nology, and the farther one advances in any subject the more familiar will one grow with its terminology. The name of a thing will always serve best to retain the explanation given of a thing: much geography is embodied in the term "climate, and the term "tribunus plebis" implies a whole chapter of Roman constitutional history. Rhetoric rightly advises the pupil, when looking for thought-material, to examine carefully the wording of the theme assigned for his composition, to note the sense of each word and the meaning that usage gives to it.

Language embodies the thoughts of a nation; the science of language is a science of the nation; and the study of the grammar and the dictionary are departments of the history of civilization. The Latin language is part of Rome's legacy to the world; the Greek language is part of the Hellenic legacy; and the German language, part of the Germanic. The language of a nation is not only the form for containing part of the national spirit, but is itself a part of the national spirit. It is not only a key to treasures, but is itself a treasure-house. You may regard language as a shell; but you must, to be true to fact, regard it as a shell that is intergrown on all sides with the kernel. But it is more correct to apply to it what Goethe says of nature, "It is neither kernel nor shell, but at once both kernel and shell." The method adopted by a nation in building up the structure of its language, in planting its roots, in spreading its branches, in pruning its forms, in changing and elaborating all its various forms of expression the manner in which all this has been done reveals as much of that nation's character and soul and spirit and of its habits of thought, as the manner in which the same nation cultivated its fields, encouraged trades and industries, used stones for building, and invented musical airs. Language, in a word, is the most delicate emanation of the national spirit, so delicate, in fact, as to appear to gross minds as only a form of other ema

nations.

For the explanation of this important element of language studies we are indebted principally to Friedrich Schlegel, the father of comparative philology, and to Wilhelm von Humboldt. Humboldt maintained that every language is the embodiment of a peculiar world-view, and that the mastery of a foreign language should therefore offer a new viewpoint for studying the world. And when we consider that every language contains the entire woof of the conceptions and ideas of a part of the race, we realize that there are good grounds for Humboldt's view. Modern philology has begun to apply this view scientifically, for, its

chief aim is to enter by way of the language into the intellectual life of the different peoples. Comparative philology has attempted even to reconstruct, with the words common to kindred peoples, the circle of thought and the manner of living of prehistoric ages. Rückert, the wonderful linguist, has noted the educational value of this phase of language content; and he clearly restates Humboldt's view, thus: "The science of language is the key to man's mind and his manner of thinking... Every new language that you learn will set free in you a spirit that had till then been held in bondage; and this spirit, once it is set free, will soon be actively pursuing original lines of thought. It will open up to you vast treasures of past ages, will let you feel as a nation once felt in the past, and you will find this form of humanity in yourself.'

2

8. The language studies supply much material knowledge, and thus supplement the study of the literature and of the history of a nation. We shall never fully understand the classics of a nation, particularly the poetical works, unless we enter deeply into the language in which they are written, and which is intergrown with them. Matter and form are not two different sides of the classics, but two elements that are interwoven down to the smallest details. The Homeric poetry and the Homeric language are twins; or, to use Shakespeare's phrase, "two lions litter'd in one day.' The Homeric expressions are moreover Homeric antiques and specimens for a museum of words; they explain other remains of antiquity, and are themselves precious relics of a past age. Ancient words are, indeed, relics of a bygone civilization. No one will deny this in the case of words that designate some specifically ancient things; but it is likewise true in a much broader sense. There is always only one word and it alone that adequately expresses a thing; and this is true, not only of technical terms from the field of political and social antiquities, but also of feelings, opinions, ideals, virtues, duties, and moral concepts in general. Penetrate deeply into any system of philosophy, and you will note that very much of its philosophical thought has been contributed by the respective language."

Karl Mager (Moderne Humanitätsstudien) and Theodor Waitz (Allgemeine Pädagogik, §§ 18 and 25) have shown how this idea may be applied in the classroom.

2 Julius Cæsar, II, 2, 46.

3 The Greek term eos is of basic importance for Greek philosophy, because it signifies at one and the same time "form," "species," and "idea," and thus prepares for the conception that the formal principle of things determines their species, and that we can ascertain the species by a process of thinking.

And, on the other hand, you may construct out of the language a nation's natural and moral philosophy as well as produce an encyclopedia embracing the knowledge that was common among the people. But an encyclopedia of this kind implies such a knowledge of things as will supplement what we know of the life, the customs, and the institutions of the respective people.

In modern languages this is seen still better in so far as their vocabularies reveal clearer traces of history; and a historical analysis of the vocabulary of a modern language will give an outline of the history of the respective people. In the German language, for instance, the words of foreign origin plainly show the successive movements that influenced German national life. The introduction of Christianity brought in many terms; but these words, which are of ecclesiastical origin, differ from those dating from the secular intercourse with the Romans. The words derived from the Arabic are relics of the age when the 'Moslem controlled the Mediterranean and instructed Europe in mathematics and medicine. The age of chivalry contributed its quota of French words; the Italian merchants and musicians brought in terms from their tongue; the period of discoveries added idioms from distant climes; the Renaissance reopened the stream of the ancient languages; and the Rococo period brought the invasion of French elements, while the universalism of the modern age added the most varied precipitates from international historical activity. A dictionary of foreign terms, compiled from this viewpoint, would supplement the history of German civilization; yea, in one respect, it would itself be a history of German civilization.

Much remains to be done to unearth all these elements of material knowledge and the full educative content of language. But a special place should be given either in, or at least parallel to, the regular grammar course to onomatology, the science of words. Yet some of the material knowledge belonging to language will be brought out even without making special efforts to that end. Thorough language teachers have ever tried to grasp the national traits expressed in the words and to impart to their pupils the amount of history and nationality that they represent.

9. What is discovered by deep study may still be hid from the great body of pupils and teachers, and it is to be regretted that language instruction separates only too frequently the word from its meaning, and stimulates the interest in form to the neglect of the interest in content. Hence, even Zeno distinguished two

kinds of pupils: the philologists, who were interested most in the content of the words, and the logophiles, who were interested in the form only.' The latter, especially those who develop into pedants and who waste their time on hair-splitting arguments, have always been the butt of the opponents of language studies. These opponents assert that grammar study warps the pupil's faculties, because it hedges in on all sides the growing mind with minutiæ and quibbles of all sorts, and nourishes it with vacuous formalism and dry rules. Why, so Why, so they argue, human reason is deliberately excluded from grammar study, for the last appeal in questions of grammar is, not to human reason, but to the "usus tyrannus"; still, the widest scope is granted, so they contend, to the subjective whims of the individual, and where the philological knowledge ends, there the wrangling of the philologists begins; and the envenomed squabbles of the philologists are a striking proof of the inhumanity resulting from the study of the vaunted humanities.

Strictures of this kind miss the point at issue. Nevertheless, they draw our attention to a fact which we shall have to stress time and again: even valuable educational elements may be abused and thus do much harm to the young mind, warping it perhaps for life. Such strictures may also open our eyes to the further fact that language studies do not constitute the whole of the philological element of education, and that the latter, even in its entirety, must be supplemented by other educational elements.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Art of Language.

1. Technical grammar does no more than lay down the rules. for the correct use of language. But the art of language is the proper field of rhetoric, since it teaches the pupil how to make his style clear, beautiful, and vigorous. The evaluation of the educative content of rhetoric depends, on the one hand, upon the evaluation of the art of language in general and, on the other, upon how much of this art is thought to be at all teachable; and these two considerations have given rise to different opinions of the educational value of rhetoric.

1 Stob. Flor. 36, 26.

However, the command of language, whether in oratory or poetry, in daily intercourse or in writing, is of such importance as to have been regarded at all times as one of the aims of education. All men acknowledge that language is a sharp sword and an instrument of power: eloquent speech moves the hearts and wills of men; the orator and the poet sway the masses, and the impassioned preacher moves the sinner to do penance. To the orator and poet, language is thus an instrument of power. But to him who is aiming at inner formation, it is a personal ornament and an element of beautiful living. Language is the spiritual material of the plastic faculty; to express in words what we feel and think is as pleasant as it is helpful in clarifying and developing the interior. Many-sidedness, to be complete, must not only receive, but also respond to, the variety of impressions. To fully possess a thing, the mind must not only receive it, but must impress upon it the stamp of its own individuality and subject it to the assimilating force of thinking aloud.

The ancients as well as the Humanists regarded the art of language in this sense, i. e., as an ornament and an instrument of power. They looked upon rhetorical and poetical eloquence as the choicest fruit of education. Though they did not altogether ignore the factor of native gifts, still they attached great importance to the training of the fari posse; and the technique of oratory and poetry they held in high esteem. With such a conception of the art of language it was to be expected that the content was considered of less importance than the form; that the artificial was preferred to the artistic, and perfect technique, to sense and spirit; and that the pupils produced only words when attempting to write orations or poems, However, even the ancient as well as the Humanistic devotees of the art of language recognized that the results of these vacuous and insincere efforts were morally harmful. But as for remedying the situation they did no more than insist that the true orator and poet must be good and honest, and that the beauty of language must be complemented by nobility of soul. ·

2. In contrast to this older view, the realism of modern education is inclined to underestimate the educational value of the art of language. It considers natural talent and its use in practical life to be indispensable to literary power; and the practice of having pupils manufacture verses, seek fine phrases, or borrow fine turns of expression, it condemns as worse than useless. For in such exercises, we are told, "the style outruns