of things mundane and things celestial, of contrasts that move, now our laughter at their incongruity, now our terror at their awfulness-in one word, the strange swift course run out beneath the silent heavens, with the shadow of the awful future creeping ever more near till we are lost in its impenetrable mystery so long as life contains such elements, the mind that can strip away the mask of accident that conceals them and by the power of genius vividly reflect them, will find in it scope for the grandest efforts of imagination, and such minds will be numbered among the wisest teachers of mankind.

TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION AND PRACTICE IN WRITING

1. What are some of the misconceptions in regard to the function of art that commonly prevail? 2. How would you distinguish between the fine arts and the useful or industrial arts? Give examples of each kind. 3. How universal is the appeal of art? Does appreciation of art go hand in hand with luxury? Does advancing civilization inevitably bring ugliness with it? 4. Discuss to what extent education in art is possible. 5. What benefits result from the study of art? 6. What is the relation of art to morality? 7. What is the relation of art to science? 8. What is the relation of art to religion? 9. What effect has art upon social development? 10. What is the service which useful art renders to the community, and how does this differ from the service rendered by fine art?

CHOICE OF COURSES

THE COLLEGE OF DISCIPLINE AND THE COLLEGE OF FREEDOM 1

HENRY SMITH PRITCHETT

[Henry Smith Pritchett (1857- -) first fitted himself for astronomical work. After holding several prominent appointments in this field, he became president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Since 1906, he has been president of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. As the work of this foundation is much broader than the pensioning system for college professors with which most persons associate it, Dr. Pritchett has familiarized himself in an authoritative way regarding many of the problems of American education.]

All schools of general culture which, like the American college, have looked both to the development of character and to the training of the mind, have been evolved under the influence of two distinct educational ideals-one the ideal of discipline, the other that of freedom.

The first conception is the older. Men learned early in the history of civilization that every human being born into this world must first learn and obey, if later he is to command; must first control himself, if later he is to lead others. The conception of discipline as a means to education is universal; it has existed since schools began; it will always exist, because it is rooted in our universal human experience.

The ideal of freedom was a later development of educational experience. Long after men were familiar with the educational value of discipline, they came to realize that in the education

1 Reprinted from The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 102, page 603 (November, 1908), by permission of the author and of the publishers. The selection as here presented is abridged by the omission of a few paragraphs at the beginning.

of men, as in the development of nations, the highest type of character, like the finest order of citizenship, is developed under conditions of freedom; that the virtue which blossoms under the clear sky has a finer fragrance than that which develops in the cloister; that the finest efforts of education, like the ripest fruits of civilization, are to be sought where the realization of human freedom is most perfect.

For two thousand years, from the schools of Athens and Rome to those of Berlin and Boston, schools which seek to deal with the general training of youth have differentiated in accordance with their adherence to one or another of these fundamental ideals, or in accordance with their effort to combine the two. The differences which exist to-day among the stronger American colleges as to what the college ought to do, as well as the reasons which are advanced for a separation of the college from the high school on one side and from the university on the other, rest on the relative weight which is attached to the educational ideal of discipline or the educational ideal of freedom. And the place which the college is ultimately to have will be fixed by the decision whether it is to represent squarely the ideal of discipline, the ideal of freedom, or both.

It is also to be remembered that each of these educational ideals has its relations to the development both of character and of intellect, and each may be interpreted differently according as one views it from the standpoint of the individual, or from the standpoint of the social order in which he moves. Personal discipline and social discipline, individual freedom and the freedom which can be had only by social organization, are all involved in the scheme of general education, but it is rare to have all of these phases simultaneously under the view of the same eyes. Specializing in education began at the beginning in the very conceptions of the fundamental processes by which education was to be effected.

In actual practice, American colleges represent to-day all the combinations and the compromises of these two conceptions. At one extreme are colleges organized to prescribe fixed lines of conduct and specified courses of study; at the other

are colleges so planned as to spread out before the eyes of the eighteen-year-old boy an almost endless variety of sports and of studies from which he may choose at will. In the first group, the idea of discipline is paramount, with the emphasis on the interests of organized society; in the second, the ideal of freedom is dominant, and the interests and development of the individual direct the line of vision.

There are perhaps no better illustrations of the consistent working out of the ideals of discipline and freedom than the two great colleges, West Point and Harvard, for each of which I have an unusual admiration and a sincere affection (having sent a boy through each). They represent more consistently than most colleges distinct educational policies, and for this reason, as well as for their nation wide influence, they furnish unusual lessons for the guidance of other colleges. The one is a college of discipline by virtue of a policy largely fixed by the traditions of army service; the other a college of freedom-a response in large measure to the leadership of a great man.

In the one are assembled some four hundred and fifty boys; in the other, some two thousand three hundred. The two groups of students enter their respective institutions at practically the same age, and are widely representative of alert American youth. The student in the one case becomes part of an organization whose ideal is discipline; the other enters a régime whose watchword is individual freedom. In the one, the boy of eighteen is ordered to comply with a rigid régime which for four years undertakes to arrange for each day, and almost for each hour, his work and his play, and the amount of money he may spend; in the second, he is invited to choose from a numerous list of studies and of sports as he will.

The strict discipline of the one, no less than the perfect freedom of the other, is, of course, tempered by the cross currents which run in all human affairs. The West Point plebe soon discovers that the austere economy of cadet life is mitigated by an underground arrangement through which New York tradesmen extend a practically unlimited credit, to be harvested on the far distant graduation day-a process

which makes the problem of how to live on your income not materially different at the two colleges.

On the other hand, the Harvard freshman who, with the aid of an anxious parent, undertakes to select five courses from an apparently inexhaustible supply, finds his freedom seriously limited at the outset by a certain evident tendency on the part of teachers and students to crowd the most desirable courses in the hours between nine and one. Moreover, if the boy has athletic tastes, he is likely to get a warning from the coach to avoid afternoon classes and laboratory exercises, a consideration which may limit the freedom of choice in a surprising manner, and sometimes turns the honest freshman from a course in elementary chemistry to one in the history of the fine arts.

The West Point cadet, once entered upon his work, finds his studies absolutely determined for him. Whether he will or not, he must take an assigned measure of mathematics, science, modern languages, drawing, history, and dancing (this last is a good required study in any college). He becomes a member of a section of perhaps ten. The assigned lesson will cover each day certain pages of a text-book. At the call of the instructor, he must rise, put his heels together, begin with the formula, "I am required to recite, etc."; and is most successful when he repeats the exact language of the text-book which is his guide. He must be ready every day, and his standing in comparison with every other man in his class is posted at the end of each week, made out to the fractional part of a per cent. The hours for work and play are fixed, and he may not go beyond the limits of the West Point reservation. Through the whole four-year course runs consistently the ideal of personal discipline.

His courses once chosen, the Harvard freshman finds himself one of a group of twenty or five hundred, according to the subject. If he occupies his place with fair regularity, he may work earnestly or very little. There is no day-by-day demand upon him such as the West Point cadet must expect. With occasional tests during the term-generally not difficult-and