'M LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 019 877 029 2 HoUinger Corp. pH 8.5 Lfl 25 .T2 Copy 1 OF EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT A DISCOUKSE DELIVERED BEFORE THE LITERARY SOCIETIES UNIVEESITY OF MICHIGAN, ON MONDAY EVENING, JUNE 25, 1855. BY HENEY PrTAPPAN, D.D., LL.D., CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY. ANN" ARBOR: 2. B. POND, PRINTER, ARGUS OFFICE. 1855, '\ i l^- ':\^ •<1.6y i> . — y\ ■ ■ — , l<2 .7 YORK PUBL. LIB)R» A DISCOURSE. GrENTLEMEiSr — MeMBEKS OF THE LiTEKAEY SOCIETIES OF THE University of Michigan : Society ! What meaning in that one word ! Society — does it not speak of everything dear and valnaljle to man ! The garden of Eden was phinted by the hand of God — the flowers sprang up at the divine touch — the streams flowed along in melody — the heavens poured down their light — the earth was glad in beant}^ and abundance^ — and man stood there, their soJe possessor. Heaven and earth Avere his, and yet his existence was not complete. There was stirring witliin him an indefinable longing—a mysterious expectation of another gift. ISTature spoke within him — a true, a lioly na- ture — spoke in a feeling, in a sentiment, for whicli he had not yet framed the words. The divine voice gave the utterance, ''It is nut good for man to be alone;" — and when man was no longer alone, then in realizing the idea of society, he found the want of his being supplied. In sweet, domestic charities society began: and here is the foundation of all society: father, mother, sister, brother,-^here was woven the first circle of human sympathy; — and this primal necessity has led on the development of humanity into communities and nations, and every form of association which ap})ears in the history, and marks the progress of tlie race. Isolated being is isolated ideas, and isolated ideas must prove unproductive. Mind no less than matter finds increase in reciprocal duality. The solitary being may commune M'itb; the heavens and the earth, and ideas "within find tlieir em- bodyment without; but when it is found, it must be spoken out in a description — a science — or an emotion. But it can- not be uttered to the empty air — there must be a hearing ear — an understanding mind — a living heart, to which to communicate, and from which to gain a response. To think without speaking, would seem an impossibility; to speak to ourself alone, an absurdity. To gain knowledge to rest forever with ourself, would be like making one's bed forever on a golden rock. To plan and propose any imj^rove- ment by art and industry to be shared by no one, would be action without an end — the building of ships without com- merce, and cities without inhabitants, the sowing of fields never to be reaped, the moulding of beautiful forms with none to admire them, the singing of epics and no hearts to be moved upon. And thought itself would claim the critical judgment, the aid, and inspiration of other thought; and the hand of industry seek to link itself with the strength and skill of some other hand. Is not society then all and in all to us? Do we not live by society — think, labor, imj^rove and enjoy by society? To l^e alone is next to negation of being: to be associated is the life, power and completeness of being. Inanimate matter congregates by resistless afiinities; or- ganic forms grow in companies — the trees, the flowers, the herbage; all animals are in ilimilies, and flocks, and pairs; the stars of heaven are sown in clusters; and emotion, pas- sion and thought run into fellowship from man to man, from men to angels, and i'wm all created intelligences to God, the creator and centre of all. Thus science, the useful arts, the beautiful arts, language, poetry, eloquence, legislation, ethics, and religion, all im})]y society, and grow in society. The laws of society are necessary and eternal. The passive, unthinking forms of being — organic and inorganic — cannot but obey these laws. But man, the thinker and self-deter- miner, contemplates them, reasons about thena, measures their relative importance, adjusts their relations by degrees, se- lects his spheres of action amid a wide diversity, conforms to these Laws, or vioLatcs them. Hence wdiile the other forms of being are determined into society in necessary spheres, man may be truly said to create society according to his own thought and purpose, wisely or unwisely — for good or for evil. The Jiistory of man is a history of the principles on which he has created society, and of the corresponding developments. But I come now to speak of only one furm of association — association for science, literature and art; or, simply, associa- tion for human culture. With some solitary thinker, most probably, the circle of human thought began. The mystery and the beauty of the world led to philosophic enquiry, and creative art. The con- ceptions and theories started, the truths gained, the work of useful improvement, or, of beautiful art attempted, attracted others as if a new oracle had become vocal. Institutions there were not to make scholars and artists; but scholars and artists had first to grow from the individual teacher; and then as they multiplied they became associated iu schools and institu- tions. These, by a concentration of mind and means, multi- plied scholars and artists more rapidly, gave them greater perfection by methodical culture and the influence of exam- ple, and spread wide the scholarly and artistic spirit. There are three stages of learned and artistic association to be noticed: The primal or ancient; the middle, or ecclesi- astical and scholastic; and the modern. The first embraces a period reaching down to the time of the establishment of the religious houses of Christianity; the second embraces the middle ages down to the reformation; and the third begins with the reformation. Each stage prepared the way for the succeeding; and each has its marked and peculiar character- istics. The primal stage is that where the individual thinker or artist becomes the centre of a school. Thouo-hts of God — the e-reat first cause — of the constitution of the universe, of human duty and destiny stir in some great original mind, and he speaks out his thoughts wherever he can gain a hearing — in the pub- lie walks and groves, in the market place, in the houses of friends, in familiar intercourse, or on festal occasions. Thus Socrates and the Stagj^rite taught. Those who habitually cou sorted with them became disciples, in turn to become teachers, or to cany out the great principles with which they became imbued, into public lii^. School, which now generally means an institution of learning, derived from the Greek Scliolee^ that is leisure or time removed from' public or private business, was applied to designate the teacher and his disci- X^les, and finally his peculiar doctrines. The bustle, interests, and employments of ordinary life were laid aside for a simple and pure devotion to thought, for enquiries after the True, the Good, and tlie Beautiful. Thus sprung up all the great schools of ancient philosophy, thus were men taught wisdom; thus was human culture carried on; thus were laid the foun- dations of all knowledge and all education. It was a sponta- neous association of great minds aspiring after the liighest objects that can be proposed to man. The same individuality marks the poets, the artists, the historians, and the orators of antiquity. Each formed himself by individual effort, under the inspirations of his own genius, availing himself of the knowledges which were accessible, studying the exam.pleB which were presented, seizing the occasions which were offer- ed, mouldiug language, and developing forms of beauty with an originality which could belong only to a period when the human mind, awakeniug to a consciousness of its powers un- der the great eye of nature, instead of finding authozities in the past, was driven in upon itself and created authorities for the future, and like a discoverer in regions untrodden before, wandered freely abroad in joyful expectation of wonders of truth and beauty. It is true indeed that in pure science, principles became fixed, that language attained to an acknowledged perfection, that art gained a standard of taste and rules of execution, and that the docti'ines of the older schools of philosophy exerted an influence upon those which came after them. But, neverthe- less, in the Grecian mind, at least, the possibility of .originality was never doubted, nor fresh thonght, -nor fresh efforts at cre- ative art oppressed by venerable and uuqnestionable authori- ties. There were then no Doctors of the Sorbonne. In the latter period of Greece, and during the classic age of Eome, the Schools of Philosophy, and particularly the Schools of the Ehetoricians exhibit some ap23roximation to the form of institutions of learning, with a formula of education ; but still the individual teacher created his own school and formed its centre. Cicero studied Plato and Demosthenes, but he resort- ed to no university ; he was taught by Koscius, but in no pub- lic gymnasium. Yirgil imitated the Iliad, but he caught the epic fire, and gained the majesty and grace of the hexameter from the discipline of no Homeric Institute. In forming an estiraate of the learned men and artists of antiquity, we must think of original genius, self-made men, individual efforts, in- dependent thoughts and aims, and the voluntary association of men naturally influencing each other by conversation, cor- respondence, daily example, and the courtesies of social life, "We must forget our modern ideas of educational institutions established by the State, or sustained by patronage and power. In that primal stage, education could appear in no other form for the idea of education was then in process of development, and the materials of education were accnmulatine:. *<^nd as there were not, properly speaking, institutions of learning, so there was not any system of public and general education. The people heard poems recited by strolling rhap- sodists, and by actors in the theatre ; they heard histories read at the public games ; they heard the orators in the pub- lic assemblies ; they might listen to the discourse of philoso- phers in the public places ; and they every where contemplated proportion, majesty, and beauty, in the temples and statues which adorned their cities and the seats of religious worship. It was an education throuo'h the ear and the eve ; throuo-h national customs, and religious ceremonies ; through legend and story ; through monuments of national glory, and tlie proud associations of places connected with heroic deeds. It was a moulding of the character through sentiments, emo- tions, andjpassioHj infused and quickened by the objects and incidents of tlieir daily life, where the objects and inci- dents were created and ordered by the genius, taste, and activity of the presiding minds which dwelt in a higlier sphere. Wisdom, beaut}^, poetry, and mnsic dwelt first of all upon Olympna, thence they descended to dwell at Delphi, and upon the Acropolis: their priests and representatives were a god-like order of men; and through them the whole people felt the influence of the heavenly visitation. Such was the beauty, j)oetry, and heroism of the life of the Greeks, that their my- thology seems almost to be established by the facts of their history, so naturally consequential was the one uj^on the other. The cultivated class among the Eomans assimilated to the cultivated class among the Greeks, and tlieir education pro- ceeded by the same means; but the Koman j^eople never im- bibed the Athenian spirit of letters and art, and never reached the Athenian polish and grace. The shadow of Olympus did not stretch itself to the banks of the Tiber. But the Roman, no less than the Athenian, formed a strong national character through legend and story, through the associations of places and jjroud historical recollections, and through tbe influence of political institutions. Education, among the ancients, viewed as a process, wa& varied, undetermined, independent, often accidental, and strongly individual; and in its diftusion took the ease and freedom of social life instead of that cloistered seclusion and disciplinary movement which are so familiar to us. As a re- sult, it pres-ents us men of the highest powers under a noble culture; a civilized people wonderful for thought, imagination, and taste, or a people of stern and lofty nationalism; works in literature and art, which, unsurpassed if not unequalled, have long since been acknowledged by mankind as models which can never lose their authority, and can never cease tO' instruct; many important truths in pure science, and valuable researches in physics; and speculations in philosophy, immortal as thought itself. In this early association of thought and of artistic labor,. xiQ find the fountains of our own cultivation and civilization- It was the fresh morning of human development, when meth^ ocl and system were not yet attained, when knowledge remain- ed nnripe and gave promises to the future; but it left truths, examples, and memorials which have ever controlled human progress, and can never be forgotten. These solitary thinkers with their few disciples — these poetSy historians, and orators in tlie simple strength of their genius — these artists, working out the ideal conceptions of their own minds, were the only educators of the day in which they lived, and they have ever remained the educators of mankind. What would antiquity be without these but a barren waste ? We would have a spectacle of the rise and fall of dynasties, the march of armies, the tumult of battle, and the glory of conquest: we might have also useful arts, and commerce, and wealth, leadino; on a barbaric ma£:nilicence. But now that tliey have passed away, what would tliey be to us but a story or a dream — a Bab}- Ion, a Tyre, a Carthage, to fill a page of history, but leaving nothing behind to inspire, to elevate, to improve mankind? The very wars of the classic nations have an interest beyond all others, because they exhibit the struggles of civilization against barbarism: — They are the he- roic defending the true, the good, and the beautiful. The labors of Genius have given immoi-tality to these nations. The j3oetry, the philosophy, the eloquence, the histories, the splendid works of art still survive. The memory and influence of these nations are imperishable, because they continue to teacli us great truths, to hold up before us the most perfect mod- els of literary production and of the beautiful arts, and to in- sj^ire us with enthusiasm for intellectual culture and refinement. Of what peculiar interest or value to us are the stories of the Ileraclidse, of the kings and chieftains who went to the sack of Troy, of gods, demigods, and kings, and of all the va- rious characters, mythological or historical, asssociated with the little country of Greece ? Or of what peculiar interest and value is Greece itself? There are other countries whose natural features and productions might interest us equally or even more: Other nations too, have their mythologies au'il heroic legends, and stories. See you not that it is the genius 10 of Homer and tlie dramatic poets, and of artists like Phidias and Praxitiles, calling into life from these crude and rough materials forms of matchless beauty; weaving into matchless verse, or expressing in marble, incidents and events tender and heroic, and connected with all the deep principles and passions of human nature, illustrating government legisla- tion social life and divine providence and justice — see you not that it is this that has given interest and value to what otherv>'ise could, at most, only amuse a vacant hour — working out from ordinary materials, ideal beauty, grandeur and truth, to charm and instruct the human mind forever ? And when we add to these the unsurpassed works of j^hilosophers, ora- tors, and historians, we comprehend why men of every form of culture should look to Greece as the fatherland of civiliza- tion and education. The Roman Empire with its majesty and power was an impressive spectacle — so was the the Persian — so is the Chinese and the Kussian. But the Dictators, Triumvirs, and Cffisars of the Ancient Empire, viewed alone, luive for us little more interest than the Emperors and Czars of the modern d^^nastics. Greece perpetuated in Kome — Roman legislation, literature, art, and eloquence — Roman civilization and culture draw forever the heart of humanity towards the city of the seven hills. And thus in contemplating this i^rimal period, we are taught at once the great truth, that the life of nations no less than the iite of individuals, is important to the world, and survives in the memory and veneration of after times, only as connect- ed wdth the progress of knowledge, the development of tliouglit, the cultivation of taste, improvement in arts, and, in general, with the advancement of the spiritual interests of man. In proceeding to the second stage of learned association iind educational development, it is necessary to remark that ai a general and rapid review, like the present, it is not pos- sible to mark with exactness the fci-ansition from one stage to the other. Indeed, in the nature of the case, it must have been gradual, extending through centuries, appearing under different phases, and with m_oiV5 orless distinctness. 11 First of all, let ?tlie distin-ctive cliaracteristics of tLe two stages be clearly :borne in mind : — the first presents the inde- pendent teacher going forth to utter what he conceived to be truths, as he best could, under no legal authority, and con- nected with no incorporated society or institution. The phi- losopher and the poet were equally free, and impelled alike by tlie simple power of original thought and the inspiration of genius. The Greek, particularly, had every thing within himself. His own language, the most perfect, perhaps, ever used by man, was sufficient for him, and he cultivated no other: and whatever hints he may have received from other nations, through some travelling philosopher, he passed so far beyond them, and exhibited such independence in his think- ing, that they are scarcely to be regarded as elements of his system. Such hints have little more relation to Grecian phi- losophy tlian the letters of Cadmus to the dramas of JEs- chylus. In the second stage, there appears the necessity of referring to the past, and becoming acquainted with what the human mind had already successfully achieved. There were culti- vated languages to be learned, master works in literature and art to be studied, systems of philosophy to be examined, and scientific truths to be acquired. The Roman could not be as original as the Greek, and had first to become a scholar ere he could be a philosopher, poet, or orator. The classic period of Rome added still more to the mass of philosophical and literary material, and imposed upon subse- quent ages the necessity of a still wider erudition. And when the Latin itself ceased to be a living tongue, or existed only in a degenerated and corrupted form, two classical languages instead of one had to be acquired as the necessary portals to those treasures of thought and beauty which the genius of the ancients had created, and which v/ere hencotbrtli to lead the way of profound and elegant culture. l!^ew and powerful elements of intellectual development had also been introduced with the Christian religion. The ^eat author of this religion taught after the manne:- of tlie 12 ancient philosophers, but with a perfection and power which surpassed them all. He taught every where — in the temple and in the synagogue, in the highways and in the open fields, or in private dwellings amid the informality of social con- verse. He taught with the freest method, and used the most familiar illustrations, and yet he taught such doctrines as had never been heard before. He organized no schools; he sim- ply taught. Mightier than the Sibyls, wliile, like them, he seemed to scatter his truths to the winds, he securely planted them in human hearts, and nursed a power destined to over- throw the old religious, revolutiouize social organization, and regenerate the world. With his Apostles, organization began, and the Church was instituted. At first, simple associations, scattered, and more or less independent, appeared. The or- ganization itself seemed a spontaneous growth from the sa- cred affinities created by a common faith and hope, com- mon dangers and exigencies, and common duties. From this unostentatious beginning arose a vast ecclesiastical system, with a mighty hierarchy, which spread itself over the Roman Empire, and finally took possession of the throne of the Ca3sars. Witli Christianity there grew up a new, peculiar, and ex- tensive literature. There were first the sacred writings; then the epistles, homilies, j)olemics, and theologies of the fathers. Theology took a two-fold form — the orthodox and the heretical. Both allied themselves to philosophy; the first basing itself upon the sacred writings, called in philoso- phy as an adjunct authority, and to aid in inter|)retation and exposition: the second, basing itself upon some favorite philosophy, sought to mould the sacred writings to its dogmas. Christianity, a doctrine of God, of duty, and of immortality, swept over tlie whole field of philosophy, and connected itself with the profoundest and most momentous questions that can agritate the human soul. The study of languages, antiquities, philosophy, and rhet- oric, seemed involved in the inculcation and progress of this religion. It was, in truth, a great system of teaching, where each society or church became a school, and the priest or min- 13 ifiter a public instructor. And as cojDies of the sacred writ- ings were multiplied, readers would naturally increase, and the value of the art of reading be correspondinglj enhanced. That education, therefore, should under Christianity be diffus- ed among the people, and take the form of institutions, and adopt a determined method, was an inevitable result. Could this religion have preserved its original simplicity and jjurity, and remained disconnected with pride, ambition, and power it might, perhaps, in its natural quiet movement, have given birth to a system of universal education, and advanced all sciences and arts, at the same time that it was accomijlishino- the spiritual regeneration of society. But even as actually developed, we shall see how close and important was its con- nection with the advancement of knowledge and the rise of institutions of learning. For centuries before the fall of the Eoman Empire, luxury had produced effemiancy with all its attendant vices. The decay of national spirit, of virtue and manliness has ever marked the deterioration of letters and the arts; and thus the fall of the empire was preceded by the disappearance of all that had signalized and graced the Augustan age. But this was the very period during wliich the patristic literature had been accumulating. And when the barbarians had finally completed their conquest followed by the almost total loss of classical learning, although the church was not exemj)t from the prevailing ignorance, still the Latin language was pre- served in her canons and liturgies, aud in the Vulgate, so that whatever of learning remained was found for the most j)art in the Church. The leading Ecclesiastics, indeed, cherished the strongest p-ejudices against secular learning. Gregory I,, the founder of papal supremacy, directed all his authority against it, and is even reported to have committed to the flames a library of heathen authors. In some monastic foundations, the perusal of the works of heathen authors was forbidden. Nevertheless, the tenacious adherence of the clergy to the Latin liturgy, and to the Vulgate translation of the Scriptures, and their implicit 14 submission to the Fathers, in presefving: the Latin language, preserved the very records of that literature which they neg- lected and contemned. Another circumstance, too, and that perhaps purely accidental, contributed still more to the pres- ervation of classical literature. The order of St. Benedict, so tvidely diffused through the Church, were enjoined by their founder to read, copy, and collect books, without any specifi- cation as to their character, probably presuming that they would be religious books. They obeyed the injunction literally, and classical manuscripts were collected, and copies multi- plied. It thus came to pass that monastic institutions became the great conservatories of books, and the means of multiplying them. It must not be forgotten too, however we may be op- posed to the institution of monasticisra, that during centuries of intellectual darkness and barbarism, when war formed the chief employment of men who sought for distiu'Ction, the monasteries became the quiet retreats of the gentler and more elevated spirits who wished to escape from the violence of the World, and to engage in the genial pursuits ot literature and philosophy. The scholar became of necessity an ecclesiastic. We cannot be surprised, therefore, that schools of learning sprung up under the shadow of convents and cathedrals. One feature distingaished the Church even in the dark ages — let it be remembered to its honor — which peculiarly adapted it to foster the interests of learning, and to raise up learned men; in awarding its benefits, in bestowing its honors, it paid no respect to rank: to it, the noble and the peasant were un- distinguished; and from the lowest grades of society might arise the successor of St. Peter, to set his foot upon the neck of Kings and Emperors. Here then was opened to the peo- ple the possibility of social elevation and power, and here simple genius and learning might hope to escape frem obscu- rity and gain the loftiest stations. There is but one parallel case. In the Italian cities the mu- nicipal judges were chosen from among the body of the citi- zens; and so r-apid-Wa& the rotation of office, that every citizen 15 might hope in his turn to participate in the government, Now it is remarkable that the study of Roman Jurisprudence was revived to such a degree at Bologna that a famous Uni- versity sprang up, and the only one that can dispute with the Universities of Oxford and Paris the claim to the earliest an- tiquity. In both instances, it was the removal of the inter- dicts which every where else debarred the people from all hope of advancement, that quickened the ambition of learn- ing. ISTature hath ever her own noblemen whom she will set forward, unless arbitrary institutions prevent. The first schools, after the barbarians had completed the overthrow of the Empire and of all imperial institutions, were merely of an elementary character, and were established by certain Bishops and Abbots, in the sixth century. These conventual and cathedral schools were probably at first de- signed for neophytes, to fit them for engaging witli propriety in the church service. Their benefits however were not con- fined to these. To wliat extent these schools were multiplied, it is impossible to determine with exactness. They assumed a higher character under the direction of eminent men such as Theodore, Bede, and Alcuin. Charlemagne invited the lat- ter from England, in co^nnection with Clement of Ireland, and Theodolf of Germany, to establisli or restore the cathedral and conventual schools in France. The division of sciences which obtained in them is remarkable. The first was the Tri'ovum^ comprising grammar, logic, and rhetoric: The eec- ond was the Quadrivium^ comprising n)usic, arithmetic, ge- ometry, and astronomy. Few studied the Quadrivium at all; and the instances were rare where the Triviumv^'ds mastered. 'The theological aspect which was given even to these studies, is evident from the fact that the study of music was confined to chanting the church service, and- astronomy to the calcula- tion of Easter. Jurisprudence and theology were the two governing pow- ers of edueatioual development, which gave rise to Univer- sities. The latter, hoAvever.. was the chlef^-and is mainly to be- €©!asidered. 16 Hitberto, two methods of theological discussion had ob- tained. During the first six centuries, we have the method of the fathers — that of interpreting the Scriptures by their own ability and skill, and by the decisions and traditions of the Church, as these accumulated from century to century. In the eighth century, or perhaps earlier, the Fathers were them- selves received as authority conjointly with the Scriptures and the decisions of the Church. But the establishment of cathedral and conventual schools could not but advance human thought. Scholars of more or less eminence were found scattered through the middle ages. Scholars were engaged in founding and perfecting these schools, and gave in them an impulse to study. A taste for philosophical speculation would naturally spring up, and the very study of the Fathers would tend to foster it. The logic of Augustine was in use; this was followed by tbe logic and metaphysics of Aristotle, although at first opposed by Popes and Councils. Questions in theology naturally ally themselves to meta- phyisics; and polemics as naturally call in the aid of dialec- tics. Lanfranc and Anselm, successively Archbishops of Canterbury, made use of metaj)hysical ideas as well as of the Aristotelian dialectics, in their controversy with Berenger res- pecting trans abstaiitiation. Now arose a new method of theological discussion; it was no longer a simple appeal to the Scriptures, nor an ap2>eal to tlie Scriptures, the Fathers, and the decisions and traditions of the Church conjointly. It be- came now an appeal to Keason also. And yet it was not an independent appeal; but tbe received dogmas remaining un- questioned, Reason vras bent to expound and fortify them. " The principle of the Schoolmen, in their investigations was the expanding, developing, and if possible, illustrating and clearing from objection the doctrines of natural and re- vealed religion, in a dialectical method and by dint of the subtlest reason. The questions which we deem altogether metaphysical, such as that concerning universal ideas, became theological in their hands," 17 The founder of the Schoolmen and of the scholastic system, so called from Scholw — the schools which Charlemagne open- 'cd, is generally received to be Eoscelin, who flourished at the close of the 11th century. He revived the question respect- ing universal ideas, and with him commenced the celebrated controversy between the ISTominalists and Realists. Three names figure at the beginning of this controversy — Eoscelin, the Nominalist, William of Champeaux, the Eealist, and Abelard, M'ho endeavored to occupy a middle ground. The intense interest awakened by this controversy, and the multi- tudes who waited upon the discussions, can be explained only by the fact that a new ""field was opened to the human intel- lect and the authority of human reason brought in. It was assuiiied, indeed, that reason should not transcend the dogmas of faith, and there was always professedly a submission of the former to tlie latter: but the charge brought against the nom- inalists of subverting the doctrine of the Trinity by reducing it to a mere nominal unity of persons; and the counter-charge brought against the realists, of a tendency to Atheism, prove that there was a freedom of thought and language indulge- lic lectures were delivered at first at the private rooms of the professors, and afterwards in buildings appropriated to that purpose. Certain streets contained these buildings : Thus, in Oxford, in School street, there were forty buildings, containing each from four to sixteen class rooms : In Paris the four na- tions of the Faculty of Arts resorted to the Eue de la Fuoarre. A scarcit} of lodgings arising from the great influx of stu- dents, the exorbitant demands for rent consequent upon this, as well as the vices to which students were exposed in large 23 cities, led beneviplent and pious individuals to establish col- leges where board and lodging were furnished to poor stu- dents, and a religious supervision and discipline instituted for the preservation of their morals. Colleges were therefore merely accessories to the universities. In Italj colleges never advanced beyond this. In Germany they advanced very little, and never sufficiently to modity the system of education. Here, too, they have entirely disap- peared, the name Burscli — given now in common to the stu- dents, from the title Bursar origiually appropriated to those who inhabited collegiate houses — being the only memorial of them remaining. In Paris, Regents taken from the University schools were occasionally appointed to lecture in the colleges. This prac- tice in time became so general that the public rooms were de- serted for the college halls. The Theological FacuUy confined their lectures almost wholly to the College of the Sorbonne, so that the Sorbonne a.nd the Theological Faculty became con- vertible titles. In the fifteenth century the faculty of arts was distributed through eighteen colleges. In the colleges of Paris,however,the faculties of the University always retained the ascendency, and the University, instead of being superse- ded, was only divided into parts. Napoleon really restored the integrity of the University. The Sorbonne still remains, but 5s occupied by the four faculties of Science, Letters^ Law, and Medicine. The College of France still remains, but in its courses and appointments is absorbed in the great uuiversity system. In England, the colleges are eleemosynary lay corporations, ■■• v/hoily subject to the laws, statutes and ordinances which the founder makes, and to the visitors whom he appoints." The College " consists of a head, called by the various names ^of Provost, Master, Rector, Principal, or Warden, and of a body of Fellows, and generally of Scholars, also, besides vari- ous ofiicers or serrants, according to the peculiar nature of the foundation." The Fellows ai'e elected generally from the graduates of the 24 college. They are elected for life, if tliey remain nnmarried, or until they accept some other appointment inconsistent with the terms of the fonndation. Eooms arc assigned them in the college, together with board at the commons. They receiTe- also a stipend varying from thirty ponnds or less, to two hun- dred and fifty pounds, and upwards. I^o duties appear to be positively assigned them, but as they generally belong to the church, it is presumed, if not intended, that they shall addict themselves to theology. The colleges of England, like those of the continent, were originally " unessential accessories " of the Universities. The Universities existed before they were founded — the Universi- ties must have continued to exist had the colleges afterwards- been abolished. In England, however, a portentous change came over the universities through the influence of the colleges. The result is. that at the present day the universities exist almost wholly 111 name, and scarcely exercise any function beyond that of conferring degrees. The instraction has gone into the hands of the colleges, and is conducted by the fellows, while the duties of the professors are nomxinal. The Universities have,, therefore, really retrograded to the state from which they had centuries before emerged, and hence have become agaiii a collection of Cathedral and Conventual Schools. Formerly they were taught by eminent professors with the freedom and originality of public lectures. !N"ow they are taught like grammar Schools, by tutors who are often juve- nile, who have been elected by favoritism or by chance, and who have generally achieved no distinction and are unknov/n to the woi'ld of Science and Letters. Hence the English Universities have remained stationary; while continental Universities have reached a higher develop- jnent, and have entered upon a new and more glorious era of academical existence. The continental Universities have identified their progress with the progress of Science. The English are not yet fallj emancipated from the spirit of Scholasticism. 25 Universities, we have seen were an advance upon the an- cient Schools, in that they were compact associations of the learned for the two great objects of promoting knowledge, and of determining the method and carrying on the work of Education. In form and aims they were complete. Hence, they can never be superseded. But we come now to a third period where begins what we may call the culminating stage of learned associaton and Educational development. Universities, we say, as to their form and aims were com- plete; but they labored under manifold incumbrances. The spirit of the ancient Schools was more free, pure, elastic and productive than that of the Universities, although they had not reached the proper forms,nor arrived at the conception of universal Education. A union of the two was necessary to a new progress. It was necessary that j^hilosophy should be dis- enthralled from Scholasticism; that thought and investigation should be disenthralled from ecclesiastical prescription ; and that Scientific method should be disenthralled from the dicta of authority, and the true method determined in the spirit of independence. Three centuries were appropriated to this work, the fif- teenth, sixteenth and seventeenth, which vv^e call collectively, the period of the Reformation, although the Reformation, strictly speaking occurred in the sixteenth. But the fifteenth was preparatory to the sixteenth, and the seventeenth was the con- tinuation of the preceding century — the carrying out of its spirit. The taking of Constantinople was the great event of the fif- teenth century. This drove the Greek Literati into Europe. They brought with them the Greek language, Greek art, lit- erature and philosophy. The cloistered scholastics of Europe^ were surprised and fascinated by beauty of form, beauty of poetic conception, imagery and verse, and by the various tree and brilliant philosophies of the classic land and the classic age. The dry subtleties of Scholasticism could not abide & comparison with the Socratic dialogues; and the Aiistotle of the Schools,in his theological dress was put to shame and ban- 26 ivshed as an impostor hj the Aristotle who came fresh from his native clime, and spoke his native tongue. And thus Scholasticism disappeared never to return; and Greek phi'osophj, multifarious and confused indeed, became for a time, the universal enchantment. 'No less signal in the sixteenth century "was the destruction of ecclesiastical prescription by Luther, the man of the Ke- formation. The authority of truth and of God supplanted the authority of the Church. In Bacon and DesCartes the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- turies are united. Leibnitz and Locke belong to the seven- teenth. .Four illustrious names are these. "With them was born the spirit of intellectual independence. They cover the whole field of philosophy. Bacon and Locke were of the sensualistic School; DesCartes of the Idealistic; and Leibnitz attempted to harmonize the two. But they all agreed in re- ])elling against authority, in proclaiming freedom of thought, and in seeking a basis for science in fact and demonstrated truth alone. The Novum Organum of Bacon particularly is regarded as introducing tliat new era of scientific investigation whose splendid results we are daily witnessing. It was inevitable that this threefold disenthrallment should exert an influence upon the Educational System. It was just what was required to perfect it. The progress of knowledge and education exert upon each other a reciprocal influence. — One caonot advance without the other. There have been just three things accomplished in respect to Education. First, the erection of new associations as com- plements of the University. Secondly, the perfection of the University system of discipline. Thirdly, the development of a system of jDopular education. The first we find in the special associations which have been framed for promoting the Arts and Sciences, such as the Roy- al Academy of London, the Eoyal Society of London, the Royal Academy of Berlin, and the Institute of France. Asso- ciations more or less aj^proximating to European Academies 27 begin to appear in oar own country. The Hojal Society of London was established on the phm of Bacon, first at Oxford in IGio; eighteen years afterwards it was removed to London. Tiio Koyal Academy of Berlin, was planned and founded by Leibnitz. He was its first President, and edited the first vol- ume of its transactions. We call these academies com- plements to the University, for this reason: Composed of the most eminent scholars, they devote themselves exclusively to one function of the University in relation to Science and Art, namely, — investigation, and discovery; and add to this the publication of the latest results. This function is thus rend- ered more efficient; while the University, proper, devotes itself more particularly to the work of Education. In proceeding to consider the modern development of tlie University system, we cannot fail to remark that the inde- pendent spirit and the freedom of the ancient schools have come to be united with the university organization of the model age, through the threefold disenthrallment already pointed out; and Education is now conducted in the light of that legiti. mate philsophy which has taken the place of scholasticism, is is no longer burthened by ecclesiastical prescription, and emancipated from mere authority, has attained the method and aims of a determinate science. We do not say that this revolution is complete and univergal ; but it has advanced so far in the most illustrious and influential universities,that very perfect models already exist, and the ultimate and complete triumph cannot be far distant. There are three things to be considered in an educational system : 1. The natural order of the development of the hu- man faculties ; 2. The studies best adapted to this order in advancing from one stage to another ; 3. How far education should be prescribed as a discipline; and when it should be exchanged for free and independent study wdiere knowledge is the object, and culture the necessary attendant. The University relates to the last. The mind is presumed to" have received a discipline, by which, having gained an 28 insight into method, it can now freely go out in search of knowledge, and with wise discrimination avail itself of the abundant means and appliances provided in the University, quickened and aided by the voice of the living teacher, lead- ing the way in investigation and thought. Examination of books, original investigations, hearing tlie teacher and con- ducting disputations with him — these constitute the employ- ments of the University. Disputation is essential, for it leada to a more perfect analysis, and clears away difficulties. So- crates' whole method was one of disputation. In some, at least, of the universities of the scholastic age, the Professor was bound to sit after he had delivered his lecture, and hear and answer objections. Abelard was at first a pupil of William of Champeaux ; but the objections of the pupil seem to have confounded the master, until the former becoming, in turn, a lecturer, he outran his master in celebrity and popularity. Ijoth the ancient schools and the Universities of the middle age had the true method. Eoth, however, were defective in other respects. The ancients had not jvroperly a preparatory