IN DEFENCE OF CLASSICAL STUDY.

501

literary education at least one large subject rich in problems which excite curiosity but do not admit of any certain solution. "Probability," as Bishop Butler says, "is the very guide of life"; and for probable reasoning, as distinguished from demonstrative, it would be hard to find a more varied field than is afforded by the classics.

Nearly three centuries ago Bacon spoke of those who "call upon men to sell their books and buy furnaces, forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and relying upon Vulcan." He further expresses his opinion that the progress of knowledge has been retarded by a tendency to neglect the general training of the mind— "philosophy and universality," as he terms it-in favour of professional studies. It is no new thing, the question how far and how best we can combine education, the bringing out of the faculties, with instruction, the imparting of valuable knowledge. Modern life, so complex, so restless, and so competitive, naturally tends to insist first upon instruction ; but, as no progress of science can enable men to think faster, a sound economy of educational time depends on the same principles as ever. Classical studies serve to inform the mind, in the proper sense of that word; they serve to mould and to train it; but they also instruct; and the uses of the knowledge which they can give are manifold. They cannot, indeed, create the literary faculty, though they seldom fail to improve it where it exists; nor can they humanise characters that resist their charm, though, where that power finds rentrance, they vindicate their title to be called the humanities. In any easonable scheme of liberal education, studies such as these deserve to retain their place. As Mr. Freeman, one of their staunchest defenders, once said, let them be "the objects of a reasonable homage," not " of an exclusive superstition." Nothing, I believe, would tend more to confirm the position of classical studies in this country than a deeper and more systematic study of modern languages and literatures. Every addition to the clearness with which we see the continuity of literary tradition in Europe must add force to the words which Dante addresses to the shade of Virgil, "Tu se' lo mio maestro e'l mio autore"; for the relation of modern to ancient literature is that of a disciple who renounces no part of his originality or his independence when he acknowledges his debt to a master and a guide.

R. C. JEBB.

what Greece conceived." The positive results of antiquity in special branches of knowledge, such as medicine or natural science, have indeed been absorbed into modern books. But if we desire to study antiquity itself, to see how ideas have been evolved, to understand, in short, the earlier chapters of our own history, then we must needs go to the mental records of our European ancestors. This constitutes the historical claim of the classics. On literary grounds their claim is twofold; first, their intrinsic beauty, and their unexhausted wealth of suggestive thought. As to the latter, let us remember what is so well said by John Stuart Mill: "The discoveries of the ancients in science have been greatly surpassed, and as much of them as is still valuable loses nothing by being incorporated in modem treatises; but what does not so well admit of being transferred bodily, and has been very imperfectly carried off even piecemeal, is the treasure which they accumulated of what may be called the wisdom of life; the rich store of experience of human nature and conduct which the acute and observing minds of those ages, aided in their observations by the greater simplicity of manners and life, consigned to their writings, and most of which retains all its value." Secondly, there is the fact that, either directly or indirectly, they have moulded, or at least helped to inspire, almost all the best writing of the modern world Modern literature can be appreciated and enjoyed without their help. But the light which they can give adds zest to the enjoyment and depth to the appreciation; and they alone can explain the process of development. On the third claim of the classics, the linguistic, it must suffice barely to touch. It is not necessary to dwell on the cardina importance of Greek and Latin for the study of comparative philolog and of general grammar. As instruments of mental training, again, they have the advantage of a structure organically distinct from the moder The very freedom with which the order of words can be varied in a Greek or Latin sentence-a freedom unparalleled in any modera language—increases the value of the exercise in analysis. And when the classical languages are rhetorically, though not quite accurately, described as "dead," that very epithet suggests one of their chief reconmendations. In a modern language, living authority can decide questices of usage or idiom; Greek and Latin, in which there is no such resource, make a more exacting demand on the learner's nicety of judgment. And this consideration applies not only in the province of language. but in the whole domain of classical study. It is good to have in our

IN DEFENCE OF CLASSICAL STUDY.

501

literary education at least one large subject rich in problems which excite curiosity but do not admit of any certain solution. "Probability," as Bishop Butler says, "is the very guide of life"; and for probable reasoning, as distinguished from demonstrative, it would be hard to find a more varied field than is afforded by the classics.

Nearly three centuries ago Bacon spoke of those who "call upon men to sell their books and buy furnaces, forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and relying upon Vulcan." He further expresses his opinion that the progress of knowledge has been retarded by a tendency to neglect the general training of the mind"philosophy and universality," as he terms it-in favour of professional studies. It is no new thing, the question how far and how best

can combine education, the bringing out of the faculties, with instruction, the imparting of valuable knowledge. Modern life, so complex, so restless, and so competitive, naturally tends to insist first upon instruction; but, as no progress of science can enable men to think faster, a sound economy of educational time depends on the same principles as ever. Classical studies serve to inform the mind, in the proper sense of that word; they serve to mould and to train it; but they also instruct; and the uses of the knowledge which they can give are manifold. They cannot, indeed, create the literary faculty, though they seldom fail to improve it where it exists; nor can they humanise characters that resist their charm, though, where that power finds rentrance, they vindicate their title to be called the humanities. In any easonable scheme of liberal education, studies such as these deserve to retain their place. As Mr. Freeman, one of their staunchest defenders, once said, let them be "the objects of a reasonable homage," not " of an exclusive superstition." Nothing, I believe, would tend more to confirm the position of classical studies in this country than a deeper and more systematic study of modern languages and literatures. Every addition to the clearness with which we see the continuity of literary tradition in Europe must add force to the words which Dante addresses to the shade of Virgil, "Tu se' lo mio maestro e'l mio autore"; for the relation of modern to ancient literature is that of a disciple who renounces no part of his originality or his independence when he acknowledges his debt to a master and a guide.

R. C. JEBB.

TH

AN IDEALIST.

HE rain had ceased by the time Philip Miller reached the small house, and a yellow sunset irradiated the dripping roofs and gardens of the almost suburban street. He rang the door bell, and then, with that economy of time his busy day exacted, drew out his note-book to inspect his list of engagements. Three still remained unfulfilled :—

6.15. Tea with Stephen Hope.

7.45. Meeting of the New Brotherhood at the Newborough Hall. To supper with S. Stanton afterwards.

Philip replaced his book and rang again, this time more sharply than before. Almost instantly the door was opened and there looked forth eagerly an old face, the face of a woman with snow-white hair and a gaze of almost childlike simplicity and sweetness.

"O Mr. Miller, I am afraid you rang before," she exclaimed contritely, as she ushered him into the tiny sitting-room, where a fire burnt brightly in the grate and the table was laid daintily for tea. "I think I am getting a little deaf-pray take a seat-and my head has been aching to-day."

Really!" said Philip in the thin, emotionless voice which was the best that he could offer. Accepting it as such, Mrs. Hope continued: "The truth is, I have been a good deal put out. I don't know when I have been so vexed as I have been to-day by Stephen."

"Humph!" ejaculated Philip with more show of interest, if not surprise, at this charge against a young man whose-in Philip's eyesalmost fatuous devotion to his mother threatened to let and hinder his success in life.

"Stephen says," continued Mrs. Hope in tones tremulous with wounded feeling, "that when he is out I do too much about the house and overwork myself, and so he will have it that we must keep a servant. And that is really more than I can put up with at my time of life, for

you know, Mr. Miller, I am not so young as I was, and worry and trouble try me more than they used to. A charwoman to come in for an hour or two, or a boy to do the rough work, as we have now, that I don't mind, but the bother of a servant-girl, morning, noon, and night, is really more than I have strength for now."

Philip was engaged in inspecting in the book-shelves near the fireplace Stephen's special and slowly acquired library. Frowning disapprovingly at the undue proportion of poets therein, he turned again to the fire, and observed, with that semi-attention that was the most he accorded to persons so inconsiderable as Mrs. Hope:

"Stephen will not be able to keep a servant if he joins the New Brotherhood."

"No?"

"No; it is against our rules."

"Is it, now?" cried Mrs. Hope, her mobile face sparkling with agreeable surprise; "I am glad to hear that. I am glad to hear that. I never knew it was anything so sensible; I thought it was more like the Odd Fellows or the Freemasons, or what you used to belong to, both of you, last year."

"That was a political debating club. I left that long ago."

'Have you? Well, I shall be glad when Stephen does the same, for I don't fancy it is good for much, and I don't mind telling you, Mr. Miller, that since he joined it he hardly ever goes to chapel, nor even to church, as he would sometimes-never goes, only when I beg him to; and you know how different——”

She paused, checked by the sound of the opening door. It was Stephen himself, and she hurried off to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

"Good evening, Philip," said Stephen as he came in, with a smile like his mother's playing over a face darker and more finely moulded than hers. It vanished as, falling into a chair, he threw his head back, and crossed behind it his well-formed hands.

"You look fagged," observed Philip.

"Fagged? I am dead tired, and my right arm-" he changed his position that he might rub it-"my arm aches as if I had neuralgia in it."

"Why, what have you been doing?"

"What have I been doing?"

He repeated the question with that curious look, half humorous, half sad, so familiar to Philip, and yet never wholly comprehended by him.