke my shoestring while i was hurrying to dress and dropped my collar button down my neck. i was late for breakfast and also for first-hour recitation. i forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked. in trigonometry the professor and i had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. on looking it up, i find that she was right. we had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch--hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. the post brought me nothing but bills (though i must say that i never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). in english class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. this was it: i asked no other thing, no other was denied. i offered being for it; the mighty merchant smiled. brazil? he twirled a button without a glance my way: but, madam, is there nothing else that we can show today? that is a poem. i don't know who wrote it or what it means. it was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. when i read the first verse i thought i had an idea--the mighty merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds--but when i got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and i hastily changed my mind. the rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. getting an education is an awfully wearing process! but this didn't end the day. there's worse to come. it rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to gymnasium instead. the girl next to me banged my elbow with an indian club. i got home to find that the box with my new blue spring dress had come, and the skirt was so tight that i couldn't sit down. friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. we had tombstone for dessert (milk and gelatin flavoured with vanilla). we were kept in chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about womanly women. and then--just as i was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to the portrait of a lady, a girl named ackerly, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently stupid girl, who sits next to me in latin because her name begins with a (i wish mrs. lippett had named me zabriski), came to ask if monday's lesson commenced at paragraph or , and stayed one hour. she has just gone. did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? it isn't the big troubles in life that require character. anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh--i really think that requires spirit. it's the kind of character that i am going to develop. i am going to pretend that all life is just a game which i must play as skilfully and fairly as i can. if i lose, i am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh--also if i win. anyway, i am going to be a sport. you will never hear me complain again, daddy dear, because julia wears silk stockings and centipedes drop off the wall. yours ever, judy answer soon. th may daddy-long-legs, esq. dear sir: i am in receipt of a letter from mrs. lippett. she hopes that i am doing well in deportment and studies. since i probably have no place to go this summer, she will let me come back to the asylum and work for my board until college opens. i hate the john grier home. i'd rather die than go back. yours most truthfully, jerusha abbott cher daddy-jambes-longes, vous etes un brick! je suis tres heureuse about the farm, parceque je n'ai jamais been on a farm dans ma vie and i'd hate to retourner chez john grier, et wash dishes tout l'ete. there would be danger of quelque chose affreuse happening, parceque j'ai perdue ma humilite d'autre fois et j'ai peur that i would just break out quelque jour et smash every cup and saucer dans la maison. pardon brievete et paper. je ne peux pas send des mes nouvelles parceque je suis dans french class et j'ai peur que monsieur le professeur is going to call on me tout de suite. he did! au revoir, je vous aime beaucoup. judy th may dear daddy-long-legs, did you ever see this campus? (that is merely a rhetorical question. don't let it annoy you.) it is a heavenly spot in may. all the shrubs are in blossom and the trees are the loveliest young green--even the old pines look fresh and new. the grass is dotted with yellow dandelions and hundreds of girls in blue and white and pink dresses. everybody is joyous and carefree, for vacation's coming, and with that to look forward to, examinations don't count. isn't that a happy frame of mind to be in? and oh, daddy! i'm the happiest of all! because i'm not in the asylum any more; and i'm not anybody's nursemaid or typewriter or bookkeeper (i should have been, you know, except for you). i'm sorry now for all my past badnesses. i'm sorry i was ever impertinent to mrs. lippett. i'm sorry i ever slapped freddie perkins. i'm sorry i ever filled the sugar bowl with salt. i'm sorry i ever made faces behind the trustees' backs. i'm going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because i'm so happy. and this summer i'm going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. isn't that an exalted stand to take? oh, i'm developing a beautiful character! it droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines. that's the way with everybody. i don't agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. the happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. i have no faith in misanthropes. (fine word! just learned it.) you are not a misanthrope are you, daddy? i started to tell you about the campus. i wish you'd come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say: 'that is the library. this is the gas plant, daddy dear. the gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the tudor romanesque beside it is the new infirmary.' oh, i'm fine at showing people about. i've done it all my life at the asylum, and i've been doing it all day here. i have honestly. and a man, too! that's a great experience. i never talked to a man before (except occasional trustees, and they don't count). pardon, daddy, i don't mean to hurt your feelings when i abuse trustees. i don't consider that you really belong among them. you just tumbled on to the board by chance. the trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. he pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain. that looks like a june bug, but is meant to be a portrait of any trustee except you. however--to resume: i have been walking and talking and having tea with a man. and with a very superior man--with mr. jervis pendleton of the house of julia; her uncle, in short (in long, perhaps i ought to say; he's as tall as you.) being in town on business, he decided to run out to the college and call on his niece. he's her father's youngest brother, but she doesn't know him very intimately. it seems he glanced at her when she was a baby, decided he didn't like her, and has never noticed her since. anyway, there he was, sitting in the reception room very proper with his hat and stick and gloves beside him; and julia and sallie with seventh-hour recitations that they couldn't cut. so julia dashed into my room and begged me to walk him about the campus and then deliver him to her when the seventh hour was over. i said i would, obligingly but unenthusiastically, because i don't care much for pendletons. but he turned out to be a sweet lamb. he's a real human being--not a pendleton at all. we had a beautiful time; i've longed for an uncle ever since. do you mind pretending you're my uncle? i believe they're superior to grandmothers. mr. pendleton reminded me a little of you, daddy, as you were twenty years ago. you see i know you intimately, even if we haven't ever met! he's tall and thinnish with a dark face all over lines, and the funniest underneath smile that never quite comes through but just wrinkles up the corners of his mouth. and he has a way of making you feel right off as though you'd known him a long time. he's very companionable. we walked all over the campus from the quadrangle to the athletic grounds; then he said he felt weak and must have some tea. he proposed that we go to college inn--it's just off the campus by the pine walk. i said we ought to go back for julia and sallie, but he said he didn't like to have his nieces drink too much tea; it made them nervous. so we just ran away and had tea and muffins and marmalade and ice-cream and cake at a nice little table out on the balcony. the inn was quite conveniently empty, this being the end of the month and allowances low. we had the jolliest time! but he had to run for his train the minute he got back and he barely saw julia at all. she was furious with me for taking him off; it seems he's an unusually rich and desirable uncle. it relieved my mind to find he was rich, for the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece. this morning (it's monday now) three boxes of chocolates came by express for julia and sallie and me. what do you think of that? to be getting candy from a man! i begin to feel like a girl instead of a foundling. i wish you'd come and have tea some day and let me see if i like you. but wouldn't it be dreadful if i didn't? however, i know i should. bien! i make you my compliments. 'jamais je ne t'oublierai.' judy ps. i looked in the glass this morning and found a perfectly new dimple that i'd never seen before. it's very curious. where do you suppose it came from? th june dear daddy-long-legs, happy day! i've just finished my last examination physiology. and now: three months on a farm! i don't know what kind of a thing a farm is. i've never been on one in my life. i've never even looked at one (except from the car window), but i know i'm going to love it, and i'm going to love being free. i am not used even yet to being outside the john grier home. whenever i think of it excited little thrills chase up and down my back. i feel as though i must run faster and faster and keep looking over my shoulder to make sure that mrs. lippett isn't after me with her arm stretched out to grab me back. i don't have to mind any one this summer, do i? your nominal authority doesn't annoy me in the least; you are too far away to do any harm. mrs. lippett is dead for ever, so far as i am concerned, and the semples aren't expected to overlook my moral welfare, are they? no, i am sure not. i am entirely grown up. hooray! i leave you now to pack a trunk, and three boxes of teakettles and dishes and sofa cushions and books. yours ever, judy ps. here is my physiology exam. do you think you could have passed? lock willow farm, saturday night dearest daddy-long-legs, i've only just come and i'm not unpacked, but i can't wait to tell you how much i like farms. this is a heavenly, heavenly, heavenly spot! the house is square like this: and old. a hundred years or so. it has a veranda on the side which i can't draw and a sweet porch in front. the picture really doesn't do it justice--those things that look like feather dusters are maple trees, and the prickly ones that border the drive are murmuring pines and hemlocks. it stands on the top of a hill and looks way off over miles of green meadows to another line of hills. that is the way connecticut goes, in a series of marcelle waves; and lock willow farm is just on the crest of one wave. the barns used to be across the road where they obstructed the view, but a kind flash of lightning came from heaven and burnt them down. the people are mr. and mrs. semple and a hired girl and two hired men. the hired people eat in the kitchen, and the semples and judy in the dining-room. we had ham and eggs and biscuits and honey and jelly-cake and pie and pickles and cheese and tea for supper--and a great deal of conversation. i have never been so entertaining in my life; everything i say appears to be funny. i suppose it is, because i've never been in the country before, and my questions are backed by an all-inclusive ignorance. the room marked with a cross is not where the murder was committed, but the one that i occupy. it's big and square and empty, with adorable old-fashioned furniture and windows that have to be propped up on sticks and green shades trimmed with gold that fall down if you touch them. and a big square mahogany table--i'm going to spend the summer with my elbows spread out on it, writing a novel. oh, daddy, i'm so excited! i can't wait till daylight to explore. it's . now, and i am about to blow out my candle and try to go to sleep. we rise at five. did you ever know such fun? i can't believe this is really judy. you and the good lord give me more than i deserve. i must be a very, very, very good person to pay. i'm going to be. you'll see. good night, judy ps. you should hear the frogs sing and the little pigs squeal and you should see the new moon! i saw it over my right shoulder. lock willow, th july dear daddy-long-legs, how did your secretary come to know about lock willow? (that isn't a rhetorical question. i am awfully curious to know.) for listen to this: mr. jervis pendleton used to own this farm, but now he has given it to mrs. semple who was his old nurse. did you ever hear of such a funny coincidence? she still calls him 'master jervie' and talks about what a sweet little boy he used to be. she has one of his baby curls put away in a box, and it is red--or at least reddish! since she discovered that i know him, i have risen very much in her opinion. knowing a member of the pendleton family is the best introduction one can have at lock willow. and the cream of the whole family is master jervis--i am pleased to say that julia belongs to an inferior branch. the farm gets more and more entertaining. i rode on a hay wagon yesterday. we have three big pigs and nine little piglets, and you should see them eat. they are pigs! we've oceans of little baby chickens and ducks and turkeys and guinea fowls. you must be mad to live in a city when you might live on a farm. it is my daily business to hunt the eggs. i fell off a beam in the barn loft yesterday, while i was trying to crawl over to a nest that the black hen has stolen. and when i came in with a scratched knee, mrs. semple bound it up with witch-hazel, murmuring all the time, 'dear! dear! it seems only yesterday that master jervie fell off that very same beam and scratched this very same knee.' the scenery around here is perfectly beautiful. there's a valley and a river and a lot of wooded hills, and way in the distance a tall blue mountain that simply melts in your mouth. we churn twice a week; and we keep the cream in the spring house which is made of stone with the brook running underneath. some of the farmers around here have a separator, but we don't care for these new-fashioned ideas. it may be a little harder to separate the cream in pans, but it's sufficiently better to pay. we have six calves; and i've chosen the names for all of them. . sylvia, because she was born in the woods. . lesbia, after the lesbia in catullus. . sallie. . julia--a spotted, nondescript animal. . judy, after me. . daddy-long-legs. you don't mind, do you, daddy? he's pure jersey and has a sweet disposition. he looks like this--you can see how appropriate the name is. i haven't had time yet to begin my immortal novel; the farm keeps me too busy. yours always, judy ps. i've learned to make doughnuts. ps. ( ) if you are thinking of raising chickens, let me recommend buff orpingtons. they haven't any pin feathers. ps. ( ) i wish i could send you a pat of the nice, fresh butter i churned yesterday. i'm a fine dairy-maid! ps. ( ) this is a picture of miss jerusha abbott, the future great author, driving home the cows. sunday dear daddy-long-legs, isn't it funny? i started to write to you yesterday afternoon, but as far as i got was the heading, 'dear daddy-long-legs', and then i remembered i'd promised to pick some blackberries for supper, so i went off and left the sheet lying on the table, and when i came back today, what do you think i found sitting in the middle of the page? a real true daddy-long-legs! i picked him up very gently by one leg, and dropped him out of the window. i wouldn't hurt one of them for the world. they always remind me of you. we hitched up the spring wagon this morning and drove to the centre to church. it's a sweet little white frame church with a spire and three doric columns in front (or maybe ionic--i always get them mixed). a nice sleepy sermon with everybody drowsily waving palm-leaf fans, and the only sound, aside from the minister, the buzzing of locusts in the trees outside. i didn't wake up till i found myself on my feet singing the hymn, and then i was awfully sorry i hadn't listened to the sermon; i should like to know more of the psychology of a man who would pick out such a hymn. this was it: come, leave your sports and earthly toys and join me in celestial joys. or else, dear friend, a long farewell. i leave you now to sink to hell. i find that it isn't safe to discuss religion with the semples. their god (whom they have inherited intact from their remote puritan ancestors) is a narrow, irrational, unjust, mean, revengeful, bigoted person. thank heaven i don't inherit god from anybody! i am free to make mine up as i wish him. he's kind and sympathetic and imaginative and forgiving and understanding--and he has a sense of humour. i like the semples immensely; their practice is so superior to their theory. they are better than their own god. i told them so--and they are horribly troubled. they think i am blasphemous--and i think they are! we've dropped theology from our conversation. this is sunday afternoon. amasai (hired man) in a purple tie and some bright yellow buckskin gloves, very red and shaved, has just driven off with carrie (hired girl) in a big hat trimmed with red roses and a blue muslin dress and her hair curled as tight as it will curl. amasai spent all the morning washing the buggy; and carrie stayed home from church ostensibly to cook the dinner, but really to iron the muslin dress. in two minutes more when this letter is finished i am going to settle down to a book which i found in the attic. it's entitled, on the trail, and sprawled across the front page in a funny little-boy hand: jervis pendleton if this book should ever roam, box its ears and send it home. he spent the summer here once after he had been ill, when he was about eleven years old; and he left on the trail behind. it looks well read--the marks of his grimy little hands are frequent! also in a corner of the attic there is a water wheel and a windmill and some bows and arrows. mrs. semple talks so constantly about him that i begin to believe he really lives--not a grown man with a silk hat and walking stick, but a nice, dirty, tousle-headed boy who clatters up the stairs with an awful racket, and leaves the screen doors open, and is always asking for cookies. (and getting them, too, if i know mrs. semple!) he seems to have been an adventurous little soul--and brave and truthful. i'm sorry to think he is a pendleton; he was meant for something better. we're going to begin threshing oats tomorrow; a steam engine is coming and three extra men. it grieves me to tell you that buttercup (the spotted cow with one horn, mother of lesbia) has done a disgraceful thing. she got into the orchard friday evening and ate apples under the trees, and ate and ate until they went to her head. for two days she has been perfectly dead drunk! that is the truth i am telling. did you ever hear anything so scandalous? sir, i remain, your affectionate orphan, judy abbott ps. indians in the first chapter and highwaymen in the second. i hold my breath. what can the third contain? 'red hawk leapt twenty feet in the air and bit the dust.' that is the subject of the frontispiece. aren't judy and jervie having fun? th september dear daddy, i was weighed yesterday on the flour scales in the general store at the comers. i've gained nine pounds! let me recommend lock willow as a health resort. yours ever, judy dear daddy-long-legs, behold me--a sophomore! i came up last friday, sorry to leave lock willow, but glad to see the campus again. it is a pleasant sensation to come back to something familiar. i am beginning to feel at home in college, and in command of the situation; i am beginning, in fact, to feel at home in the world--as though i really belonged to it and had not just crept in on sufferance. i don't suppose you understand in the least what i am trying to say. a person important enough to be a trustee can't appreciate the feelings of a person unimportant enough to be a foundling. and now, daddy, listen to this. whom do you think i am rooming with? sallie mcbride and julia rutledge pendleton. it's the truth. we have a study and three little bedrooms--voila! sallie and i decided last spring that we should like to room together, and julia made up her mind to stay with sallie--why, i can't imagine, for they are not a bit alike; but the pendletons are naturally conservative and inimical (fine word!) to change. anyway, here we are. think of jerusha abbott, late of the john grier home for orphans, rooming with a pendleton. this is a democratic country. sallie is running for class president, and unless all signs fail, she is going to be elected. such an atmosphere of intrigue you should see what politicians we are! oh, i tell you, daddy, when we women get our rights, you men will have to look alive in order to keep yours. election comes next saturday, and we're going to have a torchlight procession in the evening, no matter who wins. i am beginning chemistry, a most unusual study. i've never seen anything like it before. molecules and atoms are the material employed, but i'll be in a position to discuss them more definitely next month. i am also taking argumentation and logic. also history of the whole world. also plays of william shakespeare. also french. if this keeps up many years longer, i shall become quite intelligent. i should rather have elected economics than french, but i didn't dare, because i was afraid that unless i re-elected french, the professor would not let me pass--as it was, i just managed to squeeze through the june examination. but i will say that my high-school preparation was not very adequate. there's one girl in the class who chatters away in french as fast as she does in english. she went abroad with her parents when she was a child, and spent three years in a convent school. you can imagine how bright she is compared with the rest of us--irregular verbs are mere playthings. i wish my parents had chucked me into a french convent when i was little instead of a foundling asylum. oh no, i don't either! because then maybe i should never have known you. i'd rather know you than french. goodbye, daddy. i must call on harriet martin now, and, having discussed the chemical situation, casually drop a few thoughts on the subject of our next president. yours in politics, j. abbott th october dear daddy-long-legs, supposing the swimming tank in the gymnasium were filled full of lemon jelly, could a person trying to swim manage to keep on top or would he sink? we were having lemon jelly for dessert when the question came up. we discussed it heatedly for half an hour and it's still unsettled. sallie thinks that she could swim in it, but i am perfectly sure that the best swimmer in the world would sink. wouldn't it be funny to be drowned in lemon jelly? two other problems are engaging the attention of our table. st. what shape are the rooms in an octagon house? some of the girls insist that they're square; but i think they'd have to be shaped like a piece of pie. don't you? nd. suppose there were a great big hollow sphere made of looking-glass and you were sitting inside. where would it stop reflecting your face and begin reflecting your back? the more one thinks about this problem, the more puzzling it becomes. you can see with what deep philosophical reflection we engage our leisure! did i ever tell you about the election? it happened three weeks ago, but so fast do we live, that three weeks is ancient history. sallie was elected, and we had a torchlight parade with transparencies saying, 'mcbride for ever,' and a band consisting of fourteen pieces (three mouth organs and eleven combs). we're very important persons now in ' .' julia and i come in for a great deal of reflected glory. it's quite a social strain to be living in the same house with a president. bonne nuit, cher daddy. acceptez mez compliments, tres respectueux, je suis, votre judy th november dear daddy-long-legs, we beat the freshmen at basket ball yesterday. of course we're pleased--but oh, if we could only beat the juniors! i'd be willing to be black and blue all over and stay in bed a week in a witch-hazel compress. sallie has invited me to spend the christmas vacation with her. she lives in worcester, massachusetts. wasn't it nice of her? i shall love to go. i've never been in a private family in my life, except at lock willow, and the semples were grown-up and old and don't count. but the mcbrides have a houseful of children (anyway two or three) and a mother and father and grandmother, and an angora cat. it's a perfectly complete family! packing your trunk and going away is more fun than staying behind. i am terribly excited at the prospect. seventh hour--i must run to rehearsal. i'm to be in the thanksgiving theatricals. a prince in a tower with a velvet tunic and yellow curls. isn't that a lark? yours, j. a. saturday do you want to know what i look like? here's a photograph of all three that leonora fenton took. the light one who is laughing is sallie, and the tall one with her nose in the air is julia, and the little one with the hair blowing across her face is judy--she is really more beautiful than that, but the sun was in her eyes. 'stone gate', worcester, mass., st december dear daddy-long-legs, i meant to write to you before and thank you for your christmas cheque, but life in the mcbride household is very absorbing, and i don't seem able to find two consecutive minutes to spend at a desk. i bought a new gown--one that i didn't need, but just wanted. my christmas present this year is from daddy-long-legs; my family just sent love. i've been having the most beautiful vacation visiting sallie. she lives in a big old-fashioned brick house with white trimmings set back from the street--exactly the kind of house that i used to look at so curiously when i was in the john grier home, and wonder what it could be like inside. i never expected to see with my own eyes--but here i am! everything is so comfortable and restful and homelike; i walk from room to room and drink in the furnishings. it is the most perfect house for children to be brought up in; with shadowy nooks for hide and seek, and open fire places for pop-corn, and an attic to romp in on rainy days and slippery banisters with a comfortable flat knob at the bottom, and a great big sunny kitchen, and a nice, fat, sunny cook who has lived in the family thirteen years and always saves out a piece of dough for the children to bake. just the sight of such a house makes you want to be a child all over again. and as for families! i never dreamed they could be so nice. sallie has a father and mother and grandmother, and the sweetest three-year-old baby sister all over curls, and a medium-sized brother who always forgets to wipe his feet, and a big, good-looking brother named jimmie, who is a junior at princeton. we have the jolliest times at the table--everybody laughs and jokes and talks at once, and we don't have to say grace beforehand. it's a relief not having to thank somebody for every mouthful you eat. (i dare say i'm blasphemous; but you'd be, too, if you'd offered as much obligatory thanks as i have.) such a lot of things we've done--i can't begin to tell you about them. mr. mcbride owns a factory and christmas eve he had a tree for the employees' children. it was in the long packing-room which was decorated with evergreens and holly. jimmie mcbride was dressed as santa claus and sallie and i helped him distribute the presents. dear me, daddy, but it was a funny sensation! i felt as benevolent as a trustee of the john grier home. i kissed one sweet, sticky little boy--but i don't think i patted any of them on the head! and two days after christmas, they gave a dance at their own house for me. it was the first really true ball i ever attended--college doesn't count where we dance with girls. i had a new white evening gown (your christmas present--many thanks) and long white gloves and white satin slippers. the only drawback to my perfect, utter, absolute happiness was the fact that mrs. lippett couldn't see me leading the cotillion with jimmie mcbride. tell her about it, please, the next time you visit the j. g. h. yours ever, judy abbott ps. would you be terribly displeased, daddy, if i didn't turn out to be a great author after all, but just a plain girl? . , saturday dear daddy, we started to walk to town today, but mercy! how it poured. i like winter to be winter with snow instead of rain. julia's desirable uncle called again this afternoon--and brought a five-pound box of chocolates. there are advantages, you see, about rooming with julia. our innocent prattle appeared to amuse him and he waited for a later train in order to take tea in the study. we had an awful lot of trouble getting permission. it's hard enough entertaining fathers and grandfathers, but uncles are a step worse; and as for brothers and cousins, they are next to impossible. julia had to swear that he was her uncle before a notary public and then have the county clerk's certificate attached. (don't i know a lot of law?) and even then i doubt if we could have had our tea if the dean had chanced to see how youngish and good-looking uncle jervis is. anyway, we had it, with brown bread swiss cheese sandwiches. he helped make them and then ate four. i told him that i had spent last summer at lock willow, and we had a beautiful gossipy time about the semples, and the horses and cows and chickens. all the horses that he used to know are dead, except grover, who was a baby colt at the time of his last visit--and poor grove now is so old he can just limp about the pasture. he asked if they still kept doughnuts in a yellow crock with a blue plate over it on the bottom shelf of the pantry--and they do! he wanted to know if there was still a woodchuck's hole under the pile of rocks in the night pasture--and there is! amasai caught a big, fat, grey one there this summer, the twenty-fifth great-grandson of the one master jervis caught when he was a little boy. i called him 'master jervie' to his face, but he didn't appear to be insulted. julia says she has never seen him so amiable; he's usually pretty unapproachable. but julia hasn't a bit of tact; and men, i find, require a great deal. they purr if you rub them the right way and spit if you don't. (that isn't a very elegant metaphor. i mean it figuratively.) we're reading marie bashkirtseff's journal. isn't it amazing? listen to this: 'last night i was seized by a fit of despair that found utterance in moans, and that finally drove me to throw the dining-room clock into the sea.' it makes me almost hope i'm not a genius; they must be very wearing to have about--and awfully destructive to the furniture. mercy! how it keeps pouring. we shall have to swim to chapel tonight. yours ever, judy th jan. dear daddy-long-legs, did you ever have a sweet baby girl who was stolen from the cradle in infancy? maybe i am she! if we were in a novel, that would be the denouement, wouldn't it? it's really awfully queer not to know what one is--sort of exciting and romantic. there are such a lot of possibilities. maybe i'm not american; lots of people aren't. i may be straight descended from the ancient romans, or i may be a viking's daughter, or i may be the child of a russian exile and belong by rights in a siberian prison, or maybe i'm a gipsy--i think perhaps i am. i have a very wandering spirit, though i haven't as yet had much chance to develop it. do you know about that one scandalous blot in my career the time i ran away from the asylum because they punished me for stealing cookies? it's down in the books free for any trustee to read. but really, daddy, what could you expect? when you put a hungry little nine-year girl in the pantry scouring knives, with the cookie jar at her elbow, and go off and leave her alone; and then suddenly pop in again, wouldn't you expect to find her a bit crumby? and then when you jerk her by the elbow and box her ears, and make her leave the table when the pudding comes, and tell all the other children that it's because she's a thief, wouldn't you expect her to run away? i only ran four miles. they caught me and brought me back; and every day for a week i was tied, like a naughty puppy, to a stake in the back yard while the other children were out at recess. oh, dear! there's the chapel bell, and after chapel i have a committee meeting. i'm sorry because i meant to write you a very entertaining letter this time. auf wiedersehen cher daddy, pax tibi! judy ps. there's one thing i'm perfectly sure of i'm not a chinaman. th february dear daddy-long-legs, jimmie mcbride has sent me a princeton banner as big as one end of the room; i am very grateful to him for remembering me, but i don't know what on earth to do with it. sallie and julia won't let me hang it up; our room this year is furnished in red, and you can imagine what an effect we'd have if i added orange and black. but it's such nice, warm, thick felt, i hate to waste it. would it be very improper to have it made into a bath robe? my old one shrank when it was washed. i've entirely omitted of late telling you what i am learning, but though you might not imagine it from my letters, my time is exclusively occupied with study. it's a very bewildering matter to get educated in five branches at once. 'the test of true scholarship,' says chemistry professor, 'is a painstaking passion for detail.' 'be careful not to keep your eyes glued to detail,' says history professor. 'stand far enough away to get a perspective of the whole.' you can see with what nicety we have to trim our sails between chemistry and history. i like the historical method best. if i say that william the conqueror came over in , and columbus discovered america in or or whenever it was, that's a mere detail that the professor overlooks. it gives a feeling of security and restfulness to the history recitation, that is entirely lacking in chemistry. sixth-hour bell--i must go to the laboratory and look into a little matter of acids and salts and alkalis. i've burned a hole as big as a plate in the front of my chemistry apron, with hydrochloric acid. if the theory worked, i ought to be able to neutralize that hole with good strong ammonia, oughtn't i? examinations next week, but who's afraid? yours ever, judy th march dear daddy-long-legs, there is a march wind blowing, and the sky is filled with heavy, black moving clouds. the crows in the pine trees are making such a clamour! it's an intoxicating, exhilarating, calling noise. you want to close your books and be off over the hills to race with the wind. we had a paper chase last saturday over five miles of squashy 'cross country. the fox (composed of three girls and a bushel or so of confetti) started half an hour before the twenty-seven hunters. i was one of the twenty-seven; eight dropped by the wayside; we ended nineteen. the trail led over a hill, through a cornfield, and into a swamp where we had to leap lightly from hummock to hummock. of course half of us went in ankle deep. we kept losing the trail, and we wasted twenty-five minutes over that swamp. then up a hill through some woods and in at a barn window! the barn doors were all locked and the window was up high and pretty small. i don't call that fair, do you? but we didn't go through; we circumnavigated the barn and picked up the trail where it issued by way of a low shed roof on to the top of a fence. the fox thought he had us there, but we fooled him. then straight away over two miles of rolling meadow, and awfully hard to follow, for the confetti was getting sparse. the rule is that it must be at the most six feet apart, but they were the longest six feet i ever saw. finally, after two hours of steady trotting, we tracked monsieur fox into the kitchen of crystal spring (that's a farm where the girls go in bob sleighs and hay wagons for chicken and waffle suppers) and we found the three foxes placidly eating milk and honey and biscuits. they hadn't thought we would get that far; they were expecting us to stick in the barn window. both sides insist that they won. i think we did, don't you? because we caught them before they got back to the campus. anyway, all nineteen of us settled like locusts over the furniture and clamoured for honey. there wasn't enough to go round, but mrs. crystal spring (that's our pet name for her; she's by rights a johnson) brought up a jar of strawberry jam and a can of maple syrup--just made last week--and three loaves of brown bread. we didn't get back to college till half-past six--half an hour late for dinner--and we went straight in without dressing, and with perfectly unimpaired appetites! then we all cut evening chapel, the state of our boots being enough of an excuse. i never told you about examinations. i passed everything with the utmost ease--i know the secret now, and am never going to fail again. i shan't be able to graduate with honours though, because of that beastly latin prose and geometry freshman year. but i don't care. wot's the hodds so long as you're 'appy? (that's a quotation. i've been reading the english classics.) speaking of classics, have you ever read hamlet? if you haven't, do it right off. it's perfectly corking. i've been hearing about shakespeare all my life, but i had no idea he really wrote so well; i always suspected him of going largely on his reputation. i have a beautiful play that i invented a long time ago when i first learned to read. i put myself to sleep every night by pretending i'm the person (the most important person) in the book i'm reading at the moment. at present i'm ophelia--and such a sensible ophelia! i keep hamlet amused all the time, and pet him and scold him and make him wrap up his throat when he has a cold. i've entirely cured him of being melancholy. the king and queen are both dead--an accident at sea; no funeral necessary--so hamlet and i are ruling in denmark without any bother. we have the kingdom working beautifully. he takes care of the governing, and i look after the charities. i have just founded some first-class orphan asylums. if you or any of the other trustees would like to visit them, i shall be pleased to show you through. i think you might find a great many helpful suggestions. i remain, sir, yours most graciously, ophelia, queen of denmark. th march, maybe the th dear daddy-long-legs, i don't believe i can be going to heaven--i am getting such a lot of good things here; it wouldn't be fair to get them hereafter too. listen to what has happened. jerusha abbott has won the short-story contest (a twenty-five dollar prize) that the monthly holds every year. and she's a sophomore! the contestants are mostly seniors. when i saw my name posted, i couldn't quite believe it was true. maybe i am going to be an author after all. i wish mrs. lippett hadn't given me such a silly name--it sounds like an author-ess, doesn't it? also i have been chosen for the spring dramatics--as you like it out of doors. i am going to be celia, own cousin to rosalind. and lastly: julia and sallie and i are going to new york next friday to do some spring shopping and stay all night and go to the theatre the next day with 'master jervie.' he invited us. julia is going to stay at home with her family, but sallie and i are going to stop at the martha washington hotel. did you ever hear of anything so exciting? i've never been in a hotel in my life, nor in a theatre; except once when the catholic church had a festival and invited the orphans, but that wasn't a real play and it doesn't count. and what do you think we're going to see? hamlet. think of that! we studied it for four weeks in shakespeare class and i know it by heart. i am so excited over all these prospects that i can scarcely sleep. goodbye, daddy. this is a very entertaining world. yours ever, judy ps. i've just looked at the calendar. it's the th. another postscript. i saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story? th april dear daddy-long-legs, mercy! isn't new york big? worcester is nothing to it. do you mean to tell me that you actually live in all that confusion? i don't believe that i shall recover for months from the bewildering effect of two days of it. i can't begin to tell you all the amazing things i've seen; i suppose you know, though, since you live there yourself. but aren't the streets entertaining? and the people? and the shops? i never saw such lovely things as there are in the windows. it makes you want to devote your life to wearing clothes. sallie and julia and i went shopping together saturday morning. julia went into the very most gorgeous place i ever saw, white and gold walls and blue carpets and blue silk curtains and gilt chairs. a perfectly beautiful lady with yellow hair and a long black silk trailing gown came to meet us with a welcoming smile. i thought we were paying a social call, and started to shake hands, but it seems we were only buying hats--at least julia was. she sat down in front of a mirror and tried on a dozen, each lovelier than the last, and bought the two loveliest of all. i can't imagine any joy in life greater than sitting down in front of a mirror and buying any hat you choose without having first to consider the price! there's no doubt about it, daddy; new york would rapidly undermine this fine stoical character which the john grier home so patiently built up. and after we'd finished our shopping, we met master jervie at sherry's. i suppose you've been in sherry's? picture that, then picture the dining-room of the john grier home with its oilcloth-covered tables, and white crockery that you can't break, and wooden-handled knives and forks; and fancy the way i felt! i ate my fish with the wrong fork, but the waiter very kindly gave me another so that nobody noticed. and after luncheon we went to the theatre--it was dazzling, marvellous, unbelievable--i dream about it every night. isn't shakespeare wonderful? hamlet is so much better on the stage than when we analyze it in class; i appreciated it before, but now, dear me! i think, if you don't mind, that i'd rather be an actress than a writer. wouldn't you like me to leave college and go into a dramatic school? and then i'll send you a box for all my performances, and smile at you across the footlights. only wear a red rose in your buttonhole, please, so i'll surely smile at the right man. it would be an awfully embarrassing mistake if i picked out the wrong one. we came back saturday night and had our dinner in the train, at little tables with pink lamps and negro waiters. i never heard of meals being served in trains before, and i inadvertently said so. 'where on earth were you brought up?' said julia to me. 'in a village,' said i meekly, to julia. 'but didn't you ever travel?' said she to me. 'not till i came to college, and then it was only a hundred and sixty miles and we didn't eat,' said i to her. she's getting quite interested in me, because i say such funny things. i try hard not to, but they do pop out when i'm surprised--and i'm surprised most of the time. it's a dizzying experience, daddy, to pass eighteen years in the john grier home, and then suddenly to be plunged into the world. but i'm getting acclimated. i don't make such awful mistakes as i did; and i don't feel uncomfortable any more with the other girls. i used to squirm whenever people looked at me. i felt as though they saw right through my sham new clothes to the checked ginghams underneath. but i'm not letting the ginghams bother me any more. sufficient unto yesterday is the evil thereof. i forgot to tell you about our flowers. master jervie gave us each a big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. wasn't that sweet of him? i never used to care much for men--judging by trustees--but i'm changing my mind. eleven pages--this is a letter! have courage. i'm going to stop. yours always, judy th april dear mr. rich-man, here's your cheque for fifty dollars. thank you very much, but i do not feel that i can keep it. my allowance is sufficient to afford all of the hats that i need. i am sorry that i wrote all that silly stuff about the millinery shop; it's just that i had never seen anything like it before. however, i wasn't begging! and i would rather not accept any more charity than i have to. sincerely yours, jerusha abbott th april dearest daddy, will you please forgive me for the letter i wrote you yesterday? after i posted it i was sorry, and tried to get it back, but that beastly mail clerk wouldn't give it back to me. it's the middle of the night now; i've been awake for hours thinking what a worm i am--what a thousand-legged worm--and that's the worst i can say! i've closed the door very softly into the study so as not to wake julia and sallie, and am sitting up in bed writing to you on paper torn out of my history note-book. i just wanted to tell you that i am sorry i was so impolite about your cheque. i know you meant it kindly, and i think you're an old dear to take so much trouble for such a silly thing as a hat. i ought to have returned it very much more graciously. but in any case, i had to return it. it's different with me than with other girls. they can take things naturally from people. they have fathers and brothers and aunts and uncles; but i can't be on any such relations with any one. i like to pretend that you belong to me, just to play with the idea, but of course i know you don't. i'm alone, really--with my back to the wall fighting the world--and i get sort of gaspy when i think about it. i put it out of my mind, and keep on pretending; but don't you see, daddy? i can't accept any more money than i have to, because some day i shall be wanting to pay it back, and even as great an author as i intend to be won't be able to face a perfectly tremendous debt. i'd love pretty hats and things, but i mustn't mortgage the future to pay for them. you'll forgive me, won't you, for being so rude? i have an awful habit of writing impulsively when i first think things, and then posting the letter beyond recall. but if i sometimes seem thoughtless and ungrateful, i never mean it. in my heart i thank you always for the life and freedom and independence that you have given me. my childhood was just a long, sullen stretch of revolt, and now i am so happy every moment of the day that i can't believe it's true. i feel like a made-up heroine in a story-book. it's a quarter past two. i'm going to tiptoe out to post this off now. you'll receive it in the next mail after the other; so you won't have a very long time to think bad of me. good night, daddy, i love you always, judy th may dear daddy-long-legs, field day last saturday. it was a very spectacular occasion. first we had a parade of all the classes, with everybody dressed in white linen, the seniors carrying blue and gold japanese umbrellas, and the juniors white and yellow banners. our class had crimson balloons--very fetching, especially as they were always getting loose and floating off--and the freshmen wore green tissue-paper hats with long streamers. also we had a band in blue uniforms hired from town. also about a dozen funny people, like clowns in a circus, to keep the spectators entertained between events. julia was dressed as a fat country man with a linen duster and whiskers and baggy umbrella. patsy moriarty (patrici really. did you ever hear such a name? mrs. lippett couldn't have done better) who is tall and thin was julia's wife in a absurd green bonnet over one ear. waves of laughter followed them the whole length of the course. julia played the part extremely well. i never dreamed that a pendleton could display so much comedy spirit--begging master jervie's pardon; i don't consider him a true pendleton though, any more than i consider you a true trustee. sallie and i weren't in the parade because we were entered for the events. and what do you think? we both won! at least in something. we tried for the running broad jump and lost; but sallie won the pole-vaulting (seven feet three inches) and i won the fifty-yard sprint (eight seconds). i was pretty panting at the end, but it was great fun, with the whole class waving balloons and cheering and yelling: what's the matter with judy abbott? she's all right. who's all right? judy ab-bott! that, daddy, is true fame. then trotting back to the dressing tent and being rubbed down with alcohol and having a lemon to suck. you see we're very professional. it's a fine thing to win an event for your class, because the class that wins the most gets the athletic cup for the year. the seniors won it this year, with seven events to their credit. the athletic association gave a dinner in the gymnasium to all of the winners. we had fried soft-shell crabs, and chocolate ice-cream moulded in the shape of basket balls. i sat up half of last night reading jane eyre. are you old enough, daddy, to remember sixty years ago? and, if so, did people talk that way? the haughty lady blanche says to the footman, 'stop your chattering, knave, and do my bidding.' mr. rochester talks about the metal welkin when he means the sky; and as for the mad woman who laughs like a hyena and sets fire to bed curtains and tears up wedding veils and bites--it's melodrama of the purest, but just the same, you read and read and read. i can't see how any girl could have written such a book, especially any girl who was brought up in a churchyard. there's something about those brontes that fascinates me. their books, their lives, their spirit. where did they get it? when i was reading about little jane's troubles in the charity school, i got so angry that i had to go out and take a walk. i understood exactly how she felt. having known mrs. lippett, i could see mr. brocklehurst. don't be outraged, daddy. i am not intimating that the john grier home was like the lowood institute. we had plenty to eat and plenty to wear, sufficient water to wash in, and a furnace in the cellar. but there was one deadly likeness. our lives were absolutely monotonous and uneventful. nothing nice ever happened, except ice-cream on sundays, and even that was regular. in all the eighteen years i was there i only had one adventure--when the woodshed burned. we had to get up in the night and dress so as to be ready in case the house should catch. but it didn't catch and we went back to bed. everybody likes a few surprises; it's a perfectly natural human craving. but i never had one until mrs. lippett called me to the office to tell me that mr. john smith was going to send me to college. and then she broke the news so gradually that it just barely shocked me. you know, daddy, i think that the most necessary quality for any person to have is imagination. it makes people able to put themselves in other people's places. it makes them kind and sympathetic and understanding. it ought to be cultivated in children. but the john grier home instantly stamped out the slightest flicker that appeared. duty was the one quality that was encouraged. i don't think children ought to know the meaning of the word; it's odious, detestable. they ought to do everything from love. wait until you see the orphan asylum that i am going to be the head of! it's my favourite play at night before i go to sleep. i plan it out to the littlest detail--the meals and clothes and study and amusements and punishments; for even my superior orphans are sometimes bad. but anyway, they are going to be happy. i think that every one, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. and if i ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy i may be, i am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up. (there goes the chapel bell--i'll finish this letter sometime). thursday when i came in from laboratory this afternoon, i found a squirrel sitting on the tea table helping himself to almonds. these are the kind of callers we entertain now that warm weather has come and the windows stay open-- saturday morning perhaps you think, last night being friday, with no classes today, that i passed a nice quiet, readable evening with the set of stevenson that i bought with my prize money? but if so, you've never attended a girls' college, daddy dear. six friends dropped in to make fudge, and one of them dropped the fudge--while it was still liquid--right in the middle of our best rug. we shall never be able to clean up the mess. i haven't mentioned any lessons of late; but we are still having them every day. it's sort of a relief though, to get away from them and discuss life in the large--rather one-sided discussions that you and i hold, but that's your own fault. you are welcome to answer back any time you choose. i've been writing this letter off and on for three days, and i fear by now vous etes bien bored! goodbye, nice mr. man, judy mr. daddy-long-legs smith, sir: having completed the study of argumentation and the science of dividing a thesis into heads, i have decided to adopt the following form for letter-writing. it contains all necessary facts, but no unnecessary verbiage. i. we had written examinations this week in: a. chemistry. b. history. ii. a new dormitory is being built. a. its material is: (a) red brick. (b) grey stone. b. its capacity will be: (a) one dean, five instructors. (b) two hundred girls. (c) one housekeeper, three cooks, twenty waitresses, twenty chambermaids. iii. we had junket for dessert tonight. iv. i am writing a special topic upon the sources of shakespeare's plays. v. lou mcmahon slipped and fell this afternoon at basket ball, and she: a. dislocated her shoulder. b. bruised her knee. vi. i have a new hat trimmed with: a. blue velvet ribbon. b. two blue quills. c. three red pompoms. vii. it is half past nine. viii. good night. judy nd june dear daddy-long-legs, you will never guess the nice thing that has happened. the mcbrides have asked me to spend the summer at their camp in the adirondacks! they belong to a sort of club on a lovely little lake in the middle of the woods. the different members have houses made of logs dotted about among the trees, and they go canoeing on the lake, and take long walks through trails to other camps, and have dances once a week in the club house--jimmie mcbride is going to have a college friend visiting him part of the summer, so you see we shall have plenty of men to dance with. wasn't it sweet of mrs. mcbride to ask me? it appears that she liked me when i was there for christmas. please excuse this being short. it isn't a real letter; it's just to let you know that i'm disposed of for the summer. yours, in a very contented frame of mind, judy th june dear daddy-long-legs, your secretary man has just written to me saying that mr. smith prefers that i should not accept mrs. mcbride's invitation, but should return to lock willow the same as last summer. why, why, why, daddy? you don't understand about it. mrs. mcbride does want me, really and truly. i'm not the least bit of trouble in the house. i'm a help. they don't take up many servants, and sallie an i can do lots of useful things. it's a fine chance for me to learn housekeeping. every woman ought to understand it, and i only know asylum-keeping. there aren't any girls our age at the camp, and mrs. mcbride wants me for a companion for sallie. we are planning to do a lot of reading together. we are going to read all of the books for next year's english and sociology. the professor said it would be a great help if we would get our reading finished in the summer; and it's so much easier to remember it if we read together and talk it over. just to live in the same house with sallie's mother is an education. she's the most interesting, entertaining, companionable, charming woman in the world; she knows everything. think how many summers i've spent with mrs. lippett and how i'll appreciate the contrast. you needn't be afraid that i'll be crowding them, for their house is made of rubber. when they have a lot of company, they just sprinkle tents about in the woods and turn the boys outside. it's going to be such a nice, healthy summer exercising out of doors every minute. jimmie mcbride is going to teach me how to ride horseback and paddle a canoe, and how to shoot and--oh, lots of things i ought to know. it's the kind of nice, jolly, care-free time that i've never had; and i think every girl deserves it once in her life. of course i'll do exactly as you say, but please, please let me go, daddy. i've never wanted anything so much. this isn't jerusha abbott, the future great author, writing to you. it's just judy--a girl. th june mr. john smith, sir: yours of the th inst. at hand. in compliance with the instructions received through your secretary, i leave on friday next to spend the summer at lock willow farm. i hope always to remain, (miss) jerusha abbott lock willow farm, rd august dear daddy-long-legs, it has been nearly two months since i wrote, which wasn't nice of me, i know, but i haven't loved you much this summer--you see i'm being frank! you can't imagine how disappointed i was at having to give up the mcbrides' camp. of course i know that you're my guardian, and that i have to regard your wishes in all matters, but i couldn't see any reason. it was so distinctly the best thing that could have happened to me. if i had been daddy, and you had been judy, i should have said, 'bless you my child, run along and have a good time; see lots of new people and learn lots of new things; live out of doors, and get strong and well and rested for a year of hard work.' but not at all! just a curt line from your secretary ordering me to lock willow. it's the impersonality of your commands that hurts my feelings. it seems as though, if you felt the tiniest little bit for me the way i feel for you, you'd sometimes send me a message that you'd written with your own hand, instead of those beastly typewritten secretary's notes. if there were the slightest hint that you cared, i'd do anything on earth to please you. i know that i was to write nice, long, detailed letters without ever expecting any answer. you're living up to your side of the bargain--i'm being educated--and i suppose you're thinking i'm not living up to mine! but, daddy, it is a hard bargain. it is, really. i'm so awfully lonely. you are the only person i have to care for, and you are so shadowy. you're just an imaginary man that i've made up--and probably the real you isn't a bit like my imaginary you. but you did once, when i was ill in the infirmary, send me a message, and now, when i am feeling awfully forgotten, i get out your card and read it over. i don't think i am telling you at all what i started to say, which was this: although my feelings are still hurt, for it is very humiliating to be picked up and moved about by an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, omnipotent, invisible providence, still, when a man has been as kind and generous and thoughtful as you have heretofore been towards me, i suppose he has a right to be an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, invisible providence if he chooses, and so--i'll forgive you and be cheerful again. but i still don't enjoy getting sallie's letters about the good times they are having in camp! however--we will draw a veil over that and begin again. i've been writing and writing this summer; four short stories finished and sent to four different magazines. so you see i'm trying to be an author. i have a workroom fixed in a corner of the attic where master jervie used to have his rainy-day playroom. it's in a cool, breezy corner with two dormer windows, and shaded by a maple tree with a family of red squirrels living in a hole. i'll write a nicer letter in a few days and tell you all the farm news. we need rain. yours as ever, judy th august mr. daddy-long-legs, sir: i address you from the second crotch in the willow tree by the pool in the pasture. there's a frog croaking underneath, a locust singing overhead and two little 'devil downheads' darting up and down the trunk. i've been here for an hour; it's a very comfortable crotch, especially after being upholstered with two sofa cushions. i came up with a pen and tablet hoping to write an immortal short story, but i've been having a dreadful time with my heroine--i can't make her behave as i want her to behave; so i've abandoned her for the moment, and am writing to you. (not much relief though, for i can't make you behave as i want you to, either.) if you are in that dreadful new york, i wish i could send you some of this lovely, breezy, sunshiny outlook. the country is heaven after a week of rain. speaking of heaven--do you remember mr. kellogg that i told you about last summer?--the minister of the little white church at the corners. well, the poor old soul is dead--last winter of pneumonia. i went half a dozen times to hear him preach and got very well acquainted with his theology. he believed to the end exactly the same things he started with. it seems to me that a man who can think straight along for forty-seven years without changing a single idea ought to be kept in a cabinet as a curiosity. i hope he is enjoying his harp and golden crown; he was so perfectly sure of finding them! there's a new young man, very consequential, in his place. the congregation is pretty dubious, especially the faction led by deacon cummings. it looks as though there was going to be an awful split in the church. we don't care for innovations in religion in this neighbourhood. during our week of rain i sat up in the attic and had an orgy of reading--stevenson, mostly. he himself is more entertaining than any of the characters in his books; i dare say he made himself into the kind of hero that would look well in print. don't you think it was perfect of him to spend all the ten thousand dollars his father left, for a yacht, and go sailing off to the south seas? he lived up to his adventurous creed. if my father had left me ten thousand dollars, i'd do it, too. the thought of vailima makes me wild. i want to see the tropics. i want to see the whole world. i am going to be a great author, or artist, or actress, or playwright--or whatever sort of a great person i turn out to be. i have a terrible wanderthirst; the very sight of a map makes me want to put on my hat and take an umbrella and start. 'i shall see before i die the palms and temples of the south.' thursday evening at twilight, sitting on the doorstep. very hard to get any news into this letter! judy is becoming so philosophical of late, that she wishes to discourse largely of the world in general, instead of descending to the trivial details of daily life. but if you must have news, here it is: our nine young pigs waded across the brook and ran away last tuesday, and only eight came back. we don't want to accuse anyone unjustly, but we suspect that widow dowd has one more than she ought to have. mr. weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkin yellow--a very ugly colour, but he says it will wear. the brewers have company this week; mrs. brewer's sister and two nieces from ohio. one of our rhode island reds only brought off three chicks out of fifteen eggs. we can't imagine what was the trouble. rhode island reds, in my opinion, are a very inferior breed. i prefer buff orpingtons. the new clerk in the post office at bonnyrigg four corners drank every drop of jamaica ginger they had in stock--seven dollars' worth--before he was discovered. old ira hatch has rheumatism and can't work any more; he never saved his money when he was earning good wages, so now he has to live on the town. there's to be an ice-cream social at the schoolhouse next saturday evening. come and bring your families. i have a new hat that i bought for twenty-five cents at the post office. this is my latest portrait, on my way to rake the hay. it's getting too dark to see; anyway, the news is all used up. good night, judy friday good morning! here is some news! what do you think? you'd never, never, never guess who's coming to lock willow. a letter to mrs. semple from mr. pendleton. he's motoring through the berkshires, and is tired and wants to rest on a nice quiet farm--if he climbs out at her doorstep some night will she have a room ready for him? maybe he'll stay one week, or maybe two, or maybe three; he'll see how restful it is when he gets here. such a flutter as we are in! the whole house is being cleaned and all the curtains washed. i am driving to the corners this morning to get some new oilcloth for the entry, and two cans of brown floor paint for the hall and back stairs. mrs. dowd is engaged to come tomorrow to wash the windows (in the exigency of the moment, we waive our suspicions in regard to the piglet). you might think, from this account of our activities, that the house was not already immaculate; but i assure you it was! whatever mrs. semple's limitations, she is a housekeeper. but isn't it just like a man, daddy? he doesn't give the remotest hint as to whether he will land on the doorstep today, or two weeks from today. we shall live in a perpetual breathlessness until he comes--and if he doesn't hurry, the cleaning may all have to be done over again. there's amasai waiting below with the buckboard and grover. i drive alone--but if you could see old grove, you wouldn't be worried as to my safety. with my hand on my heart--farewell. judy ps. isn't that a nice ending? i got it out of stevenson's letters. saturday good morning again! i didn't get this enveloped yesterday before the postman came, so i'll add some more. we have one mail a day at twelve o'clock. rural delivery is a blessing to the farmers! our postman not only delivers letters, but he runs errands for us in town, at five cents an errand. yesterday he brought me some shoe-strings and a jar of cold cream (i sunburned all the skin off my nose before i got my new hat) and a blue windsor tie and a bottle of blacking all for ten cents. that was an unusual bargain, owing to the largeness of my order. also he tells us what is happening in the great world. several people on the route take daily papers, and he reads them as he jogs along, and repeats the news to the ones who don't subscribe. so in case a war breaks out between the united states and japan, or the president is assassinated, or mr. rockefeller leaves a million dollars to the john grier home, you needn't bother to write; i'll hear it anyway. no sign yet of master jervie. but you should see how clean our house is--and with what anxiety we wipe our feet before we step in! i hope he'll come soon; i am longing for someone to talk to. mrs. semple, to tell you the truth, gets rather monotonous. she never lets ideas interrupt the easy flow of her conversation. it's a funny thing about the people here. their world is just this single hilltop. they are not a bit universal, if you know what i mean. it's exactly the same as at the john grier home. our ideas there were bounded by the four sides of the iron fence, only i didn't mind it so much because i was younger, and was so awfully busy. by the time i'd got all my beds made and my babies' faces washed and had gone to school and come home and had washed their faces again and darned their stockings and mended freddie perkins's trousers (he tore them every day of his life) and learned my lessons in between--i was ready to go to bed, and i didn't notice any lack of social intercourse. but after two years in a conversational college, i do miss it; and i shall be glad to see somebody who speaks my language. i really believe i've finished, daddy. nothing else occurs to me at the moment--i'll try to write a longer letter next time. yours always, judy ps. the lettuce hasn't done at all well this year. it was so dry early in the season. th august well, daddy, master jervie's here. and such a nice time as we're having! at least i am, and i think he is, too--he has been here ten days and he doesn't show any signs of going. the way mrs. semple pampers that man is scandalous. if she indulged him as much when he was a baby, i don't know how he ever turned out so well. he and i eat at a little table set on the side porch, or sometimes under the trees, or--when it rains or is cold--in the best parlour. he just picks out the spot he wants to eat in and carrie trots after him with the table. then if it has been an awful nuisance, and she has had to carry the dishes very far, she finds a dollar under the sugar bowl. he is an awfully companionable sort of man, though you would never believe it to see him casually; he looks at first glance like a true pendleton, but he isn't in the least. he is just as simple and unaffected and sweet as he can be--that seems a funny way to describe a man, but it's true. he's extremely nice with the farmers around here; he meets them in a sort of man-to-man fashion that disarms them immediately. they were very suspicious at first. they didn't care for his clothes! and i will say that his clothes are rather amazing. he wears knickerbockers and pleated jackets and white flannels and riding clothes with puffed trousers. whenever he comes down in anything new, mrs. semple, beaming with pride, walks around and views him from every angle, and urges him to be careful where he sits down; she is so afraid he will pick up some dust. it bores him dreadfully. he's always saying to her: 'run along, lizzie, and tend to your work. you can't boss me any longer. i've grown up.' it's awfully funny to think of that great big, long-legged man (he's nearly as long-legged as you, daddy) ever sitting in mrs. semple's lap and having his face washed. particularly funny when you see her lap! she has two laps now, and three chins. but he says that once she was thin and wiry and spry and could run faster than he. such a lot of adventures we're having! we've explored the country for miles, and i've learned to fish with funny little flies made of feathers. also to shoot with a rifle and a revolver. also to ride horseback--there's an astonishing amount of life in old grove. we fed him on oats for three days, and he shied at a calf and almost ran away with me. wednesday we climbed sky hill monday afternoon. that's a mountain near here; not an awfully high mountain, perhaps--no snow on the summit--but at least you are pretty breathless when you reach the top. the lower slopes are covered with woods, but the top is just piled rocks and open moor. we stayed up for the sunset and built a fire and cooked our supper. master jervie did the cooking; he said he knew how better than me and he did, too, because he's used to camping. then we came down by moonlight, and, when we reached the wood trail where it was dark, by the light of an electric bulb that he had in his pocket. it was such fun! he laughed and joked all the way and talked about interesting things. he's read all the books i've ever read, and a lot of others besides. it's astonishing how many different things he knows. we went for a long tramp this morning and got caught in a storm. our clothes were drenched before we reached home but our spirits not even damp. you should have seen mrs. semple's face when we dripped into her kitchen. 'oh, master jervie--miss judy! you are soaked through. dear! dear! what shall i do? that nice new coat is perfectly ruined.' she was awfully funny; you would have thought that we were ten years old, and she a distracted mother. i was afraid for a while that we weren't going to get any jam for tea. saturday i started this letter ages ago, but i haven't had a second to finish it. isn't this a nice thought from stevenson? the world is so full of a number of things, i am sure we should all be as happy as kings. it's true, you know. the world is full of happiness, and plenty to go round, if you are only willing to take the kind that comes your way. the whole secret is in being pliable. in the country, especially, there are such a lot of entertaining things. i can walk over everybody's land, and look at everybody's view, and dabble in everybody's brook; and enjoy it just as much as though i owned the land--and with no taxes to pay! it's sunday night now, about eleven o'clock, and i am supposed to be getting some beauty sleep, but i had black coffee for dinner, so--no beauty sleep for me! this morning, said mrs. semple to mr. pendleton, with a very determined accent: 'we have to leave here at a quarter past ten in order to get to church by eleven.' 'very well, lizzie,' said master jervie, 'you have the buggy ready, and if i'm not dressed, just go on without waiting.' 'we'll wait,' said she. 'as you please,' said he, 'only don't keep the horses standing too long.' then while she was dressing, he told carrie to pack up a lunch, and he told me to scramble into my walking clothes; and we slipped out the back way and went fishing. it discommoded the household dreadfully, because lock willow of a sunday dines at two. but he ordered dinner at seven--he orders meals whenever he chooses; you would think the place were a restaurant--and that kept carrie and amasai from going driving. but he said it was all the better because it wasn't proper for them to go driving without a chaperon; and anyway, he wanted the horses himself to take me driving. did you ever hear anything so funny? and poor mrs. semple believes that people who go fishing on sundays go afterwards to a sizzling hot hell! she is awfully troubled to think that she didn't train him better when he was small and helpless and she had the chance. besides--she wished to show him off in church. anyway, we had our fishing (he caught four little ones) and we cooked them on a camp-fire for lunch. they kept falling off our spiked sticks into the fire, so they tasted a little ashy, but we ate them. we got home at four and went driving at five and had dinner at seven, and at ten i was sent to bed and here i am, writing to you. i am getting a little sleepy, though. good night. here is a picture of the one fish i caught. ship ahoy, cap'n long-legs! avast! belay! yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum. guess what i'm reading? our conversation these past two days has been nautical and piratical. isn't treasure island fun? did you ever read it, or wasn't it written when you were a boy? stevenson only got thirty pounds for the serial rights--i don't believe it pays to be a great author. maybe i'll be a school-teacher. excuse me for filling my letters so full of stevenson; my mind is very much engaged with him at present. he comprises lock willow's library. i've been writing this letter for two weeks, and i think it's about long enough. never say, daddy, that i don't give details. i wish you were here, too; we'd all have such a jolly time together. i like my different friends to know each other. i wanted to ask mr. pendleton if he knew you in new york--i should think he might; you must move in about the same exalted social circles, and you are both interested in reforms and things--but i couldn't, for i don't know your real name. it's the silliest thing i ever heard of, not to know your name. mrs. lippett warned me that you were eccentric. i should think so! affectionately, judy ps. on reading this over, i find that it isn't all stevenson. there are one or two glancing references to master jervie. th september dear daddy, he has gone, and we are missing him! when you get accustomed to people or places or ways of living, and then have them snatched away, it does leave an awfully empty, gnawing sort of sensation. i'm finding mrs. semple's conversation pretty unseasoned food. college opens in two weeks and i shall be glad to begin work again. i have worked quite a lot this summer though--six short stories and seven poems. those i sent to the magazines all came back with the most courteous promptitude. but i don't mind. it's good practice. master jervie read them--he brought in the post, so i couldn't help his knowing--and he said they were dreadful. they showed that i didn't have the slightest idea of what i was talking about. (master jervie doesn't let politeness interfere with truth.) but the last one i did--just a little sketch laid in college--he said wasn't bad; and he had it typewritten, and i sent it to a magazine. they've had it two weeks; maybe they're thinking it over. you should see the sky! there's the queerest orange-coloured light over everything. we're going to have a storm. it commenced just that moment with tremendously big drops and all the shutters banging. i had to run to close the windows, while carrie flew to the attic with an armful of milk pans to put under the places where the roof leaks and then, just as i was resuming my pen, i remembered that i'd left a cushion and rug and hat and matthew arnold's poems under a tree in the orchard, so i dashed out to get them, all quite soaked. the red cover of the poems had run into the inside; dover beach in the future will be washed by pink waves. a storm is awfully disturbing in the country. you are always having to think of so many things that are out of doors and getting spoiled. thursday daddy! daddy! what do you think? the postman has just come with two letters. st. my story is accepted. $ . alors! i'm an author. nd. a letter from the college secretary. i'm to have a scholarship for two years that will cover board and tuition. it was founded for 'marked proficiency in english with general excellency in other lines.' and i've won it! i applied for it before i left, but i didn't have an idea i'd get it, on account of my freshman bad work in maths and latin. but it seems i've made it up. i am awfully glad, daddy, because now i won't be such a burden to you. the monthly allowance will be all i'll need, and maybe i can earn that with writing or tutoring or something. i'm longing to go back and begin work. yours ever, jerusha abbott, author of when the sophomores won the game. for sale at all news stands, price ten cents. th september dear daddy-long-legs, back at college again and an upper classman. our study is better than ever this year--faces the south with two huge windows and oh! so furnished. julia, with an unlimited allowance, arrived two days early and was attacked with a fever for settling. we have new wall paper and oriental rugs and mahogany chairs--not painted mahogany which made us sufficiently happy last year, but real. it's very gorgeous, but i don't feel as though i belonged in it; i'm nervous all the time for fear i'll get an ink spot in the wrong place. and, daddy, i found your letter waiting for me--pardon--i mean your secretary's. will you kindly convey to me a comprehensible reason why i should not accept that scholarship? i don't understand your objection in the least. but anyway, it won't do the slightest good for you to object, for i've already accepted it and i am not going to change! that sounds a little impertinent, but i don't mean it so. i suppose you feel that when you set out to educate me, you'd like to finish the work, and put a neat period, in the shape of a diploma, at the end. but look at it just a second from my point of view. i shall owe my education to you just as much as though i let you pay for the whole of it, but i won't be quite so much indebted. i know that you don't want me to return the money, but nevertheless, i am going to want to do it, if i possibly can; and winning this scholarship makes it so much easier. i was expecting to spend the rest of my life in paying my debts, but now i shall only have to spend one-half of the rest of it. i hope you understand my position and won't be cross. the allowance i shall still most gratefully accept. it requires an allowance to live up to julia and her furniture! i wish that she had been reared to simpler tastes, or else that she were not my room-mate. this isn't much of a letter; i meant to have written a lot--but i've been hemming four window curtains and three portieres (i'm glad you can't see the length of the stitches), and polishing a brass desk set with tooth powder (very uphill work), and sawing off picture wire with manicure scissors, and unpacking four boxes of books, and putting away two trunkfuls of clothes (it doesn't seem believable that jerusha abbott owns two trunks full of clothes, but she does!) and welcoming back fifty dear friends in between. opening day is a joyous occasion! good night, daddy dear, and don't be annoyed because your chick is wanting to scratch for herself. she's growing up into an awfully energetic little hen--with a very determined cluck and lots of beautiful feathers (all due to you). affectionately, judy th september dear daddy, are you still harping on that scholarship? i never knew a man so obstinate, and stubborn and unreasonable, and tenacious, and bull-doggish, and unable-to-see-other-people's-point-of-view, as you. you prefer that i should not be accepting favours from strangers. strangers!--and what are you, pray? is there anyone in the world that i know less? i shouldn't recognize you if i met you in the street. now, you see, if you had been a sane, sensible person and had written nice, cheering fatherly letters to your little judy, and had come occasionally and patted her on the head, and had said you were glad she was such a good girl--then, perhaps, she wouldn't have flouted you in your old age, but would have obeyed your slightest wish like the dutiful daughter she was meant to be. strangers indeed! you live in a glass house, mr. smith. and besides, this isn't a favour; it's like a prize--i earned it by hard work. if nobody had been good enough in english, the committee wouldn't have awarded the scholarship; some years they don't. also-- but what's the use of arguing with a man? you belong, mr. smith, to a sex devoid of a sense of logic. to bring a man into line, there are just two methods: one must either coax or be disagreeable. i scorn to coax men for what i wish. therefore, i must be disagreeable. i refuse, sir, to give up the scholarship; and if you make any more fuss, i won't accept the monthly allowance either, but will wear myself into a nervous wreck tutoring stupid freshmen. that is my ultimatum! and listen--i have a further thought. since you are so afraid that by taking this scholarship i am depriving someone else of an education, i know a way out. you can apply the money that you would have spent for me towards educating some other little girl from the john grier home. don't you think that's a nice idea? only, daddy, educate the new girl as much as you choose, but please don't like her any better than me. i trust that your secretary won't be hurt because i pay so little attention to the suggestions offered in his letter, but i can't help it if he is. he's a spoiled child, daddy. i've meekly given in to his whims heretofore, but this time i intend to be firm. yours, with a mind, completely and irrevocably and world-without-end made-up, jerusha abbott th november dear daddy-long-legs, i started down town today to buy a bottle of shoe blacking and some collars and the material for a new blouse and a jar of violet cream and a cake of castile soap--all very necessary; i couldn't be happy another day without them--and when i tried to pay the car fare, i found that i had left my purse in the pocket of my other coat. so i had to get out and take the next car, and was late for gymnasium. it's a dreadful thing to have no memory and two coats! julia pendleton has invited me to visit her for the christmas holidays. how does that strike you, mr. smith? fancy jerusha abbott, of the john grier home, sitting at the tables of the rich. i don't know why julia wants me--she seems to be getting quite attached to me of late. i should, to tell the truth, very much prefer going to sallie's, but julia asked me first, so if i go anywhere it must be to new york instead of to worcester. i'm rather awed at the prospect of meeting pendletons en masse, and also i'd have to get a lot of new clothes--so, daddy dear, if you write that you would prefer having me remain quietly at college, i will bow to your wishes with my usual sweet docility. i'm engaged at odd moments with the life and letters of thomas huxley--it makes nice, light reading to pick up between times. do you know what an archaeopteryx is? it's a bird. and a stereognathus? i'm not sure myself, but i think it's a missing link, like a bird with teeth or a lizard with wings. no, it isn't either; i've just looked in the book. it's a mesozoic mammal. i've elected economics this year--very illuminating subject. when i finish that i'm going to take charity and reform; then, mr. trustee, i'll know just how an orphan asylum ought to be run. don't you think i'd make an admirable voter if i had my rights? i was twenty-one last week. this is an awfully wasteful country to throw away such an honest, educated, conscientious, intelligent citizen as i would be. yours always, judy th december dear daddy-long-legs, thank you for permission to visit julia--i take it that silence means consent. such a social whirl as we've been having! the founder's dance came last week--this was the first year that any of us could attend; only upper classmen being allowed. i invited jimmie mcbride, and sallie invited his room-mate at princeton, who visited them last summer at their camp--an awfully nice man with red hair--and julia invited a man from new york, not very exciting, but socially irreproachable. he is connected with the de la mater chichesters. perhaps that means something to you? it doesn't illuminate me to any extent. however--our guests came friday afternoon in time for tea in the senior corridor, and then dashed down to the hotel for dinner. the hotel was so full that they slept in rows on the billiard tables, they say. jimmie mcbride says that the next time he is bidden to a social event in this college, he is going to bring one of their adirondack tents and pitch it on the campus. at seven-thirty they came back for the president's reception and dance. our functions commence early! we had the men's cards all made out ahead of time, and after every dance, we'd leave them in groups, under the letter that stood for their names, so that they could be readily found by their next partners. jimmie mcbride, for example, would stand patiently under 'm' until he was claimed. (at least, he ought to have stood patiently, but he kept wandering off and getting mixed with 'r's' and 's's' and all sorts of letters.) i found him a very difficult guest; he was sulky because he had only three dances with me. he said he was bashful about dancing with girls he didn't know! the next morning we had a glee club concert--and who do you think wrote the funny new song composed for the occasion? it's the truth. she did. oh, i tell you, daddy, your little foundling is getting to be quite a prominent person! anyway, our gay two days were great fun, and i think the men enjoyed it. some of them were awfully perturbed at first at the prospect of facing one thousand girls; but they got acclimated very quickly. our two princeton men had a beautiful time--at least they politely said they had, and they've invited us to their dance next spring. we've accepted, so please don't object, daddy dear. julia and sallie and i all had new dresses. do you want to hear about them? julia's was cream satin and gold embroidery and she wore purple orchids. it was a dream and came from paris, and cost a million dollars. sallie's was pale blue trimmed with persian embroidery, and went beautifully with red hair. it didn't cost quite a million, but was just as effective as julia's. mine was pale pink crepe de chine trimmed with ecru lace and rose satin. and i carried crimson roses which j. mcb. sent (sallie having told him what colour to get). and we all had satin slippers and silk stockings and chiffon scarfs to match. you must be deeply impressed by these millinery details. one can't help thinking, daddy, what a colourless life a man is forced to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and venetian point and hand embroidery and irish crochet are to him mere empty words. whereas a woman--whether she is interested in babies or microbes or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or plato or bridge--is fundamentally and always interested in clothes. it's the one touch of nature that makes the whole world kin. (that isn't original. i got it out of one of shakespeare's plays). however, to resume. do you want me to tell you a secret that i've lately discovered? and will you promise not to think me vain? then listen: i'm pretty. i am, really. i'd be an awful idiot not to know it with three looking-glasses in the room. a friend ps. this is one of those wicked anonymous letters you read about in novels. th december dear daddy-long-legs, i've just a moment, because i must attend two classes, pack a trunk and a suit-case, and catch the four-o'clock train--but i couldn't go without sending a word to let you know how much i appreciate my christmas box. i love the furs and the necklace and the liberty scarf and the gloves and handkerchiefs and books and purse--and most of all i love you! but daddy, you have no business to spoil me this way. i'm only human--and a girl at that. how can i keep my mind sternly fixed on a studious career, when you deflect me with such worldly frivolities? i have strong suspicions now as to which one of the john grier trustees used to give the christmas tree and the sunday ice-cream. he was nameless, but by his works i know him! you deserve to be happy for all the good things you do. goodbye, and a very merry christmas. yours always, judy ps. i am sending a slight token, too. do you think you would like her if you knew her? th january i meant to write to you from the city, daddy, but new york is an engrossing place. i had an interesting--and illuminating--time, but i'm glad i don't belong to such a family! i should truly rather have the john grier home for a background. whatever the drawbacks of my bringing up, there was at least no pretence about it. i know now what people mean when they say they are weighed down by things. the material atmosphere of that house was crushing; i didn't draw a deep breath until i was on an express train coming back. all the furniture was carved and upholstered and gorgeous; the people i met were beautifully dressed and low-voiced and well-bred, but it's the truth, daddy, i never heard one word of real talk from the time we arrived until we left. i don't think an idea ever entered the front door. mrs. pendleton never thinks of anything but jewels and dressmakers and social engagements. she did seem a different kind of mother from mrs. mcbride! if i ever marry and have a family, i'm going to make them as exactly like the mcbrides as i can. not for all the money in the world would i ever let any children of mine develop into pendletons. maybe it isn't polite to criticize people you've been visiting? if it isn't, please excuse. this is very confidential, between you and me. i only saw master jervie once when he called at tea time, and then i didn't have a chance to speak to him alone. it was really disappointing after our nice time last summer. i don't think he cares much for his relatives--and i am sure they don't care much for him! julia's mother says he's unbalanced. he's a socialist--except, thank heaven, he doesn't let his hair grow and wear red ties. she can't imagine where he picked up his queer ideas; the family have been church of england for generations. he throws away his money on every sort of crazy reform, instead of spending it on such sensible things as yachts and automobiles and polo ponies. he does buy candy with it though! he sent julia and me each a box for christmas. you know, i think i'll be a socialist, too. you wouldn't mind, would you, daddy? they're quite different from anarchists; they don't believe in blowing people up. probably i am one by rights; i belong to the proletariat. i haven't determined yet just which kind i am going to be. i will look into the subject over sunday, and declare my principles in my next. i've seen loads of theatres and hotels and beautiful houses. my mind is a confused jumble of onyx and gilding and mosaic floors and palms. i'm still pretty breathless but i am glad to get back to college and my books--i believe that i really am a student; this atmosphere of academic calm i find more bracing than new york. college is a very satisfying sort of life; the books and study and regular classes keep you alive mentally, and then when your mind gets tired, you have the gymnasium and outdoor athletics, and always plenty of congenial friends who are thinking about the same things you are. we spend a whole evening in nothing but talk--talk--talk--and go to bed with a very uplifted feeling, as though we had settled permanently some pressing world problems. and filling in every crevice, there is always such a lot of nonsense--just silly jokes about the little things that come up but very satisfying. we do appreciate our own witticisms! it isn't the great big pleasures that count the most; it's making a great deal out of the little ones--i've discovered the true secret of happiness, daddy, and that is to live in the now. not to be for ever regretting the past, or anticipating the future; but to get the most that you can out of this very instant. it's like farming. you can have extensive farming and intensive farming; well, i am going to have intensive living after this. i'm going to enjoy every second, and i'm going to know i'm enjoying it while i'm enjoying it. most people don't live; they just race. they are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn't make any difference whether they've reached the goal or not. i've decided to sit down by the way and pile up a lot of little happinesses, even if i never become a great author. did you ever know such a philosopheress as i am developing into? yours ever, judy ps. it's raining cats and dogs tonight. two puppies and a kitten have just landed on the window-sill. dear comrade, hooray! i'm a fabian. that's a socialist who's willing to wait. we don't want the social revolution to come tomorrow morning; it would be too upsetting. we want it to come very gradually in the distant future, when we shall all be prepared and able to sustain the shock. in the meantime, we must be getting ready, by instituting industrial, educational and orphan asylum reforms. yours, with fraternal love, judy monday, rd hour th february dear d.-l.-l., don't be insulted because this is so short. it isn't a letter; it's just a line to say that i'm going to write a letter pretty soon when examinations are over. it is not only necessary that i pass, but pass well. i have a scholarship to live up to. yours, studying hard, j. a. th march dear daddy-long-legs, president cuyler made a speech this evening about the modern generation being flippant and superficial. he says that we are losing the old ideals of earnest endeavour and true scholarship; and particularly is this falling-off noticeable in our disrespectful attitude towards organized authority. we no longer pay a seemly deference to our superiors. i came away from chapel very sober. am i too familiar, daddy? ought i to treat you with more dignity and aloofness?--yes, i'm sure i ought. i'll begin again. my dear mr. smith, you will be pleased to hear that i passed successfully my mid-year examinations, and am now commencing work in the new semester. i am leaving chemistry--having completed the course in qualitative analysis--and am entering upon the study of biology. i approach this subject with some hesitation, as i understand that we dissect angleworms and frogs. an extremely interesting and valuable lecture was given in the chapel last week upon roman remains in southern france. i have never listened to a more illuminating exposition of the subject. we are reading wordsworth's tintern abbey in connection with our course in english literature. what an exquisite work it is, and how adequately it embodies his conceptions of pantheism! the romantic movement of the early part of the last century, exemplified in the works of such poets as shelley, byron, keats, and wordsworth, appeals to me very much more than the classical period that preceded it. speaking of poetry, have you ever read that charming little thing of tennyson's called locksley hall? i am attending gymnasium very regularly of late. a proctor system has been devised, and failure to comply with the rules causes a great deal of inconvenience. the gymnasium is equipped with a very beautiful swimming tank of cement and marble, the gift of a former graduate. my room-mate, miss mcbride, has given me her bathing-suit (it shrank so that she can no longer wear it) and i am about to begin swimming lessons. we had delicious pink ice-cream for dessert last night. only vegetable dyes are used in colouring the food. the college is very much opposed, both from aesthetic and hygienic motives, to the use of aniline dyes. the weather of late has been ideal--bright sunshine and clouds interspersed with a few welcome snow-storms. i and my companions have enjoyed our walks to and from classes--particularly from. trusting, my dear mr. smith, that this will find you in your usual good health, i remain, most cordially yours, jerusha abbott th april dear daddy, spring has come again! you should see how lovely the campus is. i think you might come and look at it for yourself. master jervie dropped in again last friday--but he chose a most unpropitious time, for sallie and julia and i were just running to catch a train. and where do you think we were going? to princeton, to attend a dance and a ball game, if you please! i didn't ask you if i might go, because i had a feeling that your secretary would say no. but it was entirely regular; we had leave-of-absence from college, and mrs. mcbride chaperoned us. we had a charming time--but i shall have to omit details; they are too many and complicated. saturday up before dawn! the night watchman called us--six of us--and we made coffee in a chafing dish (you never saw so many grounds!) and walked two miles to the top of one tree hill to see the sun rise. we had to scramble up the last slope! the sun almost beat us! and perhaps you think we didn't bring back appetites to breakfast! dear me, daddy, i seem to have a very ejaculatory style today; this page is peppered with exclamations. i meant to have written a lot about the budding trees and the new cinder path in the athletic field, and the awful lesson we have in biology for tomorrow, and the new canoes on the lake, and catherine prentiss who has pneumonia, and prexy's angora kitten that strayed from home and has been boarding in fergussen hall for two weeks until a chambermaid reported it, and about my three new dresses--white and pink and blue polka dots with a hat to match--but i am too sleepy. i am always making this an excuse, am i not? but a girls' college is a busy place and we do get tired by the end of the day! particularly when the day begins at dawn. affectionately, judy th may dear daddy-long-legs, is it good manners when you get into a car just to stare straight ahead and not see anybody else? a very beautiful lady in a very beautiful velvet dress got into the car today, and without the slightest expression sat for fifteen minutes and looked at a sign advertising suspenders. it doesn't seem polite to ignore everybody else as though you were the only important person present. anyway, you miss a lot. while she was absorbing that silly sign, i was studying a whole car full of interesting human beings. the accompanying illustration is hereby reproduced for the first time. it looks like a spider on the end of a string, but it isn't at all; it's a picture of me learning to swim in the tank in the gymnasium. the instructor hooks a rope into a ring in the back of my belt, and runs it through a pulley in the ceiling. it would be a beautiful system if one had perfect confidence in the probity of one's instructor. i'm always afraid, though, that she will let the rope get slack, so i keep one anxious eye on her and swim with the other, and with this divided interest i do not make the progress that i otherwise might. very miscellaneous weather we're having of late. it was raining when i commenced and now the sun is shining. sallie and i are going out to play tennis--thereby gaining exemption from gym. a week later i should have finished this letter long ago, but i didn't. you don't mind, do you, daddy, if i'm not very regular? i really do love to write to you; it gives me such a respectable feeling of having some family. would you like me to tell you something? you are not the only man to whom i write letters. there are two others! i have been receiving beautiful long letters this winter from master jervie (with typewritten envelopes so julia won't recognize the writing). did you ever hear anything so shocking? and every week or so a very scrawly epistle, usually on yellow tablet paper, arrives from princeton. all of which i answer with business-like promptness. so you see--i am not so different from other girls--i get letters, too. did i tell you that i have been elected a member of the senior dramatic club? very recherche organization. only seventy-five members out of one thousand. do you think as a consistent socialist that i ought to belong? what do you suppose is at present engaging my attention in sociology? i am writing (figurez vous!) a paper on the care of dependent children. the professor shuffled up his subjects and dealt them out promiscuously, and that fell to me. c'est drole ca n'est pas? there goes the gong for dinner. i'll post this as i pass the box. affectionately, j. th june dear daddy, very busy time--commencement in ten days, examinations tomorrow; lots of studying, lots of packing, and the outdoor world so lovely that it hurts you to stay inside. but never mind, vacation's coming. julia is going abroad this summer--it makes the fourth time. no doubt about it, daddy, goods are not distributed evenly. sallie, as usual, goes to the adirondacks. and what do you think i am going to do? you may have three guesses. lock willow? wrong. the adirondacks with sallie? wrong. (i'll never attempt that again; i was discouraged last year.) can't you guess anything else? you're not very inventive. i'll tell you, daddy, if you'll promise not to make a lot of objections. i warn your secretary in advance that my mind is made up. i am going to spend the summer at the seaside with a mrs. charles paterson and tutor her daughter who is to enter college in the autumn. i met her through the mcbrides, and she is a very charming woman. i am to give lessons in english and latin to the younger daughter, too, but i shall have a little time to myself, and i shall be earning fifty dollars a month! doesn't that impress you as a perfectly exorbitant amount? she offered it; i should have blushed to ask for more than twenty-five. i finish at magnolia (that's where she lives) the first of september, and shall probably spend the remaining three weeks at lock willow--i should like to see the semples again and all the friendly animals. how does my programme strike you, daddy? i am getting quite independent, you see. you have put me on my feet and i think i can almost walk alone by now. princeton commencement and our examinations exactly coincide--which is an awful blow. sallie and i did so want to get away in time for it, but of course that is utterly impossible. goodbye, daddy. have a nice summer and come back in the autumn rested and ready for another year of work. (that's what you ought to be writing to me!) i haven't any idea what you do in the summer, or how you amuse yourself. i can't visualize your surroundings. do you play golf or hunt or ride horseback or just sit in the sun and meditate? anyway, whatever it is, have a good time and don't forget judy. th june dear daddy, this is the hardest letter i ever wrote, but i have decided what i must do, and there isn't going to be any turning back. it is very sweet and generous and dear of you to wish to send me to europe this summer--for the moment i was intoxicated by the idea; but sober second thoughts said no. it would be rather illogical of me to refuse to take your money for college, and then use it instead just for amusement! you mustn't get me used to too many luxuries. one doesn't miss what one has never had; but it's awfully hard going without things after one has commenced thinking they are his--hers (english language needs another pronoun) by natural right. living with sallie and julia is an awful strain on my stoical philosophy. they have both had things from the time they were babies; they accept happiness as a matter of course. the world, they think, owes them everything they want. maybe the world does--in any case, it seems to acknowledge the debt and pay up. but as for me, it owes me nothing, and distinctly told me so in the beginning. i have no right to borrow on credit, for there will come a time when the world will repudiate my claim. i seem to be floundering in a sea of metaphor--but i hope you grasp my meaning? anyway, i have a very strong feeling that the only honest thing for me to do is to teach this summer and begin to support myself. magnolia, four days later i'd got just that much written, when--what do you think happened? the maid arrived with master jervie's card. he is going abroad too this summer; not with julia and her family, but entirely by himself i told him that you had invited me to go with a lady who is chaperoning a party of girls. he knows about you, daddy. that is, he knows that my father and mother are dead, and that a kind gentleman is sending me to college; i simply didn't have the courage to tell him about the john grier home and all the rest. he thinks that you are my guardian and a perfectly legitimate old family friend. i have never told him that i didn't know you--that would seem too queer! anyway, he insisted on my going to europe. he said that it was a necessary part of my education and that i mustn't think of refusing. also, that he would be in paris at the same time, and that we would run away from the chaperon occasionally and have dinner together at nice, funny, foreign restaurants. well, daddy, it did appeal to me! i almost weakened; if he hadn't been so dictatorial, maybe i should have entirely weakened. i can be enticed step by step, but i won't be forced. he said i was a silly, foolish, irrational, quixotic, idiotic, stubborn child (those are a few of his abusive adjectives; the rest escape me), and that i didn't know what was good for me; i ought to let older people judge. we almost quarrelled--i am not sure but that we entirely did! in any case, i packed my trunk fast and came up here. i thought i'd better see my bridges in flames behind me before i finished writing to you. they are entirely reduced to ashes now. here i am at cliff top (the name of mrs. paterson's cottage) with my trunk unpacked and florence (the little one) already struggling with first declension nouns. and it bids fair to be a struggle! she is a most uncommonly spoiled child; i shall have to teach her first how to study--she has never in her life concentrated on anything more difficult than ice-cream soda water. we use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom--mrs. paterson wishes me to keep them out of doors--and i will say that i find it difficult to concentrate with the blue sea before me and ships a-sailing by! and when i think i might be on one, sailing off to foreign lands--but i won't let myself think of anything but latin grammar. the prepositions a or ab, absque, coram, cum, de e or ex, prae, pro, sine, tenus, in, subter, sub and super govern the ablative. so you see, daddy, i am already plunged into work with my eyes persistently set against temptation. don't be cross with me, please, and don't think that i do not appreciate your kindness, for i do--always--always. the only way i can ever repay you is by turning out a very useful citizen (are women citizens? i don't suppose they are.) anyway, a very useful person. and when you look at me you can say, 'i gave that very useful person to the world.' that sounds well, doesn't it, daddy? but i don't wish to mislead you. the feeling often comes over me that i am not at all remarkable; it is fun to plan a career, but in all probability i shan't turn out a bit different from any other ordinary person. i may end by marrying an undertaker and being an inspiration to him in his work. yours ever, judy th august dear daddy-long-legs, my window looks out on the loveliest landscape--ocean-scape, rather--nothing but water and rocks. the summer goes. i spend the morning with latin and english and algebra and my two stupid girls. i don't know how marion is ever going to get into college, or stay in after she gets there. and as for florence, she is hopeless--but oh! such a little beauty. i don't suppose it matters in the least whether they are stupid or not so long as they are pretty? one can't help thinking, though, how their conversation will bore their husbands, unless they are fortunate enough to obtain stupid husbands. i suppose that's quite possible; the world seems to be filled with stupid men; i've met a number this summer. in the afternoon we take a walk on the cliffs, or swim, if the tide is right. i can swim in salt water with the utmost ease you see my education is already being put to use! a letter comes from mr. jervis pendleton in paris, rather a short concise letter; i'm not quite forgiven yet for refusing to follow his advice. however, if he gets back in time, he will see me for a few days at lock willow before college opens, and if i am very nice and sweet and docile, i shall (i am led to infer) be received into favour again. also a letter from sallie. she wants me to come to their camp for two weeks in september. must i ask your permission, or haven't i yet arrived at the place where i can do as i please? yes, i am sure i have--i'm a senior, you know. having worked all summer, i feel like taking a little healthful recreation; i want to see the adirondacks; i want to see sallie; i want to see sallie's brother--he's going to teach me to canoe--and (we come to my chief motive, which is mean) i want master jervie to arrive at lock willow and find me not there. i must show him that he can't dictate to me. no one can dictate to me but you, daddy--and you can't always! i'm off for the woods. judy camp mcbride, th september dear daddy, your letter didn't come in time (i am pleased to say). if you wish your instructions to be obeyed, you must have your secretary transmit them in less than two weeks. as you observe, i am here, and have been for five days. the woods are fine, and so is the camp, and so is the weather, and so are the mcbrides, and so is the whole world. i'm very happy! there's jimmie calling for me to come canoeing. goodbye--sorry to have disobeyed, but why are you so persistent about not wanting me to play a little? when i've worked all the summer i deserve two weeks. you are awfully dog-in-the-mangerish. however--i love you still, daddy, in spite of all your faults. judy rd october dear daddy-long-legs, back at college and a senior--also editor of the monthly. it doesn't seem possible, does it, that so sophisticated a person, just four years ago, was an inmate of the john grier home? we do arrive fast in america! what do you think of this? a note from master jervie directed to lock willow and forwarded here. he's sorry, but he finds that he can't get up there this autumn; he has accepted an invitation to go yachting with some friends. hopes i've had a nice summer and am enjoying the country. and he knew all the time that i was with the mcbrides, for julia told him so! you men ought to leave intrigue to women; you haven't a light enough touch. julia has a trunkful of the most ravishing new clothes--an evening gown of rainbow liberty crepe that would be fitting raiment for the angels in paradise. and i thought that my own clothes this year were unprecedentedly (is there such a word?) beautiful. i copied mrs. paterson's wardrobe with the aid of a cheap dressmaker, and though the gowns didn't turn out quite twins of the originals, i was entirely happy until julia unpacked. but now--i live to see paris! dear daddy, aren't you glad you're not a girl? i suppose you think that the fuss we make over clothes is too absolutely silly? it is. no doubt about it. but it's entirely your fault. did you ever hear about the learned herr professor who regarded unnecessary adornment with contempt and favoured sensible, utilitarian clothes for women? his wife, who was an obliging creature, adopted 'dress reform.' and what do you think he did? he eloped with a chorus girl. yours ever, judy ps. the chamber-maid in our corridor wears blue checked gingham aprons. i am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink the blue ones in the bottom of the lake. i have a reminiscent chill every time i look at them. th november dear daddy-long-legs, such a blight has fallen over my literary career. i don't know whether to tell you or not, but i would like some sympathy--silent sympathy, please; don't re-open the wound by referring to it in your next letter. i've been writing a book, all last winter in the evenings, and all the summer when i wasn't teaching latin to my two stupid children. i just finished it before college opened and sent it to a publisher. he kept it two months, and i was certain he was going to take it; but yesterday morning an express parcel came (thirty cents due) and there it was back again with a letter from the publisher, a very nice, fatherly letter--but frank! he said he saw from the address that i was still at college, and if i would accept some advice, he would suggest that i put all of my energy into my lessons and wait until i graduated before beginning to write. he enclosed his reader's opinion. here it is: 'plot highly improbable. characterization exaggerated. conversation unnatural. a good deal of humour but not always in the best of taste. tell her to keep on trying, and in time she may produce a real book.' not on the whole flattering, is it, daddy? and i thought i was making a notable addition to american literature. i did truly. i was planning to surprise you by writing a great novel before i graduated. i collected the material for it while i was at julia's last christmas. but i dare say the editor is right. probably two weeks was not enough in which to observe the manners and customs of a great city. i took it walking with me yesterday afternoon, and when i came to the gas house, i went in and asked the engineer if i might borrow his furnace. he politely opened the door, and with my own hands i chucked it in. i felt as though i had cremated my only child! i went to bed last night utterly dejected; i thought i was never going to amount to anything, and that you had thrown away your money for nothing. but what do you think? i woke up this morning with a beautiful new plot in my head, and i've been going about all day planning my characters, just as happy as i could be. no one can ever accuse me of being a pessimist! if i had a husband and twelve children swallowed by an earthquake one day, i'd bob up smilingly the next morning and commence to look for another set. affectionately, judy th december dear daddy-long-legs, i dreamed the funniest dream last night. i thought i went into a book store and the clerk brought me a new book named the life and letters of judy abbott. i could see it perfectly plainly--red cloth binding with a picture of the john grier home on the cover, and my portrait for a frontispiece with, 'very truly yours, judy abbott,' written below. but just as i was turning to the end to read the inscription on my tombstone, i woke up. it was very annoying! i almost found out whom i'm going to marry and when i'm going to die. don't you think it would be interesting if you really could read the story of your life--written perfectly truthfully by an omniscient author? and suppose you could only read it on this condition: that you would never forget it, but would have to go through life knowing ahead of time exactly how everything you did would turn out, and foreseeing to the exact hour the time when you would die. how many people do you suppose would have the courage to read it then? or how many could suppress their curiosity sufficiently to escape from reading it, even at the price of having to live without hope and without surprises? life is monotonous enough at best; you have to eat and sleep about so often. but imagine how deadly monotonous it would be if nothing unexpected could happen between meals. mercy! daddy, there's a blot, but i'm on the third page and i can't begin a new sheet. i'm going on with biology again this year--very interesting subject; we're studying the alimentary system at present. you should see how sweet a cross-section of the duodenum of a cat is under the microscope. also we've arrived at philosophy--interesting but evanescent. i prefer biology where you can pin the subject under discussion to a board. there's another! and another! this pen is weeping copiously. please excuse its tears. do you believe in free will? i do--unreservedly. i don't agree at all with the philosophers who think that every action is the absolutely inevitable and automatic resultant of an aggregation of remote causes. that's the most immoral doctrine i ever heard--nobody would be to blame for anything. if a man believed in fatalism, he would naturally just sit down and say, 'the lord's will be done,' and continue to sit until he fell over dead. i believe absolutely in my own free will and my own power to accomplish--and that is the belief that moves mountains. you watch me become a great author! i have four chapters of my new book finished and five more drafted. this is a very abstruse letter--does your head ache, daddy? i think we'll stop now and make some fudge. i'm sorry i can't send you a piece; it will be unusually good, for we're going to make it with real cream and three butter balls. yours affectionately, judy ps. we're having fancy dancing in gymnasium class. you can see by the accompanying picture how much we look like a real ballet. the one at the end accomplishing a graceful pirouette is me--i mean i. th december my dear, dear, daddy, haven't you any sense? don't you know that you mustn't give one girl seventeen christmas presents? i'm a socialist, please remember; do you wish to turn me into a plutocrat? think how embarrassing it would be if we should ever quarrel! i should have to engage a moving-van to return your gifts. i am sorry that the necktie i sent was so wobbly; i knit it with my own hands (as you doubtless discovered from internal evidence). you will have to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up tight. thank you, daddy, a thousand times. i think you're the sweetest man that ever lived--and the foolishest! judy here's a four-leaf clover from camp mcbride to bring you good luck for the new year. th january do you wish to do something, daddy, that will ensure your eternal salvation? there is a family here who are in awfully desperate straits. a mother and father and four visible children--the two older boys have disappeared into the world to make their fortune and have not sent any of it back. the father worked in a glass factory and got consumption--it's awfully unhealthy work--and now has been sent away to a hospital. that took all their savings, and the support of the family falls upon the oldest daughter, who is twenty-four. she dressmakes for $ . a day (when she can get it) and embroiders centrepieces in the evening. the mother isn't very strong and is extremely ineffectual and pious. she sits with her hands folded, a picture of patient resignation, while the daughter kills herself with overwork and responsibility and worry; she doesn't see how they are going to get through the rest of the winter--and i don't either. one hundred dollars would buy some coal and some shoes for three children so that they could go to school, and give a little margin so that she needn't worry herself to death when a few days pass and she doesn't get work. you are the richest man i know. don't you suppose you could spare one hundred dollars? that girl deserves help a lot more than i ever did. i wouldn't ask it except for the girl; i don't care much what happens to the mother--she is such a jelly-fish. the way people are for ever rolling their eyes to heaven and saying, 'perhaps it's all for the best,' when they are perfectly dead sure it's not, makes me enraged. humility or resignation or whatever you choose to call it, is simply impotent inertia. i'm for a more militant religion! we are getting the most dreadful lessons in philosophy--all of schopenhauer for tomorrow. the professor doesn't seem to realize that we are taking any other subject. he's a queer old duck; he goes about with his head in the clouds and blinks dazedly when occasionally he strikes solid earth. he tries to lighten his lectures with an occasional witticism--and we do our best to smile, but i assure you his jokes are no laughing matter. he spends his entire time between classes in trying to figure out whether matter really exists or whether he only thinks it exists. i'm sure my sewing girl hasn't any doubt but that it exists! where do you think my new novel is? in the waste-basket. i can see myself that it's no good on earth, and when a loving author realizes that, what would be the judgment of a critical public? later i address you, daddy, from a bed of pain. for two days i've been laid up with swollen tonsils; i can just swallow hot milk, and that is all. 'what were your parents thinking of not to have those tonsils out when you were a baby?' the doctor wished to know. i'm sure i haven't an idea, but i doubt if they were thinking much about me. yours, j. a. next morning i just read this over before sealing it. i don't know why i cast such a misty atmosphere over life. i hasten to assure you that i am young and happy and exuberant; and i trust you are the same. youth has nothing to do with birthdays, only with alivedness of spirit, so even if your hair is grey, daddy, you can still be a boy. affectionately, judy th jan. dear mr. philanthropist, your cheque for my family came yesterday. thank you so much! i cut gymnasium and took it down to them right after luncheon, and you should have seen the girl's face! she was so surprised and happy and relieved that she looked almost young; and she's only twenty-four. isn't it pitiful? anyway, she feels now as though all the good things were coming together. she has steady work ahead for two months--someone's getting married, and there's a trousseau to make. 'thank the good lord!' cried the mother, when she grasped the fact that that small piece of paper was one hundred dollars. 'it wasn't the good lord at all,' said i, 'it was daddy-long-legs.' (mr. smith, i called you.) 'but it was the good lord who put it in his mind,' said she. 'not at all! i put it in his mind myself,' said i. but anyway, daddy, i trust the good lord will reward you suitably. you deserve ten thousand years out of purgatory. yours most gratefully, judy abbott th feb. may it please your most excellent majesty: this morning i did eat my breakfast upon a cold turkey pie and a goose, and i did send for a cup of tee (a china drink) of which i had never drank before. don't be nervous, daddy--i haven't lost my mind; i'm merely quoting sam'l pepys. we're reading him in connection with english history, original sources. sallie and julia and i converse now in the language of . listen to this: 'i went to charing cross to see major harrison hanged, drawn and quartered: he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.' and this: 'dined with my lady who is in handsome mourning for her brother who died yesterday of spotted fever.' seems a little early to commence entertaining, doesn't it? a friend of pepys devised a very cunning manner whereby the king might pay his debts out of the sale to poor people of old decayed provisions. what do you, a reformer, think of that? i don't believe we're so bad today as the newspapers make out. samuel was as excited about his clothes as any girl; he spent five times as much on dress as his wife--that appears to have been the golden age of husbands. isn't this a touching entry? you see he really was honest. 'today came home my fine camlett cloak with gold buttons, which cost me much money, and i pray god to make me able to pay for it.' excuse me for being so full of pepys; i'm writing a special topic on him. what do you think, daddy? the self-government association has abolished the ten o'clock rule. we can keep our lights all night if we choose, the only requirement being that we do not disturb others--we are not supposed to entertain on a large scale. the result is a beautiful commentary on human nature. now that we may stay up as long as we choose, we no longer choose. our heads begin to nod at nine o'clock, and by nine-thirty the pen drops from our nerveless grasp. it's nine-thirty now. good night. sunday just back from church--preacher from georgia. we must take care, he says, not to develop our intellects at the expense of our emotional natures--but methought it was a poor, dry sermon (pepys again). it doesn't matter what part of the united states or canada they come from, or what denomination they are, we always get the same sermon. why on earth don't they go to men's colleges and urge the students not to allow their manly natures to be crushed out by too much mental application? it's a beautiful day--frozen and icy and clear. as soon as dinner is over, sallie and julia and marty keene and eleanor pratt (friends of mine, but you don't know them) and i are going to put on short skirts and walk 'cross country to crystal spring farm and have a fried chicken and waffle supper, and then have mr. crystal spring drive us home in his buckboard. we are supposed to be inside the campus at seven, but we are going to stretch a point tonight and make it eight. farewell, kind sir. i have the honour of subscribing myself, your most loyall, dutifull, faithfull and obedient servant, j. abbott march fifth dear mr. trustee, tomorrow is the first wednesday in the month--a weary day for the john grier home. how relieved they'll be when five o'clock comes and you pat them on the head and take yourselves off! did you (individually) ever pat me on the head, daddy? i don't believe so--my memory seems to be concerned only with fat trustees. give the home my love, please--my truly love. i have quite a feeling of tenderness for it as i look back through a haze of four years. when i first came to college i felt quite resentful because i'd been robbed of the normal kind of childhood that the other girls had had; but now, i don't feel that way in the least. i regard it as a very unusual adventure. it gives me a sort of vantage point from which to stand aside and look at life. emerging full grown, i get a perspective on the world, that other people who have been brought up in the thick of things entirely lack. i know lots of girls (julia, for instance) who never know that they are happy. they are so accustomed to the feeling that their senses are deadened to it; but as for me--i am perfectly sure every moment of my life that i am happy. and i'm going to keep on being, no matter what unpleasant things turn up. i'm going to regard them (even toothaches) as interesting experiences, and be glad to know what they feel like. 'whatever sky's above me, i've a heart for any fate.' however, daddy, don't take this new affection for the j.g.h. too literally. if i have five children, like rousseau, i shan't leave them on the steps of a foundling asylum in order to insure their being brought up simply. give my kindest regards to mrs. lippett (that, i think, is truthful; love would be a little strong) and don't forget to tell her what a beautiful nature i've developed. affectionately, judy lock willow, th april dear daddy, do you observe the postmark? sallie and i are embellishing lock willow with our presence during the easter vacation. we decided that the best thing we could do with our ten days was to come where it is quiet. our nerves had got to the point where they wouldn't stand another meal in fergussen. dining in a room with four hundred girls is an ordeal when you are tired. there is so much noise that you can't hear the girls across the table speak unless they make their hands into a megaphone and shout. that is the truth. we are tramping over the hills and reading and writing, and having a nice, restful time. we climbed to the top of 'sky hill' this morning where master jervie and i once cooked supper--it doesn't seem possible that it was nearly two years ago. i could still see the place where the smoke of our fire blackened the rock. it is funny how certain places get connected with certain people, and you never go back without thinking of them. i was quite lonely without him--for two minutes. what do you think is my latest activity, daddy? you will begin to believe that i am incorrigible--i am writing a book. i started it three weeks ago and am eating it up in chunks. i've caught the secret. master jervie and that editor man were right; you are most convincing when you write about the things you know. and this time it is about something that i do know--exhaustively. guess where it's laid? in the john grier home! and it's good, daddy, i actually believe it is--just about the tiny little things that happened every day. i'm a realist now. i've abandoned romanticism; i shall go back to it later though, when my own adventurous future begins. this new book is going to get itself finished--and published! you see if it doesn't. if you just want a thing hard enough and keep on trying, you do get it in the end. i've been trying for four years to get a letter from you--and i haven't given up hope yet. goodbye, daddy dear, (i like to call you daddy dear; it's so alliterative.) affectionately, judy ps. i forgot to tell you the farm news, but it's very distressing. skip this postscript if you don't want your sensibilities all wrought up. poor old grove is dead. he got so that he couldn't chew and they had to shoot him. nine chickens were killed by a weasel or a skunk or a rat last week. one of the cows is sick, and we had to have the veterinary surgeon out from bonnyrigg four corners. amasai stayed up all night to give her linseed oil and whisky. but we have an awful suspicion that the poor sick cow got nothing but linseed oil. sentimental tommy (the tortoise-shell cat) has disappeared; we are afraid he has been caught in a trap. there are lots of troubles in the world! th may dear daddy-long-legs, this is going to be extremely short because my shoulder aches at the sight of a pen. lecture notes all day, immortal novel all evening, make too much writing. commencement three weeks from next wednesday. i think you might come and make my acquaintance--i shall hate you if you don't! julia's inviting master jervie, he being her family, and sallie's inviting jimmie mcb., he being her family, but who is there for me to invite? just you and lippett, and i don't want her. please come. yours, with love and writer's cramp. judy lock willow, th june dear daddy-long-legs, i'm educated! my diploma is in the bottom bureau drawer with my two best dresses. commencement was as usual, with a few showers at vital moments. thank you for your rosebuds. they were lovely. master jervie and master jimmie both gave me roses, too, but i left theirs in the bath tub and carried yours in the class procession. here i am at lock willow for the summer--for ever maybe. the board is cheap; the surroundings quiet and conducive to a literary life. what more does a struggling author wish? i am mad about my book. i think of it every waking moment, and dream of it at night. all i want is peace and quiet and lots of time to work (interspersed with nourishing meals). master jervie is coming up for a week or so in august, and jimmie mcbride is going to drop in sometime through the summer. he's connected with a bond house now, and goes about the country selling bonds to banks. he's going to combine the 'farmers' national' at the corners and me on the same trip. you see that lock willow isn't entirely lacking in society. i'd be expecting to have you come motoring through--only i know now that that is hopeless. when you wouldn't come to my commencement, i tore you from my heart and buried you for ever. judy abbott, a.b. th july dearest daddy-long-legs, isn't it fun to work--or don't you ever do it? it's especially fun when your kind of work is the thing you'd rather do more than anything else in the world. i've been writing as fast as my pen would go every day this summer, and my only quarrel with life is that the days aren't long enough to write all the beautiful and valuable and entertaining thoughts i'm thinking. i've finished the second draft of my book and am going to begin the third tomorrow morning at half-past seven. it's the sweetest book you ever saw--it is, truly. i think of nothing else. i can barely wait in the morning to dress and eat before beginning; then i write and write and write till suddenly i'm so tired that i'm limp all over. then i go out with colin (the new sheep dog) and romp through the fields and get a fresh supply of ideas for the next day. it's the most beautiful book you ever saw--oh, pardon--i said that before. you don't think me conceited, do you, daddy dear? i'm not, really, only just now i'm in the enthusiastic stage. maybe later on i'll get cold and critical and sniffy. no, i'm sure i won't! this time i've written a real book. just wait till you see it. i'll try for a minute to talk about something else. i never told you, did i, that amasai and carrie got married last may? they are still working here, but so far as i can see it has spoiled them both. she used to laugh when he tramped in mud or dropped ashes on the floor, but now--you should hear her scold! and she doesn't curl her hair any longer. amasai, who used to be so obliging about beating rugs and carrying wood, grumbles if you suggest such a thing. also his neckties are quite dingy--black and brown, where they used to be scarlet and purple. i've determined never to marry. it's a deteriorating process, evidently. there isn't much of any farm news. the animals are all in the best of health. the pigs are unusually fat, the cows seem contented and the hens are laying well. are you interested in poultry? if so, let me recommend that invaluable little work, eggs per hen per year. i am thinking of starting an incubator next spring and raising broilers. you see i'm settled at lock willow permanently. i have decided to stay until i've written novels like anthony trollope's mother. then i shall have completed my life work and can retire and travel. mr. james mcbride spent last sunday with us. fried chicken and ice-cream for dinner, both of which he appeared to appreciate. i was awfully glad to see him; he brought a momentary reminder that the world at large exists. poor jimmie is having a hard time peddling his bonds. the 'farmers' national' at the corners wouldn't have anything to do with them in spite of the fact that they pay six per cent. interest and sometimes seven. i think he'll end up by going home to worcester and taking a job in his father's factory. he's too open and confiding and kind-hearted ever to make a successful financier. but to be the manager of a flourishing overall factory is a very desirable position, don't you think? just now he turns up his nose at overalls, but he'll come to them. i hope you appreciate the fact that this is a long letter from a person with writer's cramp. but i still love you, daddy dear, and i'm very happy. with beautiful scenery all about, and lots to eat and a comfortable four-post bed and a ream of blank paper and a pint of ink--what more does one want in the world? yours as always, judy ps. the postman arrives with some more news. we are to expect master jervie on friday next to spend a week. that's a very pleasant prospect--only i am afraid my poor book will suffer. master jervie is very demanding. th august dear daddy-long-legs, where are you, i wonder? i never know what part of the world you are in, but i hope you're not in new york during this awful weather. i hope you're on a mountain peak (but not in switzerland; somewhere nearer) looking at the snow and thinking about me. please be thinking about me. i'm quite lonely and i want to be thought about. oh, daddy, i wish i knew you! then when we were unhappy we could cheer each other up. i don't think i can stand much more of lock willow. i'm thinking of moving. sallie is going to do settlement work in boston next winter. don't you think it would be nice for me to go with her, then we could have a studio together? i would write while she settled and we could be together in the evenings. evenings are very long when there's no one but the semples and carrie and amasai to talk to. i know in advance that you won't like my studio idea. i can read your secretary's letter now: 'miss jerusha abbott. 'dear madam, 'mr. smith prefers that you remain at lock willow. 'yours truly, 'elmer h. griggs.' i hate your secretary. i am certain that a man named elmer h. griggs must be horrid. but truly, daddy, i think i shall have to go to boston. i can't stay here. if something doesn't happen soon, i shall throw myself into the silo pit out of sheer desperation. mercy! but it's hot. all the grass is burnt up and the brooks are dry and the roads are dusty. it hasn't rained for weeks and weeks. this letter sounds as though i had hydrophobia, but i haven't. i just want some family. goodbye, my dearest daddy. i wish i knew you. judy lock willow, th september dear daddy, something has happened and i need advice. i need it from you, and from nobody else in the world. wouldn't it be possible for me to see you? it's so much easier to talk than to write; and i'm afraid your secretary might open the letter. judy ps. i'm very unhappy. lock willow, rd october dear daddy-long-legs, your note written in your own hand--and a pretty wobbly hand!--came this morning. i am so sorry that you have been ill; i wouldn't have bothered you with my affairs if i had known. yes, i will tell you the trouble, but it's sort of complicated to write, and very private. please don't keep this letter, but burn it. before i begin--here's a cheque for one thousand dollars. it seems funny, doesn't it, for me to be sending a cheque to you? where do you think i got it? i've sold my story, daddy. it's going to be published serially in seven parts, and then in a book! you might think i'd be wild with joy, but i'm not. i'm entirely apathetic. of course i'm glad to begin paying you--i owe you over two thousand more. it's coming in instalments. now don't be horrid, please, about taking it, because it makes me happy to return it. i owe you a great deal more than the mere money, and the rest i will continue to pay all my life in gratitude and affection. and now, daddy, about the other thing; please give me your most worldly advice, whether you think i'll like it or not. you know that i've always had a very special feeling towards you; you sort of represented my whole family; but you won't mind, will you, if i tell you that i have a very much more special feeling for another man? you can probably guess without much trouble who he is. i suspect that my letters have been very full of master jervie for a very long time. i wish i could make you understand what he is like and how entirely companionable we are. we think the same about everything--i am afraid i have a tendency to make over my ideas to match his! but he is almost always right; he ought to be, you know, for he has fourteen years' start of me. in other ways, though, he's just an overgrown boy, and he does need looking after--he hasn't any sense about wearing rubbers when it rains. he and i always think the same things are funny, and that is such a lot; it's dreadful when two people's senses of humour are antagonistic. i don't believe there's any bridging that gulf! and he is--oh, well! he is just himself, and i miss him, and miss him, and miss him. the whole world seems empty and aching. i hate the moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me. but maybe you've loved somebody, too, and you know? if you have, i don't need to explain; if you haven't, i can't explain. anyway, that's the way i feel--and i've refused to marry him. i didn't tell him why; i was just dumb and miserable. i couldn't think of anything to say. and now he has gone away imagining that i want to marry jimmie mcbride--i don't in the least, i wouldn't think of marrying jimmie; he isn't grown up enough. but master jervie and i got into a dreadful muddle of misunderstanding and we both hurt each other's feelings. the reason i sent him away was not because i didn't care for him, but because i cared for him so much. i was afraid he would regret it in the future--and i couldn't stand that! it didn't seem right for a person of my lack of antecedents to marry into any such family as his. i never told him about the orphan asylum, and i hated to explain that i didn't know who i was. i may be dreadful, you know. and his family are proud--and i'm proud, too! also, i felt sort of bound to you. after having been educated to be a writer, i must at least try to be one; it would scarcely be fair to accept your education and then go off and not use it. but now that i am going to be able to pay back the money, i feel that i have partially discharged that debt--besides, i suppose i could keep on being a writer even if i did marry. the two professions are not necessarily exclusive. i've been thinking very hard about it. of course he is a socialist, and he has unconventional ideas; maybe he wouldn't mind marrying into the proletariat so much as some men might. perhaps when two people are exactly in accord, and always happy when together and lonely when apart, they ought not to let anything in the world stand between them. of course i want to believe that! but i'd like to get your unemotional opinion. you probably belong to a family also, and will look at it from a worldly point of view and not just a sympathetic, human point of view--so you see how brave i am to lay it before you. suppose i go to him and explain that the trouble isn't jimmie, but is the john grier home--would that be a dreadful thing for me to do? it would take a great deal of courage. i'd almost rather be miserable for the rest of my life. this happened nearly two months ago; i haven't heard a word from him since he was here. i was just getting sort of acclimated to the feeling of a broken heart, when a letter came from julia that stirred me all up again. she said--very casually--that 'uncle jervis' had been caught out all night in a storm when he was hunting in canada, and had been ill ever since with pneumonia. and i never knew it. i was feeling hurt because he had just disappeared into blankness without a word. i think he's pretty unhappy, and i know i am! what seems to you the right thing for me to do? judy th october dearest daddy-long-legs, yes, certainly i'll come--at half-past four next wednesday afternoon. of course i can find the way. i've been in new york three times and am not quite a baby. i can't believe that i am really going to see you--i've been just thinking you so long that it hardly seems as though you are a tangible flesh-and-blood person. you are awfully good, daddy, to bother yourself with me, when you're not strong. take care and don't catch cold. these fall rains are very damp. affectionately, judy ps. i've just had an awful thought. have you a butler? i'm afraid of butlers, and if one opens the door i shall faint upon the step. what can i say to him? you didn't tell me your name. shall i ask for mr. smith? thursday morning my very dearest master-jervie-daddy-long-legs pendleton-smith, did you sleep last night? i didn't. not a single wink. i was too amazed and excited and bewildered and happy. i don't believe i ever shall sleep again--or eat either. but i hope you slept; you must, you know, because then you will get well faster and can come to me. dear man, i can't bear to think how ill you've been--and all the time i never knew it. when the doctor came down yesterday to put me in the cab, he told me that for three days they gave you up. oh, dearest, if that had happened, the light would have gone out of the world for me. i suppose that some day in the far future--one of us must leave the other; but at least we shall have had our happiness and there will be memories to live with. i meant to cheer you up--and instead i have to cheer myself. for in spite of being happier than i ever dreamed i could be, i'm also soberer. the fear that something may happen rests like a shadow on my heart. always before i could be frivolous and care-free and unconcerned, because i had nothing precious to lose. but now--i shall have a great big worry all the rest of my life. whenever you are away from me i shall be thinking of all the automobiles that can run over you, or the sign-boards that can fall on your head, or the dreadful, squirmy germs that you may be swallowing. my peace of mind is gone for ever--but anyway, i never cared much for just plain peace. please get well--fast--fast--fast. i want to have you close by where i can touch you and make sure you are tangible. such a little half hour we had together! i'm afraid maybe i dreamed it. if i were only a member of your family (a very distant fourth cousin) then i could come and visit you every day, and read aloud and plump up your pillow and smooth out those two little wrinkles in your forehead and make the corners of your mouth turn up in a nice cheerful smile. but you are cheerful again, aren't you? you were yesterday before i left. the doctor said i must be a good nurse, that you looked ten years younger. i hope that being in love doesn't make every one ten years younger. will you still care for me, darling, if i turn out to be only eleven? yesterday was the most wonderful day that could ever happen. if i live to be ninety-nine i shall never forget the tiniest detail. the girl that left lock willow at dawn was a very different person from the one who came back at night. mrs. semple called me at half-past four. i started wide awake in the darkness and the first thought that popped into my head was, 'i am going to see daddy-long-legs!' i ate breakfast in the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to the station through the most glorious october colouring. the sun came up on the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orange and the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the air was keen and clear and full of promise. i knew something was going to happen. all the way in the train the rails kept singing, 'you're going to see daddy-long-legs.' it made me feel secure. i had such faith in daddy's ability to set things right. and i knew that somewhere another man--dearer than daddy--was wanting to see me, and somehow i had a feeling that before the journey ended i should meet him, too. and you see! when i came to the house on madison avenue it looked so big and brown and forbidding that i didn't dare go in, so i walked around the block to get up my courage. but i needn't have been a bit afraid; your butler is such a nice, fatherly old man that he made me feel at home at once. 'is this miss abbott?' he said to me, and i said, 'yes,' so i didn't have to ask for mr. smith after all. he told me to wait in the drawing-room. it was a very sombre, magnificent, man's sort of room. i sat down on the edge of a big upholstered chair and kept saying to myself: 'i'm going to see daddy-long-legs! i'm going to see daddy-long-legs!' then presently the man came back and asked me please to step up to the library. i was so excited that really and truly my feet would hardly take me up. outside the door he turned and whispered, 'he's been very ill, miss. this is the first day he's been allowed to sit up. you'll not stay long enough to excite him?' i knew from the way he said it that he loved you--and i think he's an old dear! then he knocked and said, 'miss abbott,' and i went in and the door closed behind me. it was so dim coming in from the brightly lighted hall that for a moment i could scarcely make out anything; then i saw a big easy chair before the fire and a shining tea table with a smaller chair beside it. and i realized that a man was sitting in the big chair propped up by pillows with a rug over his knees. before i could stop him he rose--rather shakily--and steadied himself by the back of the chair and just looked at me without a word. and then--and then--i saw it was you! but even with that i didn't understand. i thought daddy had had you come there to meet me or a surprise. then you laughed and held out your hand and said, 'dear little judy, couldn't you guess that i was daddy-long-legs?' in an instant it flashed over me. oh, but i have been stupid! a hundred little things might have told me, if i had had any wits. i wouldn't make a very good detective, would i, daddy? jervie? what must i call you? just plain jervie sounds disrespectful, and i can't be disrespectful to you! it was a very sweet half hour before your doctor came and sent me away. i was so dazed when i got to the station that i almost took a train for st louis. and you were pretty dazed, too. you forgot to give me any tea. but we're both very, very happy, aren't we? i drove back to lock willow in the dark but oh, how the stars were shining! and this morning i've been out with colin visiting all the places that you and i went to together, and remembering what you said and how you looked. the woods today are burnished bronze and the air is full of frost. it's climbing weather. i wish you were here to climb the hills with me. i am missing you dreadfully, jervie dear, but it's a happy kind of missing; we'll be together soon. we belong to each other now really and truly, no make-believe. doesn't it seem queer for me to belong to someone at last? it seems very, very sweet. and i shall never let you be sorry for a single instant. yours, for ever and ever, judy ps. this is the first love-letter i ever wrote. isn't it funny that i know how? note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) betty wales freshman by margaret warde author of betty wales, sophomore betty wales, junior betty wales, senior betty wales, b. a. betty wales & co. betty wales on the campus betty wales decides [illustration: "i'm in a dreadful fix"] the penn publishing company philadelphia copyright by the penn publishing company betty wales, freshman contents i first impressions ii beginnings iii dancing lessons and a class-meeting iv whose photograph? v up hill--and down vi letters home vii a dramatic chapter viii after the play ix paying the piper x a rumor xi mid-years and a dust-pan xii a triumph for democracy xiii saint valentine's assistants xiv a beginning and a sequel xv at the great game xvi a chance to help xvii an ounce of prevention xviii into paradise--and out xix a last chance xx loose threads betty wales chapter i first impressions "oh, dear, what if she shouldn't meet me!" sighed betty wales for the hundredth time at least, as she gathered up her bags and umbrella, and followed the crowd of noisy, chattering girls off the train. "so long, mary. see you to-morrow." "get a carriage, nellie, that's a dear. you're so little you can always break through the crowd." "hello, susanna! did you get on the campus too?" "thanks awfully, but i can't to-night. my freshman cousin's up, you know, and homesick and----" "oh, girls, isn't it fun to be back?" it all sounded so jolly and familiar. weren't any of them freshmen? did they guess that she was a freshman "and homesick"? betty straightened proudly and resolved that they should not. if only the registrar had got father's telegram. as she stood hesitating on the station platform, amazed at the wilderness of trunks and certain that no one could possibly find her until that shouting, rushing mob in front of her had dispersed, a pretty girl in immaculate white duck hurried up to her. "pardon me," she said, reaching out a hand for betty's golf clubs, "but aren't you a stranger here? could i help you, perhaps, about getting your luggage up?" betty looked at her doubtfully. "i don't know," she said. "yes, i'm going to enter college, and my elder sister couldn't get here until a later train. but father telegraphed the registrar to meet me. do you know her? could you point her out?" the pretty girl's lips curved into the faint suggestion of a smile. "yes," she said, "i know her--only too well for my peace of mind occasionally. but i'm afraid she hasn't come to meet you. you see she's very busy these first days--there are a great many of you freshman, all wanting different things. so she sends us down instead." "oh, i see." betty's face brightened. "then if you would tell me how to get to mrs. chapin's on meriden place." "mrs. chapin's!" exclaimed the pretty girl. "that's easy. most of you want such outlandish streets. but that's close to the campus, where i'm going myself. my time is just up, i'm happy to say. give me your checks and your house number, and then we'll take a car, unless you wouldn't mind walking. it's not far." on the way to mrs. chapin's betty learned that her new friend's name was dorothy king, that she was a junior and roomed in the hilton house, that she went in for science, but was fond of music and was a member of the glee club; that she was back a day early for the express purpose of meeting freshmen at the trains. in return betty explained how she had been obliged at the last moment to come east alone; how sister nan, who was nine years older than she and five years out of college, was coming down from a house party at kittery point, but couldn't get in till eight that night; and father had insisted that betty be sure to arrive by daylight. "wales--wales----" repeated the pretty junior. "why, your sister must have been the clever miss wales in ' -, the one who wrote so well and all. she is? how fine! i'm sorry, but i leave you here. mrs. chapin's is that big yellow house, the second on the left side--yes. i know you'll like it there. and miss wales, you mustn't mind if the sophomores get hold of that joke about your asking the registrar to meet you. i won't tell, but it will be sure to leak out somehow. you see it's really awfully funny. the registrar is almost as important as the president, and a lot more dignified and unapproachable, until you get to know her. she'll think it too good to keep, and the sophomores will be sure to get hold of it and put it in the book of grinds for their reception--souvenirs they give you, you know. now good-bye. may i call later? thank you so much. good-bye." betty was blushing hotly as she climbed mrs. chapin's steps. but her chagrin at having proved herself so "verdant" a freshman was tempered with elation at the junior's cordiality. "nan said i wasn't to run into friendships," she reflected. "but she must be nice. she knows the clays. oh, i hope she won't forget to come!" betty wales had come to college without any particular enthusiasm for it, though she was naturally an enthusiastic person. she loved nan dearly, but didn't approve of her scheme of life, and wasn't at all prepared to like college just because nan had. being so much younger than her sister, she had never visited her at harding, but she had met a good many of her friends; and comparing their stories of life at harding with the experiences of one or two of her own mates who were at the boarding-school, she had decided that of two evils she should prefer college, because there seemed to be more freedom and variety about it. being of a philosophical turn of mind, she was now determined to enjoy herself, if possible. she pinned her faith to a remark that her favorite among all nan's friends had made to her that summer. "oh, you'll like college, betty," she had said. "not just as nan or i did, of course. every girl has her own reasons for liking college--but every nice girl likes it." betty decided that she had already found two of her reasons: the pretty miss king and mrs. chapin's piazza, which was exceedingly attractive for a boarding-house. a girl was lounging in a hammock behind the vines, and another in a big piazza chair was reading aloud to her. "they must be old girls," thought betty, "to seem so much at home." then she remembered that mrs. chapin had said hers would probably be an "all freshman house," and decided that they were friends from the same town. mrs. chapin presently appeared, to show betty to her room and explain that her roommate would not arrive till the next morning. betty dressed and then sat down to study for her french examination, which came next day; but before she had finished deciding which couch she preferred or where they could possibly put two desks and a tea-table, the bell rang for dinner. this bid fair to be a silent and dismal meal. all the girls had come except betty's roommate, and most of them, being freshmen, were in the depths of examinations and homesickness. but there was one shining exception, a very lively sophomore, who had waited till the last moment hoping to get an assignment on the campus, and then had come to mrs. chapin's in the place of a freshman who had failed in her examinations. "she had six, poor thing!" explained the sophomore to betty, who sat beside her. "and just think! she'd had a riding horse and a mahogany desk with a secret drawer sent on from home. wish i could inherit them along with her room. now, my name is mary brooks. tell me yours, and i'll ask the girl on the other side and introduce you; and that will start the ball rolling." these energetic measures succeeded much better than mrs. chapin's somewhat perfunctory remarks about the dry weather, and the whole table was soon talking busily. the two piazza girls proved to be sisters, mary and adelaide rich, from haddam, connecticut. betty decided that they were rather stupid and too inclined to stick together to be much fun. a tall, homely girl at the end of the table created a laugh by introducing herself as miss katherine kittredge of kankakee. "the state is illinois," she added, "but that spoils the alliteration." "the what?" whispered betty to the sophomore. but miss brooks only laughed and said, "wait till you've finished freshman english." betty's other neighbor was a pale, quiet little girl, with short hair and a drawl. betty couldn't decide whether she meant to be "snippy" or was only shy and offish. after she had said that her name was roberta lewis and her home philadelphia, betty inquired politely whether she expected to like college. "i expect to detest it," replied miss lewis slowly and distinctly, and spoke not another word during dinner. but though she ate busily and kept her eyes on her plate, betty was sure that she heard all that was said, and would have liked to join in, only she didn't know how. the one really beautiful girl at the table was miss eleanor watson. her complexion was the daintiest pink and white, her black hair waved softly under the big hat which she had not stopped to take off, and her hazel eyes were plaintive one moment and sparkling the next, as her mood changed. she talked a good deal and very well, and it was hard to realize that she was only sixteen and a freshman. she had fitted for college at a big preparatory school in the east, and so, although she happened to be the only denver girl in college, she had a great many friends in the upper classes and appeared to know quite as much about college customs as miss brooks. all this impressed betty, who admired beauty and pretty clothes immensely. she resolved to have eleanor watson for a friend if she could, and was pleased when miss watson inquired how many examinations she had, and suggested that they would probably be in the same divisions, since their names both began with w. the remaining girl at mrs. chapin's table was not particularly striking. she had a great mass of golden brown hair, which she wore coiled loosely in her neck. her keen grey eyes looked the world straight in the face, and her turned-up nose and the dimple in her chin gave her a merry, cheerful air. she did not talk much, and not at all about herself, but she gave the impression of being a thoroughly nice, bright, capable girl. her name was rachel morrison. after dinner betty was starting up-stairs when mary brooks called her back. "won't you walk over to the campus with me, little girl?" she asked. "i have one or two errands. oh no, you don't need a hat. you never do here." so they wandered off bareheaded in the moonlight, which made the elm-shaded streets look prettier than ever. on the dusky campus girls strolled about in devoted pairs and sociable quartettes. on the piazza of one of the dwelling-houses somebody was singing a fascinating little scotch ballad with a tinkling mandolin accompaniment. "must be dorothy king," said the sophomore. "i thought she wouldn't come till eight. most people don't." "oh!" exclaimed betty, "i know her!" and she related her adventure at the station. "that's so," said miss brooks. "i'd forgotten. she's awfully popular, you know, and very prominent,--belongs to no end of societies. but whatever the young women's christian association wants of her she does. you know they appoint girls to meet freshmen and help them find boarding-places and so on. she's evidently on that committee. let's stop and say hello to her." betty, hanging behind, was amazed to see the commotion caused by miss brooks's arrival. the song stopped abruptly, the mandolin slammed to the floor, and performers and audience fell as one woman upon the newcomer. "why, mary brooks! when did you come?" "did you get a room, honey?" "oh, mary, where did you put on that lovely tan?" "mary, is sarah coming back, do you know?" "hush up, girls, and let her tell us!" it was like the station, only more so, and oh, it was nice--if you were in it. mary answered some of their questions and then looked around for betty. "i've lost a freshman," she said, "here, miss wales, come up and sit on the railing. she knows you, dottie, and she wants to hear you sing. these others are some of the hilton house, miss wales. please consider yourselves introduced. now, dottie." so the little scotch ballad began again. presently some one else came up, there were more effusive greetings, and then another song or two, after which miss king and "some of the hilton house" declared that they simply must go and unpack. betty, suddenly remembering her trunk and her sister, decided to let miss brooks do her other "errands" alone, and found her way back to mrs. chapin's. sure enough, nan was sitting on the piazza. "hello, little sister," she called gaily as betty hurried up the walk. "don't say you're sorry to be late. it's the worst possible thing for little freshmen to mope round waiting for people, and i'm glad you had the sense not to. your trunk's come, but if you're not too tired let's go up and see ethel hale before we unpack it." ethel hale had spent a whole summer with nan, and betty beat her at tennis and called her ethel, and she called betty little sister, just as nan did. but here she was a member of the faculty. "i shall never dare come near her after you leave," said betty. just as she said it the door of the room opened--nan had explained that it was a freshman trick to ring front door-bells--and ethel rushed out and dragged them in. "miss blaine and miss mills are here," she said. betty gathered from the subsequent conversation that miss blaine and miss mills were also members of the faculty; and they were. but they had just come in from a horseback ride, and they sat in rather disheveled attitudes, eating taffy out of a paper bag, and their conversation was very amusing and perfectly intelligible, even to a freshman who had still an examination to pass. "i didn't suppose the faculty ever acted like that. why, they're just like other people," declared betty, as she tumbled into bed a little later. "they're exactly like other people," returned nan sagely, from the closet where she was hanging up skirts. "just remember that and you'll have a lot nicer time with them." so ended betty's first day at college. nan finished unpacking, and then sat for a long time by the window. betty loved nan, but nan in return worshiped betty. they might call her the clever miss wales if they liked; she would gladly have given all her vaunted brains for the fascinating little ways that made betty friends so quickly and for the power to take life in betty's free-and-easy fashion. "oh, i hope she'll like it!" she thought. "i hope she'll be popular with the girls. i don't want her to have to work so hard for all she gets. i wouldn't exchange my course for hers, but i want hers to be the other kind." betty was sound asleep. chapter ii beginnings the next morning it poured. "of course," said eleanor watson impressively at breakfast. "it always does the first day of college. they call it the freshman rain." "let's all go down to chapel together," suggested rachel morrison. "you're going to order carriages, of course?" inquired roberta lewis stiffly. "hurrah! another joke for the grind-book," shrieked mary brooks. then she noticed roberta's expression of abject terror. "never mind, miss lewis," she said kindly. "it's really an honor to be in the grind-book, but i promise not to tell if you'd rather i wouldn't. won't you show that you forgive me by coming down to college under my umbrella?" "she can't. she's coming with me," answered nan promptly. "i demand the right to first choice." "very well, i yield," said mary, "because when you go my sovereignty will be undisputed. you'll have to hurry, children." so the little procession of rain-coats flapping out from under dripping umbrellas started briskly off to join the longer procession that was converging from every direction toward college hall. roberta and nan were ahead under one umbrella, chatting like old friends. "i suppose she doesn't think we're worth talking to," said rachel morrison, who came next with betty. "probably she's one of the kind that's always been around with grown people and isn't used to girls," suggested betty. "perhaps," agreed rachel. "anyhow, i can't get a word out of her. she just sits by her window and reads magazines and looks bored to death when katherine or i go in to speak to her. isn't katherine jolly? i'm so glad i don't room alone." "are you?" asked betty. "i can tell better after my roommate comes. her name sounds quite nice. it's helen chase adams, and she lives somewhere up in new hampshire. did you ever see so many girls?" there seemed to be no end to them. they jostled one another good-naturedly in the narrow halls, swarmed, chattering, up the stairs, and filled the chapel to overflowing. it was very exciting to see the whole college together. even roberta lewis condescended to look interested when mary brooks showed her the faculty rows, and pointed out the college beauty, the captain of the sophomore basket-ball team, and other local celebrities. "that's evidently a freshman," declared eleanor watson, who was in the row behind with katherine and the riches. "doesn't she look lost and unhappy?" and she pointed out a tall, near-sighted girl who was stalking dejectedly down the middle aisle. a vivacious little brunette was sitting next eleanor. "pardon me," she said sweetly, "but did you mean the girl who's gone around to the side and is now being received with open arms by most of the faculty? she's a senior, the brightest girl in the class, we think, and she's sad because she's lost her trunk and broken her glasses. you're a freshman, i judge?" "thank you, yes," gasped eleanor with as much dignity as she could muster, and resolved to keep her guesses to herself in future. the chapel service was short but very beautiful. the president's kindly welcome to the entering class, "which bids fair to be the largest in the history of the institution," completely upset the composure of some of the aforesaid class, and a good many moist handkerchiefs grew moister, and red eyes redder during the prayer. but on the whole the class of - conducted itself with commendable propriety and discretion on this its first official appearance in the college world. "i'm glad i don't have that french exam.," said katherine, as she and betty picked out their umbrellas from a great, moist heap in the corner of the hall. "come down with me and have a soda." betty shook her head. "i can't. nan asked me to go with her and eth--i mean miss hale, but i simply must study." and she hurried off to begin. at the entrance to the campus eleanor watson overtook her. "let's go home and study together," she proposed. "i can't see why they left this french till so late in the week, when everybody has it. what did you come to college for?" she asked abruptly. betty thought a minute. "why, for the fun of it, i guess," she said. "so did i. i think we've stumbled into a pretty serious-minded crowd at mrs. chapin's, don't you?" "i like miss morrison awfully well," objected betty, "and i shouldn't call katherine kittredge of kankakee serious-minded, but----" "oh, perhaps not," interrupted eleanor. "anyhow i know a lot of fine girls outside, and you must meet them. it's very important to have a lot of friends up here. if you want to amount to anything, you can't just stick with the girls in your own house." "oh, no," said betty meekly, awed by the display of worldly wisdom. "it will be lovely to meet your friends. let's study on the piazza. i'll get my books." "wait a minute," said eleanor quickly. "i want to tell you something. i have at least two conditions already, and if i don't pass this french i don't suppose i can possibly stay." "but you don't act frightened a bit," protested betty in awestruck tones. "i am," returned eleanor in a queer, husky voice. "i could never show my face again if i failed." she brushed the tears out of her eyes. "now go and get your books," she said calmly, "and don't ever mention the subject again. i had to tell somebody." betty was back in a moment, looking as if she had seen a ghost. "she's come," she gasped, "and she's crying like everything." "who?" inquired eleanor coolly. "my roommate--helen chase adams." "what did you do?" "i didn't say a word--just grabbed up my books and ran. let's study till nan comes and then she'll settle it." it was almost one o'clock before nan appeared. she tossed a box of candy to the weary students, and gave a lively account of her morning, which had included a second breakfast, three strawberry-ices, a walk to the bridge, half a dozen calls on the campus, and a plunge in the swimming-tank. "i didn't dream i knew so many people here," she said. "but now i've seen them all and they've promised to call on you, betty, and i must go to-night." "not unless she stops crying," said betty firmly, and told her story. "go up and ask her to come down-town with us and have a lunch at holmes's," suggested nan. "oh you come too," begged betty, and nan, amused at the distress of her usually self-reliant sister, obediently led the way up-stairs. "come in," called a tremulous voice. helen chase adams had stopped crying, at least temporarily, and was sitting in a pale and forlorn heap on one of the beds. she jumped up when she saw her visitors. "i thought it was the man with my trunk," she said. "is one of you my roommate? which one?" "what a nice speech, miss adams!" said nan heartily. "i've been hoping ever since i came that somebody would take me for a freshman. but this is betty, who's to room with you. now will you come down-town to lunch with us?" betty was very quiet on the way down-town. her roommate was a bitter disappointment. she had imagined a pretty girl like eleanor watson, or a jolly one like katherine and rachel; and here was this homely little thing with an awkward walk, a piping voice, and short skirts. "she'll just spoil everything," thought betty resentfully, "and it's a mean, hateful shame." over the creamed chicken, which nan ordered because it was holmes's "specialty," just as strawberry-ice was cuyler's, the situation began to look a little more cheerful. helen chase adams would certainly be an obliging roommate. "oh, i wouldn't think of touching the room till you get back from your french," she said eagerly. "won't it be fun to fix it? have you a lot of pretty things? i haven't much, i'm afraid. oh, no, i don't care a bit which bed i have." her shy, appealing manner and her evident desire to please would have disarmed a far more critical person than betty, who, in spite of her love of "fine feathers" and a sort of superficial snobbishness, was at heart absolutely unworldly, and who took a naive interest in all badly dressed people because it was such fun to "plan them over." she applied this process immediately to her roommate. "her hat's on crooked," she reflected, "and her pug's in just the wrong place. her shirt-waist needs pulling down in front and she sticks her head out when she talks. otherwise she'd be rather cute. i hope she's the kind that will take suggestions without getting mad." and she hurried off to her french in a very amiable frame of mind. helen chase adams thanked nan shyly for the luncheon, escaped from the terrors of a tête-à-tête with an unfamiliar grown-up on the plea of having to unpack, and curled up on the couch that betty had not chosen, to think it over. the day had been full of surprises, but betty was the culmination. why had she come to college? she was distinctly pretty, she dressed well, and evidently liked what pretty girls call "a good time." in helen chase adams's limited experience all pretty girls were stupid. the idea of seeing crowds of them in the college chapel, much less of rooming with one, had never entered her head. a college was a place for students. would miss wales pass her examination? would she learn her lessons? what would it be like to live with her day in and day out? helen could not imagine--but she did not feel in the least like crying. just as the dinner-bell rang, betty appeared, looking rather tired and pale. "nan's gone," she announced. "she found she couldn't make connections except by leaving at half past five, so she met me down at the college. and just at the last minute she gave me the money to buy a chafing-dish. wasn't that lovely? i know i should have cried and made a goose of myself, but after tha--i beg your pardon--i haven't any sense." she stopped in confusion. but helen only laughed. "go on," she said. "i don't mind now. i don't believe i'm going to be homesick any more, and if i am i'll do my best not to cry." how the rest of that first week flew! next day the freshman class list was read, and fortunately it included all the girls at mrs. chapin's. then there were electives to choose, complicated schedules to see through, first recitations to find, books to buy or rent, rooms to arrange, and all sorts of bewildering odds and ends to attend to. saturday came before any one was ready for it, bringing in its wake the freshman frolic, a jolly, informal dance in the gymnasium, at which the whole college appears, tagged with its name, and tries to get accustomed to the size of the entering class, preparatory to becoming acquainted with parts of it later on. to betty's great delight dorothy king met her in the hall of the administration building the day before and asked permission to take her to the frolic. at the gymnasium miss king turned her over to a bewildering succession of partners, who asked her the stereotyped questions about liking college, having a pleasant boarding-place, and so on, tried more or less effectively to lead her through the crowd to the rather erratic music of one piano, and assured her that the freshman frolic was not at all like the other college dances. they all seemed very pleasant, but betty felt sure she should never know them again. nevertheless she enjoyed it all immensely and was almost sorry when the frolic was over and they adjourned to dorothy's pretty single room in the hilton house, where a few other upper-class girls had been invited to bring their freshmen for refreshments. "wasn't it fun?" said betty to a fluffy-haired, dainty little girl who sat next her on dorothy's couch. "i don't think i should call it exactly fun," said the girl critically. "oh, i like meeting new people, and getting into a crowd of girls, and trying to dance with them," explained betty. "yes, i liked it too," said the girl. she had an odd trick of lingering over the word she wished to distinguish. "i liked it because it was so queer. everything's queer here, particularly roommates. do you have one?" betty nodded. "well, mine never made up her bed in her life before, and first she thought she couldn't, but her mother told her to take hold and see what a madison could do with a bed--they're awfully proud of their old family--so she did; but it looks dreadfully messy yet, and it makes her late for chapel every single morning. is yours anything like that?" betty laughed. "oh, no," she said. "she's very orderly. won't you come and see us?" the little freshman promised. by that time the "plowed field" was ready--an obliging friend had stayed at home from the frolic to give it an early start--and they ate the creamy brown squares of candy with a marshmallow stuffed into each, and praised the cook and her wares until a bell rang and everybody jumped up and began saying good-bye at once except betty, who had to be enlightened by the campus girls as to the dire meaning of the twenty-minutes-to-ten bell. "don't you keep the ten o'clock rule?" asked the fluffy-haired freshman curiously. "oh, yes," said betty. "why, we couldn't come to college if we didn't, could we?" and she wondered why some of the girls laughed. "i've had a beautiful time," she said, when miss king, who had come part way home with her, explained that she must turn back. "i hope that when i'm a junior i can do half as much for some little freshman as you have for me." "that's a nice way to put it, miss wales," said dorothy. "but don't wait till you're a junior to begin." as betty ran home, she reflected that she had not seen helen dancing that evening. "oh, helen," she called, as she dashed into the room, "wasn't it fun? how many minutes before our light goes out? do you know how to dance?" helen hesitated. "i--well--i know how, but i can't do it in a crowd. it's ten minutes of ten." "teach you before the sophomore reception," said betty laconically, throwing a slipper into the closet with one hand and pulling out hairpins with the other. "what a pity that to-morrow's sunday. we shall have to wait a whole day to begin." chapter iii dancing lessons and a class-meeting the next morning helen had gone for a walk with katherine, and betty was dressing for church, when eleanor watson knocked at the door. she looked prettier than ever in her long silk kimono, with its ruffles of soft lace and the great knot of pink ribbon at her throat. "so you're going to church too," she said, dropping down among betty's pillows. "i was hoping you'd stay and talk to me. did you enjoy your frolic?" "yes, didn't you?" inquired betty. "i didn't go," returned eleanor shortly. "oh, why not?" asked betty so seriously that eleanor laughed. "because the girl who asked me first was ill; and i wouldn't tag along with the little brooks and the riches and your fascinating roommate. now don't say 'why not?' again, or i may hurt your feelings. do you really like miss brooks?" betty hesitated. as a matter of fact she liked mary brooks very much, but she also admired eleanor watson and coveted her approval. "i like her well enough," she said slowly, and disappeared into the closet to get something she did not want and change the subject. eleanor laughed. "you're so polite," she said. "i wish i were. that is, i wish i could make people think i was, without my taking the trouble. don't go to church." "helen and katherine are coming back for me. you'd better go with us," urged betty. "now that kankakee person----" began eleanor. the door opened suddenly and katherine and helen came in. katherine, who had heard eleanor's last remark, flushed but said nothing. eleanor rose deliberately, smoothed the pillows she had been lying on, and walked slowly off, remarking over her shoulder, "in common politeness, knock before you come in." "or you may hear what i think of you," added katherine wickedly, as eleanor shut the door. helen looked perplexed. "should i, betty?" she asked, "when it's my own room." "it's nicer," said betty. "nan and i do. how do you like our room, katherine?" "it's a beaut," said katherine, taking the hint promptly. "i don't see how you ever fixed your desks and couches, and left so much space in the middle. our room is like the aisle in a chicago theatre. that japanese screen is a peach and the water-color over your desk is another. did you buy back the chafing-dish?" betty laughed. she had amused the house by getting up before breakfast on the day after nan left, in her haste to buy a chafing-dish. in the afternoon rachel had suggested that a teakettle was really more essential to a college establishment, and they had gone down together to change it. but then had come miss king's invitation to eat "plowed field" after the frolic; and the chafing-dish, appearing once more the be-all and end-all of existence, had finally replaced the teakettle. "but we're going to have both," ventured helen shyly. "oh yes," broke in betty. "isn't it fine of helen to get it and make our tea-table so complete?" as a matter of fact betty much preferred that the tea-table should be all her own; but helen was so delighted with the idea of having a part in it, and so sure that she wanted a teakettle more than pillows for her couch, that betty resolved not to mind the bare-looking bed, which marred the cozy effect of the room, and above all never to let helen guess how she felt about the tea-table. "but next year you better believe i'm hoping for a single room," she confided to the little green lizard who sat on her inkstand and ogled her while she worked. when church was over katherine proposed a stroll around the campus before dinner. "i haven't found my bearings at all yet," she said. "now which building is which?" betty pointed out the hilton house proudly. "that's all i know," she said, "except these up here in front of course--the main building and chapel, and science and music halls." "we know the gymnasium," suggested helen, "and the belden house, where we bought our screen, is one of the four in that row." they found the belden house, and picked out the westcott by its name-plate, which, being new and shiny, was easy to read from a distance. then helen made a discovery. "girls, there's water down there," she cried. sure enough, behind the back fence and across a road was a pretty pond, with wooded banks and an island, which hid its further side from view. "that must be the place they call paradise," said betty. "i've heard nan speak of it. i thought it was this," and she pointed to a slimy pool about four yards across, below them on the back campus. "that's the only pond i'd noticed." "oh, no," declared katherine. "i've heard my scientific roommate speak of that. it's called the frog pond and 'of it more anon,' as my already beloved latin teacher occasionally remarks. to speak plainly, she has promised to let me help her catch her first frog." they walked home through the apple orchard that occupied one corner of the back campus. "it's not a very big campus, and not a bit dignified or imposing, but i like it," said betty, as they came out on to the main drive again, and started toward the gateway. "nice and cozy to live with every day," added katherine. helen was too busy comparing the red-brick, homely reality with the shaded marble cloisters of her dreams, to say what she thought. betty's dancing class was a great success. with characteristic energy she organized it monday morning. it appeared that while all the chapin house girls could dance except helen and adelaide rich, none of them could "lead" but eleanor. "and miss king's friends said we freshmen ought to learn before the sophomore reception, particularly the tall ones; and most of us are tall," explained betty. "that's all right," interposed eleanor, "but take my advice and don't learn. if you can't lead, the other girl always will; and the men say it ruins a girl's dancing." "who cares?" demanded katherine boldly. "imagine betty or miss brooks trying to see over me and pull me around! i want to learn, for one--men or no men." "so do i," said rachel and mary rich together. "and i," drawled roberta languidly. "oh well, if you're all set upon it, i'll play for you," said eleanor graciously. she was secretly ashamed of the speech that katherine had overheard the day before and bitterly regretted having antagonized the girls in the house, when she had meant only to keep them--all but betty--at a respectful distance. she liked most of them personally, but she wished her friends to be of another type--girls from large schools like her own, who would have influence and a following from the first; girls with the qualities of leadership, who could control votes in class-meetings and push their little set to first place in all the organized activities of the college. eleanor had said that she came to college for "fun," but "fun" to her meant power and prominence. she was a born politician, with a keen love of manoeuvring and considerable tact and insight when she chose to exercise it. but inexperience and the ease with which she had "run" boarding-school affairs had made her over-confident. she saw now that she had indulged her fondness for sarcasm too far, and was ready to do a good deal to win back the admiration which she was sure the chapin house girls had felt for her at first. she was particularly anxious to do this, as the freshman class-meeting was only a week off, and she wanted the votes of the house for the hill school candidate for class-president. so three evenings that week, in spite of her distaste for minor parts and bad pianos, she meekly drummed out waltzes and two-steps on mrs. chapin's rickety instrument for a long half hour after dinner, while betty and roberta--who danced beautifully and showed an unexpected aptitude in imparting her accomplishment--acted as head-masters, and the rest of the girls furnished the novices with the necessary variety of partners, practiced "leading," and incidentally got better acquainted. on friday evening, as they sat in the parlor resting and discussing the progress of their pupils and the appalling length of the livy lesson for the next day, eleanor broached the subject of the class-meeting. "you know it's to-morrow at two," she said. "aren't you excited?" "it will be fun to see our class together," said rachel. nobody else seemed to take much interest in the subject. "well, of course," pursued eleanor, "i'm particularly anxious about it because a dear friend of mine is going to be proposed for class president--jean eastman--you know her, betty." "oh yes," cried betty, enthusiastically. "she's that tall, dark girl who was with you yesterday at cuyler's. she seemed lovely." eleanor nodded and got up from the piano stool. "i must go to work," she said, smiling cordially round the little group. "tell them what a good president jean will make, betty. and don't one of you forget to come." "she can be very nice when she wants to," said katherine bluntly when eleanor was well out of hearing. "i think she's trying to make up for sunday," said betty. "let's all vote for her friend." the first class-meeting of - passed off with unwonted smoothness. the class before had forgotten that it is considered necessary for a corporate body to have a constitution; and the class before that had made itself famous by suggesting the addition of the "woman's home monthly" to the magazines in the college reading-room. - avoided these and other absurdities. a constitution mysteriously appeared, drawn up in good and regular form, and was read and promptly adopted. then eleanor watson nominated jean eastman for president. after she and the other nominees had stood in a blushing row on the platform to be inspected by their class, the voting began. miss eastman was declared elected on the first ballot, with exactly four votes more than the number necessary for a choice. "i hope she'll remember that we did that," katherine kittredge leaned forward to say to betty, who sat in the row ahead of her with the fluffy-haired freshman from the hilton and her "queer" roommate. that night there was a supper in jean's honor at holmes's, so eleanor did not appear at mrs. chapin's dinner-table to be duly impressed with a sense of her obligations. "how did you like the class-meeting?" inquired rachel, who had been for a long walk with a girl from her home town, and so had not seen the others. "i thought it was all right myself," said adelaide rich, "but i walked home with a girl named alford who was dreadfully disgusted. she said it was all cut and dried, and wanted to know who asked eleanor watson to write us a constitution. she said she hoped that hereafter we wouldn't sit around tamely and be run by any clique." "well, somebody must run us," said betty consolingly. "those girls know one another and the rest of us don't know any one well. i think it will all work around in time. they will have their turns first, that's all." "perhaps," admitted adelaide doubtfully. her pessimistic acquaintance had obtained a strong hold on her. "and the next thing is the sophomore reception," said rachel. "and mountain day right after that," added betty. "what?" asked helen and roberta together. "is it possible that you don't know about mountain day, children?" asked mary brooks soberly. "well, you've heard about the physical tests for the army and navy, haven't you? this is like those. if you pass your entrance examinations you are allowed a few weeks to recuperate, and then if you can climb the required mountain you can stay on in college." "how very interesting!" drawled roberta, who had some idea now how to take mary's jibes. "now, betty, please tell us about it." betty explained that the day after the sophomore reception was a holiday, and that most of the girls seized the opportunity to take an all-day walk or drive into the country around harding. "let's all ask our junior and senior friends about the nicest places to go," said rachel, emphasizing "junior and senior" and looking at mary. "then we can make our plans, and engage a carriage if we want one. i should think there might be quite a rush." "you should, should you?" jeered mary. "my dear, every horse that can stand alone and every respectable vehicle was engaged weeks ago." "no one has engaged our lower appendages," returned katherine. "so if worse comes to worst, we are quite independent of liveries. which of us are you going to take to the sophomore reception?" "roberta, of course," said mary. "didn't you know that roberta and i have a crush on each other? a crush, my dears, in case you are wanting to know, is a warm and adoring friendship. sorry, but i'm going out this evening." "has she really asked you, roberta?" asked betty. "yes," said roberta. "how nice! i'm going with a sophomore whose sister is a friend of nan's." "and hester gulick is going to take me--she's my friend from home," volunteered rachel. "i was asked to-day," added helen. "after the class-meeting an awfully nice girl, a junior, came up here. she said there were so many of us that some of the juniors were going to help take us. isn't it nice of them?" nobody spoke for a moment; then katherine went on gaily. "and we other three have not yet been called and chosen, but i happen to know that it's because so many people want us, and nobody will give up. so don't the rest of you indulge in any crowing." "by the way, betty," said rachel morrison, "will you take some more dancing pupils? i was telling two girls who board down the street about our class and they said they wanted to learn before the reception and would much rather come here than go to that big class that two seniors have in the gym. but as they don't know you, they would insist on paying, just as they would at the other class." betty looked doubtfully at roberta. "shall we?" she said. "i don't mind," answered roberta, "if only you all promise not to tell my father. he wouldn't understand. do you suppose miss watson would play?" "if not, i will," said mary rich. "and we could use the money for a house spread," added betty, "since we all help to earn it." "and christen the chafing-dish," put in katherine. "good. then i'll tell them--mondays, tuesdays and fridays," said rachel; and the dinner-table dissolved. chapter iv whose photograph? the dancing class went briskly on; so did the livy class and the geometry, the english , the french required and the history elective. the freshmen were getting acquainted with one another now, and seldom confused their classmates with seniors or youthful members of the faculty. they no longer attempted to go out of chapel ahead of the seniors, or invaded the president's house in their frantic search for science hall or the art gallery. for october was fast wearing away. the hills about harding showed flaming patches of scarlet, and it was time for the sophomore reception and mountain day. betty was very much excited about the reception, but she felt also that a load would slip off her shoulders when it was over. she was anxious about the progress of the dancing pupils, who had increased to five, besides helen and adelaide, and for whom she felt a personal responsibility, because the chapin house girls persisted in calling the class hers. and what would father say if they didn't get their money's worth? then there was helen's dress for the reception, which she was sure was a fright, but couldn't get up the courage to inquire about. and last and worst of all was the mysterious grind-book and dorothy king's warning about father's telegram to the registrar. she had never mentioned the incident to anybody, but from certain annoying remarks that mary brooks let fall she was sure that mary knew all about it and that the sophomores were planning to make telling use of it. "how's your friend the registrar?" mary would inquire solemnly every few days. and if betty refused to answer she would say slyly, "who met you at the station, did you tell me? oh, only dottie king?" until betty almost decided to stop her by telling the whole story. two days before the reception she took rachel and katherine into her confidence about helen's dress. "you see if i could only look at it, maybe i could show her how to fix it up," she explained, "but i'm afraid to ask. i'm pretty sure she's sensitive about her looks and her clothes. i should want to be told if i was such a fright, but maybe she's happier without knowing." "she can't help knowing if she stays here long," said rachel. "why don't you get out your dress, and then perhaps she'll show hers," suggested katherine. "i could do that," assented betty doubtfully. "i could find a place to mend, i guess. chiffon tears so easily." "good idea," said rachel heartily. "try that, and then if she doesn't bite you'd better let things take their course. but it is too bad to have her go looking like a frump, after all the trouble we've taken with her dancing." betty went back to her room, sat down at her desk and began again at her livy. "for i might as well finish this first," she thought; and it was half an hour before she shut the scarlet-covered book with a slam and announced somewhat ostentatiously that she had finished her latin lesson. "and now i must mend my dress for the reception," she went on consciously. "mother is always cautioning me not to wait till the last minute to fix things." "did you look up all the constructions in the livy?" asked helen. betty was so annoyingly quick about everything. "no," returned betty cheerfully from the closet, where she was rummaging for her dress. "i shall guess at those. why don't you try it? oh, dear! this is dreadfully mussed," and she appeared in the closet door with a fluffy white skirt over her arm. "how pretty!" exclaimed helen, deserting her livy to examine it. "is it long?" "um-um," said betty taking a pin out of her mouth and hunting frantically for a microscopic rip. "yes, it's long, and it has a train. my brother will persuaded mother to let me have one. wasn't he a brick?" "yes," said helen shortly, going back to her desk and opening her book again. presently she hitched her chair around to face betty. "mine's awfully short," she said. "is it?" asked betty politely. there was a pause. then, "would you care to see it?" asked helen. betty winked at the green lizard. "yes indeed," she said cordially. "why don't you try it on to be sure it's all right? i'm going to put on mine in just a minute." she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the dress. it was a simple white muslin. the sleeves were queer, the neck too high to be low and too low to be high, and the skirt ridiculously short. "but it might have been a lot worse," reflected betty. "if she'll only fix it!" "wait a minute," she said after she had duly admired it. "i'll put mine on, and we'll see how we both look dressed up." "you look like a regular princess out of a story-book," said helen solemnly, when betty turned to her for inspection. betty laughed. "oh, wait till to-morrow night," she said. "my hair's all mussed now. i wonder how you'd look with your hair low, helen." helen flushed and bit her lip. "i shan't look anyhow in this horrid short dress," she said. "then why don't you make it longer, and lower in the neck?" inquired betty impatiently. helen was as conscientiously slow about making up her mind as she was about learning her livy. "it's hemmed, isn't it? anyhow you could piece it under the ruffle." "do you suppose mamma would care?" said helen dubiously. "anyway i don't believe i have time--only till to-morrow night." "oh i'll show you how," betty broke in eagerly. "and if your mother should object you could put it back, you know. you begin ripping out the hem, and then we'll hang it." helen chase adams proved to be a pains-taking and extremely slow sewer. besides, she insisted on taking time off to learn her history and geometry, instead of "risking" them as betty did and urged her to do. the result was that betty had to refuse mary brooks's invitation to "come down to the gym and dance the wax into that blooming floor" the next afternoon, and was tired and cross by the time she had done helen's hair low, hooked her into the transformed dress, and finished her own toilette. she had never thought to ask the name of helen's junior, and was surprised and pleased when dorothy king appeared at their door. dorothy's amazement was undisguised. "you'll have to be costumer for our house plays next year, miss wales," she said, while betty blushed and contradicted all helen's explanations. "you're coming on the campus, of course." "so virtue isn't its only reward after all," said eleanor watson, who had come in just in time to hear miss king's remark. "helen chase adams isn't exactly a vision of loveliness yet. she won't be mistaken for the college beauty, but she's vastly improved. i only wish anybody cared to take as much trouble for me." "oh, eleanor!" said betty reproachfully. "as if any one could improve you!" eleanor's evening dress was a pale yellow satin that brought out the brown lights in her hair and eyes and the gleaming whiteness of her shoulders. there were violets in her hair, which was piled high on her head, and more violets at her waist; and as she stood full in the light, smiling at betty's earnestness, betty was sure she had never seen any one half so lovely. "but i wish you wouldn't be so sarcastic over helen," she went on stoutly. "she can't help being such a freak." eleanor yawned. "i was born sarcastic," she said. "i wish lil day would hurry. did you happen to notice that i cut three classes straight this morning?" "no," said betty aghast. "oh, eleanor, how dare you when--" she stopped suddenly, remembering that eleanor had asked her not to speak of the entrance conditions. "when i have so much to make up already, you mean," eleanor went on complacently. "oh, i shall manage somehow. here they come." a few moments later the freshman and sophomore classes, with a sprinkling of juniors to make the numbers even, were gathered _en masse_ in the big gymnasium. all the afternoon loyal sophomores had toiled thither from the various campus houses, lugging palms, screens, portières and pillows. inside another contingent had arranged these contributions, festooned the running-track with red and green bunting, risked their lives to fasten japanese lanterns to the cross-beams, and disguised the apparatus against the walls with great branches of spruce and cedar, which still other merry, wind-blown damsels, driving a long-suffering horse, had deposited at intervals near the back door. by five o'clock it was finished and everybody, having assured everybody else that the gym never looked so well before, had gone home to dress for the evening. now the lights softened what mary brooks called the "hidjous" greens of the freshman bunting, a band played sweet music behind the palms, and pretty girls in pretty gowns sat in couples on the divans that lined the walls, or waited in line to speak to the receiving party. this consisted of jean eastman and the sophomore president, who stood in front of the fireplace, where a line of ropes intended to be used in gym practice had been looped back and made the best sort of foundation for a green canopy over their heads. ten of the prettiest sophomores acted as ushers, and four popular and much envied seniors presided at the frappé bowls in the four corners of the room. "there's not much excitement about a manless dance, but it's a fascinating thing to watch," said eleanor to her partner, as they stood in the running-track looking down at the dancers. "i'm afraid you're blasé, miss watson," returned the sophomore. "only seniors are allowed to dislike girl dances." eleanor laughed. "well, i seem to be the only heretic present," she said. "they're certainly having a good time down there." they certainly were. the novelty of the occasion appealed to the freshmen, and the more sophisticated sophomores were bound to make a reputation as gallant beaux. so although only half the freshman could dance at once and even then the floor was dreadfully crowded, and in spite of the fact that the only refreshment was the rather watery frappé which gave out early in the evening, -'s reception to - was voted a great success. at nine o'clock the sophomore ushers began arranging the couples in a long line leading to the grind table, and betty knew that her hour had come. the orchestra played a march, and as the girls walked past the table the sophomore officers presented each freshman with a small booklet bound in the freshman green, on the front cover of which, in letters of sophomore scarlet, was the cryptic legend: "puzzle--name the girl." this was explained, however, by the inside, where appeared a small and rather cloudy blue-print, showing the back view of a girl in shirt-waist and short skirt, with a pile of books under her arm, and the inevitable "tam" on her head. on the opposite page was a facsimile telegraph blank, filled out to the registrar, "please meet my dear young daughter, who will arrive on thursday by the : , and oblige, "thomas ----." everybody laughed, pushed her neighbors around for a back view, and asked the sophomores if the telegram had truly been sent, and if this was the real girl's picture. so no one noticed betty's blushes except mary brooks, upon whom she vowed eternal vengeance. for she remembered how one afternoon the week before, she and mary had started from the house together, and mary, who said she was taking her camera down-town for a new film, had dropped behind on some pretext. betty had been sure she heard the camera click, but mary had grinned and told her not to be so vain of her back. however, nobody recognized the picture. the few sophomores who knew anything about it were pledged to secrecy, as the grinds were never allowed to become too personal, and the freshmen treated the telegram as an amusing myth. in a few minutes every one was dancing again, and only too soon it was ten o'clock. "wasn't it fun?" said betty enthusiastically, as she and helen undressed. "oh yes," agreed helen. "i never had such a good time in my life. but, do you know, miss watson says she was bored, and roberta thought it was tiresome and the grind-book silly and impossible." "truth is stranger than fiction sometimes," said betty sagely, smothering a laugh in the pillows. she was asleep in five minutes, but helen lay for a long while thinking over the exciting events of the evening. how she had dreaded it! at home she hated dances and never went if she could help it, because she was such a wall-flower. she had been afraid it would be the same here, but it wasn't. what a lovely time she had had! she could dance so well now, and miss king's friends were so nice, and college was such a beautiful place, though it was so different from what she had expected. across the hall roberta had lighted her student lamp and was sitting up to write an appreciative and very clever account of the evening to her cousin, who was reporter on a boston paper and had made her promise to send him an occasional college item. and eleanor, still in the yellow satin, sat at her desk scribbling aimlessly on a pad of paper or staring at a clean sheet, which began, "my dear father." she had meant to write him that she was tired of college and wanted to come home at once; but somehow she couldn't begin. for she thought, "i can see him raise his eyebrows and smile and say, 'so you want to throw up the sponge, do you? i was under the impression that you had promised to stay out the year,' as he did to the private secretary who wouldn't sit up with him till three in the morning to write letters." finally she tore up "my dear father," and went to bed in the dark. chapter v up hill--and down the next day was just the sort that everybody had been hoping for on mountain day,--crisp and clear and cool, with the inspiriting tang in the air, the delicious warmth in the sunshine, and the soft haze over the hills, that belong to nothing but a new england october at its best. the chapin house breakfast-table was unusually lively, for each girl wanted to tell what she thought about the reception and how she was going to spend mountain day; and nobody seemed anxious to listen to anybody's else story. "sh--sh," demanded mary brooks at last. "now children, you've talked long enough. run and get your lunch boxes and begin making your sandwiches. mrs. chapin wants us to finish by ten o'clock." "ten o'clock!" repeated katherine. "well, i should hope so. our horse is ordered for nine." "going to be gone all day?" inquired mary sweetly. "of course," answered katherine with dignity. "well, don't kill the poor beast," called mary as she ran up-stairs for her box. mary was going off in a barge with the sophomore decorating committee, who wanted a good chance to congratulate and condole with one another over their herculean labors and ultimate triumph of the day before. the rich sisters had decided to spend the holiday with an aunt who lived twenty miles down the river; eleanor had promised early in the fall to go out with a party of horseback riders; and helen, whose pocketbook had been prematurely flattened to buy her teakettle, had decided to accept the invitation of a girl in her geometry division to join an economical walking party. this left rachel, katherine, roberta and betty, who had hired a horse and two-seated trap for the day, invited alice waite, betty's little friend from the hilton house, to join them, and were going to drive "over the notch." "i haven't the least idea what a notch is like," said katherine. "we don't have such things where i come from. but it sounds interesting." "doesn't it?" assented rachel absently, counting the ham sandwiches. "do you suppose the hills are very steep, betty?" "oh, i guess not. anyhow katherine and i told the man we were going there and wanted a sure-footed horse." "who's going to drive?" asked roberta. "why, you, of course," said katherine quickly. "you said you were used to driving." "oh, yes, i am," conceded roberta hastily and wondered if she would better tell them any more. it was true that she was used to horses, but she had never conquered her fear of them, and they always found her out. it was a standing joke in the lewis family that the steadiest horse put on airs and pranced for roberta. even old tom, that her little cousins drove out alone--roberta blushed as she remembered her experience with old tom. but if the girls were depending on her--"betty drives too," she said aloud. "she and i can take turns. are you sure we have enough gingersnaps?" everybody laughed, for roberta's fondness for gingersnaps had become proverbial. "half a box apiece," said rachel, "and it is understood that you are to have all you want even if the rest of us don't get any." when the horse arrived roberta's last fear vanished. he was meekness personified. his head drooped sadly and his eyes were half shut. his fuzzy nose and large feet bespoke docile endurance, while the heavy trap to which he was harnessed would certainly discourage all latent tendencies to undue speed. alice waite, rachel and katherine climbed in behind, betty and roberta took the front seat, and they started at a jog trot down meriden place. "shall we go through main street?" asked roberta. "he might be afraid of the electric cars." "afraid of nothing," said betty decidedly. "besides, alice wants to stop at the grocery." the "beastie," as katherine called him, stood like a statue before mr. phelps's grocery and never so much as moved an eyelash when three trolley cars dashed by him in quick succession. "what did you get?" asked katherine, when alice came out laden with bundles. "olives----" "good! we forgot those." "and bananas----" "the very thing! we have grapes." "and wafers and gingersnaps----" everybody laughed riotously. "what's the matter now?" inquired alice, looking a little offended. rachel explained. "well, if you have enough for the lunch," said alice, "let's keep these out to eat when we feel hungry." and the box was accordingly stuffed between betty and roberta for safe keeping. down on the meadow road it was very warm. by the time they reached the ferry, the "beastie's" thick coat was dripping wet and he breathed hard. "ben drivin' pretty fast, hain't you?" asked the ferryman, patting the horse's hairy nose. "i should think not," said katherine indignantly. "why, he walked most of the way." "wall, remember that there trap's very heavy," said the ferryman solemnly, as he shoved off. beyond the river the hills began. the "beastie" trailed slowly up them. several times roberta pulled him out to the side of the road to let more ambitious animals pass him. "do you suppose he's really tired?" she whispered to betty, as they approached a particularly steep pitch. "he might back down." "girls," said betty hastily, "i'm sick of sitting still, so i'm going to walk up this next hill. any of you want to come?" relieved of his four passengers the horse still hung his head and lifted each clumsy foot with an effort. "oh, roberta, there's a watering trough up here," called betty from the top of the hill. "i'm sure that'll revive him." by their united efforts they got the "beastie" up to the trough, which was most inconveniently located on a steep bank beside the road; and while betty and alice kept the back wheels of the trap level, katherine unfastened the check-rein. to her horror, as the check dropped the bits came out of the horse's mouth. "how funny," said alice, "just like everything up here. did you ever see a harness like that, betty?" betty left her post at the hind wheel and came around to investigate. "why he has two bits," she said. "of course he couldn't go, poor creature. and see how thirsty he is!" "well, he's drunk enough now," said roberta, "and you'll have to put the extra bits in again--that is, if you can. he'd trail his nose on the ground if he wasn't checked." the "beastie" stood submissively while the bits were replaced and the check fastened. then he chewed a handful of clover with avidity and went on again as dejectedly as ever. presently they reached a long, level stretch of road and stopped in the shade of a big pine-tree for a consultation. "do you suppose this is the top?" asked rachel. just then a merry tally-ho party of freshmen, tooting horns and singing, drew up beside them. "is this the top of the notch?" asked betty, waving her hand to some girls she knew. "no, it's three miles further on," they called back. "hurrah for -!" "well?" said betty, who felt in no mood for cheering. "let's go back to that pretty grove two hills down and tie this apology for a horse to the fence and spend the rest of the day there," suggested katherine. everybody agreed to this, and roberta backed her steed round with a flourish. "now let's each have a gingersnap before we start down," she said. so the box was opened and passed. roberta gathered the reins in one hand, clucked to the horse, and put her gingersnap into her mouth for the first bite. but she never got it, for without the slightest provocation the "beastie" gave a sudden spring forward, flopped his long tail over the reins, and started at a gallop down the road. betty clung to the dashboard with one hand and tried to pluck off the obstructing tail with the other. roberta, with the gingersnap still in her mouth, tugged desperately at the lines, and the back seat yelled "whoa!" lustily, until betty, having rearranged the tail and regained her seat, advised them to help pull instead. they had long since left the little grove behind, had dashed past half a dozen carriages, and were down on the level road near the ferry, when the "beastie" stopped as suddenly as he had started. roberta deliberately removed the gingersnap from her mouth, handed the reins to betty to avoid further interruption, and began to eat, while the rest of the party indulged in unseemly laughter at her expense. "we've found out what that extra bit was for," said rachel when the mirth had subsided, "and we can advise the liveryman that it doesn't work. but what are we going to do now?" "murder the liveryman," suggested katherine. "but the horse is sure-footed; he didn't lie," objected alice so seriously that everybody burst out laughing again. "he told the truth, but not the whole truth," said rachel. "next time we'll ask how many bits the horse has to wear and how it takes to hills. now what can we do?" "we can't go back to the woods, that's sure," said katherine. "and it's too hot to stay down here. let's go home and get rid of this sure-footed incubus, and then we can decide what to do next." the ferryman greeted them cheerfully. "back so soon?" he said. "had your dinner?" "of course not," replied katherine severely. "it's only twelve o'clock. we're just out for a morning drive. do you remember saying that this horse was tired? well, he brought us down the hills at about a mile a minute." "is that so!" declared the ferryman with a chuckle. "scairt, were you? why didn't you git them young winsted fellers, that jest started up, to rescue yer? might a ben quite a story." "we didn't need rescuing, thank you," said katherine. "did you see any men?" she whispered to betty. betty nodded. "four, driving a span. they were awfully amused. miss king was in another of the carriages," she added sadly. then she caught sight of roberta and began to laugh again. "you were so funny with that cookie in your mouth," she said. "were you dreadfully frightened?" "no," said roberta, with a guilty blush. "i always expect something to happen. horses are such uncertain creatures." they drove back through the meadows at a moderate pace, deposited the horse and a certified opinion of him with an apologetic liveryman, and carried their lunch down to paradise. "for it's as pretty as any place and near, and we're all hungry," alice said. paradise was deserted, for the girls had preferred to range further afield on mountain day. so the five freshmen chose two boats, rowed up stream without misadventure, spread out their luncheon on a grassy knoll, and ate, talked, and read till dinner time. as they crossed the campus, they met parties of dusty, disheveled pedestrians, laden with purple asters and autumn branches. a barge stopped at the gateway to deposit the campus contingent of the sophomore decorating committee, and in front of the various dwelling-houses empty buckboards, surreys and express wagons, waiting to be called for, showed that the holiday was over. "i don't think our first mountain day has been so bad after all, in spite of that dreadful horse," said rachel. "so much pleasant variety about it," added katherine. "let's not tell about the runaway," said alice who hated to be teased. "but miss king saw us," expostulated betty, "and you can trust mary brooks to know all about it." when mary, who was late in dressing, entered the dining-room, she gave a theatrical cry of joy. "i'm so glad you're all safe," she said. "and how about that cookie, roberta?" "i'm sorry, but it's gone. they're all gone," said roberta coolly. "now you might as well tell us how you knew." "knew!" repeated mary scornfully. "the whole college knows by this time. we were lunching on the notch road, near the top, when four winsted men came up, and asked if they might join us. they knew most of us. so we said yes, if they'd brought any candy, and they told us a strange story about five girls--very young girls, they said," interpolated mary emphatically, "that they'd seen dashing down the notch. one was trying to eat a cookie, and another was pulling the horse's tail, and the rest were screaming at the top of their lungs, so naturally the horse was frightened to death. pretty soon three carriage loads of juniors came along and they confirmed the awful news and gave us the names of the victims, and you can imagine how i felt. the men want to meet you, but i told them they couldn't because of course you'd be drowned in the river." "i hope you'll relieve their minds the next time they come to see you," said katherine. "are they the youths who monopolize our piazza every wednesday and saturday afternoon?" "two of them help occasionally." katherine winked meaningly at the rest of the mountain day party. "we'll be there," she said, "though it goes against my conscience to receive calls from such untruthful young gentlemen." the next saturday afternoon betty and katherine established themselves ostentatiously on the front piazza to await the arrival of mary's callers, rachel had gone to play basket-ball, and roberta had refused to conspire against mary's peace of mind, particularly since the plot might involve having to talk to a man. promptly at three o'clock two gentlemen arrived. "miss brooks is that sorry, but she had to go out," announced the maid in tones plainly audible to the two eavesdroppers. "would you please to come back at four?" katherine and betty exchanged disappointed glances. "checked again. she's too much for us," murmured katherine. "shall we wait?" "and is miss wales in--miss betty wales?" pursued the spokesman, after a slight pause. the maid looked severely at the occupants of the piazza. "yes, sor, you can see that yoursilf," she said and abruptly withdrew. the man laughed and came quickly toward betty, who had risen to meet him. "i'm john parsons," he said. "i roomed with your brother at andover. he told me you were here and asked me to call. didn't he write to you too? miss brooks promised to present me, but as she isn't in----" "oh, yes, will wrote, and i'm very glad to meet you, mr. parsons," betty broke in. "only i didn't know you were--i mean i didn't know that miss brooks's caller was you. miss kittredge, mr. parsons. wasn't your friend going to wait?" "bob," called mr. parsons after the retreating figure of his companion, "come back and hear about the runaway. you're wanted." it was fully half-past four when messrs. parsons and hughes, remembering that they had another engagement, left their escorts by request at the gymnasium and returned from a pleasant walk through paradise and the campus to meriden place, where a rather frigid reception awaited them. betty and katherine, having watched the finish of the basket-ball game, followed them, and spent the time before dinner in painting a poster which they hung conspicuously on mary's door. on it a green dragon, recently adopted as freshman class animal, charged the sophomores' purple cow and waved a long and very curly tail in triumph. underneath was written in large letters, "quits. who is going to the kappa phi dance at winsted?" "i'm dreadfully afraid mother won't let me go though," said betty as they hammered in the pins with helen's paper-weight. "and anyhow it's not for three whole weeks." when the drawing was securely fastened, betty surveyed it doubtfully. "i wonder if we'd better take it down," she said at last. "i don't believe it's very dignified. i'm afraid i oughtn't to have asked mr. parsons to call his friend back, but i did so want to meet both of them and crow over mary. and it was they who suggested the walk. katherine, do you mind if we take this down?" "why, no, if you don't want to leave it," said katherine looking puzzled. "i'm afraid mr. hughes didn't have a very good time. men aren't my long suit. but otherwise i think we did this up brown." just then eleanor came up, and katherine gave her an enthusiastic account of the afternoon's adventure. betty was silent. presently she asked, "girls, what is a back row reputation?" "i don't know. why?" asked eleanor. "well, you know i stopped at the college, katherine, to get my history paper back. miss ellis looked hard at me when i went in and stammered out what i wanted. she hunted up the paper and gave it to me and then she said, 'with which division do you recite, miss wales?' i told her at ten, and she looked at me hard again and said, 'you have been present in class twelve times and i've never noticed you. don't acquire a back row reputation, miss wales. good-day,' and i can tell you i backed out in a hurry." "i suppose she means that we sit on the back rows when we don't know the lesson," said helen who had joined the group. "i see," said betty. "and do you suppose the faculty notice such things as that and comment on them to one another?" "of course," said eleanor wisely. "they size us up right off. so does our class, and the upper class girls." "gracious!" said betty. "i wish i hadn't promised to go to a spread on the campus to-night. i wish---- what a nuisance so many reputations are!" and she crumpled the purple cow and the green dragon into a shapeless wad and threw it at rachel, who was coming up-stairs swinging her gym shoes by their strings. chapter vi letters home betty was cross and "just a tiny speck homesick," so she confided to the green lizard. nothing interesting had happened since she could remember, and it had rained steadily for four days. mr. parsons, who played right tackle on the winsted team, had written that he was laid up with a lame shoulder, which, greatly to his regret, would prevent his taking betty to his fraternity dance. helen was toiling on a "lit." paper with a zealous industry which got her up at distressingly early hours in the morning, and was "enough to mad a saint," according to her exasperated roommate, whose own brief effusion on the same subject had been hastily composed in one evening and lay neatly copied in her desk, ready to be handed in at the proper time. moreover, "gym" had begun and betty had had the misfortune to be assigned to a class that came right in the middle of the afternoon. "it's a shame," she grumbled, fishing out her fountain pen which had fallen off her desk and rolled under the bureau. "i shall change my lit. to afternoon--that's only two afternoons spoiled instead of four--and then tell miss andrews that i have a conflict. haven't you finished that everlasting paper?" "no," said helen meekly. "i'm sorry that i'm so slow. i'll go out if you want to have the girls in here." "oh no," called betty savagely, dashing out into the hall. eleanor's door was ornamented with a large sign which read, "busy. don't disturb." but the door was half-way open, and in the dusky room, lighted, as eleanor liked to have it, by candles in old-fashioned brass sticks, eleanor sat on a pile of cushions in the corner, strumming softly on her guitar. "come in," she called. "i put that up in case i wanted to study later. finished your lit. paper?" betty nodded. "it's awfully short." "i'm going to do mine to-night--that and a little matter of livy and french and--let me see--bible--no, elocution." "can you?" asked betty admiringly. "i'm not sure till i've tried. i've been meditating asking your roommate to do the paper. would you?" "no," said betty so emphatically that eleanor stopped playing and looked at her curiously. "why not? do you think it's wrong to exchange her industry for my dollars?" betty considered. she still admired eleanor, but she had learned her limitations. her beauty wove a spell about all that she did, and she was very clever and phenomenally quick when she cared to apply herself. but she cared so seldom, roused herself only when she could gain prestige, when there was something to manipulate, to manage. and apparently she was not even to be trusted. still, what was the use of quarreling with her about honor and fair play? to betty in her present mood it seemed a mere waste of time and energy. "well, for one reason," she said at last, "helen hasn't her own paper done yet, and for another i don't think she writes as well as you probably do;" and she rose to go. "that was a joke, bettina," eleanor called after her. "i am truly going to work now--this very instant. come back at ten and have black coffee with me." betty went on without answering to rachel's room. "come in," chorused three cheerful voices. "no, go get your lit. paper first. we're reading choice selections," added katherine. "she means she is," corrected rachel, handing betty a pillow. "you look cross, betty." "i am," said betty savagely, recounting a few of her woes. "what can we do? i came to be amused." "in a miracle play of this type----" began katherine, and stopped to dodge a pillow. "but it is amusing, betty." "i'm afraid it will amuse miss mills, if the rest is anything like what you read," said rachel with a reminiscent smile. "what are you doing, roberta?" "writing home," drawled roberta, without looking up from her paper. "well, you needn't shake your fountain pen over me, if you are," said katherine. "i also owe my honored parents a letter, but i've about made up my mind never to write to them again. listen to this, will you." she rummaged in her desk for a minute. "here it is. "'my dear daughter'--he only begins that way when he's fussed. i always know how he's feeling when i see whether it's 'daughter' or 'k.' 'my dear daughter:--your interesting letter of the th inst. was received and i enclose a check, which i hope will last for some weeks.' ("i'm sorry to say it's nearly gone already," interpolated katherine.) "'your mother and i enjoyed the account of the dance you attended in the gymnasium, of the candy pull which mrs. chapin so kindly arranged for her roomers, and the game of hockey that ended so disastrously for one of your friends. we are glad that you attended the morality play of "everyman," though we are at a loss to know what you mean by the "peanut gallery." however it occurs to us that with your afternoon gymnasium class, your recitations, which, as i understand it, fully engage your mornings, and all these diversions in one week, you could have spent but little time in the study of your lessons. do not forget that these years should be devoted to a serious preparation for the multifarious duties of life, and do not neglect the rich opportunities which i am proud to be able to give you. the wetherbees have----' oh well, the rest of it is just kankakee news," said katherine, folding the letter and putting it back in her desk. "but isn't that first bit lovely? why, i racked my brain till it ached, positively ached, thinking of interesting things to say in that letter, and now because i didn't mention that i'd worked three solid hours on my german every day that week and stood in line at the library for an hour to get hold of bryce's american commonwealth, i receive this pathetic appeal to my better self." "how poetic you're getting," laughed betty. "do you know it's awfully funny, but i got a letter something like that too. only mine was from nan, and it just said she hoped i was remembering to avoid low grades and conditions, as they were a great bother. she said she wanted me to have a good time, but as there would be even more to do when i got on the campus, i ought not to fall into the habit of neglecting my work this year." "mine was from aunt susan," chimed in rachel. "she said she didn't see when i could do any studying except late at night, and she hoped i wasn't being so foolish as to undermine my health and ruin my complexion for the sake of a few girlish pleasures. isn't that nice--girlish pleasures? she put in a five dollar bill, though i couldn't see why she should, considering her sentiments." roberta put the cap on to her fountain pen and propped it carefully against an adjacent pillow. "i've just answered mine," she said, sorting the sheets in her lap with a satisfied smile. "did you get one, too? what did you say?" demanded betty. "the whole truth," replied roberta languidly. "it took eight pages and i hope he'll enjoy it." "i say," cried katherine excitedly. "that's a great idea. let's try it." "and read them to one another afterward," added rachel. "they might be more entertaining than your lit. paper." "may i borrow some paper?" asked betty. "i'm hoping helen will finish to-night if i let her alone." roberta helped herself to a book from the shelves and an apple from the table, and the rest settled themselves to their epistolary labors. except for the scratching of betty's pen, and an occasional exclamation of pleasure or perplexity from one of the scribes, the room was perfectly still. betty had just asked for an envelope and katherine was numbering her pages when mary brooks knocked at the door. "what on earth are you girls doing?" she inquired blandly, selecting the biggest apple in the dish and appropriating the morris chair, which katherine had temporarily vacated. "i haven't heard a sound in here since nine o'clock. i began to think that helen had come in and blown out the gas again by mistake and you were all asphyxiated." everybody laughed at the remembrance of a recent occasion when helen had absent-mindedly blown out the gas while betty was saying her prayers. "it wasn't so funny at the time," said betty ruefully. "suppose she'd gone to sleep without remembering. we've been writing home, mary," she said, turning to the newcomer, "and now we're going to read the letters, and we've got to hurry, for it's almost ten. roberta, you begin." "oh no," said roberta, looking distressed. "i wish somebody would tell me what this is all about first," put in mary. rachel explained, while katherine and betty persuaded roberta to read her letter. "it isn't fair," she protested, "when i wrote a real letter and you others were just doing it for fun." "go on, roberta!" commanded mary, and roberta in sheer desperation seized her letter and began to read. "dear papa:--i have been studying hard all the evening and it is now nearly bedtime, but i can at least begin a letter to you. to-day has been the fourth rainy day in succession and we have thoroughly appreciated the splendid opportunity for uninterrupted work. yesterday morning--i think enough has happened in these two days to fill my letter--i was up at seven as usual. i stuck a selection from browning into my mirror, as it was the basis of our elocution lesson, and nearly learned it while i dressed. before chapel i completed my geometry preparation. this was fortunate, as i was called on to recite, the sixth proposition in book third being my assignment. the next hour i had no recitation, so i went to the library to do some reference work for my english class. ten girls were already waiting for the same volume of the century dictionary that i wanted, so i couldn't get hold of it till nearly the end of the hour. i spent the intervening time on the browning. i had livy the next hour and was called on to translate. as i had spent several hours on the lesson the day before, i could do so. after the elocution recitation i went home to lunch. at quarter before two i began studying my history. at quarter before four i started for the gymnasium. at five i went to a tea which one of the girls was giving for her mother, so i felt obliged to go. i stayed only half an hour and cannot remember how i spent the half hour till dinner, so i presume it was wasted. i am afraid i am too much given to describing such unimportant pauses in the day's occupation and magnifying their length and the frivolous pleasure which we thoughtlessly derive from them. "in the evening---- oh it all goes on like that," cried roberta. "just dull and stuffy and true to the facts. some one else read." "it's convincing," chuckled mary. "now katherine." katherine's letter was an absurd mixture of sense and nonsense, in which she proved that she studied at least twelve hours out of the twenty-four. rachel's was a sensible explanation of just how much time, or rather how little, a spread, a dance or a basket-ball game takes. "that's what they don't understand," she said, "and they don't know either how fast we can go from one thing to another up here. why, energy is in the air!" betty's letter, like her literature paper, was extremely short. "i couldn't think of much to say, if i told the truth," she explained, blushing. "i don't suppose i do study as much as i ought." mary had listened with an air of respectful attention to all the letters. when the last one was finished she rose hastily. "i must go back," she said. "i have a theme to write. i only dropped in to ask if that famous spread wasn't coming off soon." "oh, yes," said betty. "let's have it next week wednesday. is anything else going on then? i'll ask eleanor and you see the riches and helen." a few days later mary appeared at the lunch table fairly bursting with importance. "well," she said, beaming around the table. "what do you suppose has happened now? really, mrs. chapin, you ought to be proud of us. we began to be famous before college opened----" "what?" interrupted eleanor. "is it possible you didn't know that?" inquired mary. "well, it's true nevertheless. and we were the heroines of mountain day, and now we're famous again." "how?" demanded the table in a chorus. mary smiled enigmatically. "this time it is a literary sensation," she said. "is it helen's paper?" hazarded betty. "mine, of course," said katherine. "strange miss mills didn't mention it this morning when i met her at cuyler's." mary waited until it was quiet again. "if you've quite finished guessing," she said, "i'll tell you. you remember the evening when i found four of you in rachel and katherine's room writing deceitful letters to your fond parents. well, i had been racking my brains for weeks for a pleasing and original theme subject. you know you are supposed to spend two hours a week on this theme course, and i had spent two hours for four weeks in just thinking what to write. i'm not sure whether that counts at all and i didn't like to ask--it would have been so conspicuous. so i was in despair when i chanced upon your happy gathering and was saved. miss raymond read it in class to-day," concluded mary triumphantly. "you didn't put us into it--our letters!" gasped roberta. "indeed i did," said mary. "i put them all in, as nearly as i could remember them, and miss raymond read it in class, and made all sorts of clever comments about college customs and ideals and so on. i felt guilty, because i never had anything read before, and of course i didn't exactly write this because the letters were the main part of it. so after class i waited for miss raymond and explained how it was. she laughed and said that she was glad i had an eye for good material and that she supposed all authors made more or less use of their acquaintance, and when i went off she actually asked me to come and see her. my junior friends are hoping it will pull me into a society and i'm hoping it will avert a condition." "where is the theme?" asked eleanor. "won't you read it to us?" "it's--why, i forgot the very best part of the whole story. sallie hill has it for the 'argus.' she's the literary editor, you know, and she wants it for the next number. so you see you are famous. "why don't some of you elect this work?" asked mary, when the excitement had somewhat subsided. "it's open to freshmen, and it's really great fun." "i thought you said that you spent eight hours and were in despair----" began eleanor. "so i was," said mary. "i declare i'd forgotten that. well, anyhow i'm sure i shan't have any trouble now. i think i've learned how to go at it. why, do you know, girls, i have an idea already. not for a theme--something else. it concerns all of you--or most of you anyway." "i should think you'd made enough use of us for the present," said betty. "why don't you try to make a few sophomores famous?" "oh it doesn't concern you that way. you are to---- oh wait till i get it started," said mary vaguely; and absolutely refused to be more explicit. chapter vii a dramatic chapter the chapin house girls decided not to spend the proceeds of the dancing class for an elaborate supper, as they had first intended, but to turn their "spread" into the common college type, where "plowed field" and chocolate made with condensed milk and boiling water are the chief refreshments, and light-hearted sociability ensures a good time for everybody. "but do let's have tea too," betty had proposed. "i hate the chocolate that the girls make, and i don't believe tea keeps many of us awake. did i tell you that mother sent a big box of cheese crackers?" the spread was to be in betty's room, partly because she owned the only chafing-dish in the house, and partly because eighteen girls--the nine hostesses and the one guest asked by each--could get into it without uncomfortable crowding. eleanor had lent her pile of floor cushions and her beloved candlesticks for the occasion, everybody had contributed cups and saucers. betty and helen had spent the afternoon "fixing up," and the room wore a very festive air when the girls dropped in after dinner to see if the preparations were complete. "i think we ought to start the fudge before they come," said betty, remembering the procedure at miss king's party. "oh, no," protested eleanor. "half-past eight is early enough. why, most of the fun of a spread is mixing the things together and taking turns tasting and stirring." "it would be awkward to finish eating too early, when that's the only entertainment," suggested rachel. "or the candy might give out before ten," added mary rich. the majority ruled, and as some of the girls were late, and one had some very amusing blue-prints to exhibit, it was considerably after half-past eight before the fudge was started. at first it furnished plenty of excitement. betty, who had been appointed chief fudge-maker, left it for a moment, and it took the opportunity to boil over. when it had settled down after this exploit, it refused to do anything but simmer. no amount of alcohol or of vigorous and persistent stirring had any effect upon it, and betty was in despair. but eleanor, who happened to be in a gracious mood, came gallantly to the rescue. she quietly disappeared and returned in a moment, transformed into a gypsy street singer. she had pulled down her black hair and twisted a gay scarf around it. over her shirt-waist she wore a little velvet jacket; and a short black skirt, a big red sash, an armful of bangles and bracelets, and the guitar hung over her shoulder, completed her disguise. "sing a lil'?" she asked, smiling persuasively and kissing her hand to the party. then she sat down on the pile of cushions and played and sang, first a quaint little folk-song suited to her part, and then one or two dashing popular airs, until the unaccommodating fudge was quite forgotten, except by betty, who stirred and frowned, and examined the flame and tested the thickness of the rich brown liquid, quite unnoticed. eleanor had just shrugged her shoulders and announced, "i no more sing, now," when somebody else knocked on the door, or rather pushed it open, and a grotesque figure slouched in. at least half of it was head, black and awful, with gruesome green features. short, unjointed arms came out of its waist, with green claws dangling where the hands should have been; and below its short skirt flapped the tails of a swallow-tail coat. the girls were too much astonished to speak, as the creature advanced silently into the room, and without a word began dancing something that, as katherine expressed it afterward, was a cross between a double-shuffle and a skirt-dance. when it had succeeded in reducing its audience to a state of abject and tearful mirth, the creature stopped suddenly, announced, "you've seen the jabberwock," in sepulchral tones, and flopped on to the end of a couch, saying breathlessly, "mary brooks, please help me out of this. i'm suffocating." "how did you do it, miss lewis?" inquired the stately senior, who was mary's guest, wiping her eyes and gasping for breath as she spoke. "it's perfectly simple," drawled roberta indifferently. "the head is my black silk petticoat. i painted on the features, because the children like to have me do it at home, and it's convenient to be ready. the arms are a broom-handle, stuck through the sleeves of this old coat, which is buttoned around my waist." "and now you're going to do the bandersnatch, aren't you?" inquired the senior craftily, perceiving that the other side of the petticoat was decorated with curious red spots. "i--how did you--oh, no," said roberta, blushing furiously, and stuffing the telltale petticoat under a convenient pillow. "i don't know why i brought the things for this. i never meant to do it up here. i--i hope you weren't bored. i just happened to think of it, and eleanor couldn't sing forever, and that fudge----" "that fudge won't cook," broke in betty in tragic tones. "it doesn't thicken at all, and it's half-past nine this minute. what shall i do?" everybody crowded around the chafing-dish, giving advice and suggesting unfailing remedies. but none of them worked. "and there's nothing else but tea and chocolate," wailed adelaide. "but you can all have both," said betty bravely, "and you've forgotten the crackers, adelaide. i'll pass them while you and katherine go for more cups." "and you can send the fudge round to-morrow," suggested mary brooks consolingly. "it's quite the thing, you know. don't imagine that your chafing-dish is the only one that's too slow for the ten-o'clock rule." betty insisted upon sitting up to finish the fudge, but she ended by getting up before breakfast the next morning to cook it on mrs. chapin's stove. "nobody seemed to care much about its being so slow, except me," she said to helen, as they did it up in neat little bundles to be handed to the guests of the evening at chapel. "weren't eleanor and roberta fine?" "yes," agreed helen enthusiastically. "but isn't it queer that roberta won't let us praise her? she seems to be ashamed of being able to be so funny." betty laughed. "that's roberta," she said. "it will be months before she'll do it again, i'm afraid. i suppose she felt last night as if she had to do what she could for the honor of the house, so she came out of her shell." "she told rachel that she did it on your account. she said you looked as if you wanted to cry." betty flushed prettily. "how nice of her! i did want to cry. i felt as if i was to blame about the fudge. i wish i had a nice stunt like that of eleanor's to come to people's rescue with." "were those what you call stunts?" inquired helen earnestly. "i didn't know what they were, but they were fine." "why, helen chase adams, do you mean that you've been in college two months and don't know what a stunt is----" began betty, and stopped, blushing furiously and fearing that she had hurt helen's feelings. for the reason why she did not know about stunts was obvious. helen took it very simply. "you know i'm not asked to things outside," she said, "and i don't seem to be around when the girls do things here. so why should i know?" "no reason at all," said betty decidedly. "they are just silly little parlor tricks anyway--most of them--not worth wasting time over. do you know miss willis told us in english class that a great deal of slang originated in college, and she gave 'stunt' as an example. she said it had been used here ever so long and only a few years outside, in quite a different meaning. isn't that queer?" "yes," said helen indifferently. "she told my division too, but she didn't say what it meant here. i suppose she thought we'd all know." betty, stealing a glance at her, saw her wink back the tears. "she does care about the fun," thought betty. "she cares as much as rachel or i, or eleanor even. and she is left out. it isn't a bit fair, but what's to be done about it?" being young and very happy herself, she speedily forgot all about the knotty problem of the unequal distribution of this world's goods, whether they be potatoes or fudge parties. occasionally she remembered again, and gave helen a helping hand, as she had done several times already. but college is much like the bigger world outside. the fittest survive on their own merits, and these must be obvious and well advertised, or they are in great danger of being overlooked. and it is safer in the long run to do one's own advertising and to begin early. eleanor understood this, but she forgot or ignored the other rules of the game. betty practiced it unconsciously, which is the proper method. helen never mastered its application and succeeded in spite of it. * * * * * several evenings after that one on which the fudge had refused to cook, alice waite was trying to learn her history lesson, and her "queer" roommate, who loved to get into her bed as well as she hated to make it, was trying to go to sleep--an operation rendered difficult by the fact that the girl next door was cracking butternuts with a marble paper-weight--when there was a soft tap on the door. "don't answer," begged the sleepy roommate. "may be important," objected alice, "but i won't let her stay. come in!" the door opened and a young gentleman in correct evening dress, with an ulster folded neatly over his arm, entered the room and gazed, smiling and silent, about him. he was under average height, slightly built, and had a boyish, pleasant face that fitted ill with his apparent occupation as house-breaker and disturber of damsels. the roommate, who had sat up in bed with the intention of repelling whatever intruder threatened her rest, gave a shriek of mingled terror and indignation and disappeared under the bedclothes. alice rose, with as much dignity as the three heavy volumes which she held in her lap, and which had to be untangled from her kimono, would permit. she moved the screen around her now hysterical roommate and turned fiercely upon the young gentleman. "how dare you!" she demanded sternly. "go!" and she stamped her foot somewhat ineffectively, since she had on her worsted bedroom slippers. at this the young gentleman's smile broke into an unmistakably feminine giggle. "oh, you are so lovely!" he gurgled. "don't cry, miss madison. it's not a real man. it's only i--betty wales." "betty!" gasped alice. "betty wales, what are you doing? is it really you?" "of course," said betty calmly, pulling off her wig by way of further evidence, and sitting down with careful regard for her coattails in the nearest chair. "i hope," she added, "that i haven't really worried miss madison. take the screen away, alice, and see what she's doing." "oh, i'm all right now, thank you," said miss madison, pushing back the screen herself. "but you gave me an awful fright. what are you doing?" "why, we're going to give a play at our house saturday," explained betty, "and to-night was a dress rehearsal. i wanted to bring alice a ticket, and i thought it would be fun to come in these clothes and frighten her; so i put on a skirt and a rain-coat and came along. i left my skirt in your entrance-way. get it for me please, alice, and i'll put it on before i send any one else into hysterics." "oh, not yet," begged miss madison. "i want to look at you. please stand up and turn around, so i can have a back view." betty readjusted her wig and stood up for inspection. "what's the play?" asked alice. betty considered. "it's a secret, but i'll tell you to pay for giving you both such a scare. it's 'sherlock holmes.' mary brooks saw the real play in new york, and she wrote this, something like the real one, but different so we could do it. she could think up the plot beautifully but she wasn't good at conversation, so katherine helped her, and it's fine." "is there a robbery?" inquired alice. "oh, yes, diamonds." "and a murder?" "well, a supposed murder. the audience thinks it is, but it isn't really. and there's a pretend fire too, just as there is in the real play." "and who are you?" "i'm the villain," said betty. "i'm to have curling black mustaches and a fierce frown, and then you'd know without asking." "i should think they'd have wanted you for the heroine," said alice, who admired betty immensely. "oh, no," demurred the villain. "eleanor is leading lady, of course. she has three different costumes, and she looks like a queen in every one of them. katherine is going to be sherlock holmes, and adelaide rich is dr. watson and--oh, i mustn't tell you any more, or alice won't enjoy it saturday." "we had a little play here," said miss madison, "but it was tame beside this. where did you get all the men's costumes?" "rented them, and the wigs and mustaches and pistols," and betty explained about the dancing-school money which the house had voted to roberta's project instead of to the spread. "i wish i could act," said alice. "i should love to be a man. but my mother wouldn't let me, so it's just as well that i'm a perfect stick at it." "roberta's father wouldn't let her either," said betty, "but mother didn't mind, as long as it's only before a few girls. i presume she wouldn't like my coming over here and frightening you. but i honestly didn't think you'd be deceived." "i'm so glad you came," said miss madison lying back luxuriously among her pillows. "does the story of the play take place in the evening?" "yes, all of it. i'm dressed for the theatre, but i'm detained by the robbery." "then i have something i want to lend you. alice, open the washstand drawer, please--no, the middle one--in that flat green box. thank you. your hat, sir villain," she went on, snapping open an opera hat and handing it to betty with a flourish. "how perfectly lovely!" exclaimed betty. "but how in the world did you happen to have it?" "why, i stayed with my cousins for two weeks just before i came up here, and i found it in their guest-chamber bureau. it wasn't cousin tom's nor uncle dick's, and they didn't know whose it was; so they gave it to me, because i liked to play with it. should you really like to use it?" "like it!" repeated betty, shutting the hat and opening it again with a low bow. "why it will be the cream of the whole performance. it would make the play go just of itself," and she put it on and studied the effect attentively in the mirror. "it's rather large," said alice. "if i were you, i'd just carry it." "it is big," admitted betty regretfully, "or at least it makes me look very small. but i can snap it a lot, and then put it on as i exit. miss madison, you'll come to the play of course. i hadn't but one ticket left, but after lending us this you're a privileged person." "i hoped you'd ask me," said miss madison gratefully. "the play does sound so exciting. but that wasn't why i offered you the hat." "of course not, and it's only one reason why you are coming," said betty tactfully. "now alice, you must bring in my skirt. i have to walk so slowly in all these things, and it must be almost ten." when sir archibald ames, villain, had been transformed into a demure little maiden with rumpled hair and a high, stiff collar showing above her rain-coat, betty took her departure. a wave of literary and dramatic enthusiasm had inundated the chapin house. the girls were constantly suggesting theme topics to one another--which unfortunately no one but mary brooks could use, at least until the next semester; for in the regular freshman english classes, subjects were always assigned. and they were planning theatre parties galore, to see jefferson, maude adams, and half a dozen others if they came to harding. betty, who had a happy faculty of keeping her head just above such passing waves, smiled to herself as she hurried across the dark campus. "next week, when our play is over it will be something else," she thought. rachel was already interested in basket-ball and had prospects of being chosen for the freshman class team. eleanor had been practicing hard on her guitar, hoping to "make" the mandolin club; and was dreadfully disappointed at finding that according to a new rule freshmen were ineligible and that her entrance conditions would have excluded her in any case. "so many things to do," sighed betty, who had given up a hockey game that afternoon to study history. "i suppose we've got to choose," she added philosophically. "but i choose to be an all-around girl, like dorothy king. i can't sing though. i wonder what my one talent is. "helen," she said, as she opened her door, "have you noticed that all college girls have one particular talent? i wonder what ours will turn out to be. see what i have for the play." helen, who looked tired and heavy-eyed, inspected the opera hat listlessly. "i think your talent is getting the things you want," she said, "and i guess i haven't any. it's quarter of ten." chapter viii after the play "sherlock holmes" was quite as exciting as miss madison had anticipated. most college plays, except the elaborate ones given in the gymnasium, which are carefully learned, costumed and rehearsed, and supervised by a committee from the faculty--are amusing little farces in one or two short scenes. "sherlock holmes," on the other hand, was a four act, blood-curdling melodrama, with three different stage settings, an abundance of pistol shots, a flash-light fire, shrieks and a fainting fit on the part of the heroine, the raiding of a robbers' den in the dénouement, and "a lot more excitement all through than there is in mr. gillette's play," as mary modestly informed her caste. it was necessarily cruder, as it was far more ambitious, than the commoner sort of amateur play; but the audience, whether little freshmen who had seen few similar performances, or upper class girls who had seen a great many and so fully appreciated the novelty of this one, were wildly enthusiastic. every actress, down to helen, who made a very stiff and stilted "buttons," and rachel and mary rich who appeared in the robbers' den scene as betty's female accomplices, and in the heroine's drawing-room as her wicked mother and her stupid maid respectively, was rapturously received; and dr. holmes and sir archibald, whose hat was decidedly the hit of the evening, were forced to come before the curtain. finally, in response to repeated shouts for "author," mary brooks appeared, flushed and panting from her vigorous exertions as prompter, stage manager, and assistant dresser, and informed the audience that owing to the kindness of mrs. chapin there was lemon-ice in the dining-room, and would every one please go out there, so that this awful mess,--with a comprehensive wave of her hand toward the ruins of the robbers' den piled on top of the heroine's drawing-room furniture, which in turn had been a rearrangment of dr. holmes's study,--could be cleared up, and they could dance there later? at this the audience again applauded, sighed to think that the play was over, and then joyfully adjourned to the dining-room to eat mrs. chapin's ice and examine the actors at close range. all these speedily appeared, except helen, who had crept up-stairs quite unnoticed the moment her part was finished, and eleanor, who, hunting up betty, explained that she had a dreadful headache and begged betty to look after her guests and not for anything to let them come up-stairs to find her. betty, who was busily washing off her "fierce frown" at the time, sputtered a promise through the mixture of soap, water and vaseline she was using, delivered the message, assured herself that the guests were enjoying themselves, and forgot all about eleanor until half-past nine when every one had gone and she came up to her room to find helen in bed and apparently fast asleep, with her face hidden in the pillows. "how queer," she thought. "she's had the blues for a week, but i thought she was all right this evening." then, as her conjectures about helen suggested eleanor's headache, she tiptoed out to see if she could do anything for the prostrate heroine. eleanor's transom was dark and her door evidently locked, for it would not yield when betty, anxious at getting no answer to her knocks, tried to open it. but when she called softly, "eleanor, are you there? can i do anything?" eleanor answered crossly, "please go away. i'm better, but i want to be let alone." so, murmuring an apology, betty went back to her own room, and as helen seemed to be sound asleep, she saw no reason for making a nuisance of herself a second time, but considerately undressed in the dark and crept into bed as softly as possible. if she had turned on her light, she would have discovered two telltale bits of evidence, for helen had left a very moist handkerchief on her desk and another rolled into a damp, vindictive little wad on the chiffonier. it was not because she knew she had done her part badly that she had gone sobbing to bed, while the others ate lemon-ice and danced merrily down-stairs. billy was a hard part; mary brooks had said so herself, and she had only taken it because when roberta positively refused to act, there was no one else. helen couldn't act, knew she couldn't, and didn't much care. but not to have any friends in all this big, beautiful college--that was a thing to make any one cry. it was bad enough not to be asked anywhere, but not to have any friends to invite oneself, that was worse--it was dreadful! if she went right off up-stairs perhaps no one would notice; they would think at first that somebody else was looking after her guests while she dressed, and then they would forget all about her and never know the dreadful truth that nobody she had asked to the play would come. when it had first been decided to present "sherlock holmes" and the girls had begun giving out their invitations, helen, who felt more and more keenly her isolation in the college, resolved to see just how the others managed and then do as they did. she heard rachel say, "i think christy mason is a dear. i don't know her much if any, but i'm going to ask her all the same, and perhaps we shall get better acquainted after awhile." that made helen, who took the speech more literally than it was meant, think of caroline barnes. one afternoon she and betty had been down-town together, and on the way back miss barnes overtook them, and came up with them to see eleanor, who was an old friend of hers. betty introduced her to helen and she walked between them up the hill and necessarily included both of them in her conversation. she was a homely girl, with dull, inexpressive features; but she was tall and well-proportioned and strikingly well dressed. betty had taken an instant dislike to her at the time of their first meeting and greatly to eleanor's disgust had resisted all her advances. eleanor had accused her frankly of not liking caroline. "no," returned betty with equal frankness, "i don't. i think all your other friends are lovely, but miss barnes rubs me the wrong way." helen knew nothing of all this, and miss barnes's lively, slangy conversation and stylish, showy clothes appealed to her unsophisticated taste. when the three parted at the head of the stairs, miss barnes turned back to say, "aren't you coming to see me? you owe me a call, you know." helen and betty were standing close together, and though part of the remark applied only to betty, she looked at them both. betty said formally, "thank you, i should like to," and helen, pleased and eager, chorused, "so should i." later, in their own room, betty said with apparent carelessness but with the covert intention of dropping helen a useful hint, "you aren't going to see miss barnes, are you? i'm not." and helen had flushed again, gave some stammering reply and then had had for the first time an unkind thought about her roommate. betty wanted to keep all her nice friends to herself. it must be that. why shouldn't she go to see miss barnes? she wasn't asked so often that she could afford to ignore the invitations she did get. and later she added, why shouldn't she ask miss barnes to the play, since eleanor wasn't going to? so one afternoon helen, arrayed in her best clothes, went down to call and deliver her invitation. miss barnes was out, but her door was open and helen slipped in, and writing a little note on her card, laid it conspicuously on the shining mahogany desk. that was one invitation. she had given the other to a quiet, brown-eyed girl who sat next her in geometry, not from preference, but because her name came next on the class roll. this girl declined politely, on the plea of another engagement. next day miss barnes brushed unseeingly past her in the hall of the science building. the day after that they met at gym. finally, when almost a week had gone by without a sign from her, helen inquired timidly if she had found the note. "oh, are you miss adams?" inquired miss barnes, staring past her with a weary air. "thank you very much i'm sure, but i can't come," and she walked off. any one but helen adams would have known that caroline barnes and eleanor watson had the reputation of being the worst "snobs" in their class, and that miss ashby, her neighbor in geometry, boarded with her mother and never went anywhere without her. but helen knew no college gossip. she offered her invitation to two girls who had been in the dancing-class, read hypocrisy into their hearty regrets that they were going out of town for sunday, and asked no one else to the play. if she had been less shy and reserved she would have told rachel or betty all about her ill-luck, have been laughed at and sympathized with, and then have forgotten all about it. but being helen chase adams, she brooded over her trouble in secret, asked nobody's advice, and grew shyer and more sensitive in consequence, but not a whit less determined to make a place for herself in the college world. she would have attached less significance to caroline barnes's rudeness, had she known a little about the causes of eleanor's headache. eleanor had gone down to caroline's on the afternoon of the play, knocked boldly, in spite of a "don't disturb" sign posted on the door, and found the pretty rooms in great confusion and caroline wearily overseeing the packing of her books and pictures. eleanor waited patiently until the men had gone off with three huge boxes, and then insisted upon knowing what caroline was doing. "going home," said caroline sullenly. "why?" demanded eleanor. "public reason--trouble with my eyes; real reason--haven't touched my conditions yet and now i have been warned and told to tutor in three classes. i can't possibly do it all." "why caroline barnes, do you mean you are sent home?" caroline nodded. "it amounts to that. i was advised to go home now, and work off the entrance conditions and come again next fall. i thought maybe you'd be taking the same train," she added with a nervous laugh. eleanor turned white. "nonsense!" she said sharply. "what do you mean?" "well, you said you hadn't done anything about your conditions, and you've cut and flunked and scraped along much as i have, i fancy." "i'm sorry, caroline," said eleanor, ignoring the digression. "i don't know that you care, though. you've said you were bored to death up here." "i--i say a great deal that i don't mean," gulped caroline. "good-bye, eleanor. shall i see you in new york at christmas? and don't forget--trouble with my eyes. oh, the family won't mind. they didn't like my coming up in the first place. i shall go abroad in the spring. good-bye." eleanor walked swiftly back through the campus. in the main building she consulted the official bulletin-board with anxious eyes, and fairly tore off a note addressed to "miss eleanor watson, first class." it had come--a "warning" in latin. once back in her own room, eleanor sat down to consider the situation calmly. but the more she thought about it, the more frightened and ashamed she grew. thanksgiving was next week, and she had been given only until christmas to work off her entrance conditions. she had meant to leave them till the last moment, rush through the work with a tutor, and if she needed it get an extension of time by some specious excuse. had the last minute passed? the latin warning meant more extra work. there were other things too. she had "cut" classes recklessly--three on the day of the sophomore reception, and four on a monday morning when she had promised to be back from boston in time for chapel. also, she had borrowed lil day's last year's literature paper and copied most of it verbatim. she could make a sophistical defence of her morals to betty wales, but she understood perfectly what the faculty would think about them. the only question was, how much did they know? when the dinner-bell rang, eleanor pulled herself together and started down-stairs. "did you get your note, miss watson?" asked adelaide rich from the dining-room door. "what note?" demanded eleanor sharply. "i'm sure i can't describe it. it was on the hall table," said adelaide, turning away wrathfully. some people were so grateful if you tried to do them a favor! it was this incident which led eleanor to hurry off after dinner, and again at the end of the play, bound to escape nerve-racking questions and congratulations. later, when betty knocked on her door, her first impulse was to let her in and ask her advice. but a second thought suggested that it was safer to confide in nobody. the next morning she was glad of the second thought, for things looked brighter, and it would have been humiliating indeed to be discovered making a mountain out of a mole-hill. "the trouble with caroline was that she wasn't willing to work hard," she told herself. "now i care enough to do anything, and i must make them see it." she devoted her spare hours on monday morning to "making them see it," with that rare combination of tact and energy that was eleanor watson at her best. by noon her fears of being sent home were almost gone, and she was alert and exhilarated as she always was when there were difficulties to be surmounted. "now that the play is over, i'm going to work hard," betty announced at lunch, and eleanor, who was still determined not to confide in anybody, added nonchalantly, "so am i." it was going to be the best of the fun to take in the chapin house. but the chapin house was not taken in for long. "what's come over eleanor watson?" inquired katherine, a few days later, as the girls filed out from dinner. "she's working," said mary brooks with a grin. "and apparently she thinks work and dessert don't jibe." "i'm afraid it was time," said rachel. "she's always cutting classes, and that puts a girl behind faster than anything else. i wonder if she could have had a warning in anything." "i think she could----" began katherine, and then stopped, laughing. "i might as well own up to one in math.," she said. "well, miss watson is going to stay here over thanksgiving," said mary rich. then plans for the two days' vacation were discussed, and eleanor's affairs forgotten, much to the relief of betty wales, who feared every moment lest she should in some way betray eleanor's confidence. on the wednesday after thanksgiving eleanor burst in on her merrily, as she was dressing for dinner. "i just wanted to tell you that some of those conditions that worry you so are made up," she said. "i almost wore out my tutor, and i surprised the history department into a compliment, but i'm through. that is, i have only math., and one other little thing." "i don't see how you did it," sighed betty. "i should never dare to get behind. i have all i want to do with the regular work." eleanor leaned luxuriously back among the couch cushions. "yes," she said loftily. "i suppose you haven't the faintest idea what real, downright hard work is, and neither can you appreciate the joys of downright idleness. i shall try that as soon as i've finished the math." "why?" asked betty. "do you like making it up later?" "i shouldn't have to. you know i'm getting a reputation as an earnest, thorough student. that's what the history department called me. a reputation is a wonderful thing to lean back upon. i ought to have gone in for one in september. i was at the hill school for three years, and i never studied after the first three months. there's everything in making people believe in you from the first." "what's the use in making people believe you're something that you're not?" demanded betty. "what a question! it saves you the trouble of being that something. if the history department once gets into the habit of thinking me a thorough, earnest student, it won't condition me because i fail in a written recitation or two. it will suppose i had an off day." "but you'd have to do well sometimes." "oh, yes, occasionally. that's easy." "not for me," said betty, "so i shall have to do respectable work all the time. but i shall tell helen about your idea. she works all the time, and it makes her dull and cross. she must have secured a reputation by this time; and i shall insist upon her leaning back on it for a while and taking more walks." chapter ix paying the piper "i feel as if there were about three days between thanksgiving and christmas," said rachel, coming up the stairs, to betty, who stood in the door of her room half in and half out of her white evening dress. "that leaves one day and a half, then, before vacation," laughed betty. "i'm sorry to bother you when you're so pressed for time, but could you hook me up? helen is at the library, and every one else seems to be off somewhere." "certainly," said rachel, dropping her armful of bundles on the floor. "i'm only making christmas presents. is the kappa phi dance coming off at last?" "yes--another one, that is; and mr. parsons asked me, to make up for the one i had to miss. now, would you hold my coat?" "betty! betty wales! wait a minute," called somebody just as betty reached the main street corner, and eleanor watson appeared, also dressed for the dance. "why didn't you say you were going to winsted?" she demanded breathlessly. "good, here's a car." "why didn't you say you were going?" demanded betty in her turn as they scrambled on. "because i didn't intend to until the last minute. then i decided that i'd earned a little recreation, so i telegraphed paul west that i'd come after all. who is your chaperon?" "miss hale." "well please introduce me when we get down-town, so that i can ask if i may join her party." ethel hale received betty with enthusiasm, and eleanor with a peculiar smile and a very formal permission to go to winsted under her escort. as the two were starting off to buy their tickets, she called betty back. "aren't you going to sit with me on the way over, little sister?" she asked. "of course," said betty, and they settled themselves together a moment later for the short ride. "you never come to see me, betty," miss hale began, when they were seated. "i'm afraid to," confessed betty sheepishly. "when you're a faculty and i'm only a freshman." "nonsense," laughed miss hale. then she glanced at eleanor, who sat several seats in front of them, and changed the subject abruptly. "what sort of girl is miss watson?" she asked. betty laughed. "all sorts, i think," she said. "i never knew any one who could be so nice one minute and so trying the next." "how do you happen to know her well?" pursued miss hale seriously. betty explained. "and you think that on the whole she's worth while?" "i'm afraid i don't understand----" betty was beginning to feel as if she was taking an examination on eleanor's characteristics. "you think that on the whole she's more good than bad; and that there's something to her, besides beauty. that's all i want to know. she is lovely, isn't she?" "yes, indeed," agreed betty enthusiastically. "but she's very bright too. she's done a lot of extra work lately and so quickly and well. she's very nice to me always, but she dislikes my roommate and she and i are always disagreeing about that or something else. i don't think--you know she wouldn't do a dishonorable thing for the world, but i don't approve of some of her ideas; they don't seem quite fair and square, ethel." "um," assented ethel absently. "i'm glad you could tell me all this, betty. i shouldn't have asked you, perhaps; it's rather taking advantage of our private friendship. but i really needed to know. ah, here we are!" as she spoke, the train slowed down and a gay party of winsted men sprang on to the platform, and jostled one another down the aisles, noisily greeting the girls they knew and each one hunting for his particular guest of the afternoon. they had brought a barge down to take the girls to the college, and in the confusion of crowding into it betty found herself separated from ethel. "i wish i'd asked her why she wanted to know all that," she thought, and then she forgot everything but the delicious excitement of actually being on the way to a dance at winsted. most of the fraternity house was thrown open to the visitors, and between the dances in the library, which was big enough to make an excellent ball-room also, they wandered through it, finding all sorts of interesting things to admire, and pleasantly retired nooks and corners to rest in. mr. parsons was a very attentive host, providing partners in plenty; and betty, who was passionately fond of dancing and had been to only one "truly grown-up" dance before, was in her element. but every once in awhile she forgot her own pleasure to notice eleanor and to wonder at her beauty and vivacity. she was easily belle of the ball. she seemed to know all the men, and they crowded eagerly around her, begging for dances and hanging on her every word. eleanor's usually listless face was radiant. she had a smile and a gay sally for every one; there was never a hint of the studied coldness with which she received any advances from helen or the riches, nor of the scornful ennui with which she faced the social life of her own college. "aren't you glad you came?" said betty, when they met at the frappé table. "rather," said eleanor laconically. "this is life, and i've only existed for months and months. what would the world be like without men and music?" "goodness! what a wise-sounding remark," laughed betty. just then miss hale came up in charge of a very young and callow freshman. "please lend me your fan, betty," she said. "i was afraid it would look forward for a chaperon to bring one, and i'm desperately warm." eleanor, who had turned aside to speak to her partner, looked up quickly as ethel spoke, and meeting miss hale's gray eyes she flushed suddenly and moved away. betty handed ethel the fan. "i wish----" she began, looking after eleanor's retreating figure. but as she spoke the music started again and a vivacious youth hurried up and whisked her away before she had time to finish her sentence; and she could not get near ethel again. "men do make better partners than girls," she said to mr. parsons as they danced the last waltz together. "and i think their rooms are prettier than ours, if these are fair samples. but they can't have any better time at college than we do." "we certainly couldn't get on at all without you girls across the river," mr. parsons was saying gallantly, when the music stopped and eleanor, followed by mr. west, hurried up to betty. "excuse me one moment, mr. parsons," she said, as she drew betty aside. "i've been trying to get at you for ever so long," she went on. "i'm in a dreadful fix. you know i told you i hadn't intended to come here to-day, but i didn't tell you the reason why. the reason was that to-day was the time set for my math. exam, with miss mansfield. i tried to get her to change it, but i couldn't, so finally i telephoned her that i was ill. some one else answered the 'phone for her, saying that she was engaged and, betty--i'm sure it was miss hale." betty looked at her in blank amazement. "you said you were ill and then came here!" she began. "oh, eleanor, how could you! but what makes you think that miss hale knows?" "i'm sure i recognized her voice when she asked you for the fan, and then haven't you noticed her distant manner?" said eleanor gloomily. "are they friends, do you know?" "they live in the same house." "then that settles it. you seem to be very chummy with miss hale, betty. you couldn't reconcile it with your tender conscience to say a good word for me, i suppose?" "i--why, what could i say after that dreadful message?" then she brightened suddenly. "why, eleanor, i did. we talked about you all the way over here. ethel asked questions and i answered them. i told her a lot of nice things," added betty reassuringly, "though of course i couldn't imagine why she wanted to know. what luck that you hadn't told me sooner!" eleanor stared at her blankly. "i suppose," she said at last, "that it will serve me right if miss hale tells miss mansfield that i was here, and miss mansfield refuses me another examination; but do you think she will?" betty glanced at ethel. she was standing at the other end of the room, talking to two winsted men, and she looked so young and pretty and so like one of the girls herself that betty said impulsively, "she couldn't!" then she remembered how different ethel had seemed on the train, and that the girls in her classes stood very much in awe of her. "i don't know," she said slowly. "she just hates any sort of cheating. she might think it was her duty to tell. oh, eleanor, why did you do it?" eleanor shrugged her shoulders expressively. then she turned away with a radiant smile for mr. west. "i am sorry to have kept you men waiting," she said. "how much more time do we have before the barge comes?" whatever miss hale meant to do, she kept her own counsel, deliberately avoiding intercourse with either ethel or betty. she bade the girls a gay good-bye at the station, and went off in state in the carriage they had provided for her. "i suppose it's no use asking if you had a good time," said betty sympathetically, as she and eleanor, having decided to go home in comfort, rolled away in another. "i had a lovely time until it flashed over me about that telephone message. after that of course i was worried almost to death, and i would give anything under the sun if i had stayed at home and passed off my math. like a person of sense." "then why don't you tell miss mansfield so?" suggested betty. "oh, betty, i couldn't. but i shan't probably have the chance," she added dryly. "miss hale will see her after dinner. i hope she'll tell her that i appeared to be enjoying life." the next morning when eleanor presented herself at miss mansfield's class-room for the geometry lesson, another assistant occupied the desk. "miss mansfield is out of town for a few days," she announced. eleanor gave betty a despairing glance and tried to fix her attention on the "originals" which the new teacher was explaining. it seemed as if the class would never end. when it did she flew to the desk and inquired if miss mansfield would be back to-morrow. "to-morrow? oh no," said the young assistant pleasantly. "she's in boston for some days. no, not this week; next, i believe. you are miss watson? no, there was no message for you, i think." the next week was a longer and more harassing one than any that eleanor could remember. she had not been blind to betty's scorn of her action. ever since she came to harding she had noted with astonishment the high code of honor that held sway among the girls. they shirked when they could, assumed knowledge when they had it not, managed somehow to wear the air of leisurely go-as-you-please that eleanor loved; but they did not cheat, and like betty they despised those who did. so eleanor, who a few months before would have boasted of having deceived miss mansfield, was now in equal fear lest miss hale should betray her and lest some of her mates should find her out. she wanted to ask lil day or annette gaynor what happened if you cut a special examination; but suppose they should ask why she cared to know? that would put another knot into the "tangled web" of her deception. it would have been some comfort to discuss the possibilities of the situation with betty, but eleanor denied herself even that outlet. no use reminding a girl that she despises you! if only betty would not look so sad and sympathetic and inquiring when they met in the halls, in classes or at table. at other times eleanor barricaded herself behind a "don't disturb" sign and studied desperately and to much purpose. and every morning she hoped against hope that miss mansfield would hear the geometry class. the suspense lasted through the whole week. then, just two days before the vacation, miss mansfield reappeared and eleanor asked timidly for an appointment. "come to-day at two," began miss mansfield. "oh thank you! thank you so much!" broke in eleanor and stopped in confusion. but miss mansfield only smiled absently. "most of my belated freshmen don't express such fervent gratitude for my firmness in pushing them through before the vacation. they try to put me off." she had evidently quite forgotten the other appointment. "i shall be so glad to have it over," eleanor murmured. miss mansfield looked after her thoughtfully as she went down the hall. "perhaps i've misjudged her," she told herself. "when a girl is so pretty, it's hard to take her seriously." she said as much to ethel hale when they walked home to lunch together, but ethel was not at all enthusiastic over miss watson's earnestness. "she's very late in working off a condition, i should say," she observed coldly. "yes, but i've been away, you know," explained miss mansfield. "oh, ethel, i wish you could meet him. you don't half appreciate how happy i am." ethel, who had decided after much consideration to let eleanor's affairs take their course, made a mental observation to the effect that an engagement induces shortness of memory and tenderness of heart. then she said aloud that she also wished she might meet "him." * * * * * time flies between thanksgiving and christmas, particularly for freshmen who are looking forward to their first vacation at home. it flies faster after they get there, and when they are back at college it rushes on quite as swiftly but rather less merrily toward the fateful "mid-years." none of the chapin house girls had been home at thanksgiving time, but they were all going for christmas, except eleanor watson, who intended to spend the vacation with an aunt in new york. they prepared for the flitting in characteristic ways. rachel, who was very systematic, did all her christmas shopping, so that she needn't hurry through it at home. roberta made but one purchase, an illustrated "alice in wonderland," for her small cousins, and spent all her spare time in re-reading it herself. helen, in spite of betty's suggestions about leaning back on her reputation, studied harder than ever, so that she could go home with a clear conscience, while katherine was too excited to study at all, and mary brooks jeered impartially at both of them. betty conscientiously returned all her calls and began packing several days ahead, so as to make the time seem shorter. then just as the expressman was driving off with her trunk, she remembered that she had packed her short skirt at the very bottom. "thank you ever so much. if he'd got much further i should have had to go home either in this gray bath robe that i have on, or in a white duck suit," she said to katherine who had gone to rescue the skirt and came back with it over her arm. she and katherine started west together and eleanor and roberta went with them to the nearest junction. the jostling, excited crowd at the station, the "good-byes" and "merry christmases," were great fun. betty, remembering a certain forlorn afternoon in early autumn, laughed happily to herself. "what's the joke?" asked katherine. "i was thinking how much nicer things like this seem when you're in them," she said, waving her hand to alice waite. at the cleveland station, mother and will and nan and the smallest sister were watching eagerly for the returning wanderer. "why, betty wales, you haven't changed one bit," announced the smallest sister in tones of deepest wonder. "why, i'd have known you anywhere, betty, if i'd met you on the street." "three months isn't quite as long as all that," said betty, hugging the smallest sister, "but i was hoping i looked a little older. nobody ever mistakes me for a senior, as they do rachel morrison. and i ought to look years and years wiser." "nonsense," said will with a lordly air. "now a college girl----" everybody laughed. "you see we all know your theories about intellectual women," said mother. "so suppose you take up the suit case and escort us home." the next morning a note arrived from eleanor. "dearest betty," it ran: "as you always seem to be just around the corner when i get into a box, i want to tell you that i rode down to new york with miss hale. she asked me to sit with her and i couldn't well refuse, though i wanted to badly enough. she knew, betty, but she will never tell. she said she was glad to know me on your account. she asked me how the term had gone with me, and i blushed and stammered and said that i was coming back in a different spirit. she said that college was the finest place in the world for a girl to get acquainted with herself--that cowardice and weakness of purpose and meanness and pettiness stood out so clearly against the background of fineness and squareness; and that four years was long enough to see all sorts of faults in oneself, and change them according to one's new theories. as she said it, it didn't sound a bit like preaching. "i didn't tell her that i was only in college for one year. i sent her a big bunch of violets to-day--she surely couldn't regard it as a bribe now--and after christmas i'll try to show her that i'm worth while. "merry christmas, betty. "eleanor." nan frowned when betty told her about eleanor. "but she isn't a nice girl, betty. did i meet her?" "yes, she's the one you thought so pretty--the one with the lovely eyes and hair." "betty," said nan soberly, "you don't do things like this?" "i!" betty flushed indignantly. "weren't there all kinds of girls when you were in college, nan? didn't you ever know people who did 'things like this'?" nan laughed. "there certainly were," she said. "i'll trust you, betty. only don't see too much of miss watson, or she'll drag you down, in spite of yourself." "but ethel's dragging her up," objected betty. "and i gave her the first boost, by knowing ethel. not that i meant to. i never seem to accomplish things when i mean to. you remember helen chase adams?" "with great pleasure. she noticed my youthful appearance." "well, i've been all this term trying to reform her clothes, but i can't improve her one bit, except when i set to work and do it all myself. i should think you'd be afraid she'd drag me into dowdiness, i have to see so much of her." nan smiled at the dainty little figure in the big chair. "i don't notice any indications yet," she said. "it took you an hour to dress this morning, exactly as it always does. but you'd better take care. what are you going to do to-day?" "make your friend helen chase adams a stock for christmas," announced betty, jumping up and pulling nan after her. "and you've got to help, seeing you admire her so much." chapter x a rumor after christmas there were goodies from home to eat and christmas-gifts to arrange in their new quarters. betty's piêce de resistance was a gorgeous leather sofa pillow stamped with the head of a ferocious indian chief. eleanor had a great brass bowl, which in some mysterious fashion was kept constantly full of fresh roses, a shelf full of new books, and more dresses than her closet would hold. katherine had a chafing-dish, rachel a persian rug, and roberta an illustrated "alice in wonderland" of her own. to betty's great relief helen had brought back two small pillows for her couch, all her skirts were lengthened, and the christmas stock of black silk with its white linen turnovers replaced the clumsy woolen collars that she had worn with her winter shirt-waists. and--she was certainly learning to do her hair more becomingly. there wasn't a very marked improvement to be sure, but if betty could have watched helen's patient efforts to turn her vacation to account in the matter of hair-dressing, she would have realized how much the little changes meant, and would have been more hopeful about her pupil's progress. not until the end of her junior year did helen adams reach the point where she could be sure that one's personal appearance is quite as important a matter as one's knowledge of calculus or kantian philosophies; but, thanks largely to betty, she was beginning to want to look her best, and that was the first step toward the things that she coveted. the next, and one for which betty, with her open-hearted, free-and-easy fashion of facing life, was not likely to see the need, must be to break down the barriers that helen's sensitive shyness had erected between herself and the world around her. the self-confidence that caroline barnes had cruelly, if unintentionally wounded, must be restored before helen could find the place she longed for in the little college world. no one had had any very exciting vacation adventures except rachel, who was delayed on her way home by a freight wreck and obliged to spend christmas eve on a windswept siding with only a ham sandwich between her and starvation, and eleanor, whose vacation had been one mad whirl of metropolitan gaiety. her young aunt, who sympathized with her niece's distaste for college life, and couldn't imagine why on earth judge watson had insisted upon his only daughter's trying it for a year at least, did her utmost to make eleanor enjoy her visit. so she had dined at the waldorf, sat in a box at the theatre and the opera, danced and shopped to her heart's content, and had seen all the sights of new york. and at all the festivities paul west, a friend of the family and also of eleanor's, was present as eleanor's special escort and avowed admirer. naturally she had come back in an ill humor. between late hours and excitement she was completely worn out. she wanted to be in new york, and failing that she wanted paul west to come and talk new york to her, and bring her roses for the big brass bowl that she had found in a dingy little shop in the russian quarter. she threw her good resolutions to the winds, received miss hale's thanks for the violets very coldly, and begged betty to forget the sentimental letter that she had written before christmas. "but i thought it was a nice letter," said betty. "eleanor, why won't you give yourself a chance? go and see ethel this afternoon, and--and then set to work to show her what you said you would," she ended lamely. eleanor only laughed. "sorry, betty, but i'm going to winsted this afternoon. paul has taken pity on me; there's a sleighing party. i thought perhaps you were invited too." "no, but i'm going skating with mary and katherine," said betty cheerfully, "and then at four rachel and i are going to do latin." "oh, latin," said eleanor significantly. "let me think. is it two or three weeks to mid-years?" "two, just." "well, i suppose i shall have to do a little something then myself," said eleanor, "but i shan't bother yet awhile. here comes the sleigh," she added, looking out of the window. "paul's driving, and your mr. parsons has asked georgie arnold. what do you think of that?" "i should certainly hope he wouldn't ask the same girl to everything, if that's what you mean," said betty calmly, helping eleanor into her new coat. eleanor shrugged her shoulders. "good-bye," she said. "for my part, i prefer to be the one and only--while i last," and snatching up her furs she was off. betty found mary and katherine in possession of her room and engaged in an animated discussion about the rules of hockey. "i tell you that when the thing-um-bob is in play," began katherine. "not a bit of it," cut in mary. "come along, girls," interrupted betty, fishing her skates from under her couch, and pulling on her "pussy" mittens. "never mind those rules. you can't play hockey to-day. you promised to skate with me." it was an ideal winter's afternoon, clear, cold and still. the ice on paradise was smooth and hard, and the little pond was fairly alive with skaters, most of them harding girls. betty was a novice, with one weak ankle that had an annoying habit of turning over suddenly and tripping her up; so she was timid about skating alone. but between mary and katherine she got on famously, and thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. at four mary had a committee meeting, katherine an engagement to play basket-ball, and betty had agreed to meet rachel. so with great reluctance they took off their skates and started up the steep path that led past the boat-house to the back gate of the campus. "goodness, but i'm stiff," groaned mary, stopping to rest a minute half way up. "i'd have skated until dinner time though, if it hadn't been for this bothering committee. never be on committees, children." "why don't you apply your own rules?" inquired katherine saucily. "oh, because i'm a vain peacock like the rest of the world. the class president comes to me and says, 'now mary, nobody but you knows every girl in the class. you can find out the sentiments of all sorts and conditions on this matter. and then you have such fine executive ability. i know you hate committees, but----' of course i feel pleased by her base flattery, and i don't come to my senses until it's too late to escape. is to-day the sixteenth?" "no, it's saturday, the twentieth," said katherine. "two weeks next monday to mid-years." "the twentieth!" repeated mary in tones of alarm. "then, my psychology paper is due a week from tuesday. i haven't done a thing to it, and i shall be so busy next week that i can't touch it till friday or saturday. how time does fly!" "don't you even know what you're going to write on or anything that you're going to say?" asked betty, who always wrote her papers as soon as they were assigned, to get them off her mind, and who longed to know the secret of waiting serenely until the eleventh hour. "why, i had a plan," answered mary absently, "but i've waited so long that i hardly know if i can use it." just then alice waite and her roommate came panting up the hill, and mary, who seldom took much exercise and was very tired, fell back to the rear of the procession. but when the freshmen stopped in front of the hilton house she trilled and waved her hand to attract their attention. "oh. betty, please take my skates home," she said as she limped up to the group. then she smiled what roberta had named her "beamish" smile. "i know what you girls are talking about," she said. "will you give me a supper at holmes's if i'm right?" "yes," said katherine recklessly, "for you couldn't possibly guess. what was it?" "you're wondering about those fifty freshmen," answered mary promptly. "what freshmen?" demanded the four girls in a chorus, utterly ignoring the lost wager. "why, those fifty who, according to a perfectly baseless rumor, are going to be sent home after mid-years." "what do you mean?" gasped betty. "hadn't you heard?" asked mary soothingly. "well, i'm sure it will be all over the college by this afternoon. now understand, i don't believe it's true. if it were ten or even twenty it might be, but fifty--why, girls, it's preposterous!" "but i don't understand you," said miss madison excitedly. she had grown very pale and was hanging on to katherine's arm. "do you mean that there is such a story--that fifty freshmen are to be sent home after mid-years?" "yes," said mary sadly, "there is, and that's what i meant. i'm sorry that i should have been the one to tell you, but you'd have heard it from some one else, i'm sure. a thing like that is always repeated so. remember, i assure you i don't believe a word of it. somebody probably started it on purpose to frighten you little freshmen. if you would take my skates, betty. i hate to lug them around till dinner time. now good-bye, and do cheer up." left to themselves the four freshmen stared blankly at one another. finally katherine broke the mournful silence. "girls," she said solemnly, "it's utter foolishness to worry about this report. mary didn't believe it herself, and why should we?" "she's not a freshman," suggested alice gloomily. "there are almost four hundred freshmen. perhaps the fifty wouldn't be any of us," put in betty. miss madison maintained a despairing silence. "well," said katherine at last, "if it is true there's nothing to be done about it now, i suppose; and if it isn't true, why it isn't; so i think i'll go to basket-ball," and she detached miss madison and started off. betty gave a prolonged sigh. "i must go too," she said. "i've promised to study latin. i presume it isn't any use, but i can't disappoint rachel. i wish i was a fine student like rachel. she won't be one of the fifty." alice, who had been in a brown study, emerged, just as betty turned away. "wait a minute," she commanded. "of course it's awfully queer up here, but still, if they have exams. i don't see the use of cooking it all up beforehand. i mean i don't see the use of exams. if it is all decided." her two friends brightened perceptibly. "that's a good idea," declared betty. "every one says the mid-years are so important. let's do our best from now on, and perhaps the faculty will change their minds." as she walked home, betty thought of eleanor. "she'll be dreadfully worried. i shan't tell her a word about it," she resolved. then she remembered mary brooks's remark. yes, no doubt some one else would enlighten eleanor. it was just too bad. but perhaps mary was right and the story was only a story. it is hard for freshmen on the eve of their mid-year examinations to be perfectly calm and philosophical. the story of the fifty unfortunates ran like wild-fire through the college, and while upper-class girls sniffed at it as absurd and even freshmen, particularly the clever ones, pooh-poohed it in public, it was the cause of many anxious, and some tearful moments. betty, after her first fright, had accepted the situation with her usual cheerfulness, and so had alice and rachel, who could not help knowing that her work was of exceptionally high grade, while helen irritated her house-mates by affecting an anxiety which, as katherine put it, "no dig, who gets 'good' on all her written work, can possibly feel." katherine was worried about her mathematics, in which she had been warned before thanksgiving, but she confided to betty that she had counted them up, and without being a bit conceited she really thought there were fifty stupider girls in the class of --. roberta and the riches, however, were utterly miserable, and eleanor wrote to paul west that she was busy--she had written "ill" first, and then torn up the note--and indulged in another frantic fit of industry, even more violent than its predecessors had been. "but i thought you wanted to go home," said betty curiously one afternoon when eleanor had come in to borrow a lexicon. "you say you hate it here, and you hate to study. so why do you take so much trouble about staying?" eleanor straightened proudly. "haven't you observed yet that i have a bad case of the watson pride?" she asked. "do you think i'd ever show my face again if i failed?" "then why----" began betty. "oh, that's the unutterable laziness that i get from my--from the other side of the house," interrupted eleanor. "it's an uncomfortable combination, i assure you," and taking the book she had come for, she abruptly departed. betty realized suddenly that in all the year eleanor had never once spoken of her mother. after that she couldn't help being sorry for eleanor, but she pitied miss madison more. miss madison was dull at books and she knew it, and had actually made herself ill with work and worry. going to see her hilton house friends on the friday afternoon after the skating party, betty found miss madison alone and undisguisedly crying. "i know i'm foolish," she apologized. "most people just laugh at that story, but i notice they study harder since they heard it. and i'm such a stupid." betty, who hated tears, had a sudden inspiration. "why don't you ask about it at the registrar's office?" she suggested. "oh, i couldn't," wailed miss madison. "then i shall," returned betty. "that is, i shall ask one of the faculty." "would you dare?" "yes, indeed. they're human, like other people," said betty, quoting nan. "i don't see why some one didn't think of it sooner." that night at dinner betty announced her plan. the freshmen looked relieved and mary brooks showed uncalled-for enthusiasm. "do go," she urged. "it's high time such an absurd story was shown up at its real value. it's absurd. the way we talk and talk about a report like that, and never dare to ask the faculty if it's true." "do you take any freshman courses?" inquired eleanor sarcastically. mary smiled her "beamish" smile. "no," she said, "but i'm an interested party nevertheless--quite as much so as any of the famous fifty." "whom shall you ask, betty?" pursued katherine, ignoring the digression. "miss mansfield. i have her the first hour, and besides, since she's been engaged she's so nice and sympathetic." next day the geometry class dragged unmercifully for three persons. eleanor beat a nervous tattoo on the seat-arm, miss madison stared fixedly at the clock, and betty blushed and twisted and wished she could have seen miss mansfield before class. the delayed interview was beginning to seem very formidable. but it wasn't, after the first plunge. "what an absurd story!" laughed miss mansfield. "not a word of truth in it, of course. why i don't believe the girl who started it thought it was true. how long has it been in circulation?" betty counted the days. "i didn't really believe it," she added shyly. "but you worried," said miss mansfield, smiling down at her. "next time don't be taken in one little bit,--or else come to headquarters sooner." eleanor and miss madison were waiting outside the door when betty dashed at them with a little squeal of ecstasy. there was a moment of rapturous congratulation; then miss madison picked up the note-book she had dropped and held out her hand solemnly to betty. "you've--why i think you've saved my life," she said, "and now i must go to my next class." "you're a little hero," added eleanor, catching betty's arm and rushing her off to a recitation in science hall. roberta received the joyful news more calmly. "we may any of us flunk our mid-years yet," she said. "but we can study for them in peace and comfort," said adelaide rich. mary brooks asked endless questions at luncheon. did the girls all accept miss mansfield's denial as authoritative? did it travel as fast as the original story had done? how did people think the rumor had started? "why, nobody mentioned that," said rachel in surprise. "how odd that we shouldn't have wondered!" "shows your sheep-like natures," said mary, rising abruptly. "well, now i can finish my psychology paper." "haven't you worked on it any?" inquired betty. "oh, yes, i made an outline and developed some topics last night. but i couldn't finish until to-day. i was so worried about you children." toward the end of the next week rachel came in to dinner late and in high spirits. "i've had such a fine walk!" she exclaimed. "hester gulick and i went to the bridge, and on the way back we overtook a senior named janet andrews. she is such fun. she'd walked down-town with professor hinsdale. he teaches psychology, doesn't he? they seem to be very good friends, and he told her such a funny thing about the fifty-freshmen story. how do you suppose it started?" "oh, please tell us," cried everybody at once. "why, an awfully clever girl in his sophomore class started it as an experiment, to see how it would take. she told it to some freshmen, saying explicitly that it wasn't true, and they told their friends, and so it went all over the college until last saturday betty got miss mansfield to deny it. but no one knew how it started until yesterday when professor hinsdale looked over a paper in which the girl had written it all up, as a study in the way rumors spread and grow. this one was so big to begin with that it couldn't grow much, though it seems, according to the paper, that some people had added to it that half the freshmen would be conditioned in math." "how awfully funny!" gurgled betty. then she jumped almost out of her chair. "why, mary brooks!" she said. everybody looked at mary, who blushed guiltily and remarked with great dignity that professor hinsdale was an old telltale. but when she had assured herself that the freshmen, with the possible exception of eleanor, were disposed to regard the psychological experiment which had victimized them with perfect good-nature, and herself with considerable admiration, she condescended to accept congratulations and answer questions. "seriously, girls," she said at last, "i hope no one got really scared. i wanted to explain when i heard betty tell how unhappy miss madison was, but i really thought miss mansfield's denial would cheer her up more and reach her almost as quickly, and at the same time it would help me out so beautifully. it made such a grand conclusion! "you see," she went on, "professor hinsdale put the idea into my head when he assigned the subjects away back last month. he said he was giving them out early so we would have time to make original observations. when he mentioned 'rumor,' he spoke of village gossip, and the faked stories that are circulated on wall street to make stocks go up or down, and then of the wild way we girls take up absurd reports. the last suggestion appealed to me, but i couldn't remember anything definite enough, so i decided to invent a rumor. then i forgot all about it till that saturday that i went skating, and 'you know the rest,' as our friend mr. longfellow aptly remarks. when i get my chef-d'oeuvre back you may have a private view, in return for which i hope you'll encourage your friends not to hate me." "isn't she fun?" said betty a little later, when she and helen were alone together. "do you know, i think this rumor business has been a good thing. it's made a lot of us work hard, and only seriously frightened three or four." "yes," said helen primly. "i think so too. the girls here are inclined to be very frivolous." "who?" demanded betty. helen hesitated. "oh, the girls as a whole." "that doesn't count," objected betty. "give me a name." "well, barbara gordon." "takes sixteen hours, has her themes read in mary's class, and in her spare moments paints water colors that are exhibited in boston," said betty promptly. "really?" gasped helen. "really," repeated betty. "of course she was very well prepared, and so her work here seems easy to her. next year i hope that you and i won't have to plod along so." helen said nothing, but she was deeply grateful to betty for that last sentence. "you and i"--as if there was something in common between them. the other girls set her apart in a class by herself and labeled her "dig." if one was born slow and conscientious and plodding, was there any hope for one,--any place among these pretty girls who worked so easily and idled so gracefully? helen shut her lips firmly and resolved to keep on hunting. chapter xi mid-years and a dust-pan viewed in retrospect the tragic experiences of one's freshman year seem often the most insignificant of trifles; but that does not prevent their being at the time momentous as the fate of empires. there are mid-year examinations, for instance; after one has survived them a few times she knows that being "flunked out" is not so common an experience as report represents it to be, and as for "low grades" and "conditions," if one has "cut" or been too often unprepared she deserves and expects them, and if she has done her best and still finds an unwelcome note or two on the official bulletin board, why, she must remember that accidents will happen, and are generally quite endurable when viewed philosophically. but in freshman year one is inexperienced and easily the dupe of mischievous sophomores. then how is one to prepare for the dreadful ordeal? the distinction is not at all clear between the intelligent review that the faculty recommend and the cramming that they abhor. there is a disconcerting little rhyme on this subject that has been handed down from generation to generation for so long that it has lost most of its form and comeliness; but the point is still sharp. it is about a girl who followed the faculty's advice on the subject of cramming, took her exercise as usual, and went to bed each night at ten o'clock, as all good children should. the last stanza still rhymes, thus: "and so she did not hurry, nor sit up late to cram, nor have the blues and worry, but--she failed in her exam." mary brooks took pains that all her "young friends," as she called them, should hear of this instructive little poem. "i really thought," said betty on the first evening of the examination week, "when that hateful rumor was contradicted, that i should never be scared again, but i am." "there's unfortunately nothing rumorous about these exams.," muttered katherine wrathfully. "the one i had to-day was the real article, all right." "and i have my three worst to-morrow and next day," mourned betty, "so i've got permission to sit up after ten to-night. don't all the rest of you want to come in here and work? then some one else can ask mrs. chapin for the other nights." "but we must all attend strictly to business," said mary rich, whereat helen adams looked relieved. and business was the order of the week. an unwonted stillness reigned over the chapin house, broken occasionally by wild outbursts of hilarity, which meant that some examination or other was over and had not been so bad after all. every evening at ten the girls who felt it necessary to sit up later assembled in one room, comfortably attired in kimonos--all except roberta, who had never been seen without her collar--and armed with formidable piles of books; and presently work began in earnest. there was really no reason, as rachel observed, why they should not stay in their own rooms, if they were going to sit up at all. this wasn't the campus, where there was a night-watchman to report lights, and mrs. chapin was very accommodating about giving permission. "this method benefits her gas bill though," said katherine, "and therefore keeps her accommodating. besides, it's much easier to stick to it in a crowd." eleanor never went through the formality of asking mrs. chapin's permission to do anything, and she did not care for the moral support of numbers. she was never sleepy, she said, pointing significantly to her brass samovar, and she could work best alone in her own room. she held aloof, too, from the discussions about the examinations which were the burden of the week's table-talk, only once in a while volunteering a suggestion about the possible answer to an obscure or ambiguous question. her ideas invariably astonished the other freshmen by their depth and originality, but when any one exclaimed, eleanor would say, sharply, "why, it's all in the text-book!" and then relapse into gloomy silence. "i suppose she talks more to her friends outside," suggested rachel, after an encounter of this sort. "not on your life," retorted katherine. "she's one of the kind that keeps herself to herself. she hates us because we have to know as much about her as we do, living here in the house with her. i hope she gets through all right." "she's awfully clever," said mary rich admiringly. "she'd never have said that a leviathan was some kind of a church creed, as i did in english." "yes, she's a clever--blunderer, but she's also a sadly mistaken young person," amended katherine. it was convenient to have one's examinations scattered evenly through the week with time for study between them, but pleasanter on the whole to be through by thursday or friday, with several days of delicious idleness before the new semester began. and as a certain faction of the college always manages to suit its own convenience in such matters, the campus, which is the unfailing index of college sentiment, began to wear a leisurely, holiday air some time before the dreaded week was over. the ground was covered deeply with snow which a sudden thaw and as sudden a freeze had coated with a thick, hard crust. this put a stop to snow-shoeing and delayed the work of clearing the ice off paradise pond, where there was to be a moonlight carnival on the evening of the holiday that follows mid-year week. but it made splendid coasting. toboggans, "bobs" and hand sleds appeared mysteriously in various quarters, and the pasture hills north of the town swarmed with harding girls out for fresh air, exercise and fun. on friday afternoon an ingenious damsel who had no sled conceived the idea of substituting a dust-pan. so she borrowed one of an obliging chambermaid and went out to the little slope which divides the front from the back campus to try her experiment. in twenty minutes the hill was alive with girls, all the available dust-pans had been pressed into service, and large tin pans were found to do nearly as well. envious groups of girls who could get neither the one nor the other watched the absurd spectacle from the windows of the nearest campus houses or hurried down-town to buy tinware. sleds were neglected, toboggans despised; the dust-pan fad had taken possession of the college. betty, who had the happy faculty of being on hand at interesting moments, was crossing the campus on her way home from the hilton house. she had taken her last examination, had helped alice waite finish up a box of candy, and now had nothing to do until dinner time, so she stopped to watch the novel coasting, and even had one delicious ride herself on dorothy king's dust-pan. near the gate she met mary brooks and roberta and asked them if they had been through the campus. "no," said mary, "we've been having chocolate at cuyler's." and she dragged her companions back to within sight of the hill. then she abruptly turned them about and hurried them off in the other direction. "let's go straight down and buy some dust-pans," she began enthusiastically. "we have just time before dinner, and we can slide all to-morrow afternoon." "oh, no," demurred roberta. "i couldn't." betty laughed at her expression of alarm, and mary demanded, "why not?" "oh, i couldn't," repeated roberta. "it looks dangerous, and, besides, i have to dress for dinner." "dangerous nothing!" jeered mary. "don't be so everlastingly neat and lady-like, child. what's the use? well," as roberta still hung back, "carry my fountain pen home, then, and don't spill it. come on, betty," and the two raced off down the hill. roberta looked after them admiringly, wishing she were not such a "muff" at outdoor sports. the next afternoon betty and mary hurried over to the campus directly after luncheon to try their new toys. the crust was still firm and the new sport popular as ever. "you see it's much more exciting than a 'bob,'" a tall senior was explaining to a group of on-lookers. "you can't steer, so you're just as likely to go down backward as frontward; and being so near the ground gives you a lovely creepy sensation." "the point is, it's such a splendid antidote for overstudying. it just satisfies that absolutely idiotic feeling that every one has after mid-years," added an athletic young woman in a gray sweater, as she joined the group with her dust-pan tucked scientifically under her arm. she was marion lawrence, sophomore vice-president, and mary brooks's best friend. betty, fearing to be in the way, joined another lone freshman from the belden house. "do you suppose you could sit up to study to-night if you had to?" inquired the freshman as they stood waiting their turns to go down. "no, only it seems as if you always could do what you have to," answered betty, starting off. she decided presently that dust-pan coasting was not so much fun as it looked. mary brooks, coming to find her and ask her to join a racing tournament captained by herself and marion lawrence, declared noisily that she was having "the time of her gay young life," but betty after the first coast or two began to think of going home. perhaps it was because she was so tired. it seemed so much trouble to walk up on the slippery crust and such a long way round by the path. so she refused to enter the tournament. "i'm not going to stay long enough," she explained. "i shall just have two more slides. then i'm going home to take a nap. that's my best antidote for overstudy." the next coast was nicer. perhaps the dust-pan had been too new. the belden house freshman said that hers went better since her roommate had used it and scraped off all the paint in a collision. "i wonder there aren't more collisions," said betty, preparing for her last slide. half-way down she discovered that the other freshman and the rest hadn't started--that the hill was almost clear. then somebody called shrilly, "look out, miss wales." she turned her head back toward the voice, the dust-pan swirled, and she turned back again to find herself slipping rapidly sidewise straight toward a little lady who was walking serenely along the path that cut the coast at right angles. she was a faculty--betty hadn't the least idea what her name was, but she had noticed her on the "faculty row" at chapel. in an instant more she was certainly going to run into her. betty dug her heels frantically into the crust. it would not break. "oh, i beg your pardon, but i can't stop!" she called. at that the little lady, who was walking rapidly with her head bent against the wind, looked up and apparently for the first time noticed the dust-pan coasters. mirth and confusion overcame her. she stopped an instant to laugh, then started back, then changed her mind and dashed wildly forward, with the inevitable result that she fell in an undignified heap on top of betty and the dust-pan. the accident took place on the edge of the path where the crust was jagged and icy. betty, who had gone head-first through it, emerged with a bleeding scratch on one cheek and a stinging, throbbing wrist. fortunately her companion was not hurt. "oh, i'm so sorry!" sighed betty, trying to brush the snow off her victim with one hand. "i do hope you'll forgive me for being so careless." then she sat down suddenly on the broken crust. "it's only that my wrist hurts a little," she finished abruptly. the girls had gathered around them by this time, sympathizing and lamenting that they had not warned betty in time. "but we thought of course you saw miss ferris," said the tall senior, "and we supposed she was looking out for you." so this was miss ferris--the great miss ferris. rachel had sophomore zoology with her and mary brooks had said that she was considered the most brilliant woman on the faculty. she was "house-teacher" at the hilton, and alice waite and miss madison were always singing her praises. she cut betty's apologies and the girls' inquiries short. "my dear child, it was all my fault, and you're the one who's hurt. why didn't you girls stop me sooner--call to me to go round the other way? i was in a hurry and didn't see or hear you up there." then she sat down on the crust beside betty. "forgive me for laughing," she said, "but you did look so exactly like a giant crab sidling along on that ridiculous dust-pan. have you sprained your wrist? then you must come straight over to my room and wait for a carriage." betty's feeble protests were promptly overruled, and supported by mary brooks on one side and miss ferris on the other she was hurried over to the hilton house and tucked up in miss ferris's morris chair by her open fire, to await the arrival of the college doctor and a carriage. in spite of her embarrassment at having upset so important a personage, and the sharp pains that went shooting up and down her arm, she was almost sorry when doctor and carriage arrived together. miss ferris was even nicer than the girls had said. somehow she made one feel at home immediately as she bustled about bringing a towel and a lotion for betty's face, hot water for her wrist, and "butter-thins" spread with delicious strawberry jam to keep her courage up. before she knew it, betty was telling her all about her direful experiences during examination week, how frightened she had been, and how sleepy she was now,--"not just now of course"--and how she had been all ready to go home when the spill came. and miss ferris nodded knowingly at mary and laughed her little rippling laugh. "just like these foolish little freshmen; isn't it?" she said, exactly as if she had been one last year too. and yet there was a suspicion of gray in her hair, and she was a doctor of philosophy and had written the leading article in the learned german magazine that lay on her table. "you must come again, both of you, when i can make tea for you properly," she said as she closed the carriage door. betty, leaning whitely back on mary's shoulder, with her arm on miss ferris's softest down pillow, smiled happily between the throbs. if she was fated to have sprained her wrist, she was glad that she had met miss ferris. saturday night and sunday were long and dismal beyond belief. the wrist ached, the cheek smarted, and a bad cold added its quota to betty's miseries. but she slept late monday morning, and when she woke felt able to sit up in bed and enjoy her flowers and her notoriety. just after luncheon the entire chapin house came in to congratulate and condole with her. "it's too windy to have any fun outdoors," began rachel consolingly. "who sent you those violets?" demanded katherine. "miss ferris. wasn't it dear of her? there was a note with them, too, that said she considered herself still 'deeply in my debt,' because of her carelessness--think of her saying that to me!--and that she hopes i won't hesitate to call on her if she 'can ever be of the slightest assistance.' and mary, she said for us not to forget that friday is her day at home." "you are the luckiest thing, betty wales," sighed rachel, who worshiped miss ferris from afar. "now if i'd knocked the august miss ferris down," declared katherine, "i should probably have been expelled forthwith. whereas you----" she finished the sentence with an expressive little gesture. "who gave you the rest of this conservatory, betty?" asked mary brooks. "clara madison brought the carnations, and nita reese, a girl in my geometry division, sent the white roses, and eleanor the pink ones, and the freshman i was sliding with these lilies-of-the-valley. it's almost worth a sprained wrist to find out how kind people are to you," said betty gratefully. "too bad you'll miss to-night," said mary, "but maybe it will snow." "i don't mind that. the worst thing is my not being able to get my conditions off the bulletin," said betty, making a wry face. "goodness! that is a calamity!" said katherine with mock seriousness. "nonsense! you've studied," from rachel. "if you should have any conditions, i'll bring them to you," volunteered eleanor quietly. then she looked straight at rachel and katherine and smiled pleasantly. "i'm sorry to say that i haven't studied," she said. betty thanked her, feeling more pleased at the apparent harmony of the household than she had been with all her flowers. it was so difficult to like eleanor and rachel and katherine and helen, all four, so well, when rachel and katherine had good reason for disliking eleanor, and helen wouldn't hitch with any of the rest. "do you know that prexy had forbidden sliding on dust-pans?" asked mary rich in the awkward pause that followed. "oh, yes," added mary brooks, "i forgot to tell you. so it's just as well that i lost mine in the shuffle." "but i'm sorry to have been the one to stop the fun," said betty sadly. "oh, it wasn't wholly that. two other girls banged into each other after we left." "but you're the famous one," added rachel, "because you knocked over miss ferris. she looked so funny and knowing when prexy announced it in chapel." "i wish i could do something for you too," said helen timidly, after the rest had drifted out of the room. "why you have," betty assured her. "you helped a lot both times the doctor came, and you've stayed out of the room whenever i wanted to sleep, and brought up all my meals, and written home for me." helen flushed. "that's nothing. i meant something pretty like those," and she pointed to the tableful of flowers, and then going over to it buried her face in the bowl of english violets. betty watched her for a moment with a vague feeling of pity. "i don't suppose she has ten cents a month to spend on such things," she thought, "and as for having them sent to her----" then she said aloud, "we certainly don't need any more of those at present. were you going to the basket-ball game?" "i thought i would, if you didn't want me." "not a bit, and you're to wear some violets--a nice big bunch. hand me the bowl, please, and i'll tie them up." helen gave a little gasp of pleasure. then her face clouded. "but i couldn't take your violets," she added quickly. betty laughed and went on tying up the bunch, only making it bigger than she had at first intended. after helen had gone she cried just a little. "i don't believe she ever had any violets before," she said to the green lizard. "why, her eyes were like stars--she was positively pretty." more than one person noticed the happy little girl who sat quite alone in the running track, dividing her eager attention between the game and the violets which she wore pinned to her shabby, old-fashioned brown jacket. meanwhile betty, propped up among her pillows, was trying to answer nan's last letter. "you seem to be interested in so many other people's affairs," nan had written, "that you haven't any time for your own. don't make the mistake of being a hanger-on." "you see, nan," wrote betty, "i am at last a heroine, an interesting invalid, with scars, and five bouquets of flowers on my table. i am sorry that i don't amount to more usually. the trouble is that the other people here are so clever or so something-or-other that i can't help being more interested in them. i'm afraid i am only an average girl, but i do seem to have a lot of friends and miss ferris, whom you are always admiring, has asked me to five o'clock tea. perhaps, some day----" writing with one's left hand was too laborious, so betty put the letter in a pigeon-hole of her desk to be finished later. as she slipped the sheets in, miss ferris's note dropped out. "i wonder if i shall ever want to ask her anything," thought betty, as she put it carefully away in the small drawer of her desk that held her dearest treasures. chapter xii a triumph for democracy by wednesday betty was well enough to go to classes, though she felt very conspicuous with her scratched face and her wrist in a sling. and so when early wednesday afternoon eleanor pounced on her and katherine and demanded why they were not starting to class-meeting, she replied that she at least was not going. "nor i," said katherine decidedly. "it's sure to be stupid." "i'm sorry," said eleanor. "we may need you badly; every one is so busy this week. perhaps you'll change your minds before two-thirty, and if you do, please bring all the other girls that you can along. you know the notice was marked important." "evidently all arranged beforehand," sniffed katherine, as eleanor departed, explaining that she had promised to be on hand early, ready to drum up a quorum if necessary. betty looked out at the clear winter sunshine. "i wanted a little walk," she said. "let's go. if it's long and stupid we can leave; and we ought to be loyal to our class." "all right," agreed katherine. "i'll go if you will. i should rather like to see what they have on hand this time." "they" meant the hill-school contingent, who from the initial meeting had continued to run the affairs of the class of --. some of the girls were indignant, and a few openly rebellious, but the majority were either indifferent or satisfied that the hill clique was as good as any other that might get control in its stead. so the active opposition had been able to accomplish nothing, and hill's machine, as a cynical sophomore had dubbed it, had elected its candidates for three class officers and the freshman representative on the students' commission, while the various class committees were largely made up of jean eastman's intimate friends. "i hope that some of the crowd have nicer manners than our dear eleanor and are better students," mary brooks had said to betty. "otherwise i'm afraid your ship of state will run into a snag of faculty prejudices some fine day." betty belonged to the indifferent faction of the class. she was greatly interested in all its activities, and prepared to be proud of its achievements, but she possessed none of the instincts of a wire-puller. so long as the class offices were creditably filled she cared not who held them, and comparing her ignorance of parliamentary procedure with the glib self-confidence of jean, eleanor and their friends, she even felt grateful to them for rescuing the class from the pitfalls that beset inexperience. katherine, on the other hand, was a bitter opponent of what she called "ring rule," and adelaide rich, who was the only recruit that they could succeed in adding to their party, had never forgotten the depths of iniquity which her pessimistic acquaintance had revealed in the seemingly innocent and well conducted first meeting, and was prepared to distrust everything, down to the reading of the minutes. the three were vigorously applauded when they appeared in the door of no. , the biggest recitation room in the main building and so the one invariably appropriated to freshman assemblies. katherine whispered to mary that she had not known betty was quite so popular as all that; but a girl on the row behind the one in which they found seats explained matters by whispering that three had been the exact number needed to make up a quorum. the secretary's report was hastily read and accepted, and then miss eastman stated that the business of the meeting was to elect a class representative for the washington's birthday debate. "some of you know," she continued, "that the students' commission has decided to make a humorous debate the main feature of the morning rally. we and the juniors are to take one side, and the senior and sophomore representatives the other. now i suppose the first thing to decide is how our representative shall be chosen." a buzz of talk spread over the room. "why didn't they let us know beforehand--give us time to think who we'd have?" inquired the talkative girl on the row behind. the president rapped for order as kate denise, her roommate, rose to make a motion. "madame president, i move that the freshman representative aforesaid be chosen by the chair. of course," she went on less formally, turning to the girls, "that is by far the quickest way, and jean knows the girls as a whole so well--much better than any of us, i'm sure. i think that a lot depends on choosing just the right person for our debater, and we ought not to trust to a haphazard election." "haphazard is good," muttered the loquacious freshman, in tones plainly audible at the front of the room. "of course that means a great responsibility for me," murmured the president modestly. "put it to vote," commanded a voice from the front row, which was always occupied by the ruling faction. "and remember, all of you, that if we ballot for representative we don't get out of here till four o'clock." the motion was summarily put to vote, and the ayes had it at once, as the ayes are likely to do unless a matter has been thoroughly discussed. "i name eleanor watson, then," said miss eastman with suspicious promptness. "will somebody move to adjourn?" "well, of all ridiculous appointments!" exclaimed the loquacious girl under cover of the applause and the noise of moving chairs. "right you are!" responded katherine, laughing at adelaide rich's disgusted expression. but betty was smiling happily with her eyes on the merry group around eleanor. "aren't you glad, girls?" she said. "won't she do well, and won't the house be proud of her?" "i for one never noticed that she was a single bit humorous," began mary indignantly. katherine pinched her arm vigorously. "don't! what's the use?" she whispered. "nor i, but i suppose miss eastman knows that she can be funny," answered betty confidently, as she hurried off to congratulate eleanor. she was invited to the supper to be given at cuyler's that night in eleanor's honor, and went home blissfully unconscious that half the class was talking itself hoarse over jean eastman's bad taste in appointing a notorious "cutter" and "flunker" to represent them on so important an occasion, just because she happened to be the best dressed and prettiest girl in the hill crowd. the next afternoon most of the girls were at gym or the library, and betty, who was still necessarily excused from her daily exercise, was working away on her latin, when some one knocked imperatively on her door. it was jean eastman. "good-afternoon, miss wales," she said hurriedly. "will you lend me a pencil and paper? eleanor has such a habit of keeping her desk locked, and i want to leave her a note." she scribbled rapidly for a moment, frowned as she read through what she had written, and looked doubtfully from it to betty. then she rose to go. "will you call her attention to this, please?" she said. "it's very important. and, miss wales,--if she should consult you, do advise her to resign quietly and leave it to me to smooth things over." "resign?" repeated betty vaguely. "yes," said jean. "you see--well, i might as well tell you now, that i've said so much. the faculty object to her taking the debate. perhaps you know that she's very much in their black books but i didn't. and i never dreamed that they would think it any of their business who was our debater, but i assure you they do. at least half a dozen of them have spoken to me about her poor work and her cutting. they say that she is just as much ineligible for this as she would be for the musical clubs or the basket-ball team. now what i want is for eleanor to write a sweet little note of resignation to-night, so that i can appoint some one else bright and early in the morning." betty's eyes grew big with anxiety. "but won't the girls guess the reason?" she cried. "think how proud eleanor is, miss eastman. it would hurt her terribly if any one found out that she had been conditioned. you shouldn't have told me--indeed you shouldn't!" jean laughed carelessly. "well, you know now, and there's no use crying over spilt milk. i used that argument about the publicity of the affair to the faculty, but it was no go. so the only thing for you to do is to help eleanor write a nice, convincing note of resignation that i can read at the next meeting, when i announce my second appointment." "but eleanor won't ask my help," said betty decidedly, "and, besides, what can she say, after accepting all the congratulations, and having the supper?" jean laughed again. "i'm afraid you're not a bit ingenious, miss wales," she said rising to go, "but fortunately eleanor is. good-bye." when betty handed eleanor the note she read it through unconcernedly, unconcernedly tore it into bits as she talked, and spent the entire evening, apparently, in perfect contentment and utter idleness, strumming softly on her guitar. the next morning betty met jean on the campus. "did she tell you?" asked jean. betty shook her head. "i thought likely she hadn't. well, what do you suppose? she won't resign. she says that there's no real reason she can give, and that she's now making it a rule to tell the truth; that i'm in a box, not she, and i may climb out of it as best as i can." "did she really say that?" demanded betty, a note of pleasure in her voice. "yes," snapped jean, "and since you're so extremely cheerful over it, perhaps you can tell me what to do next." betty stared at her blankly. "i forgot," she said. "the girls mustn't know. we must cover it up somehow." "exactly," agreed jean crossly, "but what i want to know is--how." "why not ask the class to choose its speaker? all the other classes did." jean looked doubtful. "i know they did. that would make it very awkward for me, but i suppose i might say there had been dissatisfaction--that's true enough,--and we could have it all arranged----well, when i call a meeting, be sure to come and help us out." the meeting was posted for saturday, and all the chapin house girls, except helen, who never had time for such things, and eleanor, attended it. eleanor was expecting a caller, she said. besides, as she hadn't been to classes in the morning there was no sense in emphasizing the fact by parading through the campus in the afternoon. at the last minute she called betty back. "paul may not get over to-day," she said. "won't you come home right off to tell me about it? i--well, you'll see later why i want to know--if you haven't guessed already." the class of -- had an inkling that something unusual was in the wind and had turned out in full force. there was no need of waiting for a quorum this time. after the usual preliminaries jean eastman rose and began a halting, nervous little speech. "i have heard," she began, "that is--a great many people in and out of the class have spoken to me about the matter of the washington's birthday debate. i mean, about the way in which our debater was appointed. i understand there is a great deal of dissatisfaction--that some of the class say they did not understand which way they were voting, and so on. so i thought you might like to reconsider your vote. i certainly, considering position in the matter, want you to have the chance to do so. now, can we have this point thoroughly discussed?" then, as no one rose, "miss wales, won't you tell us what you think?" betty stared helplessly at jean for a moment and then, assisted by vigorous pushes from katherine and rachel, who sat on either side of her, rose hesitatingly to her feet. "miss eastman,--i mean, madame president," she began. she stopped for an instant to look at her audience. apparently the class of -- was merely astonished and puzzled by jean's suggestion; there was no indication that any one--except possibly a few of the hill girls--had any idea of her motive. "madame president," repeated betty, forcing back the lump that had risen in her throat when she realized that the keeping of eleanor's secret lay largely with her, "miss watson is my friend, and i was very much pleased to have her for our representative. but i do feel, and i believe the other girls do, as they come to think it over, that it would have been better to elect our representative. then we should every one of us have had a direct interest in the result of the debate. besides, all the other classes elected theirs, and so i think, if miss watson is willing----" "miss watson is perfectly willing," broke in jean. "a positive engagement unfortunately prevents her being here to say so, but she authorized me to state that she preferred the elective choice herself, and to tell you to do just as you think best in the matter. she----go on, miss wales." "oh, that was all," said betty hastily slipping back into her seat. a group of girls in the farthest corner of the room clapped vigorously. "nothing cut-and-dried about that," whispered katherine to adelaide rich. "are there any more remarks?" inquired the president. no one seemed anxious to speak, and she went on rather aimlessly. "miss wales has really covered the ground, i think. the other classes all elected their debaters, and i fancy they want us to do the same. as for the faculty--well, i may as well say that they almost insist upon a change." "good crawl," whispered katherine, who was quick to put two and two together, to adelaide rich, who never got the point of any but the most obvious remarks, and who now looked much perplexed. meanwhile betty had been holding whispered consultations with some of the girls around her, and now she rose again. her "madame president" was so obviously prior to kate denise's that when kate was recognized there was an ominous murmur of discontent and jean apologized and promptly reversed her decision. "perhaps i oughtn't to speak twice," said betty blushing at the commotion she had caused, "but if we are to change our vote, some of us think it would be fun to hold a preliminary debate now, and choose our speaker on her merits. we did that once at school----" "good stunt," called some one. "i move that miss wales as chairman select a committee of arrangements, and that we have a five minute recess while the committee meets." "i move that there be two committees, one for nominating speakers and the other for choosing a subject." "i move that we reconsider our other vote first." the motions were coming in helter-skelter from all quarters, instead of decorously from the front row as usual. the president was trying vainly to restore order and to remember whose motion should have precedence, and to make way somehow for the prearranged nomination, which so far had been entirely crowded out, when three girls in one corner of the room began thumping on their seat-arms and chanting in rhythmic, insistent chorus, "we--want--emily--davis. we--want--emily--davis. we--want--emily--davis." hardly any one in the room had ever heard of emily davis, but the three girls constituted an original and very popular little coterie known individually as babe, babbie, and bob, or collectively as "the three b's." they roomed on the top floor of the westcott house and were famous in the house for being at the same time prime favorites of the matron and the ringleaders in every plot against her peace of mind, and outside for their unique and diverting methods of recreation. it was they who had successfully gulled mary brooks with a rumor as absurd as her own; and accounts of the "spread" they had handed out to the night-watchman in a tin pail, and dangled just out of his reach, in the hope of extracting a promise from that incorruptible worthy not to report their lights, until the string incontinently broke and the ice cream and lobster salad descended as a flood, were reported to have made even the august president of the college laugh. ergo, if they "wanted" emily davis, she must be worth "wanting." so their friends took up the cry, and it quickly spread and gathered volume, until nearly everybody in the room was shouting the same thing. finally the president stepped forward and made one determined demand for order. "is miss emily davis present?" she called, when the tumult had slightly subsided. "yes," shouted the three and the few others who knew miss davis by sight. "then will she please--why, exactly what is it that you want of her?" questioned the president, a trifle haughtily. "speech!" chorused the three. "will miss davis please speak to us?" asked the president. at that a very tall girl who was ineffectually attempting to hide behind little alice waite was pulled and pushed to her feet, and amid a sudden silence began the funniest speech that most of the class of -- had ever listened to; but it was not so much what she said as her inimitable drawling delivery and her lunging, awkward gestures that brought down the house. when she took her seat again, resolutely ignoring persistent cries of "more!" the class applauded her to the echo and elected her freshman debater by acclamation. it was wonderful what a change those twenty riotous minutes had made in the spirit of the class of --. for the first time in its history it was an enthusiastic, single-hearted unit, and to the credit of the hill girls be it said that no one was more enthusiastic or joined in the applause with greater vigor than they. they had not meant to be autocratic--except three of them; they had simply acted according to their lights, or rather, their leaders' lights. now they understood how affairs could be conducted at harding, and during the rest of the course they never entirely forgot or ignored the new method. to betty's utter astonishment and consternation the lion's share of credit for the sudden triumph of democracy was laid at her door. the group around her after the meeting was almost as large and quite as noisy as the one that was struggling to shake hands with miss davis. "don't! you mustn't. why, it was the b's who got her, not i," protested betty vigorously. "no, you began it," said babe. "you bet you did," declared bob. "yes, indeed. we were too scared to speak of her until you proposed something like it," added babbie in her sweet, lilting treble. "you can't get out of it. you are the real founder of this democracy," ended christy mason decidedly. betty was proud of christy's approval. it was fun, too, to have the hill girls crowding around and saying pleasant things to her. "i almost think i'm somebody at last. won't nan be pleased!" she reflected as she hurried home to keep her promise to eleanor. then she laughed merrily all to herself. "those silly girls! i really didn't do a thing," she thought. and then she sighed. "i never get a chance to be a bit vain. i wish i could--one little wee bit. i wonder if mr. west came." it did not occur to betty as at all significant that jean eastman and kate denise had not spoken to her after the meeting, until, when she knocked on eleanor's door, eleanor came formally to open it. "jean and kate are here," she said coldly, "so unless you care to stop----" jean and kate nodded silently from the couch where they were eating candy. "oh, no," said betty in quick astonishment. "i'll come some other time." "you needn't bother," answered eleanor rudely. "they've told me all about it," and she shut the door, leaving betty standing alone in the hall. betty winked hard to keep back the tears as she hurried to her own room. what could it all mean? she had done her best for eleanor, and nobody had guessed--they had been too busy laughing at that ridiculous emily davis--and now eleanor treated her like this. and jean eastman, too, when she had done exactly what jean wanted of her. jean's curtness was even less explainable than eleanor's, though it mattered less. it was all--queer. betty smiled faintly as she applied alice waite's favorite adjective. well, there was nothing more to be done until she could see eleanor after dinner. so she wiped her eyes, smoothed her hair, and went resolutely off to find roberta, whose heavy shoes--another of roberta's countless fads--had just clumped past her door. "i'm writing my definitions for to-morrow's english," announced roberta. "for the one we could choose ourselves i'm going to invent a word and then make up a meaning for it. isn't that a nice idea?" "very," said betty listlessly. roberta looked at her keenly. "i believe you're homesick," she said. "how funny after such a jubilant afternoon." betty smiled wearily. "perhaps i am. anyway, i wish i were at home." meanwhile in eleanor's room an acrimonious discussion was in progress. "the more i think of it," kate denise was saying emphatically, "the surer i am that she didn't do a thing against us this afternoon. she isn't to blame for having started a landslide by accident, jean. did you see her face when eleanor turned her down just now? she looked absolutely nonplussed." "most people do when the lady eleanor turns and rends them," returned jean, with a reminiscent smile. "just the same," continued kate denise, "i say you have a lot to thank her for this afternoon, jean eastman. she got you out of a tight hole in splendid shape. none of us could have done it without stamping the whole thing a put-up job, and most of the outsiders who could have helped you out, wouldn't have cared to oblige you. it was irritating to see her rallying the multitudes, i'll admit; but i insist that it wasn't her fault. we ought to have managed better." "say i ought to have managed better and be done with it," muttered jean crossly. "you certainly ought," retorted eleanor. "you've made me the laughing-stock of the whole college." "no, eleanor," broke in kate denise pacifically. "truly, your dignity is intact, thanks to miss wales and those absurd b's who followed her lead." "never mind them. i'm talking about betty wales. she was a friend of mine--she was at the supper the other night. why couldn't she leave it to some one else to object to your appointing me?" "oh, if that's all you care about," said jean irritably, "don't blame miss wales. the thing had to be done you know. i didn't see that it mattered who did it, and so i--well, i practically asked her. what i'm talking about is her way of going at it--her having pushed herself forward so, and really thrown us out of power by using what i--" jean caught herself suddenly, remembering that eleanor did not know about betty's having been let into the secret. "by using what you told her," finished kate innocently. "well, why did you tell her all about it, if you didn't expect--" eleanor stood up suddenly, her face white with anger. "how dared you," she challenged. "as if it wasn't insulting enough to get me into a scrape like this, and give any one with two eyes a chance to see through your flimsy little excuses, but you have to go round telling people----" "eleanor, stop," begged jean. "she was the only one i told. i let it out quite by accident the day i came up here to see you. not another soul knows it but kate, and you told her yourself. you'd have told betty wales, too,--you know you would--if we hadn't seen you first this afternoon." "suppose i should," eleanor retorted hotly. "what i do is my own affair. please go home." jean stalked out in silence, but kate, hesitating between scylla and charybdis, lingered to say consolingly, "cheer up, eleanor. when you come to think it over, it won't seem so----" "please go home," repeated eleanor, and kate hurried after her roommate. chapter xiii saint valentine's assistants if eleanor had taken kate's advice and indulged in a little calm reflection, she would have realized how absolutely reasonless was her anger against betty wales. betty had been told of the official objections which made it necessary for eleanor to be withdrawn from the debate. her action, then, had been wholly proper and perfectly friendly. but eleanor was in no mood for reflection. a wild burst of passion held her firmly in its grasp. she hated everybody and everything in harding--the faculty who had made such a commotion about two little low grades--for eleanor had come surprisingly near to clearing her record at mid-years,--jean, who had stupidly brought all this extra annoyance upon her; the class, who were glad to get rid of her, betty, who--yes, jean had been right about one thing--betty, who had taken advantage of a friend's misfortune to curry favor for herself. they were all leagued against her. but--here the watson pride suddenly asserted itself--they should never know that she cared, never guess that they had hurt her. she deliberately selected the most becoming of her new evening gowns, and in an incredibly short time swept down to dinner, radiantly beautiful in the creamy lace dress, and--outwardly at least--in her sunniest, most charming mood. she insisted that the table should admire her dress, and the pearl pendant which her aunt had just sent her. "i'm wearing it, you see, to celebrate my return to the freedom of private life," she rattled on glibly. "i understand you've found a genius to take my place. i'm delighted that we have one in the class. it's so convenient. who of you are going to the burton house dance to-night?" so she led the talk from point to point and from hand to hand. she bantered mary, deferred to helen and the riches, appealed in comradely fashion to katherine and rachel. betty alone she utterly, though quite unostentatiously, ignored; and betty, too much hurt to make any effort, stood aside and tried to solve the riddle of eleanor's latest caprice. on the way up-stairs eleanor spoke to her for the first time. she went up just ahead of her and at the top of the flight she turned and waited. "i understand that you quite ran the class to-day," she said with a flashing smile. "the girls tell me that you're a born orator, as good in your way as the genius in hers." betty rallied herself for one last effort. "don't make fun of me, eleanor. please let me come in and tell you about it. you don't understand----" "possibly not," said eleanor coldly. "but i'm going out now." "just for a moment!" "but i have to start at once. i'm late already." "oh, very well," said betty, and turned away to join mary and roberta. eleanor's mind always worked with lightning rapidity, and while she dressed she had gone over the whole situation and decided exactly how she would meet it; and in the weeks that followed she kept rigidly to the course she had marked out for herself, changing only one detail. at first she had intended to have nothing more to do with jean, but she saw that a sudden breaking off of their friendship would be remarked upon and wondered at. so she compromised by treating jean exactly as usual, but seeing her as little as possible. this made it necessary to refuse many of her invitations to college affairs, for wherever she went jean was likely to go. so she spent much of her leisure time away from harding; she went to winsted a great deal, and often ran down to boston or new york for sunday, declaring that the trips meant nothing to a westerner used to the "magnificent distances" of the plains. naturally she grew more and more out of touch with the college life, more and more scornful of the girls who could be content with the narrow, humdrum routine at harding. but she concealed her scorn perfectly. and she no longer neglected her work; she attended her classes regularly and managed with a modicum of preparation to recite far better than the average student. furthermore her work was now scrupulously honest, and she was sensitively alert to the slightest imputation of untruthfulness. she offered no specious explanations for her withdrawal from the debate, and when mary brooks innocently inquired "what little yarn" she told the registrar, that she could get away so often, eleanor fixed her with an unpleasantly penetrative stare and answered with all her old-time hauteur that she did not tell "yarns." "i have a note from my father. so long as i do my work and go to all my classes, they really can't object to my spending my sundays as he wishes." betty observed all these changes without being in the least able to reconcile them with eleanor's new attitude toward herself. unlike the friendship with jean, eleanor's intercourse with her had been inconspicuous, confined mostly to the chapin house itself. even the girls there, because eleanor had stood so aloof from them, had seen little of it, so eleanor was free to break it off without thinking of public opinion, and she did so ruthlessly. from the day of the class meeting she spoke to betty only when she must, or, if no one was by, when some taunting remark occurred to her. at first betty tried her best to think how she could have offended, but she could not discuss the subject with any one else and endless consideration and rejection of hypotheses was fruitless, so after eleanor had twice refused her an interview that would have settled the matter, she sensibly gave it up. eleanor would perhaps "come round" in time. meanwhile it was best to let her alone. but betty felt that she was having more than her share of trouble; helen was quite as trying in her way as eleanor in hers. she had entirely lost her cheerful air and seemed to have grown utterly discouraged with life. "and no wonder, for she studies every minute," betty told rachel and katherine. "i think she feels hurt because the girls don't get to like her better, but how can they when she doesn't give them any chance?" "she's awfully touchy lately," added katherine. "poor little thing!" said rachel. then the three plunged into an animated discussion of basket-ball, and rachel and katherine, who were on a sort of provisional team that included most of the best freshman players and arrogated to itself the name of "the stars," showed betty in strictest confidence the new cross-play that "t. reed" had invented. "t. reed" seemed to be the basket-ball genius of the freshman class. she was the only girl who was perfectly sure to be on the regular team. it is one of the fine things about college that no matter who of your friends are temporarily lost to you, there is always somebody else to fall back upon, and some new interest to take the place of one that flags. betty had noticed this and been amused by it early in her course. sometimes, as she said to miss ferris in one of her many long talks with that lady, things change so fast that you really begin to wonder if you can be the same person you were last week. besides the inter-class basket-ball game, there was the hilton house play to talk about and look forward to, and the rally; and, nearer still, st. valentine's day. it was a long time, to be sure, since betty had been much excited over the last named festival; in her experience only children exchanged valentines. but at harding it seemed to be different. while the day was still several weeks off she had received three invitations to valentine parties. she consulted mary brooks and found that this was not at all unusual. "all the campus houses give them," mary explained, "and the big ones outside, just as they do for hallowe'en. they have valentine boxes, you know, and sometimes fancy dress balls." and there the matter would have dropped if mary had not spent all her monthly allowance three full weeks before she was supposed to have any more. poverty was mary's chronic state. not that dr. brooks's checks were small, but his daughter's spending capacity was infinite. "you wait till you're a prominent sophomore," she said when katherine laughed at her, "and all your friends are making societies, and you just have to provide violets and suppers, in hopes that they'll do as much for you later on. the whole trouble is that father wants me to be on an allowance, instead of writing home for money when i'm out. and no matter how much i say i need, it never lasts out the month." "why don't you tutor?" suggested rachel, who got along easily on a third of what mary spent. "i hope to next year." "tutor!" repeated mary with a reminiscent chuckle. "i tried to tutor my cousin this fall in algebra, and the poor thing flunked much worse than before. but anyway the faculty wouldn't give me regular tutoring. i look too well-to-do. ah! how deceitful are appearances!" sighed mary, opening her pocketbook, where five copper pennies rattled about forlornly. but the very next day she dashed into betty's room proclaiming loudly, "i have an idea, and i want you to help me, betty wales. you can draw and i'll cut them out and drum up customers, and i guess i can write the verses. we ought to make our ad. to-night." "our what?" inquired betty in an absolutely mystified tone. then mary explained that she proposed to sell valentines. "lots of the girls who can't draw buy theirs, not down-town, you know--we don't give that kind here,--but cunning little hand-made ones with pen-and-ink drawings and original verses. haven't you noticed the signs on the 'for sale' bulletin?" betty had not even seen that bulletin board since she and helen had hunted second-hand screens early in the fall, but the plan sounded very attractive; it would fill up her spare hours, and keep her from worrying over eleanor, and getting cross at helen, so she was very willing to help if mary honestly thought she could draw well enough. "goodness, yes!" said mary, rushing off to borrow roberta's water-color paper and katherine's rhyming dictionary. so the partnership was formed, a huge red heart covered with hastily decorated samples was stuck up on the "for sale" bulletin in the gymnasium basement, and, as betty's cupids were really very charming and her christy heads quite as good as the average copy, names began to appear in profusion on the order-sheet. mary had written two sample verses with comparative ease, and in the first flush of confidence she had boldly printed on the sign: "rhymed grinds for special persons furnished at reasonable rates." but later, when everybody seemed to want that kind, even the valuable aid of the rhyming dictionary did not disprove the adage that poets are born, not made. "i can't--i just can't do them," wailed mary finally. "jokes simply will not go into rhyme. what shall we do?" "get roberta--she writes beautifully--and katherine--she told me that she'd like to help," suggested betty, without looking up from the chubby cupid she was fashioning. so katherine and roberta were duly approached and katherine was added to the firm. roberta at first said she couldn't, but finally, after exacting strict pledges of secrecy, she produced half a dozen dainty little lyrics, bidding mary use them if she wished--they were nothing. but no amount of persuasion would induce her to do any more. however, katherine's genius was nothing if not profuse, and she preferred to do "grinds," so mary could devote herself to sentimental effusions,--which, so she declared, did not have to have any special point and so were within her powers,--and to the business end of the project. this, in her view, consisted in perching on a centrally located window-seat in the main building, in the intervals between classes, and soliciting orders from all passers-by, to the consequent crowding of the narrow halls and the great annoyance of the serious-minded, who wished to reach their recitations promptly. but from her point of view she was strikingly successful. "i tell you, i never appreciated how easy it is to make money if you only set about it in the right way," she announced proudly one day at luncheon. "by the way, betty, would you run down after gym to get our old order sheet and put up a new one? i have a special topic in psychology to-morrow, and if professor hinsdale really thinks i'm clever i don't want to undeceive him too suddenly." betty promised, but after gym rachel asked her to stay and play basket-ball with "the stars" in the place of an absent member. naturally she forgot everything else and it was nearly six o'clock when, sauntering home from an impromptu tea-drinking at the belden house, she remembered the order sheet. it was very dusky in the basement. betty, plunging down the steps that led directly into the small room where the bulletin board was, almost knocked down a girl who was curled up on the bottom step of the flight. "goodness! did i hurt you?" she said, a trifle exasperated that any one should want to sit alone in the damp darkness of the basement. there was no answer, and betty, whose eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light, observed with consternation that her companion was doing her best to stop crying. as has already been remarked, betty hated tears as a kitten hates rain. personally she never cried without first locking her door, and she could imagine nothing so humiliating as to be caught, unmistakably weeping, by a stranger. so she turned aside swiftly, peered about in the shadows for the big red heart, changed the order sheet, and was wondering whether she would better hurry out past the girl or wait for her to recover her composure and depart, when the girl took the situation out of her hands by rising and saying in cheery tones, "good-evening, miss wales. are you going my way?" "i--why it's emily--i mean miss--davis," cried betty. "yes, it's emily davis, in the blues, the more shame to her, when she ought to be at home getting supper this minute. wait just a second, please." miss davis went over to the signs, jerked down one, and picking up her books from the bottom step announced without the faintest trace of embarrassment, "now i'm ready." "but are you sure you want me?" inquired betty timidly. "bless you, yes," said miss davis. "i've wanted to know you for ever so long. i'm sorry you caught me being a goose, though." "and i'm sorry you felt like crying," said betty shyly. "why, miss davis, i should want to laugh all the time if i'd done what you did the other day. i should be so proud." miss davis smiled happily down at her small companion. "i was proud," she said simply. "i only hope i can do as well week after next. but miss wales, that was the jam of college life. there's the bread and butter too, you know, and sometimes that's a lot harder to earn than the jam." "do you mean----" began betty and stopped, not wanting to risk hurting miss davis's feelings. "yes, i mean that i'm working my way through. i have a scholarship, but there's still my board and clothes and books." "and you do it all?" miss davis nodded. "my cousin sends me some clothes." "how do you do it, please?" "tutor, sort papers and make typewritten copies of things for the faculty, put on dress braids (that's how i met the b's), mend stockings, and wait on table off and on when some one's maid leaves suddenly. we thought it would be cheaper and pleasanter to board ourselves and earn our money in different ways than to take our board in exchange for regular table-waiting; but i don't know. the other way is surer." "you mean you don't find work enough?" miss davis nodded. "it takes a good deal," she said apologetically, "and there isn't much tutoring that freshmen can do. after this year it will be easier." "dear me," gasped betty. "don't you get any--any help from home?" "well, they haven't been able to send any yet, but they hope to later," said miss davis brightly. "and does it pay when you have to work so hard for it?" "oh, yes," answered miss davis promptly. "all three of us are sure that it pays." "three of you live together?" "yes. of course there are ever so many others in the college, and i'm sure all of them would say the same thing." "and--i hope i'm not being rude--but do girls--do you advertise things down on that bulletin board? i don't know much about it. i never was there but once till i went to-day on--on an errand for a friend," betty concluded awkwardly. perhaps she had been an interloper. perhaps that bulletin board had not been meant for girls like her. miss davis evidently assumed that she had been to leave an order. "you ought to buy more," she said laughingly. "but you want to know what i was there for, don't you? why yes, we do make a good deal off that bulletin board. one of the girls paints a little and she advertises picture frames--yale and harvard and pennsylvania ones, you know. i sell blue-prints. a senior lends me her films. she has a lot of the faculty and the campus, and they go pretty well. we use the money we make from those things for little extras--ribbons and note-books and desserts for sunday. we hoped to make quite a bit on valentines----" "valentines?" repeated betty sharply. "yes, but a good many others thought of it too, and we didn't get any orders--not one. ours weren't so extra pretty and it was foolish of me to be so disappointed, but we'd worked hard getting ready and we did want a little more money so much." they had reached betty's door by this time, and miss davis hurried on, saying it was her turn to get supper and begging betty to come and see them. "for we're very cozy, i assure you. you mustn't think we have a horrid time just because--you know why." betty went straight to mary's room, which, since she had no roommate to object to disorder, had been the chief seat of the valentine industry. "you're a nice one," cried katherine, "staying off like this when to-day is the eleventh." "many orders?" inquired mary. betty sat down on mary's couch, ruthlessly sweeping aside a mass of half finished valentines to make room. "girls, this has got to stop," she announced abruptly. mary dropped her scissors and katherine shut the rhyming dictionary with a bang. "what is the trouble?" they asked in chorus. then betty told her story, suppressing only emily's name and mentioning all the details that had made up the point and pathos of it. "and just think!" she said at last. "she's a girl you'd both be proud to know, and she works like that. and we stepped in and took away a chance of--of ribbons and note-books and dessert for sunday." "may be not; perhaps hers were so homely they wouldn't have sold anyway," suggested katherine with an attempt at jocoseness. "don't, please," said betty wearily. mary came and sat down beside her on the couch. "well, what's to be done about it now?" she asked soberly. "i don't know. we can't give them orders because she took her sign down. i thought perhaps--how much have we made?" "fifteen dollars easily. all right; we'll send it to them." "of course," chimed in katherine. "i was only joking. shall we finish these up?" "yes indeed," said mary, "they're all ordered, and the more money the better, n'est ce pas, betty? but aren't we to know the person's name?" betty hesitated. "why--no--that is if you don't mind very much. you see she sort of told me about herself because she had to, so i feel as if i oughtn't to repeat it. do you mind?" "not one bit," said katherine quickly. "and we needn't say anything at all about it, except--don't you think the girls here in the house will have to know that we're going to give away the money?" "yes," put in mary, "and we'll make them all give us extra orders." "we will save out a dollar for you to live on till march," said betty. "oh no, i shall borrow of you," retorted mary, and then they all laughed and felt better. on st. valentine's morning betty posted a registered valentine. the verse read:-- "there are three of us and three of you, though only one knows one, so pray accept this little gift and go and have some fun." but if the rhyme went haltingly and was not quite true either, as betty pointed out, since adelaide and alice had contributed to the fund, and the whole house had bought absurd quantities of valentines because it was such a "worthy object" ("just as if i wasn't a worthy object!" sighed mary), there was nothing the matter with the "little gift," which consisted of three crisp ten dollar bills. "oh, if they should feel hurt!" thought betty anxiously, and dodged emily davis so successfully that until the day of the rally they did not meet. that week was a tremendously exciting one. to begin with, on the twentieth the members of both the freshman basket-ball teams were announced. rachel was a "home" on the regular team, and katherine a guard on the "sub," so the chapin house fairly bubbled over with pride and pleasure in its double honors. then on the morning of the twenty-second came the rally with its tumultuous display of class and college loyalty, its songs written especially for the occasion, its shrieks of triumph or derision (which no intrusive reporter should make bold to interpret or describe as "class yells," since such masculine modes of expression are unknown at harding), and its mock-heroic debate on the vital issue, "did or did not george washington cut down that cherry-tree?" every speaker was clever and amusing, but emily davis easily scored the hit of the morning. for whereas most freshmen are frightened and appear to disadvantage on such an occasion, she was perfectly calm and self-possessed, and made her points with exactly the same irresistible gaucherie and daring infusion of local color that had distinguished her performance at the class meeting. besides, she was a "dark horse"; she did not belong to the leading set in her class, nor to any other set, for that matter, and this fact, together with the novel method of her election made her interesting to her essentially democratic audience. so when the judges--five popular members of the faculty--announced their decision in favor of the negative, otherwise the junior-freshman side of the debate, --'s enthusiasm knew no bounds, and led by the delighted b's they carried their speaker twice round the gym on their shoulders--which is an honor likely to be remembered by its recipient for more reasons than one. as the clans were scattering, it suddenly occurred to betty that, if emily did not guess anything, it would please her to be congratulated on the excellence of her debate; and if, as was more likely, she had guessed, there was little to be gained by postponing the dreaded interview. she chose a moment when emily was standing by herself in one corner of the gymnasium. emily did not wait for her to begin her speech of congratulation. "oh, miss wales," she cried, "i've been to see you six times, and you are never there. it was lovely of you--lovely--but ought we to take it?" "yes, indeed. it belongs to you; honestly it does. don't ask me how, for it's too long a story. just take my word for it." "well, but----" began emily doubtfully. at that moment some one called, "hurrah for --!" betty caught up the cry and seizing emily's hand rushed her down the hall, toward a group of freshmen. "make a line and march," cried somebody else, and presently a long line of -- girls was winding in noisy lock-step down the hall, threading in and out between groups of upper-class girls and cheering and gaining recruits as it went. "hurrah for --!" cried betty hoarsely. "take it for --," she whispered to emily, as the line stopped with a jerk that knocked their heads together. "if you are sure---- thank you for --," emily whispered back. "here's to --, drink her down! here's to --, drink her down!" as the chorus rose and swelled betty felt, as she never had before, what it meant to be a college girl at harding. as betty was leaving the gymnasium she met eleanor face to face in the hallway. "wasn't it fun?" said betty, shyly. perhaps, now that the debate was over, eleanor would be ready to make friends again. "patronizing the genius, do you mean?" asked eleanor slowly. "i hope she didn't buy that hideous salmon-pink waist with your money." "oh, eleanor, how did you ever find out?" cried betty, deeply distressed. only a few of the chapin house girls knew anything about the disposition of the valentine money, and not even the rest of the firm had been told who had received it. so betty had thought the secret perfectly safe. "no one told me about your private affairs," returned eleanor significantly. "i guessed and i congratulate you. the genius will be a useful ally. she will get all the freaks' votes for you, when----" "eleanor watson, come on if you're coming," called a voice from the foot of the stairs, and eleanor marched blithely off, without finishing her sentence. betty stared after her with unseeing eyes. so that was it! she was to blame because jean had told her of eleanor's predicament--told her against her wish. and now she was supposed to be trying to get votes. "votes for what, i wonder? how perfectly absurd!" said betty to the brick wall she was facing. but the appropriate smile would not come, for the absurdity had cost her a friend whom she had loved dearly in spite of her faults. chapter xiv a beginning and a sequel "i shan't be here to dinner sunday," announced helen chase adams with an odd little thrill of importance in her voice. "shan't you?" responded her roommate absently. she was trying to decide which dress to wear to the hilton house play. her pink organdie was prettiest, but she really ought to save that for the glee club concert. and should she ask her cousin jack burgess up from harvard for the concert, or would it be better to invite mr. parsons? these absorbing questions left her small attention to bestow on so comparatively commonplace a matter as an invitation out to sunday dinner. "i thought you might like to have some one in my place," continued helen, moving the pink organdie waist on to the same chair with the batiste skirt. betty came to herself with a start. "i beg your pardon. i didn't see that i had taken up all the chairs. i was trying to decide what to wear to the dramatics." "and i was thinking what i'd wear sunday," said helen. it was so seldom nowadays that she obtruded her affairs upon any one's notice that betty glanced at her wonderingly. her eyes had their starry look, and a smile that she was futilely endeavoring to keep in the background played around the corners of her mouth. "i'm glad she's got over the blues," thought betty. "why, where are you going?" she asked aloud. "oh, only to the westcott house," answered helen with an assumption of unconcern. "would you wear the blue silk waist or the brown dress?" "well, the westcott is the swellest house on the campus, you know. when i go there i always put on my very best." "yes, but which is my best?" betty considered a moment. "why, of course they're both pretty," she began with kindly diplomacy, "but dresses are more the thing than waists. still, the blue is very becoming. but i think--yes, i'm sure i'd wear the brown." "all right. if you change your mind before sunday you can let me know." "yes," said betty briefly. she was examining the batiste skirt to see if it would need pressing for the dramatics. after all, jack was more fun, and probably mr. parsons was invited by this time anyhow--he knew lots of harding girls. what was the name of jack's dormitory house? she would ask the riches; they had a brother in the same one. so she strolled off to find the riches, and incidentally to get the latest basket-ball news from rachel and katherine. at nine o'clock they turned her out; they were in training and supposed to be fast asleep by nine-thirty. when she opened her own door, helen was still sitting idly in the wicker rocker, looking as if she would be perfectly content to stay there indefinitely with her pleasant thoughts for company. betty had quite lost interest in helen lately; she had small patience with people who moped, and besides, between eleanor and the valentine enterprise, her thoughts had been fully engrossed. but this new mood made her curious. "she acts as if she'd got a crush," she decided. "she's just the kind to have one, and probably her divinity has asked her to dinner, and she can't put her mind on anything else. but who on earth could it be--in the westcott house?" she was on the point of inquiring, when helen diverted her attention to something else. "i made a wonderful discovery to-day," she said. "theresa reed and t. reed are the same person." betty laughed. "they might easily be," she said. "i don't see that it was so wonderful." "why, i've known theresa all this year--she was the one that asked me to go off with her house for mountain day. she's the best friend i have here, but she never told me that she was specially interested in basket-ball and i never thought--well, i guess i never imagined that a dear friend of mine could be the celebrated t. reed," laughed helen happily. "but all sorts of nice things are happening to me lately." "that's good," said betty. "it seems to be just the opposite with me," and she plunged into her note to jack, which must be ready for the next morning's post. all that week helen went about fairly wreathed in smiles. her shyness seemed to have vanished suddenly. she joined gaily in the basket-ball gossip at the table, came out into the hall to frolic with the rest of the house at ten o'clock, and in general acted as a happy, well-conducted freshman should. the chapin house brought its amazement over the "dig's" frivolity to betty, but she had very little to tell them. "all i know is that she's awfully pleased about being a friend of t. reed's. and oh yes--she's invited out to dinner next sunday. but of course there must be something else." "perhaps she's going to have a man up for the concert," suggested katherine flippantly. "are you?" inquired mary rich, and with that the regeneration of helen was forgotten in the far more absorbing topic of the glee club concert. sunday came at last. "i'm not going to church, betty," said helen shyly. "i want to have plenty of time to get dressed for dinner." "yes, indeed," said betty carelessly. she had just received an absurd letter from jack. he was coming "certain-sure"; he wanted to see her about a very serious matter, he said. "incidentally" he should be delighted to go to the concert. there was a mysterious postscript too:--"how long since you got so fond of bob winchester?" "i never heard of any such person. what do you suppose he means?" betty asked mary brooks as they walked home from church together. mary had also invited a harvard man to the concert and dorothy king had found them both seats, so they were feeling unusually friendly and sympathetic. "i can't imagine. do let me see his letter," begged mary. "he must be no end of fun." "he's a worse tease than you," said betty, knocking on her door. "come in," called helen chase adams eagerly. "betty, would you please hook my collar, and would one of you see what time it really is? i don't like to depend too much on my watch." "she'll be at least ten minutes too early," sighed betty, when helen had finally departed in a flutter of haste. "and see this room! but i oughtn't to complain," she added, beginning to clear up the dresser. "i'm always leaving it like this myself; but someway i don't expect it of helen." "who asked her to dinner to-day?" inquired mary brooks. she had been sitting in a retired corner, vastly enjoying the unusual spectacle of helen adams in a frenzy of excitement. "why, i don't know. i never thought to ask," said betty, straightening the couch pillows. "i only hope she'll have as good a time as she expects." "poor youngster!" said mary. "wish i'd asked laurie to jolly her up a bit." it is to be presumed that these fears were groundless, since the bell was ringing for five o'clock vespers when helen came back. betty was sitting at her desk pretending to write letters, but really trying to decide whether she should say anything to eleanor apropos of her remarks about emily davis, and if so, whether she should do it now. mary brooks curled up on betty's couch, dividing her attention between jack burgess's picture and a new magazine. "had a good time, didn't you?" she remarked sociably when helen appeared. "oh, yes," said helen happily. "you see i don't go out very often. were you ever at the westcott house for dinner?" "once," chuckled mary. "but i found they didn't have ice-cream, because the matron doesn't approve of buying things on sunday; so i've turned them down ever since." helen laughed merrily. "how funny! i never missed it!" there was a becoming flush on her cheeks, a pretty new confidence in her manner. "helen, who did you say asked you to the westcott?" inquired betty. "i didn't say, because you didn't ask me," returned helen truthfully, "but it was miss mills." "miss mills!" repeated mary. "well, my child, i don't wonder that you were rattled this noon, being invited around by the faculty. gracious, what a compliment to a young freshman!" "i should think so!" chimed in betty eagerly. in spite of her embarrassment helen evidently enjoyed the sensation she was producing. "i thought it was awfully nice," she said. "why didn't you tell us sooner?" demanded mary. "why, child, you must be a bright and shining shark in lit." helen's happy face clouded suddenly. "i'm not, am i, betty?" she asked appealingly. betty laughed. "why no, since you ask me. no, she isn't, mary. she sits on the back row with me and we don't either of us say an extra word. it's math, and latin and greek that helen shines in." "well, are you awfully devoted to miss mills?" pursued mary. "is that why she asked you?" helen shook her head. "i like her. she reads beautifully and sometimes she says very interesting things, doesn't she, betty?" "i hadn't noticed," answered her roommate hastily. "well, i think she does, but i never told her i thought so. it couldn't be that." "then why did she ask you?" demanded mary. "i suppose because she wanted me," said helen happily. "i can't think of any other reason. isn't it lovely?" "yes indeed," agreed mary. "it's so grand that i'm going off this minute to tell everybody in the house about it. they'll be dreadfully envious," and she left the roommates alone. helen pulled off her best gloves carefully, and laid them neatly away, then she put up her hat and coat and sat down in her favorite wicker chair. "i guess i left the room in a dreadful muss this noon," she said apologetically. "i guess i acted silly and excited, but you see--i said i hadn't been out often--this is the very first time i've been invited out to a meal since i came to harding." "really?" said betty, thinking guiltily of her own multitude of invitations. "yes, i hoped you hadn't any of you noticed it. i hate to be pitied. now you can just like me." "just like you?" repeated betty vaguely. "yes. don't you see? i'm not left out any more." she hesitated, then went on rapidly. "you see i had a lovely time at first, at the sophomore reception and the frolic and all, but it stopped and--this was a good while coming, and i got discouraged. wasn't it silly? i--oh, it's all right now. i wouldn't change places with anybody." she began to rock violently. betty had noticed that helen rocked when other girls sang or danced jigs. "but i thought--we all thought," began betty, "that you had decided you preferred to study--that you didn't care for our sort of fun. you haven't seemed to lately." "not since it came over me why you girls here in the house were nice to me when nobody else was except theresa," explained helen with appalling frankness. "you were sorry for me. i thought it out the day after you gave me the violets. before i came to harding," she went on, "i did think that college was just to study. it's funny how you change your mind after you get here--how you begin to see that it's a lot bigger than you thought. and it's queer how little you care about doing well in class when you haven't anything else to care about." she gave a little sigh, then got up suddenly. "i almost forgot; i have a message for adelaide. and by the way, betty, i saw your miss hale; she and somebody else were just going in to see miss mills when i left." she had scarcely gone when mary sauntered back as if by accident. "well, have you found out?" she asked. "as a student of psychology i'm vastly interested in this situation." "found out what?" asked betty unsmilingly. "why miss mills asked her, and why she is so pleased." "i suppose miss mills asked her because she was sorry for her," answered betty slowly, "and helen is pleased because she doesn't know it. mary, she's been awfully lonely." "too bad," commented mary. unhappiness always made her feel awkward. "but she says this makes up to her for everything," added betty. "oh, i've noticed that life is a pretty even thing in the end," returned mary, relieved that there was no present call on her sympathies, "but i must confess i don't see how one dinner invitation, even if it is from----" just then helen tapped on the door. down in miss mills's room they were discussing much the same point. "it's a shame for you to waste your sundays over these children," said miss hale. miss mills stopped her tea-making to dissent. "it isn't wasted if she cared. she was so still that i couldn't be sure, but judging from the length of time she stayed----" "she was smiling all over her face when we met her," interrupted miss meredith. "who is she, anyway?" "oh, just nobody in particular," laughed miss mills, "just a forlorn little freshman named adams." "but i don't quite see how----" began miss hale. "oh, you wouldn't," said miss mills easily. "you were president of your class when you were a freshman. i was nobody in particular, and i know what it's like." "but why not leave it to her friends to hearten her up?" "apparently she hasn't any, or if she has, they're as out of things as she is." "well, to the other girls then." "when girls are happy they are cruel," said miss mills briefly, "or perhaps they're only careless." betty, after a week's consideration, put the matter even more specifically. "i tried to make her over because i wanted a different kind of roommate," she said, "and we all let her see that we were sorry for her. miss mills made her feel as if----" "she had her dance card full and was splitting her waltzes," supplied mary, who was just back from an afternoon at winsted. "exactly like that," agreed betty, laughing. "i wish i'd done it," she added wistfully. "you kept her going till her chance came," said mary. "she owes a lot to you, and she knows it." "don't," protested betty, flushing. "i tell you, i was only thinking of myself when i tried to fix her up, and then after a while i got tired of her and let her alone. i was horrid, but she's forgiven me and we're real friends now." "well, we can't do but so much apiece," said mary practically. "and i've noticed that 'jam,' as your valentine girl called it, is a mighty hard thing to give to people who really need it." nevertheless the gift had been managed in helen's case; she had gotten her start at last. miss mills's tactful little attention had furnished her with the hope and courage that she lacked, had given her back the self-confidence that caroline barnes had wounded. whatever the girls might think, she knew she was "somebody" now, and she would go ahead and prove it. she could, too--she no longer doubted her possession of the college girl's one talent that betty had laughed about. for there was theresa reed, her friend down the street. she was homely and awkward, she wore dowdy clothes and wore them badly, she was slow and plodding; but there was one thing that she could do, and the girls admired her for it and had instantly made a place for her. helen was glad of a second proof that those things did not matter vitally. she set herself happily to work to study t. reed's methods, and she began to look forward to the freshman-sophomore game as eagerly as did betty or katherine. but before the game there was the concert. jack burgess, having missed his connections, arrived in harding exactly twenty-seven minutes before it began. as they drove to the theatre he inquired if betty had received all three of his telegrams. "yes," laughed betty, "but i got the last one first. the other two were evidently delayed. you've kept me guessing, i can tell you." "glad of that," said jack cheerfully, as he helped her out of the carriage. "that's what you've kept me doing for just about a month. but i've manfully suppressed my curiosity and concealed the wounds in my bleeding heart until i could make inquiries in person." "what in the world do you mean, jack?" asked betty carelessly. jack was such a tease. just then they were caught in the crowd that filled the lobby of the theatre, and conversation became impossible as they hurried through it and into the theatre itself. "checks, please," said a businesslike little usher in pink chiffon, and jack and betty followed her down the aisle. the theatre was already nearly full, and it looked like a great flower garden, for the girls all wore light evening gowns, for which the black coats of the men made a most effective background; while the odor of violets and roses from the great bunches that many of the girls carried strengthened the illusion. "jove, but this is a pretty thing!" murmured jack, who had never been in harding before. "is this all college?" "yes," said betty proudly, "except the men, of course. and don't they all look lovely?" "who--the men?" asked jack. then he gave a sudden start. "bob winchester, by all that's wonderful!" "who is he?" said betty idly. "another harvard man? jack"--with sudden interest, as she recognized the name--"what did you mean by that postscript?" "good bluff!" said jack in his most tantalizing drawl. "jack burgess, i expect you to talk sense the rest of the time you're here," remonstrated betty impatiently. "well, i will on one condition. tell me why you sent it to him." "sent what to whom?" demanded betty. "oh come," coaxed jack. "you know what i mean. why did you send bob that valentine? it almost crushed me, i can tell you, when i hadn't even heard from you for months." betty was staring at him blankly, "why did i send 'bob' that valentine? who please tell me is 'bob'?" "robert m. winchester, harvard, --. eats at my club. is sitting at the present moment on the other side of the aisle, two rows up and over by the boxes. you'll know him by his pretty blush. he's rattled--he didn't think i'd see him." "well?" said betty. "well?" repeated jack. "i never saw mr. robert m. winchester before," declared betty with dignity, "and of course i didn't send him any valentine. what are you driving at, jack burgess?" jack smiled benignly down at her. "but i saw it," he insisted. "do you think i don't know your handwriting? the verses weren't yours, unless they turn out spring poets amazingly fast up here, but the writing was, except that on the envelope, and the cupids were. the design was the same as the one on the picture frame you gave me last winter. beginning to remember?" he inquired with an exasperating chuckle. "no," said betty severely. then a light broke over her face. "oh yes, of course, i made that. oh jack burgess, how perfectly rich!" "don't think so myself, but bobbie will. you see i told him that i could put up a good guess who sent him that valentine, and that i'd find out for sure when i came up. but evidently he couldn't wait, so he's made his sister ask him up too, in the hope of happening on the valentine lady, i suppose. know his sister?" "no," said betty, who was almost speechless with laughter. "oh, jack, listen!" and she told the story of the valentine firm. "probably his sister bought it and sent it to him," she finished. "or anyway some girl did. jack, he's looking this way again. did you tell him i sent it?" "no," said jack hastily, "that is--i--well, i only said that the girl i knew up here sent it. he evidently suspects you. see him stare." "jack, how could you?" "how couldn't i you'd better say," chuckled jack. "i never heard of this valentine graft. what should i think, please? never mind; i'll undeceive the poor boy at the intermission. he'll be badly disappointed. you see, he said it was his sister all along, and----" the curtain rolled slowly up, disclosing the glee club grouped in a rainbow-tinted semicircle about the leader, and the concert began. at the intermission jack brought mr. winchester and his sister to meet betty, and there were more explanations and much laughter. then jack insisted upon meeting the rest of the firm, so betty hunted up mary. her harvard man knew the other two slightly, and the story had to be detailed again for his benefit. "i say," he said when he had heard it, "that's what i call enterprise, but you made just one mistake. next year you must sell your stock to us. then all of it will be sure to land with the ladies, and your cousin's feelings won't be hurt." "good idea," agreed jack, "but let's keep to the living present, as the poets call it. are you all good for a sleigh ride to-morrow afternoon?" "ah, do say yes," begged mr. winchester, looking straight at betty. "but your sister said you were going----" "on the sleeper to-morrow night," finished mr. winchester promptly. "and may i have the heart-shaped sign?" betty stopped in mary's room that night to talk over the exciting events of the evening. "betty wales, your cousin is the nicest man i ever met," declared mary with enthusiasm. betty laughed. "i shan't tell you what he said about you. it would make you entirely too vain. i'm so sorry that katherine wasn't there, so she could go to-morrow." "it was too bad," said mary complacently. "but then you know virtue is said to be its own reward. she'll have to get along with that, but i'm glad we're going to have another one. those valentines were a lot of work to do for a girl whose very name i don't know." chapter xv at the great game "well, i thought i'd seen some excitement before," declared betty wales, struggling to settle herself more comfortably on the scant ten square inches of space allotted her by the surging, swaying mass of girls behind. "but i was mistaken. even the rally was nothing to this. helen, do you feel as if they'd push you under the railing?" "a little," laughed helen, "but i don't suppose they could, do you?" "i guess not," said betty hopefully, "but they might break my spine. they're actually sitting on me, and i haven't room to turn around and see who's doing it. oh, but isn't it fun!" the day of the great basket-ball game had come at last. a bare two hours more and the freshman team would either be celebrating its victory over the sophomores, or bravely shouldering its defeat; and the college had turned out _en masse_ to witness the struggle. the floor of the gymnasium was cleared, only miss andrews, the gym teacher, her assistant line-keepers and the ushers in white duck, with paper hats of green or purple, being allowed on the field of battle. on the little stage at one end of the hall sat the faculty, most of them manifesting their partisanship by the display of class-colors. the more popular supporters of the purple had been furnished with violets by their admirers, while the wearers of the green had american beauty roses--red being the junior color--tied with great bows of green ribbon. the prize exhibit was undoubtedly that of the enterprising young head of the chemistry department, who carried an enormous bunch of vivid green carnations; but the centre of interest was the president of the college, who of course displayed impartially the colors of both sides. he divided interest with a sprightly little lady in a brilliant purple gown, whose arms were so full of violets and daffodils and purple and yellow ribbons that she looked like an animated flower bed. she smiled and nodded at the sophomore gallery from behind their floral tributes; and the freshmen watched her eagerly and wished she had worn the green. but of course she wouldn't; she had nothing but sophomore lit., and all her classes adored her. in the gallery were the students, seniors and sophomores on one side, juniors and freshmen on the other, packed in like sardines. the front row of them sat on the floor, dangling their feet over the edge of the balcony--they had been warned at the gym classes of the day before to look to their soles and their skirt braids. the next row kneeled and peered over the shoulders of the first. the third row stood up and saw what it could. the others stood up and saw nothing, unless they were very tall or had been lucky enough to secure a place on a stray chair or a radiator. the balcony railings and posts were draped with bunting, and in every hand waved banners and streamers, purple and yellow on one side, red and green on the other. in the middle of each side were grouped the best singers of the classes, ready to lead the chorus in the songs which had been written for the occasion to the music of popular tunes. these were supposed to take the place of "yells," and cheers, both proscribed as verging upon the unwomanly. by rule the opposing factions sang in turn, but occasionally, quite by accident, both started at once, with deafening discords that rocked the gallery, and caused the musical head of the german department to stop her ears in agony. most of the girls had been standing in line for an hour waiting for the gymnasium doors to open, but a few, like betty and helen, had had reserved seat tickets given them by some one on the teams. these admitted their fortunate holders by a back door ahead of the crowd. all the faculty seats were reserved, of course, and the occupants of them were still coming in. as each appeared, he or she was met by a group of ushers and escorted ceremoniously across the floor, amid vigorous hand-clapping from the side whose colors were in evidence, and the singing of a verse of "balm of gilead" adapted to the occasion. most of these had been written beforehand and were now hastily "passed along" from a paper in the hands of the leader. the rhymes were execrable, but that did not matter since almost nobody could understand them; and the main point was to come out strong on the chorus. "oh, there's miss ferris!" cried betty, "and she's wearing my ro--goodness, she's half covered with roses. helen, see that lovely green dragon pennant!" "here's to our miss ferris, drink her down!" sang the freshman chorus. "here's to our miss ferris, drink her down! here's to our miss ferris, may she never, never perish! drink her down, drink her down, drink her down, down, down!" back by the door there was a sudden commotion, and the sophomore faction broke out into tumultuous applause as a tall and stately gentleman appeared carrying a "shower bouquet" of daffodils with a border and streamers of violets. "here's to dr. hinsdale, he's the finest man within hail! drink him down, drink him down, drink him down, down, down!" sang the sophomores. "there is a team of great renown," began the freshmen lustily. what did the sophomores mean by clapping so? ah! miss andrews was opening a door. "they're coming!" cried betty eagerly. "only the sophomore subs," amended the junior next to her. "so please don't stick your elbow into me." "excuse me," said betty hastily. "oh helen, there's katherine!" through the door at one side of the stage the freshman subs were coming, through the other the sophomores. out on the floor of the gym they ran, all in their dark blue gym suits with green or purple stripes on the right sleeves, tossing their balls from hand to hand, throwing them into the baskets, bouncing them adroitly out of one another's reach, trying to appear as unconcerned as if a thousand people were not applauding them madly and singing songs about them and wondering which of them would get a chance to play in the great game. in a moment a little whistle blew and the subs found their places on the edge of the stage, where they sat in a restive, eager row, each girl in readiness to take the field the moment she should be needed. the door of the sophomore room opened again and the "real team" ran out. then the gallery shook indeed! even the freshmen cheered when the mascot appeared hand in hand with the captain. he was a dashing little indian brave in full panoply of war-paint, beads, and feathers, with fringed leggins and a real navajo blanket. when he had finished his grand entry, which consisted of a war-dance, accompanied by ear-splitting war-whoops, he came to himself suddenly to find a thousand people staring at him, and he was somewhat appalled. he could not blush, for mary brooks had stained his face and neck a beautiful brick-red, and he lacked the courage to run away. so he waited, forlorn and uncomfortable, while the freshman team rushed in, circling gaily about a diminutive knight in shining silver armor, with a green plume. he marched proudly, but with some difficulty, for his helmet was down and his sword, which was much too long for him, had an unbecoming tendency to trip him up. when his hesitating steps had brought him to the middle of the gymnasium, the knight, apparently perceiving the indian for the first time, dropped his encumbering sword and rushed at his rival with sudden vehemence and blood-curdling cries. the little indian stared for a moment in blank amazement, then slipping off his blanket turned tail and ran, reaching the door long before his sophomore supporters could stop him. the knight meanwhile, left in full possession of the field, waited for a moment until the laughter and applause had died away into curiosity. then, deliberately reaching up one gauntleted hand, he pulled off his helmet, and disclosed the saucy, freckled face of the popular son of a favorite professor. he grinned cheerfully at the stage and the gallery, gallantly faced the junior-freshman side, and waving his green plume aloft yelled, "hip, hip, hurrah for the freshmen!" at the top of a pair of very strong lungs. then he raced off to find the seat which had been the price of his performance between two of his devoted admirers on the sub team, while the gallery, regardless of meaningless prohibitions and forgetful of class distinctions, cheered him to the echo. all of a sudden a businesslike air began to pervade the floor of the gymnasium. somebody picked up the knight's sword and the indian's blanket, and miss andrews took her position under the gallery. the ushers crowded onto the steps of the stage, and the members of the teams, who had gathered around their captains for a last hurried conference, began to find their places. "oh, i almost wished they'd sing for a while more," sighed betty. "do you?" answered helen absently. she was leaning out over the iron bar of the railing with her eyes glued to the smallest freshman centre. "why?" "oh, it makes me feel so thrilled and the songs are so clever and amusing, and the mascots so funny." "oh, yes," agreed helen. "the things here are all like that, but i want to see them play." "you mean you want to see her play," corrected betty merrily. "i don't believe you care for a single other thing but t. reed. where is she?" helen pointed her out proudly. "oh, what an awfully funny, thin little braid! isn't she comical in her gym suit, anyway? you wouldn't think she could play at all, would you, she's so small." "but she can," said helen stoutly. "don't i know it? i guarded her once--that is, i tried to. she's a perfect wonder. see, there's rachel up by our basket. katherine says she's fine too. helen, they're going to begin." the assistant gym teacher had the whistle now. she blew it shrilly. "play!" called miss andrews, and tossed the ball out over the heads of the waiting centres. a tall sophomore reached up confidently to grab it, but she found her hands empty. t. reed had jumped at it and batted it off sidewise. then she had slipped under cornelia thompson's famous "perpetual motion" elbow, and was on hand to capture the ball again when it bounced out from under a confused mass of homes and centres who were struggling over it on the freshman line. the freshmen clapped riotously. the sophomores looked at each other. freshman teams were always rattled, and "muffed" their plays just at first. what did this mean? oh, well, the homes would miss it. they did, and the sophomores breathed again, but only for a moment. then t. reed jumped and the ball went pounding back toward the freshman basket. this time a home got it, passed it successfully to rachel, and rachel poised it for an instant and sent it cleanly into the basket. the freshmen were shouting and thumping as if they had never heard that it was unlady-like (and incidentally too great a strain on the crowded gallery) to do so. miss andrews blew her whistle. "either the game will stop or you must be less noisy," she commanded, and amid the ominous silence that followed she threw the ball. this time t. reed missed her jump, and the tall sophomore got the ball and tossed it unerringly at captain marion lawrence, who was playing home on her team. she bounded it off in an unexpected direction and then passed it to a home nearer the basket, who on the second trial put it in. the sophomores clapped, but the freshmen smiled serenely. their home had done better, and they had t. reed! the next ball went off to one side. in the scramble after it two opposing centres grabbed it at once, and each claimed precedence. the game stopped while miss andrews and the line-men came up to hear the evidence. there was a breathless moment of indecision. then miss andrews took the ball and tossed up between the two contestants. but neither of them got it. instead, t. reed, slipping in between them, jumped for it again, and quick as a flash sent it flying toward the freshman goal. there was another breathless moment. could rachel morrison put it in from that distance? no, it had fallen just short and the sophomore guards were playing it along to the opposite end of the home space, possibly intending to---- ah! a stalwart sophomore guard, bracing herself for the effort, had tossed it over the heads of the centres straight across the gymnasium, and marion lawrence had it and was working toward the basket, meanwhile playing the ball back to a red haired competent-looking girl whose gray eyes twinkled merrily as her thin, nervous hands closed unerringly and vice-like around the big sphere. it was in the basket, and the freshmen's faces fell. "but maybe they've lost something on fouls," suggested betty hopefully. "and t. reed is just splendid," added helen. everybody was watching the gallant little centre now, but she watched only the ball. back and forth, up and down the central field she followed it, slipping and sliding between the other players, now bringing the ball down with a phenomenal quick spring, now picking it up from the floor, now catching it on the fly. the sophomore centres were beginning to understand her methods, but it was all they could do to frustrate her; they had no effort left for offensive tactics. generally because of their superior practice and team play, the sophomores win the inter-class game, and they do it in the first half, when the frightened freshmen, overwhelmed by the terrors of their unaccustomed situation, let the goals mount up so fast that all they can hope to do in the second half is to lighten their defeat. what business had t. reed to be so cool and collected? if she kept on, there was strong likelihood of a freshman victory. but she was so small, and cornelia thompson was guarding her--cornelia stuck like a burr, and the "perpetual motion" elbow had already circumvented t. reed more than once. after a long and stubborn battle, the freshmen scored another point. but in the next round the big sophomore guard repeated her splendid 'crossboard play, and again marion lawrence caught the ball. ah! captain lawrence is down, sliding heavily along the smooth floor; but in an instant she is up again, brushing the hair out of her eyes with one hand and making a goal with the other. "time!" calls miss andrews. "the goals are three to two, fouls not counted." the line-men gather to compare notes on those. the teams hurry off to their rooms, captain lawrence limping badly. the first half is finished. a little shivering sigh of relief swept over the audience. the front row in the gallery struggled to its feet to rest, the back rows sat down suddenly for the same purpose. "oh, doesn't it feel good to stretch out," said betty, pulling herself up by the railing and drawing helen after her. "aren't you tired to death sitting still?" "why no, i don't think so," answered helen vaguely. "it was so splendid that i forgot." "so did i mostly, but i'm remembering good and hard now. i ache all over." she waved her hand gaily to dorothy king, then caught mary brooks's eye across the hall and waved again. "t. reed is a dandy," she said. "and rachel was great. they were all great." "how do you suppose they feel now?" asked helen, a note of awe in her voice. "tired," returned betty promptly, "and thirsty, probably, and proud--awfully proud." she turned upon helen suddenly. "helen chase adams, do you know i might have been down there with the subs. katherine told me this morning that it was nip and tuck between marie austin and me. if i'd tried harder--played an inch better--think of it, helen, i might have been down there too!" "i couldn't do anything like that," said helen simply, "but next year i mean to write a song." betty looked at her solemnly. "you probably will. you're a good hard worker, helen. isn't it queer," she went on, "we're not a bit alike, but this game is making us feel the same way. i wonder if the others feel so too. perhaps it's one reason why they have this game--to wake us all up and make us want to do something worth while." "betty wales," called christy mason from the floor below. betty leaned over the railing. "don't forget that you're coming to dinner to-night. we're going to serenade the team. they'll be dining at the belden with miss andrews." kate denise joined her. she had never mentioned the afternoon in eleanor's room, but she took especial pains to be pleasant to betty. "hello, betty wales," she called up. "isn't it fine? don't you think we'll win? anyway miss andrews says it's the best game she ever saw." "betty wales," called dorothy king from her leader's box, "come to vespers with me to-morrow." betty met them all with friendly little nods and enthusiastic answers. then she turned back to helen. "it's funny, but i'm always interrupted when i'm trying to think," she said. "if there were six of me i think i might be six successful persons. but as it is, i suppose i shall always be just 'that little betty wales' and have a splendid time." "that would be enough for most people," said helen. "oh, i hope not," said betty soberly. "i don't amount to anything." she slipped down into her place again. the teams were coming back. "see laurie limp!" "their other home--the one with the red hair--looks as fresh as a may morning." "well, so does t. reed." "we have a fighting chance yet." thus the freshman gallery. but the second half opened with the rapid winning of three goals by the sophomores. cornelia thompson had evidently made up her mind that nobody so small as t. reed should get away from her and mar the reputation of her famous "ever moving and ever present" elbow. the other freshman centres were over-matched, and once marion lawrence and the red-haired home got the ball between them, a goal was practically a certainty. "play!" called miss andrews for the fourth time. t. reed's eyes flashed and her lips shut into a narrow determined line. another freshman centre got the ball and passed it successfully to t. reed, who gave it a pounding blow toward the freshman basket. a sophomore guard knocked it out of rachel morrison's hands, and it rolled on to the stage. there was a wild scuffle and the freshman balcony broke into tumultuous cheering, for a home who had missed all her previous chances had clutched it from under the president's chair and had scored at last. a moment later she did it again. there was a pause while a freshman guard was carried off with a twisted ankle and katherine kittredge ran to her place. then the sophomores scored twice. then the freshmen did likewise. "time!" called miss andrews sharply. the game was over. "score!" shrieked the galleries. then the freshmen bravely began to sing their team song, "there is a team of great renown." they were beaten, of course, but they were proud of that team. "the freshmen score one goal on fouls. score, six to eight in favor of the purple," announced miss andrews after a moment. "and i want to say----" it was unpardonably rude, but they could not help interrupting to cheer. "that i am proud of all the players. it was a splendid game," she finished, when the thoughtful ones had hushed the rest. then they cheered again. the sophomore team were carrying their captain around the gym on their shoulders; the freshmen, gathered in a brave little group, were winking hard and cheering with the rest. the gallery was emptying itself with incredible rapidity on to the floor. the stage was watching, and wishing--some of it--that it could go down on the floor and shriek and sing and be young and foolish generally. betty and helen ran down with the rest. "helen," whispered betty on the way, "i don't care what happens, i will, i will, i will make them sing to me some day. oh helen, don't you love --, and aren't you proud of it and of t. reed?" at the foot of the stairs they met the three b's. "come on, come on," cried the three. "we're going to sing to the sophomores," and they seized upon betty and bore her off to the corner where the freshmen were assembling. left to herself helen got into a nook by the door and watched. it was queer how much fun it was to watch, lately. "some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them:"--she had read it in the library that morning and it kept running in her head. was it selfish and conceited to want to be worth something to her college--to long to do something that would give her a place among the girls? a month ago theresa had stood with her high up on the bank and watched the current sweep by. now she was in the stream; even betty wales envied her; she had "achieved greatness." betty wanted to be sung to. well, no doubt she would be, in spite of the "interruptions"; she was "born great." helen aspired only to write a song to be sung. that wasn't very much, and she would try hard--theresa said it was all trying and caring--for she must somehow prove herself worthy of the greatness that had been "thrust upon" her. betty was in the centre of an excited group of freshmen. christy mason was there too; probably they were planning for the serenade. "she won't mind if i go," thought helen. she would have liked to speak to theresa, but she had delayed too long; the teams had disappeared. so she slipped out alone. there would be a long, quiet evening for theme work--for helen had elected mary's theme course at mid-years, though no one in the chapin house knew it. betty did not get home till quarter of ten, and then she went straight off to find katherine and rachel. "i came to see if there's anything left of rachel," she said. "there's a big bump on my forehead," said rachel, sitting up in bed with a faint smile. "i'm sure of that because it aches." "poor lady!" betty turned to katherine. "you got your chance, didn't you? i felt it in my bones that you would. wasn't it all splendid?" "yes indeed," assented the contestants heartily. "it made me feel so energetic," betty went on eagerly. "of course i felt proud of you and of --, just as i did at the rally, but there was something else, too. you'll see me going at things next term the way t. reed went at that ball." "you're one of the most energetic persons i know, as it is," said rachel, smiling at her earnestness. "yes," said betty impatiently. "i fly around and make a great commotion, but i fritter away my time, because i forget to keep my eyes on the ball. why, i haven't done anything this year." katherine pulled betty down beside her on the couch. "child, you've done a lot," she said. "we were just considering all you've done, and wondering why you weren't asked to usher to-day. you've sub-subed a lot and you know so many girls on the team and are such good friends with jean eastman." to her consternation betty felt a hot flush creeping up her neck and over her cheeks. it had been the one consolation in the trouble with eleanor that none of the chapin house girls had asked any questions or even appeared to notice that anything was wrong. "oh, i don't know miss eastman much," she said quickly. "and as for substituting on the subs, that was a great privilege. that wasn't anything to make me an usher for." "well, all the other girls who did it much ushered," persisted katherine. "christy mason and kate denise and that little ruth ford. and you'd have made such a stunning one." "goosie!" said betty, rising abruptly. "i know you girls want to go to bed. we'll talk it all over to-morrow." as she closed the door, rachel and katherine exchanged glances. "i told you there was trouble," said katherine, "and mark my words, eleanor watson is at the bottom of it somehow." "don't let's notice it again, though," answered the considerate rachel. "she evidently doesn't want to tell us about it." betty undressed almost in silence. her exhilaration had left her all at once and her ambition; life looked very complicated and unprofitable. as she went over to turn out the light, she noticed a sheet of paper, much erased and interlined, on helen's desk. "have you begun your song already?" she asked. "oh, no, i wrote a theme," said helen with what seemed needless embarrassment. but the theme was a little verse called "happiness." she got it back the next week heavily under-scored in red ink, and with a succinct "try prose," beneath it; but she was not discouraged. she had had one turn; she could afford to wait patiently for another, which, if you tried long enough and cared hard enough must come at last. chapter xvi a chance to help eleanor watson had gotten neither class spirit nor personal ambition from --'s "glorious old defeat," as katherine called it. the saturday afternoon of the game she had spent, greatly to the disgust of her friends, on the way to new york, whither she went for a sunday with caroline barnes. caroline's mother had been very ill, and the european trip was indefinitely postponed, but the family were going for a shorter jaunt to bermuda. caroline begged eleanor to join them. "you can come as well as not," she urged. "you know your father would let you--he always does. and we sail the very first day of your vacation too." "but you stay three weeks," objected eleanor, "and the vacation is only two." "what's the difference? say you were ill and had to stay over," suggested caroline promptly. eleanor's eyes flashed. "once for all, cara, please understand that's not my way of doing business nowadays. i should like to go, though, and i imagine my father wouldn't object. i'll write you if i can arrange it." she had quite forgotten her idle promise when, on the following monday morning, she stood in the registrar's office, waiting to get a record card for chapel attendance in place of one she had lost. the registrar was busy. eleanor waited while she discussed the pedagogical value of chemistry with a sophomore who had elected it, and now, after a semester and a half of gradually deteriorating work, wished to drop it because the smells made her ill. "does the fact that we sent you a warning last week make the smells more unendurable?" asked the registrar suggestively, and the sophomore retreated in blushing confusion. next in line was a nervous little girl who inquired breathlessly if she might go home right away--four days early. some friends who were traveling south in their private car had telegraphed her to meet them in albany and go with them to her home in charleston. "my dear, i'm sorry," began the registrar sympathetically, "but i can't let you go. we're going to be very strict about this vacation. a great many girls went home early at christmas, and it's no exaggeration to say that a quarter of the college came back late on various trivial excuses. this time we're not going to have that sort of thing. the girls who come back at all must come on time; the only valid excuse at either end of the vacation will be serious illness. i'm sorry." "so am i," said the little girl, with a pathetic quiver in her voice. "i never rode in a private car. but--it's no matter. thank you, miss stuart." eleanor had listened to the conversation with a curl of her lip for the stupid child who proffered her request in so unconvincing a manner, and an angry resentment against the authorities who should presume to dictate times and seasons. "they ought to have a system of cuts," she thought. "that's the only fair way. then you can take them when you please, and if you cut over you know it and you do it at your peril. here everything is in the air; you are never sure where you stand----" "what can i do for you, miss watson?" asked the registrar pleasantly. eleanor got her chapel card and hurried home to telegraph her father for permission to go to bermuda, and, as she knew exactly what his answer would be, to write caroline that she might expect her. "you know i always take a dare," she wrote. "my cuts last semester amounted to twice as much as this trip will use up, and if they make a fuss i shall just call their attention to what they let pass last time. please buy me a steamer-rug, a blue and green plaid one, and meet me at the forty-second street station at two on friday." betty knew nothing about eleanor's plans, beyond what she had been able to gather from chance remarks of the other girls; and that was not much, for every time the subject came up she hastened to change it, lest some one should discover that eleanor had told her nothing, and had scarcely spoken to her indeed for weeks. when eleanor finally went off, without a sign or a word of good-bye, betty discovered that she was dreadfully disappointed. she had never thought of the estrangement between them as anything but a temporary affair, that would blow over when eleanor's mortification over the debate was forgotten. she had felt sure that long before the term ended there would come a chance for a reconciliation, and she had meant to take the chance at any sacrifice of her pride. she was still fond of eleanor in spite of everything, and she was sorry for her too, for her quick eyes detected signs of growing unhappiness under eleanor's ready smiles. besides, she hated "schoolgirl fusses." she wanted to be on good terms with every girl in --. she wanted to come back to a spring term unclouded by the necessity for any of the evasions and subterfuges that concealment of the quarrel with eleanor and jean eastman's strange behavior had brought upon her. and now eleanor was gone; the last chance until after vacation had slipped through her fingers. at home she told nan all about her troubles, first exacting a solemn pledge of secrecy. "hateful thing!" said nan promptly. "drop her. don't think about her another minute." "then you don't think i was to blame?" asked betty anxiously. "to blame? no, certainly not. to be sure," nan added truthfully, "you were a little tactless. you knew she didn't know that you were in the secret of her having to resign, and you didn't intend to tell her, so it would have been better for you to let some one else help miss eastman out." "but i thought i was helping eleanor out." "in a way you were. but you see it wouldn't seem so to her. it would look as though you disapproved of her appointment." "but nan, she knows now that i knew." "then i suppose she concludes that you took advantage of knowing. you say that it made you quite prominent for a while. you see, dear, when a person isn't quite on the square herself----" but betty had burst into a storm of tears. "i am to blame," she sobbed. "i am to blame! i knew it, only i couldn't quite see how. oh, what shall i do? what shall i do?" "don't cry, dear," said nan in distress, at the unprecedented sight of betty in tears. "i tell you, you were not to blame. you were a little unwise perhaps at first, but miss watson has refused your apologies and explanations and only laughs at you when you try to talk to her about it. i should drop her at once and forever; but, if you are bound to bring her around, the only way i can think of is to look out for some chance to serve her and so prove your real friendship--though what sort of friend she can be i can't imagine." "nan, she's just like the girl in the rhyme," said betty seriously. "'when she was good she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid.' "eleanor is a perfect dear most of the time. and nan, there's something queer about her mother. she never speaks of her, and she's been at boarding school for eight years now, though she's not seventeen till may. think of that!" "it certainly makes her excusable for a good deal," said nan. "how is my friend helen chase adams coming on?" "why nan, she's quite blossomed out. she's really lots of fun now. but i had an awful time with her for a while," and she related the story of helen's winter of discontent. "i suppose that was my fault too," she finished. "i seem to be a regular blunderer." "you're a dear little sister, all the same," declared nan. "i say girls, come and play ping-pong," called will from the hall below, and the interview ended summarily. but the memory of eleanor watson seemed fated to pursue betty through her vacation. a few days later an old friend of mrs. wales, who had gone to denver to live some years before and was east on a round of visits, came in to call. the moment she heard that betty was at harding, she inquired for eleanor. "i'm so glad you know her," she said. "she's quite a protégé of mine and she needs nice friends like you if ever a girl did. don't mention it about college, betty, but she's had a very sad life. her mother was a strange woman--but there's no use going into that. she died when eleanor was a tiny girl, and eleanor and her brother jim have been at boarding schools ever since. in the summers, though, they were always with their father in denver. they worshiped him, particularly eleanor, and he has always promised her that when she was through school he would open the old watson mansion and she should keep house for him and jim. then last year a pretty little society girl, only four or five years older than eleanor, set her cap for the judge and married him. jim liked her, but eleanor was heart-broken, and the judge, seeing storms ahead, i suppose, and hoping that eleanor would get interested and want to finish the course, made her promise to go to harding for a year. now don't betray my confidence, betty, and do make allowances for eleanor. i hope she'll be willing to stay on at college. it's just what she needs. besides, she'd be very unhappy at home, and her aunt in new york isn't at all the sort of person for her to live with." so it came about that betty returned to college more than ever determined to get back upon the old footing with eleanor, and behold, eleanor was not there! the chapin house was much excited over her absence, for tales of the registrar's unprecedented hardness of heart had gone abroad, and almost nobody else had dared to risk the mysterious but awful possibilities that a late return promised. as betty was still supposed by most of the house to be in eleanor's confidence, she had to parry question after question as to her whereabouts. to, "did she tell you that she was coming back late?" she could truthfully answer "no." but the girls only laughed when she insisted that eleanor must be ill. "she boasts that she's never been ill in her life," said mary brooks. and adelaide rich always added with great positiveness, "it's exactly like her to stay away on purpose, just to see what will happen." unfortunately betty could not deny this, and she was glad enough to drop the argument. she had too many pleasant things to do to care to waste time in profitless discussion. for it was spring term. nobody but a harding girl knows exactly what that means. the freshman is very likely to consider the much heralded event only a pretty myth, until having started from home on a cold, bleak day that is springtime only by the calendar, she arrives at harding to find herself confronted by the genuine article. the sheltered situation of the town undoubtedly has something to do with its early springs, but the attitude of the harding girl has far more. she knows that spring term is the beautiful crown of the college year, and she is bound that it shall be as long as possible. so she throws caution and her furs to the winds and dons a muslin gown, plans drives and picnics despite april showers, and takes twilight strolls regardless of lurking germs of pneumonia. the grass grows green perforce and the buds swell to meet her wishes, while the sun, finding a creature after his brave, warm heart, does his gallant best for her. "do what little studying you intend to right away," mary brooks advised her freshmen. "before you know it, it will be too warm to work." "but at present it's too lovely," objected roberta. "then join the athletic association and trust to luck, but above all join the athletic association. i'm on the membership committee." "can i get into the golf club section this time?" asked betty, who had been kept on the waiting list all through the fall. "yes, you just squeeze in, and christy mason wants you to play round the course with her to-morrow." "i'm for tennis," said katherine. "miss lawrence and i are going to play as soon as the courts are marked out. by the way, when do the forget-me-nots blossom?" "has laurie roped you into that?" asked mary brooks scornfully. "don't jump at conclusions," retorted katherine. "i didn't have to jump. the wild ones blossom about the middle of may. you'll have to think of something else if you want to make an immediate conquest of your angel. and speaking of angels," added mary, who was sitting by a window, "eleanor watson is coming up the walk." the girls trooped out into the hall to greet eleanor, who met them all with the carefully restrained cordiality that she had used toward them ever since the break with betty. yes, bermuda had been charming, such skies and seas. yes, she was just a week late--exactly. no, she had not seen the registrar yet, but she had heard last term that excuses weren't being given away by the dozen. "i met a friend of yours during vacation," began betty timidly in the first pause. eleanor turned to her unsmilingly. "oh yes, mrs. payne," she said. "i believe she mentioned it. i saw her last night in new york." then she picked up her bag and walked toward her room with the remark that late comers mustn't waste time. the next day at luncheon some one inquired again about her excuse. eleanor shrugged her shoulders. "oh, that's all right; you needn't be at all anxious. the interview wasn't even amusing. the week is to be counted as unexcused absence--which as far as i can see means nothing whatever." "you may find out differently in june," suggested mary, nettled by eleanor's superior air. "oh, june!" said eleanor with another shrug. "i'm leaving in june, thank the fates!" "perhaps you'll change your mind after spring term. everybody says it's so much nicer," chirped helen. "possibly," said eleanor curtly, "but i really can't give you much encouragement, miss adams." whereat poor helen subsided meekly, scarcely raising her eyes from her plate through the rest of the meal. "better caution your friend eleanor not to air those sentiments of hers about unexcused absences too widely, or she'll get into trouble," said mary brooks to betty on the way up-stairs; but betty, intent on persuading roberta to come down-town for an ice, paid no particular attention to the remark, and it was three weeks before she thought of it again. she found eleanor more unapproachable than ever this term, but remembering nan's suggestion she resolved to bide her time. meanwhile there was no reason for not enjoying life to the utmost. golf, boating, walking, tennis--there were ten ways to spend every spare minute. but golf usually triumphed. betty played very well, and having made an excellent record in her first game with christy, she immediately found herself reckoned among the enthusiasts and expected to get into trim for the june tournament. some three weeks after the beginning of the term she went up to the club house in the late afternoon, intending to practice putting, which was her weak point and come home with christy and nita reese, another golf fiend, who had spent the whole afternoon on the course. but on the club house piazza she found dorothy king. dorothy played golf exceedingly well, as she did everything else; but as she explained to betty, "by junior year all this athletic business gets pretty much crowded out." she still kept her membership in the club, however, and played occasionally, "just to keep her hand in for the summer." she had done six holes this afternoon, all alone, and now she was resting a few moments before going home. she greeted betty warmly. "i looked for you out on the course," she said, "but your little pals thought you weren't coming up to-day. how's your game?" "better, thank you," said betty, "except my putting, and i'm going to practice on that now. did you know that christy had asked me to play with her in the inter-class foursomes?" "that's good," said dorothy cordially. "do you see much of eleanor watson these days?" she added irrelevantly. "why--no-t much," stammered betty, blushing in spite of herself. "i see her at meals of course." "i thought you told me once that you were very fond of her." "yes, i did--i am," said betty quickly, wondering what in the world dorothy was driving at. "she was down at the house last night," dorothy went on, "blustering around about having come back late, saying that she'd shown what a bluff the whole excuse business is, and that now, after she has proved that it's perfectly easy to cut over at the end of a vacation, perhaps some of us timid little creatures will dare to follow her lead. but perhaps you've heard her talking about it." "i heard her say a little about it," admitted betty, suddenly remembering mary brooks's remark. had the "trouble" that mary had foreseen anything to do with dorothy's questions? "she's said a great deal about it in the last two weeks," went on dorothy. "last night after she left, her senior friend, annette cramer, and i had a long talk about it. we both agreed that somebody ought to speak to her, but i hardly know her, and annette says that she's tried to talk to her about other things and finds she hasn't a particle of influence with her." dorothy paused as if expecting some sort of comment or reply, but betty was silent. "we both thought," said dorothy at last, "that perhaps if you'd tell her she was acting very silly and doing herself no end of harm she might believe you and stop." "oh, miss king, i couldn't," said betty in consternation. "she wouldn't let me--indeed she wouldn't!" "she told annette once that she admired you more than any girl in college," urged dorothy quietly, "so your opinion ought to have some weight with her." "she said that!" gasped betty in pleased amazement. then her face fell. "i'm sorry, miss king, but i'm quite sure she's changed her mind. i couldn't speak to her; but would you tell me please just why any one should--why you care?" "why, of course, it's not exactly my business," said dorothy, "except that i'm on the students' commission, and so anything that is going wrong is my business. miss watson is certainly having a bad influence on the girls she knows in college, and besides, if that sort of talk gets to the ears of the authorities, as it's perfectly certain to do if she keeps on, she will be very severely reprimanded, and possibly asked to leave, as an insubordinate and revolutionary character. the students' commission aims to avoid all that sort of thing, when a quiet hint will do it. but miss watson seems to be unusually difficult to approach; i'm afraid if you can't help us out, betty, we shall have to let the matter rest." she gathered up her caddy-bag. "i must get the next car. don't do it unless you think best. or if you like ask some one else. annette and i couldn't think of any one, but you know better who her friends are." she was off across the green meadow. betty half rose to follow, then sank back into her chair. dorothy had not asked for an answer; she had dropped the matter, had left it in her hands to manage as she thought fit, appealing to her as a friend of eleanor's, a girl whom eleanor admired. "whom she used to admire," amended betty with a sigh. but what could she do? a personal appeal was out of the question; it would effect nothing but a widening of the breach between them. could kate denise help? she never came to see eleanor now. neither did jean eastman--why almost nobody did; all her really intimate friends seemed to have dropped away from her. and yet she must think of some one, for was not this the opportunity she had so coveted? it might be the very last one too, thought betty. "if anything happened to hurt eleanor's feelings again, she wouldn't wait till june. she'd go now." she considered girl after girl, but rejected them all for various reasons. "she wouldn't take it from any girl," she decided, and with that decision came an inspiration. why not ask ethel hale? ethel had tried to help eleanor before, was interested in her, and understood something of her moody, many-sided temperament. she had put eleanor in her debt too; she could urge her suggestion on the ground of a return favor. in an instant betty's mind was made up. she looked ruefully at her dusty shoes and mussed shirt-waist. "i can't go to see ethel in these," she decided, "but if i hurry home now i can dress and go right up there after dinner, before she gets off anywhere." the putting must wait. with one regretful glance out over the green, breezy course betty started resolutely off toward the dusty highway and the noisy trolleys. chapter xvii an ounce of prevention "i wish i could do it, betty, but i'm sure it wouldn't be the least use for me to try. i thought i had a little hold on her for a while, but i'm afraid i was too sure of her. she avoids me now--goes around corners and into recitation rooms when she sees me coming. you see--i wonder if she told you about our trip to new york?" betty nodded, wishing she dared explain the full extent of her information. "i thought so from your coming up here to-night. well, as you've just said, she's very reserved, strangely so for a young girl; when she lets out anything about herself she wishes that she hadn't the next minute." "yes, i've noticed that," admitted betty grudgingly. "and so, having once let me get a glimpse of her better self, and then having decided as usual that she wished she hadn't, she needed a proof from me that i was worthy of her confidence. but i didn't give it; i was busy and let the matter drop, and now i am the last person who could go to her. i'm very sorry." "oh, dear!" said betty forlornly. "but isn't it so? don't you agree with me?" "i'm afraid i do." "then go back and speak to her yourself, dear. she's very fond of you, and i'm sure a little friendly hint from you is all that she needs." "no, i can't speak to her either, ethel. you wouldn't suggest it if you knew how things are between us. but i see that you can't. thank you just as much. no, i mustn't stop to-night." betty walked down the elm-shaded street lost in thought. eleanor had declaimed upon the foolishness of coming back on time after vacations through most of the dinner hour, and betty understood as she had not that afternoon what dorothy meant. but now her one hope had failed her; ethel had shown good cause why she should not act as eleanor's adviser and betty had no idea what to do next. "hello, betty wales! christy and i thought we saw you up at the golf club this afternoon." nita reese's room overlooked the street and she was hanging out her front window. "i was up there," said betty soberly, "but i had to come right back. i didn't play at all." "then i should say it was a waste of good time to go up," declared nita amiably. "you'd better be on hand to-morrow. the juniors are going to be awfully hard to beat." "i'll try," said betty unsmilingly, and nita withdrew her head from the window, wondering what could be the matter with her usually cheerful friend. at the corner of meriden place betty hesitated. then, noticing that mrs. chapin's piazza was full of girls, she crossed main street and turned into the campus, following the winding path that led away from the dwelling-houses through the apple orchard. there were seats along this path. betty chose one on the crest of the hill, screened in by a clump of bushes and looking off toward paradise and the hills beyond. there she sat down in the warm spring dusk to consider possibilities. and yet what was the use of bothering her head again when she had thought it all over in the afternoon? arguments that she might have made to ethel occurred to her now that it was too late to use them, but nothing else. she would go back to dorothy, explain why she could not speak to eleanor herself, and beg her to take back the responsibility which she had unwittingly shifted to the wrong shoulders. she would go straight off too. she had found an invitation to a spread at the belden house scrawled on her blotting pad at dinner time, and she might as well be over there enjoying herself as here worrying about things she could not possibly help. as she got up from her seat she glanced at the hill that sloped off below her. it was the dust-pan coasting ground. how different it looked now in its spring greenery! betty smiled at the memory of her mishap. how nice eleanor had been to her then. and miss ferris! if only miss ferris would speak to eleanor. "why, perhaps she will," thought betty, suddenly remembering miss ferris's note. "i could ask her to, anyway. but--she's a faculty. well, ethel is too, though i never thought of it." and dorothy had wanted betty's help in keeping the matter out of the hands of the authorities. "but this is different," betty decided at last. "i'm asking them not as officials, but just as awfully nice people, who know what to say better than we girls do. miss king would think that was all right." without giving herself time to reconsider, betty sped toward the hilton house. all sorts of direful suppositions occurred to her while she waited for a maid to answer her ring. what if miss ferris had forgotten about writing the note, or had meant it for what nan called "a polite nothing"? perhaps it would be childish to speak of it anyway. perhaps miss ferris would have other callers. if not, how should she tell her story? "i ought to have taken time to think," reflected betty, as she followed the maid down the hall to miss ferris's rooms. miss ferris was alone; nevertheless betty fidgeted dreadfully during the preliminary small-talk. somebody would be sure to come in before she could get started, and she should never, never dare to come again. at the first suggestion of a pause she plunged into her business. "miss ferris, i want to ask you something, but i hated to do it, so i came right along as soon as i decided that i'd better, and now i don't know how to begin." "just begin," advised miss ferris, laughing. "that is what they say to you in theme classes," said betty, "but it never helped me so very much, somehow. well, i might begin by telling you why i thought i could come to you." "unless you really want to tell that you might skip it," said miss ferris, "because i don't need to be reminded that i shall always be glad to do anything i can for my good friend betty wales." "oh, thank you! that helps a lot," said betty gratefully, and went on with her story. miss ferris listened attentively. "miss watson is the girl with the wonderful gray eyes and the lovely dark hair. i remember. she comes down here a great deal to see miss cramer, i think. it's a pity, isn't it, that she hasn't great good sense to match her beauty? so you want me to speak to her about her very foolish attitude toward our college life. suppose i shouldn't succeed in changing her mind?" "oh, you would succeed," said betty eagerly. "mary brooks says you can argue a person into anything." miss ferris laughed again. "i'm glad miss brooks approves of my argumentative ability, but are you sure that miss watson is the sort of person with whom argument is likely to count for anything? did you ever know her to change her mind on a subject of this sort, because her friends disapproved of her?" betty hesitated. "yes--yes, i have. excuse me for not going into particulars, miss ferris, but there was a thing she did when she came here that she never does now, because she found how others felt about it. indeed, i think there are several things." miss ferris nodded silently. "then why not appeal to the same people who influenced her before?" it was the question that betty had been dreading, but she met it unflinchingly. "one of them thinks she has lost her influence, miss ferris, and another one who helped a little bit before, can't, because--i'm that one, miss ferris. i unintentionally did something last term that made eleanor angry with me. it made her more dissatisfied and unhappy here too; so when i heard about this i felt as if i was a little to blame for it, and then i wanted to make up for the other time too. but of course it is a good deal to ask of you." betty slid forward on to the edge of her chair ready to accept a hasty dismissal. miss ferris waited a moment. "i shall be very glad to do it," she said at last. "i wanted to be sure that i understood the situation and that i could run a chance of helping miss watson. i think i can, but you must forgive me if i make a bad matter worse. i'll ask her to have tea with me to-morrow. may i send a note by you?" "of course you won't tell her that i spoke to you?" asked betty anxiously, when miss ferris handed her the note. miss ferris promised and betty danced out into the night. half-way home she laughed merrily all to herself. "what's the joke?" said a girl suddenly appearing around the corner of the main building. "it was on me," laughed betty, "so you can't expect me to tell you what it was." it had just occurred to her that, as there was no possibility of eleanor's finding out her part in miss ferris's intervention, a reconciliation was as far away as ever. "she wouldn't like it if she should find out," thought betty, "and perhaps it was just another tactless interference. well, i'm glad i didn't think of all these things sooner, for i believe it was the right thing to do, and it was a lot easier doing it while i hoped it might bring us together, as nan said. i wonder what kind of things nan meant." she dropped the note on the hall table and slipped softly up-stairs. as she sat down at her desk she looked at the clock and hesitated. it was not so late as she had thought, only quarter of nine. there was still time to go back to the belden. but after a moment's wavering betty began getting out of her dress and into a kimono. since the day of the basket-ball game she had honestly tried not to let the little things interfere with the big, nor the mere "interruptions" that were fun and very little more loom too large in her scale of living. "livy to-night and golf to-morrow," she told the green lizard, as she sat down again and went resolutely to work. when eleanor came in to dinner the next evening betty could hardly conceal her excitement. would she say anything? if she said nothing what would it mean? the interview had apparently not been a stormy one. eleanor looked tired, but not in the least disturbed or defiant. she ate her dinner almost in silence, answering questions politely but briefly and making none of her usual effort to control and direct the conversation. but just as the girls were ready to leave the table she broke her silence. "wait a minute," she said. "i want to ask you please to forget all the foolish things i said last night at dinner. i've said them a good many times, and i can't contradict them to every one, but i can here--and i want to. i've thought more about it since yesterday, and i see that i hadn't at all the right idea of the situation. the students at a college are supposed to be old enough to do the right thing about vacations without the attaching of any childish penalty to the wrong thing. but we all of us get careless; then a public sentiment must be created against the wrong things, like cutting over. that was what the registrar was trying to do. anybody who stays over as i did makes it less possible to do without rules and regulations and penalties--in other words hurts the tone of the college, just as a man who likes to live in a town where there are churches but never goes to them himself, unfairly throws the responsibility of church-going on to the rest of the community. i hadn't thought of it in that way; i didn't mean to be a shirk, but i was one." a profound silence greeted eleanor's argument. mary rich, who had been loud in her championship of eleanor's sentiments the night before, looked angry at this sudden desertion; and mary brooks tried rather unsuccessfully not to smile. the rest were merely astonished at so sudden a change of mind. finally betty gave a little nervous cough and in sheer desperation began to talk. "that's a good enough argument to change any one's mind," she said. "isn't it queer how many different views of a subject there are?" "of some subjects," said eleanor pointedly. it was exactly what betty should have expected, but she couldn't help being a little disappointed. eleanor had just shown herself so fine and downright, so willing to make all the reparation in her power for a course whose inconsistency had been proved to her. it was very disheartening to find that she cherished the old, reasonless grudge as warmly as ever. but if betty had accomplished nothing for herself, she had done all that she hoped for eleanor, and she tried to feel perfectly satisfied. "i think too much about myself, anyway," she told the green lizard, who was the recipient of many confidences about this time. the rest of the month sped by like the wind. as betty thought it over afterward, it seemed to have been mostly golf practice and bird club. roberta organized the bird club. its object, according to her, was to assist mary brooks with her zoology by finding bird haunts and conveying mary to them; its ultimate development almost wrought mary's ruin. mary had elected a certain one year course in zoology on the supposition that one year, general courses are usually "snaps," and the further theory that every well conducted student will have one "snap" on her schedule. these propositions worked well together until the spring term, when zoology a resolved itself into a bird-study class. mary, who was near-sighted, detested bird-study, and hardly knew a crow from a kinglet, found life a burden, until roberta, who loved birds and was only too glad to get a companion on her walks in search of them, organized what she picturesquely named "the mary-bird club." rachel and adelaide immediately applied for admission, and about the time that mary appropriated the forget-me-nots that katherine had gathered for marion lawrence and wore them to a dance on the plea that they exactly matched her evening dress, and also decoyed betty into betraying her connection with the freshman grind-book, katherine and betty joined. they seldom accompanied the club on its official walks, preferring to stroll off by themselves and come back with descriptions of the birds they had seen for mary and roberta to identify. occasionally they met a friendly bird student who helped them with their identifications on the spot, and then, when roberta was busy, they would take mary out in search of "their birds," as they called them. oddly enough they always found these rare species a second time, though mary, because of her near-sightedness, had to be content with a casual glance at them. "but what you've seen, you've seen," she said. "i've got to see fifty birds before june st; that doesn't necessarily mean see them so you'll know them again. now i shouldn't know the nestle or the shelcuff, but i can put them down, can't i?" "of course," assented katherine, "a few rare birds like those will make your list look like something." the pink-headed euthuma, which came to light on the very last day of may, interested mary so much that she told roberta about it immediately and roberta questioned the discoverers. their accounts were perfectly consistent. "way out on paradise path, almost to the end, we met a man dashing around as if he were crazy," explained betty. "we should have thought he was an escaped lunatic if we hadn't seen others like him." "yes," continued katherine. "but he acted too much like you to take us in. so we said we were interested in birds too, and he danced around some more and said we had come upon a rare specimen. then he pointed to the top of an enormous pine-tree----" "those rare birds are always in the very tops of trees," put in mary eagerly. "of course; that's one reason they're rare," went on betty. "but that minute it flew into the top of a poplar, and we three pursued it. it was a beauty." "and then you came back after me, and it was still there. tell her how it was marked," suggested mary. "perhaps she knows it under some other name." "it had a pink head, of course," said katherine, "and blue wings." "goodness!" exclaimed roberta suspiciously. "don't you mean black wings, katherine?" asked betty hastily. "did i say blue? i meant black of course. mary thought they looked blue and that confused me. and its breast was white with brown marks on it." "what size was it?" asked roberta. katherine looked doubtful. "what should you say, mary?" "well, it was quite small--about the size of a sparrow or a robin, i thought." "they're quite different sizes," said roberta wearily. "your old man must have been color-blind. it couldn't have had a pink head. who ever heard of a pink-headed bird?" "we three are not color-blind," katherine reminded her. "and then there's the name." roberta sighed deeply. the new members of the mary-bird club were very unmanageable. meanwhile mary was industriously counting the names on her list, which must be handed in the next day. "i think i'd better put the euthuma down, roberta," she said finally. "we saw it all right. they won't look the list over very carefully, but they will notice how many birds are on it, and even with the pink-headed euthuma i haven't but forty-five. i rather wish now that i'd bought a text-book, but i thought it was a waste of money when you knew all about the birds, and it would certainly be a waste of money now." "oh, yes," said roberta. "if only the library hadn't wanted its copy back quite so soon!" "it was disagreeable of them, wasn't it?" said mary cheerfully, copying away on her list. "you were going to look up the nestle too. girls, did we hear the nestle sing?" "it whistled like a blue jay," said katherine promptly. "it couldn't," protested roberta. "you said it was only six inches long." "on the plan of a blue jay's call, but smaller, roberta," explained betty pacifically. "well, it's funny that you can never find any of these birds when i'm with you," said roberta. katherine looked scornful. "we were mighty lucky to see them even twice, i think," she retorted. next day mary came home from zoology a, which to add to its other unpleasant features met in the afternoon, wearing the air of a martyr to circumstance. roberta, katherine and betty happened to be sitting on the piazza translating livy together. "girls," she demanded, as she came up the steps, "if i get you the box of huyler's that mr. burgess sent me will you tell me the truth about those birds?" "she had the lists read in class!" shouted katherine. "i knew it!" said roberta in tragic tones. "did you tell her about the shelcuff's neck?" inquired betty. mary sat down on the piazza railing with her feet cushioned on a lexicon. "i told her all about the shelcuff," she said, "likewise the euthuma and the nestle. what is more, the head of the zoology department was visiting the class, so i also told him, and when i stayed to explain he stayed too, and--oh, you little wretches!" "not at all," said katherine. "we waited until you'd made a reputation for cleverness and been taken into a society. i think we were considerateness itself." roberta was gazing sadly at mary. "why did you try all those queer ones?" she asked. "you knew i wasn't sure of them." "i had to, my dear. she asked us for the rare names on our lists. i was the third one she came to, and the others had floundered around and told about birds i'd never heard of. i didn't really know which of mine were rare, because i'd never seen any of them but once, you know, and i was afraid i should strike something that was a good deal commoner than a robin, and then it would be all up with me. so i boldly read off these three, because i was sure they were rare. you should have seen her face when i got to the pink-headed one," said mary, beginning suddenly to appreciate the humor of the situation. "did you invent them?" "only the names," said betty, "and the stories about finding them. i thought of nestle, and katherine made up the others. aren't they lovely names, roberta?" "yes," said roberta, "but think of the fix mary is in." mary smiled serenely. "don't worry, roberta," she said. "the names were so lovely and the shelcuff's neck and the note of the nestle and all, and i am honestly so near-sighted, that i don't think miss carter will have the heart to condition me. but girls, where did you get the descriptions? professor lawrence particularly wanted to know." betty looked at katherine and the two burst into peals of laughter. "mary brooks, you invented most of those yourself," explained katherine, when she could speak. "we just showed you the first bird we happened to see and told you its new name and you'd say, 'why it has a green crest and yellow wings!' or 'how funny its neck is! it must have a pouch.' all we had to do was to encourage you a little." "and suppress you a little when you put colors like pink and blue into the same bird," continued betty, "so roberta wouldn't get too suspicious." "then those birds were just common, ordinary ones that i'd seen before?" "exactly. the nestle was a blue jay, and the euthuma was a sparrow. we couldn't see what the shelcuff was ourselves, the tree was so tall. "'the primrose by a river's brim, a yellow primrose was to him, and it was nothing more.'" quoted mary blithely. "you can never put that on my tombstone." "better tell your friend dr. hinsdale about your vivid ornithological imagination," suggested katherine. "it might interest him." "oh, i shall," said mary easily. "but to-night, young ladies, you will be pleased to learn that i am invited up to professor lawrence's to dinner, so that i can see his bird skins. incidentally i shall meet his fascinating brother. in about ten minutes i shall want to be hooked up, roberta." "she's one too many for us, isn't she?" said katherine, as mary went gaily off, followed by the devoted roberta, declaring in loud tones that the mary-bird club was dissolved. "i wish things that go wrong didn't bother me any more than they do her," said betty wistfully. "cheer up," urged katherine, giving her a bearish hug. "you'll win in the golf again to-morrow, and everything will come out all right in the end." "everything? what do you mean?" inquired betty sharply. "why, singles and doubles--twosomes and foursomes you call them, don't you? they'll all come out right." a moment later katherine burst in upon her long-suffering roommate with a vehemence that made every cup on the tea-table rattle. "i almost let her know what we thought," she said, "but i guess i smoothed it over. do you suppose eleanor watson isn't going to make up with her at all?" chapter xviii into paradise--and out it was a glorious summer twilight. the air was sweet with the odor of lilacs and honeysuckle. one by one the stars shone softly out in the velvet sky, across which troops of swallows swooped and darted, twittering softly on the wing. near the western horizon the golden glow of sunset still lingered. it was a night for poets to sing of, a night to revel in and to remember; but it was assuredly not a night for study. gaslight heated one's room to the boiling point. closed windows meant suffocation; open ones--since there are no screens in the harding boarding house--let in troops of fluttering moths and burly june-bugs. "and the moral of that is, work while it is yet light," proclaimed mary brooks, ringing her bicycle bell suggestively. there was a sudden commotion on the piazza and then betty's clear voice rose above the tumult. "we won it, one up! isn't that fine? oh no, not the singles; we go on with them to-morrow, but i can't possibly win. oh, i'm so hot!" eleanor watson smiled grimly as these speeches floated up to her from below. she had been lounging all the breathless afternoon, trying vainly to get rid of a headache; and the next day's lessons were still to be learned. "ouch, how i hate june-bugs," she muttered, stopping for the fifth time in as many minutes to drive out a buzzing intruder. she had just gotten one out when another flew straight at her unperceived and tangled himself in her hair. that was the limit of endurance. with one swift movement eleanor turned off the gas, with another she pulled down her hair and released the prisoned beetle. then she twisted up the soft coil again in the dark and went out into the sweet spring dusk. at the next corner she gave an angry little exclamation and turned back toward the house. the girls had deserted the piazza before she came down, and now the only light seemed to be in betty's room. every window there was shut, so it was no use to call. eleanor climbed the stairs and knocked. katherine and betty were just starting for a trolley ride, to cool off the champion, katherine explained; but helen was going to be in all the evening. "i pity you from the bottom of my heart," said eleanor, "but if you are really going to be here would you tell lil day when she comes that i have an awful headache and have gone off--that i'll see her to-morrow. i could go down there, but if she's in, her room will be fuller of june-bugs than mine. hear them slam against that glass!" she turned to betty stiffly. "i congratulate you on your victory," she said. "oh thank you!" answered betty eagerly. "christy did most of it. would--won't you come out with us?" "no, thank you. i feel like being all alone. i'm going down for a twilight row on paradise." "you'll get malaria," said katherine. "you'll catch cold, too, in that thin dress," added helen. "i don't mind, if only i don't see any june-bugs," answered eleanor, "or any girls," she added under her breath, when she had gained the lower hall. the quickest way to paradise was through the campus, but eleanor chose an unfrequented back street, too ugly to attract the parties of girls who swarmed over the college grounds, looking like huge white moths as they flitted about under the trees. she walked rapidly, trying to escape thought in activity; but the thoughts ill-naturedly kept pace with her. as everybody who came in contact with eleanor watson was sure to remark, she was a girl brimful of strong possibilities both for good and evil; and to-night these were all awake and warring. her year of bondage at college was nearly over. only the day before she had received a letter from judge watson, coldly courteous, like all his epistles to his rebellious daughter, inquiring if it was her wish to return to harding another year, and in the same mail had come an invitation from her aunt, asking her to spend the following winter in new york. eleanor shrewdly guessed that in spite of her father's disapproval of his sister's careless frivolity, he would allow her to accept this invitation, for the obvious relief it would bring to himself and the second mrs. watson. he was fond of her, that she did not for a moment question, and he honestly wished her best good; but he did not want her in his house in her present mood. "for which i don't in the least blame him," thought eleanor. she had started to answer his letter immediately, as he had wished, and then had hesitated and delayed, so that the decision involved in her reply was still before her. and yet why should she hesitate? she did not like harding college; she had kept the letter of her agreement to stay there for one year; surely she was free now to do as she pleased--indeed, her father had said as much. but what did she please--that was a point that, unaccountably, she could not settle. lately something had changed her attitude toward the life at harding. perhaps it was the afternoon with miss ferris, with the perception it had brought of aims and ideals as foreign to the ambitious schemes with which she had begun the year as to the angry indifference in which she was finishing it. perhaps, as poor helen had suggested, it was the melting loveliness of spring term. at any rate, as she heard the girls making their plans for the next year, squabbling amiably over the merits of the various campus houses, choosing roommates, bargaining for furniture, even securing partners for the commencement festivities still three years off, an unexplainable longing to stay on and finish the four years' drama with the rest had seized upon eleanor. but each time it came she had stifled it, reminding herself sternly that for her the four years held no pleasant possibilities; she had thrown away her chance--had neglected her work, alienated her friends, disappointed every one, and most of all herself. there was nothing left for her now but to go away beaten--not outwardly, for she still flattered herself that she had proved both to students and faculty her ability to make a very brilliant record at harding had she been so inclined, and even her superiority to the drudgery of the routine work and the childish recreations. but in her heart of hearts eleanor knew that this very disinclination to make the most of her opportunities, this fancied superiority to requirements that jarred on her undisciplined, haphazard training, was failure far more absolute and inexcusable than if dulness or any other sort of real inability to meet the requirements of the college life had been at the bottom of it. her father would know it too, if the matter ever came to his notice; and her brother jim, who was making such a splendid record at cornell--he would know that, as betty wales had said once, quoting her sister's friend, "every nice girl likes college, though each has a different reason." well, jim had thought for two years that she was a failure. eleanor gulped hard to keep back the tears; she had meant to be everything to jim, and she was only an annoyance. it was almost dark by the time she reached the landing. a noisy crowd of girls, who had evidently been out with their supper, were just coming in. they exclaimed in astonishment when her canoe shot out from the boat-house. "it's awfully hard to see your way," called one officious damsel. "i can see in the dark like an owl," sang back eleanor, her good-humor restored the instant her paddle touched water,--for boating was her one passion. ah, but it was lovely on the river! she glided around the point of an island and was alone at last, with the stars, the soft, grape-scented breezes, and the dark water. she pulled up the stream with long, swift strokes, and then, where the trees hung low over the still water, she dropped the paddle, and slipping into the bottom of the canoe, leaned back against a cushioned seat and drank in the beauty of the darkness and solitude. she had never been out on paradise river at night. "and i shall never come again except at night," she resolved, breathing deep of the damp, soft air. malaria--who cared for that? and when she was cold she could paddle a little and be warm again in a moment. suddenly she heard voices and saw two shapes moving slowly along the path on the bank. "oh, do hurry, margaret," said one. "i told her i'd be there by eight. besides, it's awfully dark and creepy here." "i tell you i can't hurry, lil," returned the other. "i turned my ankle terribly back there, and i must sit down and rest, creeps or no creeps." "oh, very well," agreed the other voice grudgingly, and the shapes sank down on a knoll close to the water's edge. eleanor had recognized them instantly; they were her sophomore friend, lilian day, and margaret payson, a junior whom eleanor greatly admired. her first impulse was to call out and offer to take the girls back in her canoe. then she remembered that the little craft would hold only two with safety, that the girls would perhaps be startled if she spoke to them, and also that she had come down to paradise largely to escape lil's importunate demands that she spend a month of her vacation at the day camp in the adirondacks. so, certain that they would never notice her in the darkness and the thick shadows, she lay still in the bottom of her boat and waited for them to go on. "it's a pity about her, isn't it?" said miss payson, after she had rubbed her ankle for a while in silence. "about whom?" inquired lilian crossly. "why, eleanor watson; you just spoke of having an engagement with her. she seems to have been a general failure here." eleanor started at the sound of her own name, then lay tense and rigid, waiting for lilian's answer. she knew it was not honorable to listen, and she certainly did not care to do so; but if she cried out now, after having kept silent so long, lilian, who was absurdly nervous in the dark, might be seriously frightened. perhaps she would disagree and change the subject. but no---- "yes, a complete failure," repeated lilian distinctly. "isn't it queer? she's really very clever, you know, and awfully amusing, besides being so amazingly beautiful. but there is a little footless streak of contrariness in her--we noticed it at boarding-school,--and it seems to have completely spoiled her." "it is queer, if she is all that you say. perhaps next year she'll be----" "oh, she isn't coming back next year," broke in lilian. "she hates it here, you know, and she sees that she's made a mess of it, too, though she wouldn't admit it in a torture chamber. she thinks she has shown that college is beneath her talents, i suppose." "little goose! is she so talented?" "yes, indeed. she sings beautifully and plays the guitar rather well--she'd surely have made one of the musical clubs next year--and she can act, and write clever little stories. oh, she'd have walked into everything going all right, if she hadn't been such a goose--muddled her work and been generally offish and horrid." "too bad," said miss payson, rising with a groan. "who do you think are the bright and shining stars among the freshmen, lil?" "why marion lustig for literary ability, of course, and emily davis for stunts and christy mason for general all-around fineness, and socially--oh, let me think--the b's, i should say, and--i forget her name--the little girl that dottie king is so fond of. here, take my arm, margaret. you've got to get home some way, you know." their voices trailed off into murmurs that grew fainter and fainter until the silence of the river and the wood was again unbroken. eleanor sat up stiffly and stretched her arms above her head in sheer physical relief after the strain of utter stillness. then, with a little sobbing cry, she leaned forward, bowing her head in her hands. paradise--had they named it so because one ate there of the fruit of the tree of knowledge? "a little footless streak!" "an utter failure!" what did it matter? she had known it all before. she had said those very words herself. but she had thought--she had been sure that other people did not understand it that way. well, perhaps most people did not. no, that was nonsense. lilian day had achieved a position of prominence in her class purely through a remarkable alertness to public sentiment. margaret payson, a girl of a very different and much finer type, stood for the best of that sentiment. eleanor had often admired her for her clear-sightedness and good judgment. they had said unhesitatingly that she was a failure; then the college thought so. well, it was jean eastman's fault then, and caroline's, and betty wales's. nonsense! it was her own. should she go off in june and leave her name spelling failure behind her? or should she come back and somehow change the failure to success? could she? she had no idea how long she sat there, turning the matter over in her mind, viewing it this way and that, considering what she could do if she came back, veering between a desire to go away and forget it all in the gay bustle of a new york winter, and the fierce revolt of the famous watson pride, that found any amount of effort preferable to open and acknowledged defeat. but it must have been a long time, for when she pulled herself on to her seat and caught up the paddle, she was shivering with cold and her thin dress was dripping wet with the mist that lay thick over the river. slowly she felt her way down-stream, pushing through the bank of fog, often running in shore in spite of her caution, and fearful every moment of striking a hidden rock or snag. soft rustlings in the wood, strange plashings in the stream startled her. lower down was the bewildering net-work of islands. surely there were never so many before. was the boat-house straight across from the last island, or a little down-stream? which was straight across? and where was the last island? she had missed it somehow in the mist. she was below it, out in the wide mill-pond. somewhere on the other side was the boat-house, and further down was a dam. down-stream must be straight to the left. all at once the roar of the descending water sounded in eleanor's ears, and to her horror it did not come from the left. but when she tried to tell from which direction it did come, she could not decide; it seemed to reverberate from all sides at once; it was perilously near and it grew louder and more terrible every moment. suddenly a fierce, unreasoning fear took possession of eleanor. she told herself sternly that there was no danger; the current in paradise river was not so strong but that a good paddler could stem it with ease. in a moment the mist would lift and she could see the outline of one shore or the other. but the mist did not lift; instead it grew denser and more stifling, and although she turned her canoe this way and that and paddled with all her strength, the roar from the dam grew steadily to an ominous thunder. then she remembered a gruesome legend that hung about the dam and the foaming pool in the shadow of the old mill far below, and dropped her paddle in an agony of fear. she might hurry herself over the dam in striving to escape it! and still the deafening torrent pounded in her ears. if only she could get away from it--somewhere--anywhere just to be quiet. would it be quiet in the pool by the mill? eleanor slipped unsteadily into the bottom of her boat and tried to peer through the darkness at the black water, and to feel about with her hands for the current. as she did so, a bell rang up on the campus. it must be twenty minutes to ten. eleanor gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. how stupid she had been! she would call, of course. if she could hear their bell, they could hear her voice and come for her. there would be an awkward moment of explanation, but what of that? "hallo! hallo--o-o!" she called. only the boom of the water answered. "hallo! hallo--o-o!" again the boom of the water swallowed her cry and drowned it. it was no use to call,--only a waste of strength. eleanor caught up her paddle and began to back water with all her might. that was what she should have done from the first, of course. she was cold all at once and very tired, but she would not give up yet. she had quite forgotten that only a little while before it had not seemed to matter much what became of her. "but if i can't keep at it all night----" she said to the mist and the river. chapter xix a last chance helen's choice of closed windows in preference to invading companies of moths and june-bugs had made the room so insufferably warm that between heat and excitement betty could not get to sleep. instead she tossed restlessly about on her narrow couch, listening to the banging of the trolleys at the next corner and wishing she were still sitting on the breezy front seat, as the car dashed down the long hill toward the station. at length she slipped softly out of bed and opened the door. perhaps the breeze would come in better then. as she stood for a moment testing the result of her experiment, she noticed with surprise that eleanor's door was likewise open. this simple fact astonished her, because she remembered that on the hottest nights last fall eleanor had persisted in shutting and locking her door. she had acquired the habit from living so much in hotels, she said; she could never go to sleep at all so long as her door was unfastened. "perhaps it's all right," thought betty, "but it looks queer. i believe i'll just see if she's in bed." so she crept softly across the hall and looked into eleanor's room. it was empty, and the couch was in its daytime dress, covered with an oriental spread and piled high with pillows. "i suppose she stopped on the campus and got belated," was betty's first idea. "but no, she couldn't stay down there all night, and it's long after ten. it must be half past eleven. i'll--i'd better consult--katherine." she chose katherine instead of rachel, because she had heard eleanor speak about going to paradise, and so could best help to decide whether it was reasonable to suppose that she was still there. rachel was steadier and more dependable, but katherine was resourceful and quick-witted. besides, she was not a bit afraid of the dark. she was sound asleep, but betty managed to wake her and get her into the hall without disturbing any one else. "goodness!" exclaimed katherine, when she heard the news. "you don't think----" "i think she's lost in paradise. it must have been pitch dark down there under the trees even before she got started, and you know she hasn't any sense of direction. don't you remember her laughing about getting turned around every time she went to new york?" "yes, but it doesn't seem possible to get lost on that little pond." "it's bigger than it looks," said betty, "and there is the mist, too, to confuse her." "i hadn't thought of that. does she know how to manage a boat?" "yes, capitally," said betty in so frightened a voice that katherine dropped the subject. "she's lost up stream somewhere and afraid to move for fear of hitting a rock," she said easily. "or perhaps she's right out in the pond by the boat-house and doesn't dare to cross because she might go too far down toward the dam. we can find her all right, i guess." "then you'll come?" said betty eagerly. "why, of course. you weren't thinking of going alone, were you?" "i thought maybe you'd think it was silly for any one to go. i suppose she might be at one of the campus houses." "she might, but i doubt it," said katherine. "she was painfully intent on solitude when she left here. now don't fuss too long about dressing." without a word betty sped off to her room. she was just pulling a rain-coat over a very meagre toilet when katherine put her head in at the door. "bring matches," she said in a sepulchral whisper. betty emptied the contents of her match-box into her ulster pocket, threw a cape over her arm for eleanor, and followed katherine cat-footed down the stairs. in the lower hall they stopped for a brief consultation. "ought we to tell mrs. chapin?" asked betty doubtfully. "eleanor will hate us forever if we do," said katherine, "and i don't see any special advantage in it. if we don't find her, mrs. chapin can't. we might tell rachel though, in case we were missed." "or we might leave a note where she would find it," suggested betty. "then if we weren't missed no one need know." "all right. you can go more quietly; i'll wait here." katherine sank down on the lowest stair, while betty flew back to scribble a note which she laid on rachel's pillow. then the relief expedition started. it was very strange being out so late. before ten o'clock a girl may go anywhere in harding, but after ten the streets are deserted and dreadful. betty shivered and clung close to katherine, who marched boldly along, declaring that it was much nicer outdoors than in, and that midnight was certainly the top of the evening for a walk. "and if we find her way up the river we can all camp out for the night," she suggested jovially. "but if we don't find her?" katherine, who had noticed betty's growing nervousness, refused to entertain the possibility. "we shall," she said. "but if we don't?" persisted betty. "then i suppose we shall have to tell somebody who--who could--why, hunt for her more thoroughly," stammered katherine. "or possibly we'd better wait till morning and make sure that she didn't stay all night with miss day. but if we don't find her, there will be plenty of time to discuss that." at the campus gateway the girls hesitated. "suppose we should meet the night-watchman?" said betty anxiously. "would he arrest us?" katherine laughed at her fears. "i was only wondering if we hadn't better take the path through the orchard. if we go down by the dwelling-houses we might meet him, of course, and it would be awkward getting rid of him if he has an ordinary amount of curiosity." "but that path is spooky dark," objected betty. "not so dark as the street behind the campus," said katherine decidedly, "and that's the only alternative. come on." when they had almost reached the back limit of the campus katherine halted suddenly. betty clutched her in terror. "do you see any one?" she whispered. katherine put an arm around her frightened little comrade. "not a person," she said reassuringly, "not even the ghost of my grandmother. i was just wondering, betty, if you'd care to go ahead down to the landing and call, while i waited up by the road. eleanor is such a proud thing; she'll hate dreadfully to be caught in this fix, and i know she'd rather have you come to find her than me or both of us. but perhaps you'd rather not go ahead. it is pretty dark down there." betty lifted her face from katherine's shoulder and looked at the black darkness that was the road and the river bank, and below it to the pond that glistened here and there where the starlight fell on its cloak of mist. "of course," said katherine after a moment's silence, "we can keep together just as well as not, as far as i am concerned. i only thought that perhaps, since this was your plan and you are so fond of eleanor--oh well, i just thought you might like to have the fun of rescuing her," finished katherine desperately. "do you mean for me to go ahead and call, and if eleanor answers not to say anything to her about your having come?" "yes." "then how would you get home?" "oh, walk along behind you, just out of sight." "wouldn't you be afraid?" "hardly." "but i should be taking the credit for something i hadn't done." "and eleanor would be the happier thereby and none of the rest of the world would be affected either way." betty looked at the pond again and then gave katherine a soft little hug. "katherine kittredge, you're an old dear," she said, "and if you really don't mind, i'll go ahead; but if she asks me how i dared to come alone or says anything about how i got here, i shall tell her that you were with me." "all right, but i fancy she won't be thinking about that. the matches are so she can see her way to you. it's awfully hard to follow a sound across the water, but if you light one match after another she can get to you before the supply gives out, if she's anywhere near. don't light any till she answers. if she doesn't answer, i'll come down to you and we'll walk on up the river a little way and find her there." "yes," said betty. "where shall you stay?" "oh, right under this tree, i guess," answered katherine carelessly. "good-bye." "good-bye." when betty had fairly gone, doubts began to assail katherine, as they have a habit of assailing impulsive people, after it is too late to pay heed to them. it occurred to her that she was cooperating in what might easily turn out to be a desperate adventure, and that it would have been the part of wisdom to enlist the services of more competent and better equipped searchers at once, without risking delay on the slender chance of finding eleanor near the wharf. "eleanor would have hated the publicity, but if she wants to come up here in the dark and frighten us all into hysteria she must take the consequences. and i'd have let her too, if it hadn't been for betty." an owl hooted, and katherine jumped as nervously as betty would have done. poor betty! she must be almost at the landing by this time. at that very moment a little quavering voice rang out over the water. "eleanor! eleanor watson! eleanor! oh, eleanor, where are you?" for a long moment there was silence. then the owl hooted again. that was too much. katherine jumped up with a bound and started down the bank toward betty. she did not stop to find the path, and at the second step caught her foot and fell headlong. apparently betty did not hear her. she had not yet given up hope, for she was calling again, pausing each time to listen for the answer that did not come. "oh, eleanor, eleanor, aren't you there?" she cried and stopped, even the courage of despair gone at last. katherine, nursing a bruised knee on the hill above, had opened her mouth to call encouragement, when a low "who is it?" floated across the water. "eleanor, is that you? it's i--betty wales!" shrieked betty. katherine nodded her head in silent token of "i told you so," and slid back among the bushes to recuperate and await developments. for the end was not yet. eleanor was evidently far down toward the dam, close to the opposite bank. it was hard for her to hear betty, and still harder for betty to hear her. her voice sounded faint and far off, and she seemed to be paralyzed with fear and quite incapable of further effort. when betty begged her to paddle right across and began lighting matches in reckless profusion to show her the way, eleanor simply repeated, "i can't, i can't," in dull, dispirited monotone. "shall--i--come--for--you?" shouted betty. "you can't," returned eleanor again. "non--sense!" shrieked betty and then stood still on the wharf, apparently weighing eleanor's last opinion. "go ahead," called katherine in muffled tones from above. betty did not answer. "thinks i'm another owl, i suppose," muttered katherine, and limped down the bank to the wharf, frightening the nervous, overwrought betty almost out of her wits at first, and then vastly relieving her by taking the entire direction of affairs into her own competent hands. "you go right ahead. it's the only way, and it's perfectly easy in a heavy boat. that canoe might possibly go down with the current, but a big boat wouldn't. rachel and i tried it last week, when the river was higher. now cross straight over and feel along the bank until you get to her. then beach the canoe and come back the same way. give me some matches. i'll manage that part of it and then retire,--unless you'd rather be the one to wait here." "no, i'll go," answered betty eagerly, vanishing into the boat-house after a pair of oars. "she must be hanging on to something on shore," went on katherine, when betty reappeared, "and she's lost her nerve and doesn't dare to let go. if you can't get her into your boat, i'll come; but somebody really ought to stay here. i had no idea the fog was so thick. hurry now and cross straight over. you're sure you're not afraid?" "quite sure." betty was off, splashing her oars nervously through the still water, wrapped in the mist, whispering over and over katherine's last words, "hurry and go straight. hurry, hurry, go straight across." when she reached the other shore she called again to eleanor, and the sobbing cry of relief that answered her made all the strain and effort seem as nothing. cautiously creeping along the bank where the river was comparatively quiet, backing water now and then to test her strength with the current, she finally reached eleanor, who had happened quite by chance to run near the bank and now sat in the frail canoe hanging by both hands to a branch that swept low over the water, exactly as katherine had guessed. "why didn't you beach the canoe, and stay on shore?" asked betty, who had tied her own boat just above and was now up to her knees in the water, pulling eleanor in. "i tried to, but i lost my paddle, and so i was afraid to let go the tree again, and the water looked so deep. oh, betty, betty!" eleanor sank down on the bank, sobbing as if her heart would break. betty patted her arm in silence, and in a few moments she stood up, quieted. "you're going to take me back?" she asked. "of course," said betty, cheerfully, leading the way to her boat. "please wait a minute," commanded eleanor. betty trembled. "she's going to say she won't go back with me," she thought. "please let me do it, eleanor," she begged. "yes," said eleanor, quickly, "but first i want to say something. i've been a hateful, horrid thing, betty. i've believed unkind stories and done no end of mean things, and i deserve all that i've had to-night, except your coming after me. i've been ashamed of myself for months, only i wouldn't say so. i know you can never want me for a friend again, after all my meanness; but betty, say that you won't let it hurt you--that you'll try to forget all about it." betty put a wet arm around eleanor's neck and kissed her cheek softly. "you weren't to blame," she said. "it was all a mistake and my horrid carelessness. of course i want you for a friend. i want it more than anything else. and now don't say another word about it, but just get into the boat and come home." they hardly spoke during the return passage; eleanor was worn out with all she had gone through, and betty was busy rowing and watching for katherine's matches, which made tiny, glimmering dots of light in the gloom. eleanor did not seem to notice them, nor the shadowy figure that vanished around the boat-house just before they reached the wharf. from her appointed station under the pine-tree katherine heard the grinding of the boat on the gravel, the rattle of oars thrown down on the wharf, and then a low murmur of conversation that did not start up the hill toward her, as she had expected. "innocents!" sighed katherine. "they're actually stopping to talk it out down there in the wet. i'm glad they've made it up, and i'd do anything in reason for betty wales, but i certainly am sleepy," and she yawned so loud that a blue jay that was roosting in the tree above her head fluttered up to a higher branch, screaming angrily. "the note of the nestle," laughed katherine, and yawned again. down on the wharf betty and eleanor were curled up close together in an indiscriminate, happy tangle of rain-coat, golf-cape, and very drabbled muslin, holding a conversation that neither would ever forget. yet it was perfectly commonplace; harding girls are not given to the expression of their deeper emotions, though it must not therefore be inferred that they do not have any to express. "oh, betty, you can't imagine how dreadful it was out there!" eleanor was saying. "and i thought i should have to stay all night, of course. how did you know i hadn't come in?" betty explained. "i don't see why you bothered," said eleanor. "i'm sure i shouldn't have, for any one as horrid as i've been. oh, betty, will you truly forgive me?" "don't say that. i've wanted to do something that would make you forgive me." "oh, i know you have," broke in eleanor quickly. "miss ferris told me." "she did!" interrupted betty in her turn. "why, she promised not to." "yes, but i asked her. it seemed to me queer that she should have taken such an interest in me, and all of a sudden it flashed over me, as i sat talking to her, that you were at the bottom of it. so i said, 'miss ferris, betty wales asked you to say this to me,' and she said, 'yes, but she also asked me not to mention her having done so.' i was ashamed enough then, for she'd made me see pretty plainly how badly i needed looking after, but i was bound i wouldn't give in. oh, betty, haven't i been silly!" "i didn't mean to hurt your feelings by what i said at that class meeting, eleanor," said betty shyly. "you didn't hurt them. i was just cross at things in general--at myself, i suppose that means,--and angry at you because i'd made you despise me, which certainly wasn't your fault." "eleanor, what nonsense! i despise you?" a rustling on the bank reminded betty that katherine was waiting. "we must go home," she said. "it's after midnight." "so it is," agreed eleanor, getting up stiffly. "oh, betty, i am glad i'm not out there hanging on to that branch and shivering and wondering how soon i should have to let go and end it all. oh, i shall never forget the feel of that stifling mist." they walked home almost in silence. katherine, missing the murmur of conversation, wondered if this last effort at reconciliation had failed after all; but near mrs. chapin's the talk began again. "i'm only sorry there isn't more of spring term left to have a good time in. why, eleanor, there's only two weeks." "but there's all next year," answered eleanor. "i thought you weren't coming back." "i wasn't, but i am now. i've got to--i can't go off letting people think that i'm only a miserable failure. the watson pride won't let me, betty." "oh, people don't think anything of that kind," objected betty consolingly. "i know one person who does," said eleanor with decision, "and her name is eleanor watson. i decided while i was out there waiting for you that one's honest opinion of herself is about as important as any outsider's. don't you think so?" "perhaps," said betty gaily. "but the thing that interests me is that you're coming back next year. why, it's just grand! shall you go on the campus?" chapter xx loose threads betty wales had to leave her trunk half packed and her room in indescribable confusion in order to obey a sudden summons from the registrar. she had secured a room on the campus at last, so the brief note said; but the registrar wished her to report at the office and decide which of two possible assignments she preferred. "it's funny," said betty to helen, as she extracted her hat from behind the bookcase, where she had stored it for safe keeping, "because i put in my application for the hilton house way back last fall." "perhaps she means two different rooms." "no, mary says they never give you a choice about rooms, unless you're an invalid and can't be on the fourth floor or something of that kind." "well, it's nice that you're on," said helen wistfully. "i don't suppose i have the least chance for next year." "oh, there's all summer," said betty hopefully. "lots of people drop out at the last minute. which house did you choose?" "i didn't choose any because miss stuart told me i would probably have to wait till junior year, and i thought i might change my mind before then." "it's too bad," said betty, picking her way between trunk trays and piles of miscellaneous débris to the door. "i think i shall stop on my way home and get a man to move my furniture right over to the hilton." "oh, wouldn't it be lovely if i'd got into the hilton house too!" said helen with a sigh of resignation. "then perhaps we could room together." "yes," said betty politely, closing the door after her. under the circumstances it was not necessary to explain that alice waite and she had other plans for the next year. it was a relief to stop trying to circumvent the laws of nature by forcing two objects into the space that one will fill--which is the cardinal principle of the college girl's june packing--and betty strolled slowly along under the elm-trees, in no haste to finish her errand. on main street, emily davis, carrying an ungainly bundle, overtook her. "i was afraid i wasn't going to see you to say good-bye," she said. "everybody wants skirt braids put on just now, and between that and examinations i've been very busy." "are those skirts?" asked betty. "yes, two of babbie's and one of babe's. i was going up to the campus, so i thought i'd bring them along and save the girls trouble, since they're my best patrons, as well as being my good friends." "it's nice to have them both." "only you hate to take money for doing things for your friends." "where are you going to be this summer?" inquired betty. "you never told me where you live." "i live up in northern new york, but i'm not going home this summer. i'm going to rockport----" "why, so am i!" exclaimed betty. "we're going to stay at the breakers." "oh, dear!" said emily sadly, "i was hoping that none of my particular friends would be there. i'm going to have charge of the linen-room at the breakers, betty." "what difference does that make?" demanded betty eagerly. "you have hours off, don't you? we'll have the gayest sort of a time. can you swim?" "no, i've never seen the ocean." "well, will and nan will teach you. they're going to teach me." emily shook her head. "now, betty, you must not expect your family to see me in the same light that you do. here those things don't make any difference, but outside they do; and it's perfectly right that they should, too." "nonsense! my family has some sense, i hope," said betty gaily, stopping at the entrance to the main building. "then i'll see you next week." "yes, but remember you are not to bother your family with me. good-bye." "good-bye. you just wait and see!" called betty, climbing the steps. half-way up she frowned. nan and mother would understand, but will was an awful snob. "he'll have to get used to it," she decided, "and he will, too, after he's heard her do 'the temperance lecture by a female from boston.' but it will certainly seem funny to him at first. why, i guess it would have seemed funny to me last year." the registrar looked up wearily from the litter on her desk, as betty entered. "good-afternoon, miss wales. i sent for you because i was sure that, however busy you might be you had more time than i, and i can talk to you much quicker than i could write. as i wrote you, i have reached your name on the list of the campus applicants, and you can go into the hilton if you choose. but owing to an unlooked-for falling out of names just below yours, miss helen c. adams comes next to you on the list. you hadn't mentioned the matter of roommates, and noticing that you two girls live in the same house, i thought i would ask you if you preferred a room in the belden house with miss adams. there are two vacancies there, and she will get one of them in any case." "oh!" said betty. "i shall be very glad to know your decision to-night if possible, so that i can make the other assignment in the morning, before the next applicant leaves town." "yes," said betty. "you will probably wish to consult miss adams," went on the registrar. "i ought to have sent for her too--i don't know why i was so stupid." "oh, that's all right," said betty hastily. "i will come back in about an hour, miss stuart. i suppose there isn't any hope that we could both go into the hilton." "no, i'm afraid not. any time before six o'clock will do. i shan't be here much longer, but you can leave the message with my assistant. and you understand of course that it was purely on your account that i spoke to you. i thought that under the circumstances----" the registrar was deep in her letters again. but as betty was opening the door, she looked up to say with a merry twinkle in her keen gray eyes, "give my regards to your father, miss wales, and tell him he underrates his daughter's ability to take care of herself." "oh, miss stuart, i hoped you didn't know i was that girl," cried betty blushing prettily. miss stuart shook her head. "i couldn't come to meet you, but i didn't forget. i've kept an eye on you." "i hope you haven't seen anything very dreadful," laughed betty. "i'll let you know when i do," said miss stuart. "good-bye." betty went out on to the campus, where the shadows were beginning to grow long on the freshly mown turf, and took her favorite path back to the edge of the hill, where she sat down on her favorite seat to consider this new problem. on the slope below her a bed of rhododendrons that had been quite hidden under the snow in winter, and inconspicuous through the spring, had burst into a sudden glory of rainbow blossoms--pink and white and purple and flaming orange. "every day is different here," thought betty, "and the horrid things and the lovely ones always come together." helen would be pleased, of course; as she had hinted to the registrar, there was really no need of consulting helen; the only person to be considered was betty wales. if only miss stuart had assigned her to the hilton house and said nothing! from her seat betty could look over to dorothy king's windows. it would have been such fun to be in the house with dorothy. clara madison was going to leave the campus and go to a place where they would make her bed and bring her hot water in the morning. alice's room was a lovely big one on the same floor as dorothy's, and she had delayed making arrangements to share it with a freshman who was already in the house, until she was sure that betty did not get her assignment. eleanor had applied for an extra-priced single there, too, to be near betty. helen was a dear little thing and a very considerate roommate, but she was "different." she didn't fit in somehow, and it was a bother always to be planning to have her have a good time. she would be lonely in the belden; she loved college and was very happy now, but she needed to have somebody who understood her and could appreciate her efforts, to encourage her and keep her in touch with the lighter side of college life. she didn't know a soul in the belden--but then neither did lots of other freshmen when they moved on to the campus. she need never hear anything about the registrar's plan, and she could come over to the hilton as much as she liked. nita reese would be at the belden, and marion lawrence; and mary brooks was going there if she could get an assignment. it was a splendid house, the next best to the hilton. but those girls were not dorothy king, and miss andrews was not miss ferris. it would have been lovely to be in the house with miss ferris. would have been! betty caught herself suddenly. it wasn't settled yet. then she got up from her seat with quick determination. "i'll stop in and see miss ferris for just a minute, and then i shall go back and tell miss stuart right off, for i must finish packing to-night, whatever happens." miss ferris was in, and she and her darkened, flower-scented room wore an air of coolness and settled repose that was a poignant relief after the glaring sunshine outside and the confusion of "last days." "so you go to-morrow," said miss ferris pleasantly. "i don't get off till next week, of course. are you satisfied?" "satisfied?" repeated betty. she had heard of miss ferris's habit of flashing irrelevant questions at her puzzled auditors, but this was her first experience of it. "with your first year at harding," explained miss ferris. "oh!" said betty, relieved that it was no worse. "why, y-es--no, i'm not. i've had a splendid time, but i haven't accomplished half that i ought. next year i'm going to work harder from the very beginning, and----" betty stopped abruptly, realizing that all this could not possibly interest miss ferris. "and what?" "i didn't want to bore you," apologized betty. "why, i'm going to try to--i don't know how to say it--try not scatter my thoughts so. nan says that i am so awfully interested in every one's else business that i haven't any business of my own." "i see," said miss ferris musingly. "that's quite a possible point of view. still, i'm inclined to think that on the whole we have just as much orange left and it tastes far better, if we give a good deal of it away. if we try to hang on to it all, it's likely to spoil in the pantry before we get around to squeeze it dry." betty looked puzzled again. "you don't like figures of speech, do you?" said miss ferris. "you must learn to like them next year. what i mean is that it seems to me far better in the long run to be interested in too many people than not to be interested in people enough. of course, though, we mustn't neglect to be sufficiently interested in ourselves; and how to divide ourselves fairly between ourselves and the rest of the world is the hardest question we ever have to answer. you'll be getting new ideas about it all through your course--and all through your life." there was a moment of silence, and then betty rose to go. "i have to pack and i know you are busy. miss ferris, i'm going to be at the belden next year." "i'm sorry you're not coming here," said miss ferris kindly. "couldn't you manage it?" "yes, but the--the orange seems to cut better the other way," said betty. "that isn't a good figure, but perhaps you can see what it means." * * * * * it was worth most of what it had cost to see helen's face when she heard the news. "oh betty, it's too good to be true," she cried, "but are you sure you want me?" "haven't i given up the hilton to be with you?" said betty, with her face turned the other way. alice was disappointed, but she would be just as happy with constance fayles. she found more "queer" things to like at harding every day, and she considered betty wales one of the queerest and one of the nicest. eleanor pleased betty by offering no objection to the change of plan. "only you needn't think that you can get rid of me as easily as all this," she said. "i shall camp down in the registrar's office until she says that 'under the circumstances,' which is her pet phrase, she will let me change my application to the belden. by the way, betty, jean eastman wants to see you after chapel to-morrow. she said she'd be in number five." after "last chapel," with its farewell greetings, that for all but the seniors invariably ended with a cheerful "see you next september," and the interview with jean, in which the class president offered rather unintelligible apologies for "the stupid misunderstanding that we all got into," betty went back to the house to get her bags and meet katherine, who was going on the same train. some of the girls had already gone, and none of them were in but rachel, who was perched in a front window watching anxiously for a dilatory expressman, and katherine, who was frantically stowing the things that would not go in her trunk into an already well-filled suit-case. "well, it's all over," said betty, sitting down on the window seat beside rachel. "wish it were," muttered katherine, shutting the case and sitting down on it with a thud. "no, it's only well begun," corrected rachel. "a lot of things are over anyway," persisted betty. "just think how much has happened since last september!" "jolly nice things too," said katherine cheerfully. she had quite unexpectedly succeeded in fastening the lock. "weren't they!" agreed betty heartily. "but i guess the nicest thing about it is what you said, rachel--that it's 'to be continued in our next.' won't it be fun to see how everything turns out?" "i wish that expressman would turn up," said rachel ruefully. "we'll tell him so if we meet him," said betty, shouldering her bag and her golf clubs, while katherine staggered along with the bursting suit-case. as they boarded a car at the corner, mary brooks and the faithful roberta waved to them energetically from the other side of main street. "good-bye! good-bye!" shrieked katherine. "see you next september," called betty, who had said good-bye to them once already. "katherine kittredge has grown older this year," said mary critically, "but betty hasn't changed a bit. i remember the night she came up the walk, carrying those bags." "she has changed inside," said roberta. as the car whizzed by the main building, betty wanted to wave her hand to that too, but she didn't until dorothy king, appearing on the front steps, gave her an excuse. "well," she said with a little sigh, as the campus disappeared below the crest of the hill, "you and rachel may talk all you like, but i feel as if something was over, and it makes me sad. just think! we can never be freshmen at harding again as long as we live." "quite true," said katherine calmly, "but we can be sophomores--that is, unless the office sees fit to interfere." "yes, we can be sophomores; and perhaps that's just as nice," said betty optimistically. "perhaps it's even nicer." * * * * * the books in this series are: betty wales, freshman betty wales, sophomore betty wales, junior betty wales, senior betty wales, b. a. betty wales & co. betty wales on the campus betty wales decides