annihilated time, tides, and space. The orient is our neighbor-the Golden Gate the hospitable port of entry for the population and produce of the mighty East. The wall is down in China, and civilization rushes through the breaches. American and British colleges matriculate students from Japan. Commercial interest is confederating the world. A grander alliance than that organized by the Amphyctionic Council awaits the nations of the earth—a species of brotherhood which will grow out of the acquaintance of mankind and the intersecting lines of interest. It is a confederation to be achieved through the instrumentality of science; by the exchange of commercial commodities; by a literature world-wide in its range; by methods of rapid communication, swifter than the revolutions of the earth upon its axis, when a remarkable discovery on the margin of the Mississippi shall meet an almost instantaneous hail from the delta of the Nile; and by the spread of a common religion, and the inspirations of a universal faith and hope. When FULTON first discovered steam navigation, he expressed, to a coterie of amazed and deriding friends in Paris, his belief that he would succeed, by the new motor, in propelling a vessel at the rate of five and six miles an hour over the tranquil waters of the Hudson. Now, scorning the billows, laughing at the storm, challenging the tides, a Cunarder plows its way across the Atlantic in such time as to tempt us to regard it as a mere ferry-boat navigating a narrow frith. When the Great Western first steamed into an American port, our people stood still with wonder. In the infancy of the world the pen of prophecy wrote " many shall run to and fro and knowledge shall be increased." See the throngs that congregate from all tribes, people, kindred, and tongues in the great International Congress of Industry at Philadelphia! Science has broken through the stone masonry of Chinese exclusiveness; the steamship has passed through the golden horn and furrowed with its conquering keel the waters of the Bosphorus, and Constantinople and Stamboul are ports from whence the erewhile secluded Turk ships his person and goods for show at our Centennial Exposition! There are now no sealed ports. Wherever water flows there is freedom of sail. The great oceans throw their arms around the continents and kiss all shores with a greeting of peace. In 1776 a paragraph in a Philadelphia paper announced a "flying machine," which was nothing more rapid or winged than a lumbering stage-coach, to be drawn by relays of horses and to make the transit to New York in the then almost incredible time of three days. FRANKLIN, in fine prophetic mood and with a profound fear of ridicule, expressed the belief that the time would come when a journey between Philadelphia and New York would be accomplished in forty-eight hours. A little more than half a century ago the philosopher-printer died. What would he think to-day, if his spirit were re-incarnated, to see the locomotive dragging the burdened train from the one city to the other in three hours? It is agreed on all hands that neighbors should be friendly. Science, in annihilating time and space, is making all races to know each other, to interchange goods, to compete in the same markets, and to compel a common interest in domestic, commercial, and political concerns, and thereby hastening the day when the difficulties of all nations will, as we believe, be settled by an international congress. War will cease to destroy human life and accumulated wealth; debt, and the consequent burdens of interest and taxation, will no longer oppress nations and citizens; the soldiers will be turned over to the arts and become the yeomanry of peace, the swords will be turned into plowshares, the bayonets into pruning-hooks, and the cannon into chimes of church-going bells or journals, for the revolving wheels of trade and travel; thereby, the pains of poverty will be abated, and re-enforced industry will cheapen the means of subsistence. Science is the great herald of "the good time coming "-the bard that now sings in sweeter strains than the classic harp the song of the golden age— the prophet that presages the millennial era when the earth, reclaimed from thorn and thistle, bramble and brier, shall rejoice as the garden of God, and decorated with flowers and crowned with the fruits of a bountiful harvest, will be fitly arrayed for a happy bridal with the sky. No miracles are needed to regain Paradise. The mariner's compass, the locomotive engine, the steamboat, the railway, the cotton gin, the safety lamp, the spinning-jenny, the printing-press, the sewing-machine, the air ship, the MCCORMICK reaper, the electric telegraph, and kindred inventions of science are the messengers that are preparing the way of the Lord and making his paths straight. The time for the relief of the cherubic guard, stationed at the gate of Eden, is close at hand. ADAM, expelled from the garden and cursed, will triumph through his children, and they, wiping the sweat from their brows, will re-enter Paradise to eat of all the fruitage-save that of the tree of the knowledge of evil of which they are sated and will not be tempted again by the blush of its apples. Ah! yes, the time will come when will "The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks" "Shout to each other and the mountain tops, Through the agency of cultured mind, baptized at the font of a pure religion, the world is to recover its pristine glory. We may safely predict that the light of truth, like the sunrise of an unclouded summer's morn, is yet to spread over all the "dark places of the earth, full of the habitations of cruelty." The bright banner of a recovered humanity will float its emblazoned folds from every height of earth; and when it shall kiss the breezes that float up from all the interlying valleys, ignorance shall be left without a cavern, superstition without a spectre, cruelty without a victim, despotism without a serf, and caste without a pariah. Who can fail to see while reviewing the conquests of science, that "peace hath her victories no less renowned than those of war?" It is the champion of truth; the vindicator of the innocent; the redresser of wrong; the patron of philanthropy; the armor-bearer of valor; the chariot of progress; the herald of hope; the prophet of a nobler future. It "plants no faith in blood,” but it plants vinevards and olive groves: it lights no ma rauder's torch, but it builds the marble grandeur of cities, and hedges the hamlets of peace; it strikes no wanton blow at the defenceless, but throws its protecting shield afront the breast of the weak; it drags no chained victims to its chariot-wheels, but rides humanity through arches of triumph; it pulls down no temples, within which true incense ascends, but it feeds the flames of pure religion; it rifles no graves with hyena hunger, but it sculptures the tombs of the good with the choicest epitaphs that faith and hope can chisel upon the gateways of the dead; it blots out no star in the firmament of heaven, but kindles brighter lustre in every orb that burns on high; it dims no gem in the crown of the King of Kings, but would rather contribute its richest jewels to deck his diadem. Prof. EDWARD S. JOYNES, of Vanderbilt University, then read the following paper on the POSITION OF THE MODERN LANGUAGES IN THE When I had the honor of appearing before this Association at Elmira, in 1873, I read a paper in defence of classical studies as an element of the higher education. In attempting to-day to define the relations of the modern languages to the same "higher education" I hope that nothing that I may say will be construed as in derogation of that argument. Such a disclaimer ought not in fact to be necessary. There is, and can be, no conflict of studies in a liberal education. While, with the extension of the domain of education, there is no longer room for all studies, there is yet room for an intelligent choice, with reference to intelligent purposes; and with the growth of the elective system there will be room for such extension of each as will develop its best results. While one study may be in its nature better for education than another, yet after all that which is best studied is best; any thing done willingly, heartily, and well, is better than any other thing done unwillingly or imperfectly. The question for the higher education therefore is no longer how to compress into one curriculum a minimum of every thing, but rather how, by the best methods and by the largest and most liberal study, to bring each and every department to its own best and highest development. Thus, with the multiplying interests of modern life and with the enlarging fields of knowledge, education-never losing its essential unity of aim—becomes more and more manifold in its outward forms while developing ever higher perfection in its various elements and resources. The most perfect division of labor, in education as in the mechanic arts, secures the highest results for society as well as the most perfect development of the individual. Such is the direction of modern education, as shown in the rapid growth of the elective system of study, even in the most conservative strongholds of the old curriculum. This growth only reflects the necessity of the age in the demand for a higher and more varied educational development. Properly directed and controlled it need cause us no anxiety; we may thwart and deform, but we can not resist it. The question now is therefore not whether the modern languages shall be admitted into the scheme of higher education, but how, being there already, they shall in their own place be brought to produce the highest educational results. Whether we would have it so or not, it is quite certain that the modern languages-one or more-will now be studied more and more in lieu of the ancient languages, or at least where the ancient languages are not studied. A large number of students will thus derive their linguistic and philological training from the modern languages only. Stating the case in its lowest terms, the most exclusive classicists will admit that this training should be made as good as possible. Hence the question of the best method of teaching the modern languages for the purposes of the higher education becomes an important one. It is also a pertinent one, because these languages, from this point of view, have as yet received so little consideration, and because the methods and helps employed in teaching them are so various, and, it would seem, so unsettled in principle or in purpose. Bearing in mind the caution of the committee that all papers are expected to be brief, we proceed to consider the question here suggested. First, however, we will make the negative remark that we should regret to see the modern languages admitted by substitution for either Latin or Greek into the course of arts. The old degrees, bachelor of arts and master of arts, have so long and so typically represented a course of study founded on classical scholarship that to permit on any condition the exclusion of the classics therefrom would destroy the distinctive character of these degrees, as well as offer a temptation for the neglect of classical study. Our college and university degrees should, at least in a general way, mean something; and the degrees in arts have so long had this distinctive meaning that it should now be accepted as traditional and prescriptive. If a modern language is here required it should be in addition to, not in substitution for, the ancient languages. The true solution of the difficulty should be in the division of degrees so as appropriately to represent the various departments of modern culture, not in confounding their established significance. The boast of Teucer that he would make the name of Salamis ambiguous is one that we should not seek to emulate in our educational nomenclature. And first as to the pronunciation. Its importance for the modern languages need not be discussed. Whatever opposite schools may hold as to pronunciation or accent in Latin or Greek, in French and German we have certainly a living standard, conformity to which as nearly as possible is of absolute and prime necessity. This requirement has in itself a distinct educational value. I believe it may be asserted that if there were no other motive for the study of a foreign language, the training afforded to the vocal organs would alone be a sufficient inducement and reward. This training it is impossible to give so fully in the mother-tongue, because, first, it is the mother-tongue; and secondly, in our case its sounds are so often obscure and difficult of analysia On the other hand in a m CO of Ce learning to pronounce a foreign language precise and careful analysis and comparison of sounds become necessary; new tones are acquired, and therewith, of necessity, a precision, a power, and a delicacy of utterance which as a mere physiological training are of great value, and which are reflected in the native speech. Without any reference therefore to the uses of French and German scholarship, and for the sake of English speech alone, the mastery of French and German pronunciation would be well worth the study. From this point of view-though perhaps the lowest-we may confirm the requirement of a careful and accurate pronunciation, to be enforced by constant exercise. Teachers of modern languages who are either not qualified to teach this pronunciation or are careless or indifferent as to its requirement do not come within the range of that "higher education" which is the subject of this essay. They can only be tolerated until higher standards shall be universally demanded. The practical remark which I would make in this connection is that, to a considerable extent at least, the pronunciation should be taught and practiced in advance, before the earliest lessons in grammar. The necessity for this remark lies in the fact that, as I believe, this course is not generally pursued. Judging from the meagre provision made for teaching pronunciation in most of our text-books, the theory seems to prevail that the pronunciation can be picked up as the pupil makes his way through the grammar. My own experience concurs with the lesson of reason, that this is not and can not be the case. Left to himself to learn his grammar, the pupil will learn it with the wrong pronunciation, and the better he learns it the worse his pronunciation will be and the harder to get out of his head. Every line learned with a false pronunciation adds to the difficulty of learning the true; and no pupils are so hard to set right as those who have gone the farthest wrong. I have known a long residence in Germany fail to correct the defects of early teaching in pronunciation. I think it therefore important that the earliest lessons should be for the pronunciation only, and that this should also remain the most prominent subject of attention for a considerable period during the earlier study of grammar. Hence I could wish that our early text-books made generally more provision for preliminary exercise in pronunciation, and that, in default thereof, our teachers could be impressed with the necessity of supplying this defect for their own classes. I would urge the importance of this, and indeed of all that pertains to pronunciation, all the more because in fact the pronunciation is the one thing which the pupil can not learn for himself, in which he is wholly dependent upon his teacher, and in which early error or carelessness is most likely to be forever irremediable. It is thus the most important subject of the early instruction. Apology should perhaps be made for introducing into the department of higher education remarks so elementary as these. If the discussion concerned Latin and Greek this would not be necessary; for the elements of these are taught in the schools, and the higher institutions are concerned only with what may properly be called the higher instruction. It is not so with the modern languages. These are often begun in the college and university; and until our schools are better prepared for teaching them it is perhaps best that this should be so. Another generation |