■ ■T'-^t.iDaSM^SKti LC 1021 W93c N iifj mi i^i m^ '.^. ^nv* ^ o ^illBRARYOc; K^lllBRARYQc. § 1 if^ ^ '^^ %dnv>jo^ .^WEUNIVER%. >- ^VlOSANCElfjv. ^.OFCALIFO/?^ ^OFCAIIFOI?^ ^ slOSMElfj'^x o %a3AlNn-3WV^ 1 i— U-l \ — s > J(1 3\\V ^OFCAllFOfti^ ^•OFCAIIFO/?^ ^(9Aavaan-^^^ AWEUNIVER^-Z/i ^^V^OSANCElfX^. ^ .j^OFCAllFO/?^ ^TiiaoNvsoi^ %ii3AiNn-3UV^ ^^AavaaiH^ ^JO'f^ >;,OFCA1IFO% 4? y, ^.OFCAIIFO/?^ o .^WEUNIVER% <: '^/^a3AINa3UV^ ^VWSANCEI% k^i ir^i ^ "-L. THE COLLEGE IN THE UNIVERSITY AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE COLLEGE JOHN HENRY WRIGHT THE COLLEGE IN THE UNIVERSITY AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE COLLEGE An Address at the Opening of the Eleventh Academic Year of the Johns Hopkins University, October 7, 1886 BY JOHN HENRY WRIGHT Professor of Classical Philology and Dean of the College Board LATELY Associate Professor of Greek in Dartmouth College BALTIMORE 1886 Issued by the Publication Agency OF THE Johns Hopkins University. November, 188G. 102 1 ADDRESS. ^ ly E stand this evening at the opening of the second decennium \ 1/ of the Johns Hopkins University. The retrospect of the first ten years gives cause for grateful hope. , Like St. Paul at the Three Taverns, we thank God and take courage. We are thankful anew for the munificence of the Founder, for the cautious yet far-reaching wisdom of the guardians of the foundation. We are thankful for the good men that have here wrought, some of Avhom are now no longer wuth us. And of these absent ones, we recall none to-day to a more grateful remembrance than the noble scholar, the Christian gentleman, Charles D'Urban INIorris, who brought to the service of this university, in the most important years of her existence, the best and manliest culture of England, a pure heart, a tender conscience, and an unselfish devotion to the welfare of his fel- low-men. We are thankful that the high ideal here set at the beginning has not been lowered, and that the country and the community alike recognize the unique and poAverful position of the university among American educational institutions. We take great courage, for the future, in the reflection that the uni- versity has attained this position, by coming into existence not through a creative fiat, but by a growth secure and sound, though swift without precedent. From the beginning the main features of a university have been clearly in the minds of its managers, but as time has passed on, 3 737^24 4 The College in the University and they have gained greater distinctness and definiteness. It has never been forgotten here that the function of the university is peculiar : that the ideal university is not only a mighty teacher, but that it is also a great scientific force; that the university should stand in the very vanguard in the advancement of human kuo^vledge, with beacon lights that illumine, for the student, the backward tracts of past achievement, and, for the investigator, the illimitable waste of darkness without. It has ever been here maintained that for the higher activities of university life a pre- liminary training is essential, which it is one of the functions of the university to foster and to perfect. In other words, the indis- soluble connexion between college and university has always been insisted npon, and from the outset provision has here been made for collegiate instruction, under university management. Time has only developed and defined this connexion. The recent establishment of the office, to which I am introduced, that of dean of the college board, is but one of the marks and tokens of this development, and alone suggests and gives significance to the theme chosen for this occasion. The union of this office, in the present instance, with a professorship of classical philology, suggests an amplification of the theme. Your attention is accord- ingly invited to a few remarks on The College in the University and Classical Philology in the College. In the United States there are at j^resent recognized four distinct stages in the educational system : that of primary instruction or of the common schools, where children are furnished mainly with the rudiments of practical knowledge ; that of secondary educa- tion — the high schools, academies, and the like — an advance on the preceding, where youth are trained in the mere rudiments of liberal or of technical knowledge ; tliat of collegiate instruction, wliere young men and womcui rec(^iv(! a discij)line in the essentials of liberal education which shall fit tliem for inttslligent activity in the world, not merely of action, but of inlierited thought; and finally that of university instruction, which at i)resent has a two- Classical Philology in the College. 6 fold function, viz: the professional, wherein men are fitted for special activities in the several distinctly recognized professions, and the liberal, wherein men are fitted for successful and skilled activity in advancing learning and science. We are not concerned to enquire whetlier this established four-fold division is the most advantageous ; it is enough to say that it exists, and that it is likely to exist. And it is the duty of the majority of us, leaving aside all theoretical questions, to make education, in this four-fold sequence, as efficient as possible. Now each of these stages in our national educational system must be viewed in two aspects, — either, for many students, as a step in a gradually ascending scale, or, for many more students, as the conclusion of their scholastic education. We cannot, how- ever, pause to remark upon the influence which this two-fold aspect of the matter should exert upon the organization of education in the earlier stages, but in its bearing on collegiate education it becomes highly important. The wise counsellor, who would plan for the usefulness of the college, must bear in mind that he has a double problem to solve : he must make the college a beneficent power in the influence it shall exert upon the great company of youth who from its gates pass out into active life ; he must also, however, so adjust and adapt its various educational forces that they may tell effectively in the training of those who are to advance from it into the higher activity of university instruc- tion. The college should then be made as complete in itself and as comprehensive as if it alone existed. From this point of view we may regard the college as an institution, in which young men are to be brought, by many methods, into intelligent relations to their environment. The environment, in which we are placed, is at once material and spiritual ; we live in the midst of a world of thought embodied in institutions, in religions, in literatures ; a world of thought which tlirough countless generations of men has slowly been developed from ancient germs. It is the mark of the liberal education that it ('iia):)les a man, in sonic measun", to dis- 6 The College in the University and cern and to behold in jiroper perspective, the lineaments and out- lines of this mighty world ; that it widens his horizons, by leading him up to the heights of observation where — in the thought of Goethe — there is repose ; that it enables him to discover his own place and the place of his fellow-men in this Avorld, that it makes him at home in it, a free and sovereign citizen of this spiritual commonwealth, which is bounded neither by time nor by space ; that it teaches him the common speech of humanity ; that it thus frees him from the fetters of narrow convention in opinion ; that it purges his eyes from the vapours of superstition ; that by it, in Milton's noble phrase, he is " fraught with an universal insight into things ; " that it enables him, by a rigorous and exact study of all that is human, to understand himself better, not only as an individual entity, but also as the member of a great society, and that it thus fits him for a manly and intelligent activity in the larger world of intellectual life, as well as in that of practical business affairs. We may thus say of a liberal education that it at least enables a man at first hand to get his bearings, to "orient" himself in his complex and intricate environment ; that it affects this only by training him, in various ways, to accuracy, thorough- ness, caution, modesty, intellectual courage and independence. It develops and disciplines powers and faculties that otherwise would remain dormant. It trains to self-knowledge and to self-mastery. It also imparts information, but does this in such a way that infor- mation becomes knowledge and knowledge wisdom. No lower aim should lead those into whose hands the custody and administration of a college have fallen, and at no time shoidd this high aim become obscured either for the teacher or for the scholar. The college, which is in the United States for the majority of students the principal seat of liberal education, should ever remember that its object is, in the memorable words of Comenius, " to train generally those that are born men to that Avhich is human." It thus would magnify in education those great concerns that men — and especially educated men — have in Classical Philology in. the College. 7 common, and would place in due subordination such as touch only the few. To restrict the influences of a training that aims to be liberal within narrow lines, to concentrate attention chiefly on limited and partial aspects of the question, to the exclusion of the wider view, is to defeat the ends of liberal training. Where specialization so consumes time and energy as to render general study futile, it is out of place in a college. But it must not be overlooked that there are apparent cases of specialization that are in fact instances of most liberalizing study. The close fixing of attention, for a time, upon one branch of science, or upon one department of literature, or upon one epoch of history, Avill often yield results of more permanent value, in a wider knowledge of scientific methods and of literary phenomena, and in the difficult acquisition of the historic sense, than could ever be gained from diffusion over a more miscellaneous field. Aiwl again we must remember that it is usually the method and spirit with which studies are pursued that make them liberal in the truest sense. As civilization progresses, and as the thoughts of men widen, the environment, in some of its features, will suffer a slow change. Education will vary with these varying conditions, and the educa- tion of one generation cannot, in all respects, remain the education for another. Man, in his essential humanity, however, remains the same, and all his inherited past, which mostly makes up his present, still remains. Thus the element of change must be slight and very gradual in its operation. There are no cataclysms in the spiritual life of the world, and there should be no revolutions in education. The aims of liberal education, its main features and elements, its spirit and its method, will remain substantially the same from age to age. The knowledge of the achievements of the race — in literature, science and art in their widest meaning — must be gathered anew by each individual student, and it will ever remain the business of institutions to transmit, for the good of posterity, all acquired treasures of wisdom and experience, aug- mented and unimpaired. 8 The College in the University and Though the change from one age to the next is slight, the progress of the human race, as measured by its earlier conditions, has been enormous. This progress of the race we may perhaps regard as epitomized in the life of the individual. There is there- fore a great difference between the education fit for the boy and that fit for the man. As a rule students enter colleges as boys, and emerge from them as men. This gradual change in their relation to themselves and to the world should be matched by a similar progression in the principles and methods of their collegi- ate training. The preeminently disciplinary and passive stage of the beginning of student life, characterized by deference to authority, should be followed by one in Avhich intellectual growth is stimulated by freedom and independence in mental activity. This gradation should be so adjusted, that when a young man enters into active life from the college, he shall be competent to think and to act alone, with no feeling of dependence on masters and governors. It becomes thus one of the most important, though most difficult problems of the college officer wisely to com- bine the principles of constraint and of freedom in the organiza- tion and administration of a system of collegiate instruction. The college is, however, a training school not only for active life, but for a more advanced stage in education, for the univer- sity. In the latter relation it has a work to perform not second to that in the former relation. The university has so often been defined in words, and here has in many respects so well realized itself in a concrete instance, that it is altogether unnecessary for me to attempt to describe it. We need now only bear in mind tliat it is the essence of the ideal university to advance knowledge, to educate by increasing the sum of learning and science, as well as by transmitting an inheritance, to equip for the highest order of activity in the professions. Men, then, who are to labour suc- cessfully here, in the university, must have received that prelimi- nary training which w'ill enable them to work with least waste of energy and eiFort. The domain of human knowledge, the borders Oasfticnl Philohr/ij in the College. 9 of which we would extend, is now so broad tliat he who would actually advance science and fitly serve his race, must concentrate his labours upon some paiticuilar subject. But the results of special work are meagre and valueless, unless they are coordinated with the general results previously obtained, and this coordination is alone possible for him that has general knowledge and iskill. The foundation must be broad and solid, or the superstructure will totter and fall. A panoramic view^ of the whole field, not only of liberal culture but also of that department of study or of professional activity, in which he proposes to do special work, must be clearly in the student's vision before he can expect, with profit, to enter upon the land and possess even a small tract of it. General studies, pursued systematically in a college course, give this panoramic view, while special studies bring one face to face, hand in hand, with knowledge. The college, then, nmst not merely have developed in the student the power of independent activity, but must also have given him his bearings in the great domain of human knowledge, practical acquaintance with certain features of a chosen field, and familiarity with the aims and methods of scientific inquiry. Otherwise the college graduate will be thrown helpless and ignorant into the busy world of university life. The colleges of our country more or less adequately recognize their essential functions, in the two-fold relation already described, and undertake to discharge them in different ways, in which the influence of mere tradition, and of certain external limitations, are frequently distinctly to be observed. There are four distinct types of the American college, each of which has its peculiar merits and its peculiar defects. 1. The first type is that where the whole course of study and discipline is distinctly prescribed in all details, the same for each and every student ; where the principle of freedom of choice is not recognized. Here not only are all students growing into manhood treated Jis boys, but there is a total disregard of that •) 10 The College in the University and infinite variety in tastes and aptitudes which commandingly asserts itself long before the student leaves college. 2. The second type is that of the college where practically no studies are prescribed, but entire freedom of choice from a large number of diverse subjects, called " electives," is granted. Colleges of this type are at the opposite pole to the colleges of the fixed curriculum. In the gratification of special tastes, in the limited and premature development of peculiar faculties and aptitudes, there is danger that the individual may isolate himself from com- mon interests and sympathies, and may lose the openness of mind that marks the truly educated man. 3. In colleges of the third type there is a compromise between a fixed curriculum and a system of electives. In the earlier years of the student's connexion with the college, all his studies are prescribed, while toward the close of his course a certain liberty of choice among special studies is granted. The dan- ger in this mixed-elective t^^pe of college — the prevalent type in the Eastern States at present — is that there is often an im- proper adjustment of the prescribed and elective studies with reference to each other, and that the limited amount of time given to special studies is usually inadequate for their satisfac- tory development. 4. The fourth type of the American college is the one in which certain related subjects of study are thrown into groups one of which the student is to select and adhere to. Several fundamental and general studies are usually prescribed in addition to the special subjects of each group. The objection to the group system of collegiate studies, at least in its most rigid form, is that while it secures certain solid attainments, it does this at a cost of pre- mature specialization except where a pronounced tendency has early shown itself; that it may force an unripe decision as to choice of profession ; that it renders impracticable, for the same person, great proficiency in different subjects of study, such as may be exhibited in the famous " Double First " of the English Classical Philology in the College. 11 universities, an lionour awarded for distinction in classics and mathematics. It is at once seen that in all these four types, except the first, the distinction in the tastes and preferences of students is admitted and amply provided for. But another equally fundamental distinction is only imperfectly recognized, at least in America: the great difference in general capacity for work, which is con- spicuous in life and which there brings its own rewards. In our colleges everything is planned for the average man. We make only inadequate provision for men capable of doing an unusual quantity of work. Our prizes and other distinctions are usually granted for superior quality only, and are commonly so meagre as to attract but few competitors. In England the case is different ; there, for men of more than average capacity for work, a larger amount of reading and research is provided leading to the bachelor's degree with Honours ; of the men of average or less than average capacity, less work is exacted, leading to the so-called " Pass " degree. And it is to the credit of our English brethren that nearly one-half of the graduates in arts take the Honours course, and not a beggarly five per cent, as in the United States. It is possible that some of the defects in our collegiate systems of study may be remedied by a recognition of this difference, the difference in power to work, along with our ample recognition of differences in tastes. It is the happy privilege of a new institution, biased and bur- dened by no traditions — " No hungry generations tread thee down " — that it can approach the problems of education with a clear and open mind, can make an independent and original attempt at solution, and may even, always with a view to the common good, guardedly venture to undertake experiments. The college that faithfully does its duty to the young persons committed to its charge, of whatever name or type it may be, will be a source of great strength to a university. The men whom it 12 The College in the Univemitij and sends up to the higher institution Avill huve been well equipped and prepared for their neAV lield of labour, and for i?uch men the university will not need to do over again, as are many universities now obliged, the work that belongs to the college to do. The university, which in its single-eyed hunt for new knowledge may, at times, be in danger of losing the broader truth, will be recalled to a more wholesome activity by the influence of an institution W'here the wholeness of life and knowledge is kept constantly in view. On the other hand, the great advantage of this relation to the college is especially apparent, where the university teachers are also college officers, where university students are constantly thrown with members of the college. The zealous undergraduate, looking forward to university life, finds in the spirit and aims of his teachers and associates a constant inspiration and incentive to a higher order of work. There is no sharp line clearly dividing the college from the university, though the essential differences of the two institutions are clear enough. In the final years of a college course, as Ave have seen, the methods and subject matter of education should become more and more such as are appropriate for men instead of boys, such as will fit students for indejjendent activity in thought and conduct in life, as men. As a discipline for this independent activity, what we may call origi- nal research will be provided for in the college, to a certain extent. The methods and the training here Avill differ in no essential respect from those of the university. The organization and adjustment of subjects and methods in such way that the closing year of the college may easily and naturally blend with the opening year of the university, will be found most advantage- ous not only to the student, but also to both institutions. The forced and sudden transition which is often observed — as from the gymnasium to the German university, or from some of our American colleges to our ])rofessional schools — is frequently most injurious ; it not seldom wrecks character, and it nearly always occasions a most disastrous waste of time and enei'gy. When, Classical Philology in Ihe Coller/e. 13 however, the articuhition between college and university is fitly- made, when the eircninstances of locality bring their members into close personal relations, when both institutions are under the guiding influence of the same high motives, they will constitute an educational force the beneficent influence of which upon the individual, upon the conununity, and upon the country is beyond human calculation. I cannot but believe that we have such a combination in the graduate and undergraduate departments of this institution, in the Johns Hopkins University, and in what may be called the University College. In accordance with the terms of the gifts of the Founder, the institution here established started with the idea of the university, which, while including and fostering the college, should be some- thing distinct from it and much above it. As we have already remarked, the importance of the college, not only to the commu- nity — many more of whose members could share its advantages than could resort to the higher institution — but also to the vigor- ous life of the university, has always been felt, and the benefits of the close affiliation of college and university have been more and more perceived. Elsewhere in the United States, the start has usually been made from the college, and most of our genuine American universities, in what makes them universities, have grown out of and upon a college. But this growth — the evolu- tion of the university out of the college, and its establishment as the supplement of collegiate training — has usually been very gradual and very slow\ Harvard and Yale have only recently become universities in flict as well as in name. It is fortunate that here in Baltimore the beginning was made Avith the univer- sity, in a high conception of that much misused word : otherwise it is conceivable that a true university might never have existed here, on this foundation. The importance of this University College among the organized educational forces of the connnonwealth and of the city is at once 14 The College in the University and apparent. It completes the chain of institutions, and renders it easy for the studious youth of Baltimore and Maryland to pass gradually from the lowest to the highest form of opportunity and discipline. By holding to a high standard of admission, by living in friendly and cooperative relations to the schools and colleges of the city and state, it insensibly affects the quality of secondary and of collegiate instruction. It will not supersede other institu- tions, but by the peculiar circumstances of its location and resources it ought to do a work equal to that of any college in the country. In a city which already possesses so many sources of elevating and beneficent influence, in the numerous noble institutions here established, and above all in the temper and spirit of society, it may be venturesome for me to express the hope that the college may show itself a distinct addition to these forces. And yet his- tory constantly teaches us that there are many communities in this and in other countries, in which much that is most enduring and ennobling in their culture may be distinctly traced to the educational institutions placed in their midst. Who would under- take to measure the influence, upon the intellectual life of the Southern States, of the famous university founded only sixty years ago by Thomas Jefferson, or upon the culture of New England, of the college founded by John Harvard, our own sponsor,* whose two hundred and fiftieth birthday, a few weeks hence, we, with all other institutions, hail with gratitude and admiration ? The success, growth, and influence of these and of many other equally meritorious but less noted institutions have been due to the secure position they have ever held in the hearts of the people in whose midst they have existed. The institution here founded by Johns Hopkins can be successful and influential to the fullest * At the inauguration of President, (lilman, and at the close of President Eliot's congratulatory address, " Mr. Reverdy Johnson, Jr., introduced President Oilman, remarking as he did so, that the university now stands forth baptized with ancient Harvard as its sponsor." Classical Philology in the College. 15 extent, only as it continues to receive, as it already has richly received, the confidence of this community, of this city. Tlie spirit of confidence will reveal itself not only in the use made by the young men of Baltimore of the opportunities for education here aflforded, but also in the encouragement by sympathy, friendly criticism, and suggestion, of all the eflTorts here put forth to make these opportunities as ample and as adequate as the age demands. Material aid Mill also be forthcoming, whenever the need of it is clear. The gift of the founder has been largely expended in securing the intellectual foundation of the university and its college, in procuring good teachers, and in providing the best appliances for instruction. Little, comparatively, has been left for buildings, which though not as important as brains, are still necessary for the highest success of the institution. We have three noble laboratories ; leaving them out of view, it needs but little observation to impress upon one the fact that there are many colleges and universities of less name and influence that are much better housed. Is the day far distant when, as our institution grows in members and usefulness, and the present quarters become more contracted — and they are contracted enough now — a new home may be raised up for it by the timely gifts of citizens of Bal- timore, in attractive college halls, perhaps a more fit place for daily religious worship in a beautiful chapel, — all of which, like many college buildings elsewhere, will serve also as enduring and inspiring memorials of public spirit, and far-sighted generosity ? There are especial reasons why by you, citizens of Baltimore, the college in our university should be w'armly cherished. More and more are your sons coming up to receive here their academic training, young gentlemen who are to form a large proportion of your professional men, your lawyers, your physicians, your clergy- men, your journalists, your merchants, and by reason of their social aflSliations are destined to be men of unusual influence in this community. George Peabody's famous saying — " Educaticm, a debt due from the present to future generations" — has a 16 The College in the University and peculiar and profound meaning when uttered in the hearing of Baltimoreans on behalf of the college of Johns Hopkins University. In passing to the second part of my theme, I shall by no means enter into any detailed discussion of the inner working of a college, placed as is ours, or of the great variety of subjects of study that should receive impartial recognition in collegiate courses. There is, however, one great department of college instruction — that connected with the professorship recently assumed by me — which demands a few words on this occasion. And yet here little that is new can be said, and nothing better than what has already often been said and illustrated by the distinguished leader of these studies in this university, its fii'st professor in more senses than one.* The " Classics" have long held a prominent position in the list of studies that make up the college curriculum. By this w'ord have been usually understood the languages and literatures of Greece and Rome, with only scant reference to the institutions, history, art, and other moral and intellectual products of ancient civilization, summed up in the expression ancient culture. The prominent place in education early assumed by these studies and since maintained is easily explained. They began to be cultivated at a time when the Greek and afterward the Latin languages were the native speech of the student ; they were then cultivated in the service of the state, and afterward in the service of the church. When the great awakening of the Renaissance came, with its return to nature in the primal elements of humanity, the litera- ture of Greece and Rome were resorted to as the source of life and health. The church in its constant reference to the written word set an example : it was in i)erfect keeping with the spirit of the * Professor B. L. Gildersleeve, Classics and Colleges, in the Prhiceton Review, 1878; On the Present Aspect of Classical Study, in the University (•ircuhir, .Tune, 1880. Classical Philology in the College. 17 age that tlic liuiguuges and literatures of the ancients should have engrossed the attention of scholars. What this renewed contact with antiquity, even in this restricted sense, did for the intellectual life of Europe is comparable only to the tremendous effect pro- duced in modern life and thought by the i-eturn to nature in the physical world made by the modern man of science. These early students of the classics found them of such especial value in widening and developing the human faculties that they loved to name them — after the example of the Romans — the humanizing studies, and gave them in the reformed educational systems of Europe a supreme position. And by this word — Humanities — their advocates have ever loved to style them. As time has passed on, the range of knowledge has widened, new worlds have been discovered, new horizons hitherto unsus- pected have opened themselves, and new and powerful instruments for research have been invented. Under the microscope of lin- guistic investigation, under the searching telescope of historical observation, even the old and familiar domains of knowledge have assumed a new aspect, and have revealed a wealth of wisdom not dreamed of before. This widening of the scope in classical study renders the old terminology inadequate, and to compass the new field — the old discovered anew — the expression Classical Philology is used, borrowed like " Humanities" from the usage of scholars of antiquity, but deepened and enriched in meaning with the progress of knowledge.* Classical philology covers all that is included in the study of the life and thought of the Greeks and Komans, as regards the man, society, politics, religion, art: it is the science of classical antiquity ; it includes above all the languages and literatures of the ancients, since it is in these that the mind and soul of autiijuity have most perfectly recorded *The limitation of tlie expression "classical philology" to the linfinistic, or to the merely literary, study of Greei< and Latin is witliout siifiicicnt warrant: it may be paralleled by the narrow application of the word jjIu- losophy in the expression "natural philosof)hy." 18 The College in the University and themselves, and it is these that have wrought themselves most potently into the leaven of modern thought ; it includes also insti- tutions, without some clear insight into which it is impossible to appreciate the ancient world, or even the modern world which has arisen upon the ancient, differing thus from history only in its point of view and in its method, and not at all in its subject- matter ; it includes equally the material products of ancient art upon which, even in their fragmentary condition, the skilled imagination may charm back into ideal existence wonderful visions of external loveliness. And — in the light of the compara- tive and historical sciences — it pursues all these matters not as dissociated and unconnected objects of inquiry, but as closely related and coordinate disciplines, each of which aids and ampli- fies the others, all of which are essential to a rounded and correct conception. But partly through the traditional influence of the earlier limited view of the subject, and partly through the minute subdivision of labor demanded by modern life, there is danger that the classical philologist, interested in a fixvorite line, may become practically ignorant of the true solidarity of classical studies, may disregard a just proportion in his work, may become a teacher or a student only of grammar, of classical history or of classical archaeology, or — even worse — may restrict his attention exclusively either to Greek or to Latin. He should be proficient in each of tliese, but he should be something more ; these are but parts of a great whole. The surviving fragments of ancient literature, and the material n^juains of ancient art are but the rescued wrecks of a wonderful civilization. It is one of the noblest activities of the human soul to reconstruct this beautiful vanished woild ; to bring it clearly back before the vision of man. This is creative activity, which expands the mind and heart and quickens powerfully the sense for what is essentially human. But to grub here and there in the ruins, and to be interested in one's discoveries and in one's labours only as in so much curious bric-a-brac is to defeat the very end of classical study, and to miss the crown that awaits the wise Avorker. Classical PhUologij in the College, 19 The successful prosecution of classical study at the present day, which means as we have seen much more than the old fashioned verbal scholarship, demands and develojies literary information, taste, and tact, an alert and responsive aesthetic sense, instruc- tive and ennobling historical knowledge, together with scientific exactness and discrimination. AVe study literature not only for the information it aftbrds, or for the pleasure it yields, or for the new light it casts upon human life, but also for its effect upon our manner of thinking, and upon our expression of thought. One of the highest attainments in education is intellectual vision, the seeing of things clearly and in perspective. It is this very power of intellectual vision that gives the great names in litera- ture their distinction ; their title to immortality is that they make men see " steadily and whole : " it is chiefly by the posses- sion of this power that literature is distinguished from all else that is written. They that love the best literatures, that study them with sympathetic appreciation, become insensibly affected by them in many ways. They receive something of the seer's power of sight into their own souls. They behold not only through the glass of literature, but they insensibly learn to be- hold and to make other men behold, with their own unaided eyes. Constant contact with the vivid and apt expression of thought shapes the student's own thinking into clearness and symmetry, and lends to his utterance of it something of unwonted vigor and fitness. And by the study of literature, it is needless for me to say I mean preeminently the loving and sympathetic reading and re-reading of the great books themselves, and in only a secondary way the acquisition of information about the books and the lan- guages in which the books are written. The classical philologist, both as student and teacher, will ever magnify this part of his work, the study of the literatures of the Greeks and Romans. He will ever feel that, in order truly to ap})reciate these litera- tures, he must at least endeavor to place himself in the position of the ancient reader for whom these books were originally written. 20 The College in the [^niversifi/ and and Avhatever may thus place him — whether it be a more precise and thorough knowledge of language or a clearer, more compre- hensive knowledge of the situation in its manifold aspects — he Avill strenuously aim to acquire, not as an end in itself but as subsidiary to his great aim. Literary study wisely carried on will develop the student's aes- thetic faculties — for literature is above all a work of art, — but these will also receive es])ecial culture and expansion from the systematic study of the remains of ancient art, especially in sculp- ture and architecture. These immortal creations, which have been at once the inspiration and the despair of modern artists, the student will bring before his mind by the actual observation of them in the original or in copies and by the aid of an imagi- nation trained and informed by archaeological research. The civilization of the Greeks in particular was permeated as has been that of no people since, by. a singularly pure and sound artistic instinct, which discloses itself at every turn. This fact gives a unique value to the study of Greek art, quite indepen- dently of its i^lace among Greek studies : it makes Greek art the best discii^line for the theory and history and of art in general. The appliances for this branch of inquiries have been vastly improved within the last decade. And here in our own city a most admirable beginning has been made especially in the well- chosen collection of casts in the Peabody Institute. When this collection is supplemented, as it undoubtedly Avill be, by casts of recently discovered masterpieces, by electrotypes of coins, by photographs — there will be few cities in this country where clas- sical archaeology can be pursued to greater advantage than at Baltimore. Classical antiquity and classical studies yield much more than the benefits arising from contact with literatures luminous with thought, or with an art almost ideal in spirit and in its creations. Tlu; history of the Greeks and Kt)mans is beyond all estimate replete with instruction, alike in its political and its biographical Classical Pliilologu in the College. 21 aspects. The fortune^: and the fiites of cities, the rise and fall of institutions, the careers and achievements of men, recorded for us in sombre words of warning or in the charming narrative of the great historians, or in the biographer's homely and epigram- matic phrase, or perhaps traced out by ourselves or by others in the scant fragments of scattered writers, have a transcendent and perennial interest. The absence of what is merely local or temporary in significance strikes us with surprise. It seems as if Ave were passing in review the experiences of a common humanity when we read the pages of classical history. The contemplation of the mighty drama of ancient life there unfolded affects us as do all the great tragedies of literature. In ]\Iilton's words — "His servants he witli new acquist Of true experience from this great event With peace and consolation hath dismissed. And calm of mind, all passion spent." The debt that we owe to this ancient civilization we can hardly reckon too high. And yet we are powerless to appreciate it, powerless to appropriate its good and reject its evil, without that analysis and calm estimate which classical studies alone can afford. We have inherited the past, we are the past ; our intel- lectual affinities, partly through the tradition of civilization, l)artly through the system of education by which for centuries we have been brought up, are much closer with the Greeks and Romans than with many other more recent peoples. We cannot know ourselves nor our work unless we trace out these affinities, and intelligently recognizing their force submit ourselves to their influence and inspiration. Why is it that a culture so remote in the past should touch at so many points, with that touch of nature that makes us kin, the culture of the modern world? Why is it that a culture, which in its material aspects, in its outward features, is so alien to ours, should still exercise upon us so potent an influence? It is because to the best things, to the great underlying principles of thought and of conduct, there can be no past ; these are eternal, these are common to humanity. These 22 The College in the University and are the "truths that having been must ever be." The distinct knowledge of them, the definite and clear utterance of many of them, were first achieved among the Greeks and Romans, and with a richness and range that makes plagiarists of all succeeding races. In placing ourselves in contact with the literature, the institutions and the art in whicli they are shadowed forth, we not only bring these truths anew vividly and concretely before us, but in the very process, as we note them in unfamiliar surround- ings unconnected with the associations which always attend their modern manifestations, we learn to distinguish the essential from the non-essential, we learn to recognize and to honor the eternal types. With us so often " custom serves for reason," as Locke says, that anything that gives us new and fresh views should be welcomed. The fixbric of ancient civilization was a simple one as compared with our modern world. Here there is nothing that is not com- plex, nothing that is not confusing. And yet this intricate maze of modern life nuist be threaded by us, and the problems of modern thought must be solved by the man who would retain his intellectual freehold. Experience alone can furnish the clue ; experience alone can suggest methods of solution. Antiquity fur- nishes a field, where much of such experience may be won, where the atmosphere is clear and calm, unclouded by the mists of prejudice, where the elements of the problem, simpler and fewer, are distinctly within one's scope. Ancient civilization and cul- ture was not only more simple than modern : it had a unity, an organic wholeness, wherein it is (juite unlike our modei'n world. It is this unity, this solidarity, that makes all the phenomena of antiquity seem to spring from a common source, to wear a com- mon likeness. Thus one class of phenomena will throw light upon phenomena of a different class, and one group of classical studies will illustrate other groups in a most surprising manner. Here is " infinite riches in a little room." I desire to select, at random, two examples, to show how one line of research receives illumination from another. Classical Pli'doloyy in the College. 2li Plutarch tells us, in his life of Pericles, that while the Propy- laea of Athens -were in . process of erection — the magnificent system of buildings on the western brow of the acropolis — a favorite workman fell from the roof and received serious injuries, which led the physicians to give him up. In the sorrow of Pericles at the event, the goddess Athena a})peared to him in a vision, and suggested a remedy, which proved effective in restor- ing the sufferer. In commemoration of this fact, Pericles, adds Plutarch, erected a bronze statue of Athena Hygieia (" Athena the Healer ") upon the acropolis. The name of the probable sculptor of this statue is furnished by Pliny, as Pyrrhus. Until a few years ago nothing was known of the statue except what I have just said. But in 1889, on the removal of a large amount of rubbish accumulated about the eastern portico of the Propylaea, a remarkable pedestal was found, set close against the southeastern corner of the column. Upon the cylindrical vertical surface of this pedestal, still in position, the traveller may to-day read these words Uupf)o<; i~oi7j(Te'/ 'AOrj'^aiti^ " The Athenians to Athena tlie Healer. The work of Pyrrhus of Athens." Upon the upper horizontal surface of the pedestal are impressions in the marble, into which evidently the bronze feet of the statue were fixed, and where perhaps the end of her spear rested. These indications make it plain that the statue was larger tlum life : that it faced eastward, and that the body Avas thrown a little forward, the weight resting on the right foot. My other illustration will be selected from the field of art criti- cism. Since its discovery sixty-six years ago the statue known as the Venus of Milo has been regarded as one of the most precious treasures inherited by the modern wtn-ld from antiquity. In the statue we have a very noble woman, more than human, who stands looking a little to the left ; her head is slightly raised 24 lite College in the Lnlcersliy and and her eyes are directed without doubt to an object held in her uplifted left hand, jDrobably an ap23le. Her left knee is raised slightly ; the drapery, which has fallen about her hips, she seems to hold in place by her extended right hand. Both arms and hands, however, are lost. The head Avhile noble is severe and in some features of its technique, in its fine sharp lines, recalls work in bronze; the drapery, however, has all the technique of marble. Of whom is this majestic figure ? By numerous witnesses in litera- ture we are informed that the apple was an attribute of the god- dess Aphrodite, not because of the part it played in the Choice of Paris, but because of an ancient symbolism. The form half naked, the eyes partly closed and other indications make it clear that in this figure we have a representation of the goddess Aphrodite. With its wonderful freshness, nobility and beauty the statue offers much that is puzzling : for example, the whole pose of the body and the position of the limbs do not seem to have a sufficient motive, when everything is considered. It is plain, therefore, that the statue — which was undoubtedly Avrought in the third century b. c. — is not an original type, but rather a variation upon an earlier type. Is it possible to discover the nature of this earlier type, which must be more intelligible, more harmoniously I'easoned out? The answer and the solution of the puzzle comes to us not altogether from sculpture, but from the evidence of numismatics, and from one or two literary notices. On the acropolis of Corinth, we are informed by Pausanias, there Avas a bronze statue of the armed Aphrodite. Coins of Corinth give us a very rude representation of a statue of a goddess in a temple on a height, which is without question the Aphrodite spoken of by Pausanias. The goddess holds with both hands a shield, the rim of which is near her knee. She is looking into the shield, as into a mirror, with slightly drooping head. This Corinthian figure, then, represents a modification of the ancient armed Aphrodite, with her own weapons, and not Avith the shield of Ares or Mars. A bronze statue known as the Brescia Victoi'v Classical Philology in the College. 25 gives us a slight variation upon the original type : the figure is that of a winged Nike or Victory, who is writing upon the shield. The sculptor of the A^enus of Milo furnishes us with yet another modification : he removes the shield altogether, raises the left hand and i)laces in it an apple, lifts the face slightly, that the e)^es may be turned toward the apple ; the right hand is made to grasp the drapery, which would not however slip down. The peculiar pose of the limbs as in the original type they support the shield is, however, retained ; and in the treatment of the face something of the technique of bronze statues is retained. This famous statue then receives its clear explanation, and only because various classes of evidence have been combined in the study of it. Numerous theories have been proposed by art critics in explanation but they have been inadequate, partly through a lack of acquaintance with archaeological research in out-of-the-way fields, and partly through an improper use of literary evidence. The Venus of Milo gains a new meaning when we look upon it as the echo, as it were, of a famous Avork of art which for many centuries was the pride and wonder of a city noted in antiquity for its worship of the goddess of love. I have presented these two illustrations with considerable detail of statement only that it might be apparent with what definiteness and amjDlitude, even in instances themselves of no great conse- quence, the different branches of philological science and inquiry explain and aid each other. The value of this fact to the student of classical philology in enabling him to gain thorough, comprehensive, related knowledge, instead of superficial, incoherent information — and thus in de- veloping the habit of exhaustive work — needs no further examples nor further emphasis. In the college here established, so long as the great truth is vividly recognized that "the permanent future must find its fountain of life in the permanent past," classical studies will be 4 26 The College in the University and encouraged, cultivated and enlarged. But they will be cultivated in no exclusive spirit. Their most ardent champions will ever see in them but one part of the wide and profound discipline, needful for the equipment for advanced research and study, and for the far more important equipment for modern life. The present age has been justly called a " time of loud disputes and weak convictions." Convictions are weak because knowledge that is but partial and incomplete is taken as final and soon found inadequate; because in the shocks and changes of advancing science and of social conditions there has been a slackening of the moral fibre. The remedy and the rescue can come only from a wider and deeper knowledge, from a more " fearful innocence And pure religion breathing household laws." The change to a better social condition, which every true man must have at heart, can be brought about only by the deepening, the purification, and the strengthening of all good influences. In the onward progress of humanity the individual seems to count for little, except as he allies himself to the organized forces, the organized institutions of society and of religion. Institutions remain, but men pass away. The institution here established will be here perpetuated and will outlive us all. It will live, and will deserve to live, only as it remains a fountain of life to those who come within its influence. It will live only as it quickens conscience, purifies and strengthens character, develops and deepens intellectual power with moral and religious earnestness. It will live only as it recognizes and professes, as the ultimate aim of all education, the spread of the kingdom of Reason and Righteousness in the individual, in the state, in the world. In a serene and unshaken belief in what is permanent, it shall not make haste; it shall not strive nor cry, but in the strength of quietness and confidence it will calmly proceed on its way. The great throng of youth that from generation to generation shall here Classical Philology in the College. 27 gather — themselves to the teacher a source of perennial inspira- tion — it will discipline and equip in all that enriches and elevates life, unceasingly endeavoring — ^faithful to the chosen motto on yonder shield, Veritas vos libekabit — as its highest achieve- ment, to bring all that are within its influence into the dominion of the Truth that shall make men free, whether it be the truth of Belief, the truth of Conduct, or the truth of Knowledge. THE LIBRARY \{ bO L 006 855 050 8 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILI AA 001 033 424 1