S. Education in Athens

Education in Athens.

THERE is nothing more natural or appropriate, at these annual meetings, than that our thoughts should mainly dwell upon topics connected with education. Not only must the very atmosphere we breathe, all the associations of the place and the occasion, recall the lively interest which years ago we felt in this subject, but our experience amid the activities of life must be continually impressing us more deeply with the importance of obtaining the most thorough mental culture and the most complete mental furniture. And if gratefully recognizing the benefits received from our own early training, we cannot but desire that others may enjoy yet more abundant privileges. We gather again, those who have wandered farthest and those who have remained nearest, around the domestic hearth; we look with pride upon these younger brothers who fill now the places that once were ours, and far from feeling any jealousy of their perhaps superior attainments, far from cherishing any aristocratic notion of rights of primogeniture in education, we can heartily wish that, as is wont to happen in this democratic and growing country, our cherishing mother may be able to provide the best advantages for her younger sons. Whatever, then, is related to education in general, whatever promises to cast the least ray of light upon the higher education among ourselves, as it is and as it ought to be, can hardly fail, I have thought, to be for us a welcome theme.

Now the educational methods and machinery of cultivated modern nations have received large attention, since they furnish illustrative examples which are most nearly parallel and models which are most easily imitated. But it has appeared to me that something at least might be learned from considering the methods employed and the material possessed among the foremost nations of antiquity. A very little reflection sufficed to show that one particular people of the ancient world afford not only what is most interesting, but almost all that can be instructive; and for the sake of definiteness, it seemed best to confine the view to a single leading city and a comparatively limited period.

I propose to speak, therefore, of the higher education in Athens during the period of its greatest prosperity, say the century from about 450 to about 350 B. C. It is a very brief, and I know a very imperfect account, which alone I can expect to give; but I have hoped it would possess some interest, and might perhaps suggest some profitable reflection. A problem presents itself here for our solution. The Greeks, and especially the Athenians of this age, have left monuments of mental power which the world can never cease to admire. Though ignorance may sometimes sneer, and self-complacent modernism may sometimes assail, yet one need not be a mere praiser of the past to assert that the productions of the Athenian mind have hardly ever been surpassed, and not very often been equalled, by the noblest kindred works of modern times. Whence came this wonderful power?

What was there, in the influences to which they were subjected, corresponding to these great results? Now if a distinction be made between what we call education in the technical sense and those more general influences which accomplish so much in developing the mind and directing as well as stimulating its activity, then it is to be observed that these last were perhaps more potent among the Athenians than any other nation of the world. If there be an exception, it is in our own people; and, indeed, the most superficial observer must always be struck by the numerous points of resemblance, in this respect, between the Athenians and ourselves. It is very difficult, in either case, fully to estimate the powerful effect of the influences in question. The peculiar genius of the race its enthusiasm, its restless activity, its self-reliance must form an important element. The working of their democratic institutions, the fact that every citizen, besides frequently attending the popular assembly and having a voice in the direction of national affairs, so as to feel the dignity and responsibility of his position, was called to take part very largely in the administration of justice, sitting frequently in the immense juries of from five to fifteen hundred, and required, whenever a cause of his own was on trial, to appear not simply by counsel) but in his own person, and plead for himself, all this would be an element of almost incalculable importance. And the circumstances of the age were not onlyfavorable, but stimulating. Commerce and tribute, during the years which mainly gave character to this period, filled Athens with wealth, so that men possessed the leisure and the means necessary to intellectual pursuits. The yet fresh memories of that great struggle, in which their fathers had shown such bravery in battle and such heroical fortitude in suffering, in order to maintain their liberties against the terrible power of the Persian j the frequent successes and then maddening losses, and the final and almost hopeless ruin which made up the history of the Peloponnesian war; the anxiety and strife connected with the Theban and Macedonian supremacy, these made it throughout an age of excitement. But after making the largest allowance for the unusual power of these general influences, one cannot resist the conviction, that there must have been something in their education, strictly so called, corresponding to the wonderful excellence of their intellectual achievements. We must look into the facts, so far as they have come down to us, in order to ascertain whether this conviction is just.

If one should begin by examining the scattered extant allusions to elementary education in Athens, he must be struck by the extraordinary attention which was bestowed upon the subject, and the very general acquaintance, among the citizens, with the elements of knowledge. Great philosophers constantly interested themselves in devising plans for the better conduct of elementary instruction. Schools for the young were always established by private enterprise, but there were special laws having reference to them, even from the time of Solon, and special supervisors for their control, appointed by the State. We read in Plutarch’s Themistocles, that when the women and children of Athens fled to Trcezene at the time of the Persian invasion, a part of the hospitality with which they were entertained was, that the Trcezenians paid persons to teach the children. If the story can be relied on, it certainly affords a very remarkable proof of the interest felt, by the exiles and their hosts, in the constant instruction of the young.

And, this being the case, one is not surprised to find that at the period of which we speak, a very large proportion of the citizens, in the proper sense of that term, appear to have been able to read and write. To notice no other evidence, the fact is proven by the introduction, as early as 510 B.C, of the remarkable institution known as the Ostracism. It would have been folly to resort to a secret ballot, in order temporarily to banish one or the other of two powerful political rivals and thus secure political tranquillity, if any large number of the citizens had been dependent upon others to prepare their ballots, and thus liable to be imposed upon by designing partisans. With reference now to the higher education, there are two departments of inquiry, the supply of instructors, and the material of instruction. Of instructors, we have reason to believe that there was a much larger number than the cursory reader of Greek history and literature might suppose. There were many included under the general name of philosophers. Among these, every one will think of Socrates and Plato, as belonging to this age. Though the former never constituted regular classes, yet we know that young men were accustomed to attach themselves to him, and to follow his daily wanderings in the agora and the gymnasium, conversing with him themselves, and listening to his conversations with others; so that besides the general influence he exerted, in awakening and stimulating the minds of almost the entire community, there was always a circle of those who might be considered, in a strict sense, his pupils in philosophy.

Plato held conversations and lectures in the Academy, to which all could listen who chose. We read of him as on one occasion delivering a lecture in the Peiraeeus on the Good; and one is more sorry than surprised to find that his audience gradually wasted away tho philosopher had chosen a subject too abstract for the popular taste. In addition to these public labors, he had a band of disciples who regularly assembled in his own garden at Colon us, there to partake of a frugal meal, and discourse together on subjects of philosophy. There are other famous philosophers of this age, who resided at Athens, and taught their peculiar opinions. Anaxagoras is stated to have been the instructor of Euripides and Pericles, and many others of the most eminent men of the time. Zeno of Elea is recorded to have spent some years in Athens, unfolding the doctrines of his philosophy to such men as Pericles and Callias, from the latter of whom he received for his instructions a large sum of money, and also to the youthful Socrates. The accomplished and excellent Democritus would seem to have sojourned there a while, and even casual intercourse for a limited period with a man of his extraordinary attainments and beautiful character, must have been a means of marked improvement to the rising young men of the day. And may we not take it for granted that there were many others, citizens and strangers, addicted to philosophical studies, and accustomed to give at least informal instruction to the young, whose names have not come down to us? They who have lived in history were the men of originality, the men of splendid powers, the men who introduced new doctrines in philosophy, or wrote valuable treatises on opinions already current; must there not have been a much more numerous class, just one degree inferior, who were well acquainted with all the teachings of the different schools, perhaps warmly attached to the doctrines of the Ionian school of Pythagoras or the Eleatics, and anxious to win over every young man of promise to their own opinions? These would often give far more information as to the true nature and extent of the various systems than the more original thinkers, who would commonly allude to the tenets of their predecessors, as Socrates does to those of Anaxagoras, only for purposes of refutation or ridicule. Thus we may see that the class called philosophers formed a numerous corps, so to speak, of able and active instructors.

Again, there were many persons who made teaching their occupation. A man who had gained some reputation, perhaps, as master of an elementary school, or had become specially fond of a particular subject, would undertake to give instruction to young men, separately or in classes. We find incidental allusions to some of these, as teachers of music (in the modern sense), of geometry, of oratory, <&c. It is plain from the manner of allusion that they were numerous; but only one here and there is known to posterity, from his good fortune in having some pupil who became famous. As many an humble English clergyman has a name in history from his being the early tutor of a great statesman, as a plain New England schoolmaster will be remembered because of his connection with Webster, so there is now and then to be found, from among the old Athenian instructors, some name which had floated down the allengulfing tide of time only because attached to the ever-buoyant, imperishable names of Pericles or Plato, of Aristotle or Demosthenes. It is a thought not strange to the bosom of any reflecting instructor, a thought tending to humility, and yet to honest pride in the true power of his calling, that centuries to come men may recognize as his chief claim to their gratitude, the influence he exerted upon another; yea, that highly and deservedly honored as he is now, posterity may remember him at all, only for having been the teacher of one who sits now, a modest lad, scarce noticed among his pupils.

Perhaps the most influential of these professional teachers, and certainly those who have the largest place in history, are the so-called Sophists. Among the numerous instances in which recent historical research has overturned received opinions, there are few more striking than the inquiry which Mr. Grote has made, in his unrivalled history, into the true character of these celebrated men; and it may not be amiss to state the conclusions he has reached and the outline of his argument. Doubtless, in attacking the popular notion, he has gone somewhat to the other extreme. We have more than one remarkable case of this among the distinguished historians of the present generation. Ever since the days of Niebuht it has been the fashion to assail all established historical opinions; and wherever plausible grounds can be found for questioning, there at once to reject. Pleased at detecting the errors of ancient authorities, many a writer seeins to forget that himself can err in the conclusions drawn from their statements; delighted to expose the prejudiced views of previous historians, he may yield, half unconsciously, to prejudices of his own. When weary of the misrepresentation and general injustice which so frequently attach to contemporaneous judgments, we often console ourselves by thinking of the future, and “ the impartial voice of history.”

Yet it is but a poor approximation to impartiality that is ever actually found. No achromatic arrangement has been devised, whereby the historian, as he looks into the distant past, may be able to see things precisely in their true colors. But to return. The term sophist, which is for us so opprobrious, and which from the days of Plato began to be confined to a particular set of men, originally denoted, in the general and honorable sense, a wise man, a man of talent. It was applied to poets and statesmen, and constantly used by Herodotus in speaking of the “ seven sages.” But where general ignorance prevails, there will always be a secret dislike to the few men of superior attainments and abilities, which gradually becomes more decided till it is avowed. Thus by degrees there came to be associated with the term sophist, a certain invidious feeling. Then other words, such as philosopher, were preferred for the good sense, and sophist became the stock term of reproach applied to any person, who possessed acknowledged power and was eminent as a teacher, but for whatever reason was personally unpopular. Thus Aristophanes, in the “ Clouds,” called Socrates a sophist; and in a subsequent age, “Timon, who bitterly satirized all the philosophers, designated them all, including Plato and Aristotle, by the general name of sophists.” Now Socrates, and still more Plato, greatly disliking the eminent professional teachers of their time, have succeeded, by their justly powerful influence, in fastening upon them this odious name. The cause of their dislike was two-fold. The men in question taught for pay. Of course, those of them who became most celebrated would at times receive high pay; and in some cases they went from one city to another, where there was a prospect of obtaining large sums for their instructions. The result would be, that these ablest men commonly taught only the wealthy.

All this was extremely repugnant to the notions of the two great philosophers. Socrates held that the relation between preceptor and pupil must be like that of intimate friends, or even of lovers; and that this could not possibly be the case, unless the instruction were gratuitous. With our modern ideas and experience, we should of course utterly dissent from this philosophic fancy.

True, there is still a certain unwillingness to see men receive for the duties of this profession a compensation at all approaching to equality with that which the same ability and attainment and devotion might secure in some other calling; but we do not require them to teach altogether for love. We do not expect a profound and accomplished man, every day and all the day long, to leave his home to Xantippean care, and, poorly clad and with scanty fare, to wander among the people, giving instruction to all who might desire it. Not even to escape the horrors of a home like that of Socrates, nor to have the exquisite pleasure of proving other people less wise than themselves, could men be expected to lead such a life of privation and penury. In this respect, then, the prejudice against the teachers called Sophists, was certainly unjust. The other ground of dislike was the peculiar character of their teachings, as contrasted with those of Plato and his great master. Socrates was a moral reformer, Plato a splendid social theorizer, proposing to re-model society altogether; while the persons they stigmatize undertook merely to prepare young men for performing their duties as citizens, for achieving success and reputation in Athens as it was. How much soever we may admire the doctrines of the philosophers, we cannot account the latter to have been in itself an unworthy task. There is no proof that the ethical precepts they inculcated were immoral; all the fragments which remain are of an opposite tendency. By the discipline they gave, and the knowledge they imparted, their pupils acquired a power which certainly could be used for maintaining the wrong as well as the right; but in cases where such perversion occurred, it was no more an argument against their teachers, than was the misconduct of Alcibiades a proof, as so strenuously urged, of some corrupting tendency in the teachings of Socrates. It may be that in training the young men for skill in discussion and effective oratory, they sometimes adopted the mistaken plan of teaching them to defend the weaker side and argue in favor of what was known to be untrue; but it caunot be shown that their instructions had any direct and purposed tendency to confound moral distinctions. The accusation that their pupils were trained to “ make the worse appear the better reason,” from which especially has come the modern use of the word sophist, was made also against Socrates, and as he himself remarks, was the charge constantly made against persons devoted to philosophy. And whatever reproach may attach to a readiness to defend either side of a cause, it must be borne by one of the most learned and honored professions of both ancient and modern times.

It may be concluded, then, that we have no evidence that there was anything corrupting in the influence of these much-abused men. And certainly the general effect of their instructions was very great. Thoroughly acquainted with all the learning of the age, devoting all their energies to the instruction, for the time being, of a few select individuals, Protagoras, Gorgias and their compeers were educators of no mean order. As to public speaking, some of them appear to have taught the analysis of a discourse into its parts, with various practical rules for the proper management of each; and tdiis was a great advance upon all previous treatment, and a necessary preparation for the work of the great master of rhetoric. And they could add to their precept the example of an elaborate and ornate style of oratory which was not without its power, and for a time became very popular. Bad taste in this respect was perhaps the greatest fault of their teachings. Such a style was the very opposite of that beautiful simplicity and directness, that absence of all artificial ornament, for which Aristotle contended, which Demosthenes so strikingly exemplified, and which forms the chief charm of all the better Grecian literature.

Upon the whole, it must be evident that, at the period of which we speak, Athens abounded in men who occupied themselves as instructors in the higher education.

Indeed, we know that from every part of Greece and the colonies, men of ability and ambition flocked to this great city, where their literary tastes would find sympathy and their labors reward, and the approbation of whose citizens would constitute the highest meed of fame. We learn, too, that men were accustomed to send their sons from distant cities to Athens to be educated; so that already the city began to be, what in the age of Cicero it had fully become, the University of the World. The places at which instruction was commonly given were peculiar. When the hour of noon was fully past, and the business of the agora completed, almost all the men of leisure in the city might have been seen taking their way without the walls, to one or another of the three great Gymnasia. Some of these went to the bath, others to participate in, or witness, the gymnastic exercises, while many others tarried in the peristyle. This outer court of the Gymnasium consisted of a spacious lawn surrounded by buildings. On three of its sides were arcades with large halls, many of them open to the sky, and having stone benches, running along the walls, or arranged in a semi-circular form. In these numerous public halls, men would seat themselves for conversation, and here might be found many a philosopher or professor, with a band of pupils around him, and perhaps a crowd of listeners near, engaged in earnest dialogue or lecture. When weary of formal lectureroom instruction they would wander forth among the shade-trees of the lawn, conversing still upon the subject which had occupied them before. Socrates, if we may judge from his general course, probably frequented all the gymnasia in turn; though there appears to have been some one place where he was most commonly to be found, and which Aristophanes humorously called Socrates’ thinking-shop. Two of the great gymnasia have become famous as the chosen resort of Plato and of Aristotle; and every little palaestra seems to have been employed for the same purpose, and often appropriated by some particular instructor. Besides, teachers of every class frequently gathered their pupils and friends at their own houses, or at the residence of some person of literary tastes, and there spout the hours in familiar conversation and at times in regular instruction. But what formed the subject of these conversations and lectures? What educational material did the Greeks of this age possess? What progress had they already made in the several departments of knowledge? To this inquiry we turn. Instead of pausing to explain the peculiar phraseology which they employed, it will be more convenient to use the modern sub-divisions and terms. With the most remarkable properties of Numbers, and the processes which admit of being performed upon them, the Greeks of this period had made considerable acquaintance. The fanciful theory of Pythagoras and his followers, that all things have their origin in numerical relations, that every physical existence and every mental attribute is due to some combination of numbers, would naturally lead them to investigate in that direction with the greatest diligence. Besides those several operations which lie at the foundation of arithmetic, they seem to have possessed methods of extracting the square and cube root, and to have been familiar with the theory of arithmetical and geometrical proportions and progressions. The elements of arithmetic were carefully taught in the schools for boys; and its higher questions appear to have awakened interest and received large attention among the most cultivated men. Of Geometry they knew much more. Every one is aware that our modern treatises on synthetic geometry contain, to say the least, no very great improvements upon the work of an old Greek. It is true that Euclid wrote considerably later than the period we are contemplating (for it is now settled that he was a different person from Euclides of Megara, the pupil of Socrates), but we might be sure, from the very nature of the case, that a treatise so complete as his Elements cannot have been the creation of a single mind. And in fact there is abundant evidence that Geometry had been largely studied from the earliest times, especially from the time of Pythagoras, and that enough was known before the days of Plato to prepare for his reputed discovery of some of the properties of the conic sections. Somewhat earlier than the middle of the fifth century B.C. (460) we read of a systematic treatise on Geometry, prepared by Hippocrates of Chios, and similar works are ascribed to later authors. Plato insisted very much on the importance of this science, not only for practical, but for educational purposes, and (according to the familiar story) refused to admit any one into the inner circle of his philosophical pupils, who was not a Geometer. When in his old age he was invited to visit and instruct the younger Dionysius at Syracuse, he set the monarch his first lessons in Geometry. Thus it appears, that during this age geometrical studies were pursued with great zeal, and rapid advances were continually made even in the higher departments of the science, while there existed compends for elementary instruction.

Astronomy had likewise become a favorite subject.

There is no good reason to doubt the truth of the story that Thales predicted an eclipse of the sun; of course it must have been by some empirical method. In the sixth century B.C, the age of Anaximander, there are said to have been instruments for determining the time of solstices and equinoxes; and as early as 432 B.C. the golden period was devised by Meton. They had divided the visible heavens into constellations, and marked out a Zodiac, which is still retained. Accurate observations upon the motions of the planets, though five of them were so familiarly known, do not seem to have been made till a somewhat later period. But already there were distinguished Geometers who taught something of astronomy, and whose instructions came to be in great request; and many minds were busy with astronomical inquiries. The clear atmosphere of Attica was very favorable for watching the heavenly bodies; and one or another of the surrounding mountains might well serve, as Lycabettus was used by Meton, for an observatory. In other branches of Physical Science very little was known that we should account satisfactory or valuable. A spirit of inquiry had been awakened, and miscellaneous observations were made in every direction, which doubtless aided in furnishing material for the numerous and valuable works of Aristotle upon physical subjects, as, for instance, upon Natural History. When we find the persons composing the so-called Ionian school, from Thales to Anaxagoras and onward, spoken of as natural philosophers, we must understand little more than that they occupied themselves with general physical speculations. Universal science had not yet been divided into various distinct departments; indeed, the making of such a division would require no small previous knowledge, even as one who is preparing a discourse has gone far towards mastering his subject when he has fairly marked out its natural divisions. Looking at the universe as a whole, and influenced by that desire for unity, which finds its true satisfaction in the idea of a great First Cause, the earlier Greek philosophers were constantly seeking some simple primordial principle, which would account for the origin of all existing things. When some of them taught that this principle is one of the more subtile forms of matter, as water or air or fire, it was not pure a priori speculation; but they seem to have always observed at least a small number of facts, and upon these built their theory.* So that we have here only an extreme result of that tendency to hasty generalization, and then unwarranted inference, which, in some departments of physical science, is not wholly restrained, even amid the correct principles and careful researches of our own day. And while these theories were, in many respects, absurd and utterly fruitless, and served to divert attention from that accurate and patient observation which alone can lead to any correct acquaintance with the material world, yet they were by no means without value as a sort of mental gymnastics.

We have thus entered upon the Greek Philosophy. Of course, no more can be attempted, in speaking of this great subject, than to call attention to its extent and value, as being indeed the chief material of Athenian education. It is a well-known matter of dispute how far the Greeks were indebted for their philosophy to the Orientals. Ritter contends, with great earnestness and force, that it originated almost entirely among themselves. Coleridge used to declare that he could not believe it was otherwise. Admitting, however, what seems at least probable, that a certain influence was exerted by Oriental ideas, both in the rise of Greek speculation, and subsequently through particular men, as Pythagoras and Plato, yet certainly their philosophy was their own, in the sense that it had a regular development, in accordance with the genius of the people and their general progress. Even in the pre-Socratic philosophy we find an orderly succession of doctrines, either by natural development or the antagonism of reaction, corresponding precisely with the alternations of philosophic opinion in all subsequent ages. There was ultra-sensationalism and ultra-idealism, with various attempts to combine the two. There was a school recognizing an imperfect sort of theism; another, with teachings more or less distinctly atheistic, and more than one whose tendencies were decidedly to pantheism.

Whatever value, then, as an instrument of education, is assigned to modern speculation, belongs likewise, in no small measure, to even this earlier philosophy of the Greeks, presenting, as it did, the same subjects of investigation and essentially the same systems of belief, though with a much less extensive development, and in a much less perfect form. And it was not only valuable, but attractive. The men of that time were largely occupied, as philosophers have always been, with the interesting task of exposing the erroneousness and absurdity of opposite opinions, and this with no lack of the most pungent personality. The fact, too, that these speculations were so much at variance with prevailing opinions, would lead men not only to make acquaintance with them, but, when they possessed any plausibility at all, to investigate them with a sharp and searching attention. So great is the power of paradox in stimulating inquiry, that we have seen eminent instructors at times cast their ideas into a purposely paradoxical form, with the design of breaking up settled prejudices and arousing to examination. Now, when a young Greek, accustomed to those old legendary notions, which vaguely described all things as the offspring of certain imaginary persons, was made acquainted with the doctrines held by one or another of the early schools of philosophy, when he heard, for instance, of some original substance and of impersonal forces, as accounting for all existences, he would almost certainly be led into curious inquiry and earnest reflection; and when these speculations came to be denounced and persecuted as impious, that would only give them an additional charm. Is there not in these considerations sufficient explanation of the fact that the doctrines referred to were through life eagerly studied by such a man as Pericles, and sufficient reason to believe that they largely contributed to the expansion and discipline of his great mind? That the philosophical teachings of Socrates and his illustrious pupil were immensely valuable for purposes of education will be recognized at once and by all. Let it only be observed that their most profound and difficult speculations possessed always some element suited to awaken the liveliest interest. They taught political and social philosophy to young men whose special ambition, in most cases, was for political advancement, and for whom these subjects formed a part, so to speak, of professional study. Their ethical and aBsthetic inquiries were often made to spring from some actual occurrence or real object, which seemed to render them living questions. And every one who has read Plato will remember the vivacity of manner with which Socrates is represented as discussing the most abstruse subjects, and the familiar, quaint, even whimsical character of many of his illustrations. A delight in abstract inquiries, a love of dialectical investigation for its own sake as well as for its fruits, a consequent sharpening of all the mental powers, and a general elevation of spirit at least in some degree commensurate with the ennobling tendency of the doctrines themselves, must have been derived from any careful study of the Socratic and Platonic philosophy. Every well-informed man has doubtless already as exalted an idea of its educational influence upon that and all subsequent ages as any attempted estimate could possibly give.

There were other subjects to which much time was devoted among the Athenians, and from which they cannot have failed to derive large benefit. We have, however, no very definite information concerning the extent to which these were made matter of systematic instruction by the teachers of young men. They studied their own noble literature. In the elementary schools, a large portion of their time was occupied in committing to memory the writings of the great poets, epic, lyric and dramatic; so that we read of young men who were able to repeat the entire Iliad and the like.

There is a well-known and touching story, that when the Athenian soldiers taken captive at Syracuse in the year 413 B.C. were sold into slavery, many of them gained the favor of their masters, and some their liberty, by repeating large portions of the dramas of Euripides, who was very popular in Sicily, and that several of these lived to thank the great poet on their return to Athens. Besides the obvious improvement of memory and refinement of taste, this exercise at school formed a means of acquiring that accuracy and elegance of pronunciation which the Athenians so rigidly required, and which, in the Greek language, must have been so difficult. It prepared them also for the introduction and appreciation of those felicitous quotations from the older poets which so abound in the orators and philosophers. But these early lessons were not all; in some cases, at least, lectures on literature were delivered by the higher instructors. Hippias is represented by Plato as lecturing to crowded audiences on Homer and various other poets, giving much archaeological information which might illustrate those old writers, presenting critical estimates of the comparative value of different poems and of the character of the Homeric heroes. It seems reasonable to conclude that the practice was not unusual. The benefit derived from these lectures would be greatly augmented by the fact that every man who heard them had a familiar previous acquaintance with the literature which formed their subject. Add to all this the general effect of reading and of the drama, and it cannot be questioned that here was a most important means of education. Even so much as then existed of that glorious literature, whose thoughts of power and forms of beauty still afford valuable discipline and abiding delight to all civilized nations, must have been far more influential among a people who could perfectly sympathize with its inner spirit, a people familiar with the scenes it depicted and for whom it possessed the peculiar charm that always attaches to our national history and our native tongue.

Much attention was also given to the arts. Almost every Athenian youth learned something of the graphic arts and of music, and a philosophy of each was already recognized. Phidias, Parrhasius and others established canons in their several departments of art, and musical science, both in its physical and metaphysical relations, was largely studied. Aristotle has left us an elaborate argument on the importance of a practical acquaintance with these subjects, which in his day were beginning to be neglected. He says, for example, that taking the very lowest view, these accomplishments are a source of exceeding pleasure to ourselves and others, and that it should be a part of education to fit men not only for the proper pursuit of business, but also for the becoming enjoyment of leisure. One might recall, in connection with this, a saying of Pericles, in the remarkable funeral oration. He accounts it one of the peculiar glories of Athens that their laws provide for such frequent intermissions of care, by means of numerous and elegant recreations, whose daily delight charms melancholy away. Another point of the philosopher’s argument is that rhythm and harmony tend to regulate and refine the mind, while the graphic arts lead us up to the contemplation of beauty, as letters to the contemplation of truth. The example of the Greeks, it may be remarked, will go very far to show that the study and practice of music, which among ourselves is so commonly neglected and so often despised, is not incompatible, to say the least, with profound wisdom or with practical fitness for the business of life.

We see, then, that however limited in comparison with the attainments of modern times, the field of acquired knowledge was really of great extent. With a considerable amount of Mathematics and Astronomy, and an active interest in the investigation of these and numerous kindred subjects, with Philosophy in all its divisions and Art in all its branches, and with an already valuable Literature, there was material for a course of instruction protracted through many years.

If, now, we combine with this result the conclusion previously reached as to the abundant supply of instructors, I think it will sufficiently appear that the Athenians of the age in question possessed such facilities for enlarged and thorough education as may account for the extraordinary degree, not only of mental power, but of mental discipline, which is so manifest in their history and remaining works. It would hardly be extravagant to assert, that in real training of mind, in mastery of principles and knowledge of men, in capacity for every form of mental effort, from the most refined speculation to the conduct of affairs, they were as highly educated a people as the world has yet seen. The subject I have endeavored thus summarily to present might suggest a variety of reflections bearing upon our own educational interests. To a few of these I shall now alfude.

Instruction among the Athenians was chiefly oral.

Books they had, but they were rare and costly. Much of their reading was with the peculiar disadvantages as well as peculiar benefits of using borrowed books. It was a matter of necessity that they should occupy themselves mainly with oral discussion. The multiplication of books and their cheapness has perhaps been the chief cause of that entirely opposite practice which now so largely prevails. Of course it is not necessary to discuss the merits of the two methods in this presence. The prominence of lecturing, in every department of the University, has beyond question contributed not a little to its success, stimulating to that sharpened attention in the lecture-room which intelligent visitors have so often remarked, and leading to a thorough comprehension of general principles on the part of students, while it almost necessitates laborious personal study, year after year, on the part of those who teach. One is surprised to find it said, by persons elsewhere who still hold to the opposite course, that this method proposes to throw away text-books altogether, when a judicious combination of the two is constantly advocated and attempted, a combination varying in the relative proportion of its elements according to the nature of the particular subject. Nor is it less strange to hear it urged, that the method is appropriate only for those who have decided maturity of mind, since a brief experiment would suffice to show that nowhere more than in elementary schools is oral instruction profitable and necessary. One might be inclined at times to suspect that a latent dread of the labor it requires is the true ground of opposition, did not the high character for ability and faithfulness of some who oppose, render the supposition inadmissible. Moreover, the Athenians derived much of their knowledge from free conversation, not only between an instructor and his pupils, but in the social intercourse of cultivated men in general. Every one has observed the lack of this at the present day, particularly in our own country. Between the Professor and his class, it is, perhaps, mainly impracticable, and the great advantages of our modern institutions must make compensation. In general society the growing infrequency of intercourse for conversation upon elevated topics appears to result from several causes. We live in an age of feverish activity and incessant toil, when all leisure is apt to be reckoned loss. New and attractive books and periodicals constantly accumulate upon the table and engross every moment that can be snatched from pressing duties. Mingling little together, and with an ever-widening literature in the several professions and in the various departments of knowledge, our better reading is less and less in the same direction. Already there is often little common ground save politics and general news. The whole tendency is to a diminution of that intellectual sympathy which ought to subsist among men of cultivation, however diverse their callings. Even if we looked to nothing beyond obtaining valuable information, surely there is more to be learned from conversation with intelligent friends than from the hurried reading of every ephemeral publication which obtrudes itself upon our notice. Another cause is, that a higher morality forbids the excesses which have so commonly been connected with the intercourse of literary men. Certainly we had better isolate ourselves completely than revive the scenes of the Greek symposion or the English club; but it would be humiliating to acknowledge that excessive animal indulgence is indispensable to elevated intellectual communion. It may be said that the whole matter will regulate itself aright; but I may at least solicit your reflection, whether some remedy cannot be found for what does appear to be an evil. The educational history we have been surveying suggests also the important fact that true education is not necessarily associated with vast acquirements. The famous saying of Macaulay that a modern school-girl knows more of Geography than Strabo, is in one sense true, but in another and higher sense it hides a dangerous error; for he who would measure education must not forget that it has three dimensions, and be sure to take account of its depth. There is hardly any lesson which our age needs to impress upon itself more constantly than that thoroughness is not to be sacrificed to extensive attainment. We remember, gentlemen, those of us particularly who were deficient in early advantages, the delusive hope of boyhood, that there would come a time when we should have read all books, and become masters of all knowledge. “We learned long ago that this can never be; yet often one re-awakes to fresh disappointment, and finds that he has been dreaming that sweet dream of childhood still. It is painful to think that we must live on and die, and leave many a wide field of human knowledge untraversed and unknown. This longing to learn everything is in itself a noble element of our nature, and leads to noble results; but it requires to be checked by the stern voice of duty.

It is this feeling, combined with an indolent preference of that which is comparatively easy, that induces some persons to spend their lives in skimming the surface of every science and all literature, nowhere pausing for thorough examination. It is this that produces the popular admiration of men who have the reputation of omnivorous reading, while they may not be, in any just sense of the term, scholars. And in no respect are its effects more likely to be injurious than upon the interests of the higher education. Students, where there is liberty of choice, are constantly disposed to attempt more than within the time assigned they can properly accomplish; professors have to struggle continually against a desire to make their course unduly extensive; while cultivated and enthusiastic spectators, who have forgotten their experience in the one capacity and are perhaps destitute of experience in the other, impressed with the value of some branch of a subject which is not included, call, and call with forcible argument and eloquent appeal, for enlargement. Now, when it is urged that additional studies shall be pursued in additional time, no lover of knowledge can fail to give a hearty approbation. When it is proposed to crowd other subjects into the same already crowded space, the project is very questionable. When it is desired that we shall seek some vague general benefit, in such a condition of things as to involve, whether that be the intention or not, a sacrifice of thorough study, any such scheme deserves to be resisted, firmly and forever. In endeavoring to give a valuable course of instruction in any department of knowledge, the instructor must always keep in view three objects; and where the subject is unprofessional, and he is confined within such narrow limits as the present spirit and customs of our people impose, they ought to be held, if I correctly judge, in the following order of relative importance, first, to secure mental training; second, to awaken a love for the subject, which may lead the student to prosecute it hereafter; last and least, to furnish information. In teaching, for instance, one of the ancient languages, to those who cannot yet be induced to give to it more than a limited time, to make the student acquainted with whatever valuable truths the literature of that language contains, though very desirable in itself, must certainly be reckoned of inferior importance. If this were the principal object, there would be much force in the argument often urged against all study of those languages, that translations would suffice. The question then is, Which will accomplish most in the way of mental culture and in awakening a relish for the classics, to spend the time which can be commanded in reading as widely as possible, though with a very imperfect knowledge of the language itself, or to make an accurate and philosophical acquaintance with the language the primary object it being remembered that in order to this no small amount of reading is necessary, and that so much at least of the literature is read with a tolerably thorough comprehension and just appreciation? As to intellectual training, no one will question that the latter method is more useful. I think it can easily be shown that the same thing is true where some do question it, as to the cultivation of taste.

If you should go with some young friend to a gallery of art, having but a comparatively short time at your disposal, and desiring to procure him the largest amount of benefit and enjoyment, your course, if unreflecting as the mass of men, would probably be to carry him through a rapid survey of numerous works, telling him the names of the great artists, and pointing out their most celebrated productions, and giving him all the critical common- places of would-be connoisseurs. Your friend would go away little inclined to come again, and with scarcely anything of real benefit, but marvellously prepared to shine in a certain kind of society by a display of his remarkable familiarity with matters of art. But if you select a considerable number of the finest works and fix his attention upon these till he shall, to some extent, drink in their deep inner significance and beauty, he will turn away, not imagining that he knows much, but with some true culture of taste, with a heightened love of the beautiful, and probably with a strong desire to visit again the spot where he found so much of genuine improvement and serene delight. Even so, if we desire nothing more than the ability to make large talk concerning even the most unfamiliar classic authors, and to ornament our pages with a plentiful sprinkling of classic allusion and quotation, then it will suffice to run rapidly over many works and read treatises on Greek and Roman Literature. But if we desire that true cultivation of taste, the faculty of taste, which the classics are capable of affording, we must study at least some works with such a patient attention as shall at length issue in appreciative contemplation and in sympathy with their peculiar genius. And let it not be objected that in order to this appreciation there is no need of critical study, as the great scholars of two centuries ago entered most fully into the classical spirit, while they knew very little of what we call philology. The objector appears to forget that condition which I have repeatedly mentioned, and which, however deplorable, can be corrected only by very slow degrees, the lack of time. Milton and the other great scholars of his age spent a large portion of their lives in reading Latin and Greek authors, becoming almost as familiar with those * languages, particularly the former, as with English itself. Thus they were brought into sympathy with the genius of the classic languages, precisely as in the case of their native tongue, by the gradual effect of this exceeding familiarity. Very similar, though within narrower limits, seems to be the plan pursued in England now. By an almost exclusive devotion during many years, their classical scholars attain to an extremely accurate and familiar knowledge of the languages, learning to feel the force of their idiom, not by philosophical examination, but by an immense amount of practical drilling.

It might appear presumptuous to say that, even for them, a larger infusion of philosophy would augment the benefit their system already confers. It is sufficient to say that, among us, such a course as that pursued by Milton or by the modern English scholars is at present utterly impracticable. If we would, with far less time at command, still attain to the privilege of communion with the very spirit of classical literature, our best, if not our only method, is by critical, philological study. For it must be remembered that philology includes not only the anatomy, but the physiology of language not merely the study of etymological formations, to the beginner often so repulsive, to the proficient so interesting, but of the precise significance of peculiar modes of expression, with the exact meaning and force of particles, and the relations of these to the inner life and informing spirit of the language. Is it not obvious that this affords the best possible means of entering into the genius of a literature, and securing a genuine culture, not only of intellect, but of taste? * We are all agreed, gentlemen let it be distinctly understood that it is desirable our young men should read the classics far more widely than they have ever done, and that, in order to this, as well as on other accounts, they should come to the university later, and remain longer, than is their wont. For the attainment of such a result, let us exert our united influence of every kind and in every place. For the rest, the standard of graduation in this department has been slowly rising with almost every year; the amount of reading necessary to a degree is already great; we may expect that this standard will continue to be elevated, and the requisite reading to be widened, as rapidly as the time students can be induced to give will possibly permit. Thus may they secure the largest intellectual and aesthetical cultivation now, and thus, precisely as fast as our people shall be prepared for it, the course of -classical instruction, while never ceasing to be thorough, may be indefinitely extended. Shall not such a plan, with all its valuable results in the past and all its promise for the future, receive general approbation? Or shall we ask that our young men may spend the time they now devote to the classics in somewhat more extensive and far more imperfect reading, when, if there is force in the brief argument we have considered, the consequence will be a positive diminution, not only of intellectual improvement, but of that very aesthetical culture which all consider important, and which some reckon paramount? That is the practical question upon which alone, so far as I know, there is any difference of opinion; and to the many among us who have some tolerable acquaintance with the subject, the decision of that question may be cheerfully committed.

One or two other topics of remark suggest themselves, which I shall only indicate. The Greeks were in many respects pioneers of knowledge. Many subjects, particularly of mathematical and physical science, which for us involve no difficulty because their nature has been fully explained, were for them problems calling forth the mightiest energies, and demanding the most protracted application. Is it not true that strength of mind is still best attained, not by confining ourselves to those regions in which all difficulties have been removed by others’ toil, but by approaching the boundaries of knowledge, and striving to extend its domain? It is sometimes lamented as a deplorable fatality that men cannot be restrained from laboring still at questions which the experience of ages appears to prove to be insoluble. Yet even though the effort should continue to be fruitless, is not that struggling effort itself a gain, because producing such vigor of intellect as nothing but pioneering work could ever give. It would be a fact worth considering, if it is true, that the unconquerable tendency of which men complain is in reality singularly fortunate; that where we often find disappointment and despair, there too we find the largest real benefit. The thorough education of the period we have been considering did not prepare the Greeks for producing an epic poetry which should rival the creations of a past age. The greatly improved educational resources of subsequent centuries could never re-animate the decaying spirit of Grecian literature. There are influences at work among men far mightier than what we call education. It is not in the power of systems of instruction to reproduce the literary types of a remote time or a distant people. Nor is this at all to be regretted, where, in place of extinct forms, there is something equally valuable. Why need the Athenians of the age of Pericles lament that there was no new Homer, when they had the immortal dramatists? Why complain, a few generations later, that no other Socrates or Pericles arose, when Aristotle and Demosthenes were there? So with our own country. If the condition and character of the nation have directed the attention of our ablest minds to politics, is it nothing that we have produced a political literature such as the world never witnessed before? Why lament that the mighty governing forces of social progress have appointed our people no different work, if they have performed with unequalled success the task that was set them? Have we not reason here to be satisfied with what our father accomplished, and be hopeful for our own future? A v no man ever forget that it is the business of education merely to give a harmonious development and thorough discipline to the powers of the national mind, not so much attempting any particular bias, as leaving it for the irresistible tendencies of the age to determine in what direction those powers shall be exerted. And now gentlemen, let us unite in the desire that on this, as on every occasion of our annual assembling, we may turn away profoundly impressed with the duties we personally owe to the cause of education and to this University. It is pleasant to see so many of our number in high places here, of instruction and of control.

It is cheering to hope that zeal tempered with prudence, and the spirit of progress chastened by conservatism, are to render truly illustrious this dynasty of the Alumni. But it is in the power of us all so to cherish the spirit of letters, so to prove the value of the training here received, that this noble Institution, which made us proud and happy in younger years by the bestowal of her unrivalled honors, may, at least to some extent, receive honor in return from the achievements of our ripened manhood and our advancing age.