University of Virginia Library

I. The Language and Literature Group

THE PRESENT CRISIS IN MODERN LANGUAGE INSTRUCTION

By Robert Herndon Fife, Ph.D., Columbia University

The bromidic remark, heard very often three years ago, that "things
will never be the same after the war" has proved as true a prediction in the
field of modern language instruction as in other fields. The war seemed at
first to bring an immense increase of interest in our subject. For the first

time in history America sent its soldiers to fight on the soil of Europe, with
its sharp linguistic divisions and rivalries. To hundreds of thousands of
young Americans, French ceased to be a memory of the school bench or an
unreal tradition of something far off and unknown and became the daily
speech of comrades in trench and field and of a citizenry bound to ourselves
in the daily routine of a common cause. German, somewhat more often
heard here as a living language, and consequently more vital to us, was no
longer merely the vernacular of handworker or cheese-and-butter merchant,
but became the expression of the spirit, living in the mouth of prisoner or
captor, of a nation in arms, seeking to destroy our ideals. Italian and Polish,
Russian and Bohemian, Servian and Roumanian and Greek, all shot into
reality and half a dozen more tongues forced themselves as living organisms
into the consciousness of the youth of America, which up to that time had
scarcely dreamed of their existence.

The first result of all this was to demonstrate how insufficient and unpractical
our instruction in the modern languages had been. Young men
and women, who had spent precious years in the acquisition of what they
fondly imagined was a practical knowledge of the French language, found
themselves face to face with Frenchmen and unable to understand the first
word or express the most urgent want, and even months of intercourse
with the people of the country was insufficient to do more than supply the
means of conveying the simplest daily needs, because of the lack of a proper
basis of training in idiom and vocabulary.

One immediate consequence of the declaration of war was a tremendous
growth of interest in the language of the associated nation on whose soil
the western front was drawn. In camp and cantonment, in school and club
the size of the classes in French depended only on the number of available
teachers. These teachers were often blind leaders of the blind; but if they
had been the most expert of their profession, the conditions under which
they had to work could have made anything like real success out of the
question. For it now became generally clear, something which of course
was known already to the trained teacher, that the use of a modern language
for any practical purpose is an art which, to be acquired successfully,
needs the plasticity of youth and a perseverance and method which the
crowded months of the war could not admit. The urgent days of the
struggle and of repatriation of the forces did little more for the study of the
foreign modern languages than to show the defects in our system.

This revelation of defect was, however, of sanitary value, for it came at
a time when America's changed position as a result of the Great War put a
practical knowledge of the modern languages among the absolute imperatives
of national security. Whatever currents may flow on the surface of
the political waters, however politicians who have been washed to the top

by the muddy ebb-tide of war may prate of American isolation or appeal to
short-sighted selfishness with smug platitudes about America's national
interests, the intertwining of our affairs with those of Europe cannot be
undone. Economic forces as irresistible as those geological changes that
come with the cooling of the planetary crust have set us down among
Frenchmen and Italians and Germans and Poles and Czechs and Russians
and have made us industrially dependent on these peoples. Heretofore it
has been simply the bonds of a common civilization that have held us to the
Continent, and these have been drawn mainly through England. From
now on it is the life cords of economic preservation and national development
which unite our banks and farms and factories to the capitals and
commercial centers of every European country. We have recently witnessed
the effort, more or less disguised, of both former associates and foes
to make America out of its wealth pay the cost of the outbreak of European
jealousy and ambition. We may rest assured that unless we are fully
equipped for defense in the field of international finance and commerce, we
shall not only find ourselves paying the German indemnity and rebuilding
France but left behind in the planetary race for commerce which is even now
being staged.

Unfortunately also, the war has brought about changes in modern
language instruction which have left us poorly prepared to face the present
crisis. German has been very largely driven from the schools. This came
as a result of conditions which brought us into the conflict and through the
impulsive character of our national temperament; but the consequences
have been none the less destructive and from the standpoint of national
strength deplorable, for in 1917 German was, as a rule, the best taught of the
foreign languages and as a branch of secondary school and collegiate instruction
was in many parts of the country on the way to develop a methodology
of teaching at least on a par with that of the better English schools
and not far below that of the Continental schools themselves. French
was immediately lifted into a position of tremendous importance, with the
resulting overcrowding of classes. Teachers, whose sole equipment consisted
of some knowledge of the French verbs and the buoyant disposition
that came with the outburst of national enthusiasm, were put in charge of
classes where overcrowding would have made success impossible under the
most experienced instructor. Spanish, which five years ago was scarcely
known as a high school subject in the New England, North Atlantic, and
Middle Western states has, through the indifference of school directors and
as a result of an unheard-of propaganda, been given an importance among
school subjects which is far out of proportion to its cultural and scientific
value, and in most sections of our country in no relation whatever
to its commercial significance. As a matter of course, no consideration

whatever has been given to the desperate lack of trained teachers of Spanish.
Many men and women, formerly efficient teachers of German, have become
inefficient and discouraged teachers of Spanish. While it must be said of
these that they have at least had some general pedagogical experience in
modern language instruction, which may in part compensate for an ignorance
of Spanish, a great number of the newly recruited teachers of Spanish
lacks even this asset.

It would be bad enough if we had simply destroyed our former values.
We have done more. We have shaken the confidence of school superintendents
and the public generally in the teaching of the modern languages.
From every side comes the statement that pupils are discouraged and
unwilling to continue the subject, that school principals have either reduced
the already insufficient time assigned to the modern languages or threaten
to eliminate them altogether, that school committees are not sympathetic,
that parents are restive and want to see their children taught something
where demonstrably useful results may be obtained.

It must be said that the attitude of certain modern language teachers is
not of a character to recommend the subjects which they represent. At a
time when the value of violent and persistent propaganda has been demonstrated
to a sufficiency in every country in the world, the modern language
teacher has not failed to note the lesson and has cried his wares with an
insistency that does credit to a commercial age. The German teacher, to
be sure, has been under the shadow; but with the coming of technical peace
he may be trusted to rush to the fore with the others. In the meantime the
representatives of French have found conditions most favorable. The
Spanish and Latin propagandists have fought merrily over the bones of
German instruction and proclaimed the value of their substitute with
unhalting voice. The advocates of Russia were warming up for an advance
on the schools in 1917, when certain events in St. Petersburg brought their
advance to a sudden halt. Italian has a small but vociferous band of devotees.
Brazilian trade,—or its promise,—brought Portuguese to the fore
in certain cities, while the nationalistic urge from Ireland and commercial
prospects in the Orient have led to an enthusiastic demand that the schools
teach Gaelic and Chinese. In the larger cities of the East there are signs
that Poles and Czechs and Jugo-Slavs look yearningly toward a share in the
modern language programs of the schools supported by public funds.

Under these circumstances it is inevitable that the public mind should
be greatly confused as to the purpose of modern language study. The
nationalistic propaganda which the war has so much intensified fills the air
with its watchwords and seeks to make a battle-ground of our American
schools. Even those who should be able to take an expert and objective
view of education are often unclear in their own minds as to the object of

teaching foreign modern languages and the choice of the languages to be
taught, so that the average teacher is left without any proper idea of purpose
and method. School committees and school principals, all too ready to
yield to local political and quasi-political pressure, are without direction or
leadership and swing with the emotional currents of the day. In view of this
chaotic condition, it may be proper in the few minutes remaining to me to
formulate some ideas on this matter. Aside from the importance of the
national crisis, there are two considerations which make the discussion of the
problem peculiarly proper on this occasion. First, the great interest which
Mr. Jefferson took in instruction in the modern languages both at William
and Mary and at this institution, which was the first in America to teach the
modern languages as carefully as the classical; and, secondly, the distinguished
position which the graduates of this University have taken in the
service of the nation. It is from this standpoint, that of service to the
country rather than that of benefit to be derived by the individual, that
the subject should be viewed in the present crisis.

From this viewpoint, then, there are three purposes from which the
study of modern languages derives importance: for trade and commerce,
for scientific research, and for national culture. I need make no apology
at the present time for placing the cultivation of our national trade in the
first position, since through its success alone can the national bases of wealth
and progress be made permanent. It is not necessary to point out that the
time has passed when we can hope to be self-dependent, either as an industrial
nation or as a producer of raw materials. It is well known that even
before the war the United States was organized industrially to a point where
foreign markets had become a necessity for our factories, and the years from
1914-1918 speeded up this organization until not merely the prosperity,
but even the solvency of great communities in the New England and North
Atlantic states and the Middle West depend on gaining foreign markets.
It is also too well known to repeat that the war has made us a creditor
nation, something which creates an entirely new dependency on the maintenance
of intimate relations with Europe and the Orient. In the race for
the world's business we shall now have to strike into a faster pace than
that which marked our easy-going methods of seven or eight years ago.
This is perfectly clear to those who will look across the two oceans and see
how the nations of the world are stripping themselves for the conflict.
The knowledge of foreign languages was not the least of the assets which
Germany possessed before the war and by means of which she was able to
elbow her way into the front rank of exporting nations after 1895. That
is a lesson which England especially has learned from her rival. The
appointment of a committee to investigate modern studies, by Mr. Asquith
in 1916, and its important report show how fully the eyes of the British had

been opened to the necessity for overcoming the advantage which Germany
enjoyed in this field before the war. Unless American banks and exporters
and importers can find young Americans who have laid at least a sound basis
for the command of the leading languages of commerce, they will have to
entrust their trade commissions and trade secrets to foreigners. In the race
for primacy in trade the two great rivals whom we shall meet in every market
are the British and Germans, both of whom have through their geographical
position superior advantages in learning modern languages. We
must not be deceived by the fact that we enjoy for the present advantages in
capital and the disposal of raw materials. The time is not distant when
American business will have to meet the foreign trader on a battle-ground
where educational equipment will count as heavily as material assets.

The second great national demand in modern language instruction
comes in the field of scientific research. Both in the natural sciences and
the human sciences America has to create and maintain the bases
of national greatness. In the steel industry, in textiles, in the chemical
trades and in every branch of electrical technique and agricultural chemistry
and biology, an up-to-date knowledge of the languages of the other
great producing nations is in a new sense a part of the alphabet of the
scientist. The war has made the sciences more truly international than ever
and has welded into an indissoluble union laboratory experiment and
national production, both agricultural and industrial. No nation can
afford to rest its knowledge of what is being accomplished in foreign laboratories
to any great extent on the circumlocutory methods of translation.
Its scholars, down to the last laboratory assistant, must be trained in at
least the chief languages of research. If this is true of the physical scientist,
it is equally true of the historian, the economist, and the philosopher. The
possibilities of national culture and the ability for leadership depend on the
ability to take part in the great international exchange of ideas with those
nations which aspire to leadership in civilization.

National greatness depends not only on factory and farm, on scientist's
laboratory and scholar's study. It depends also upon the ability of
the great mass of educated men and women, especially such molders of
public opinion as clergymen, journalists, and political leaders, to share
at least to some extent, in the culture of other peoples. Some one has said
that while training makes men better citizens, culture makes them better
men. No nation, least of all America, can live to itself. We believe ourselves
engaged in the creation of a peculiar and original type of national
culture, but the whole basis for it in school and college is that European
culture from whose loins our own has sprung. In this sense our national
history is the prolongation of the history of England, Holland, France,
Germany, Italy, and Spain, and to some extent of the Scandinavian North.

Our poets are the heirs of Burns and Tennyson, to be sure, but also of Dante
and Goethe. Our drama is sprung from the stock of the English stage,
from Shakespere to Shaw, but also from the French realists and Ibsen
and Hauptmann. Our novel traces a long line of ancestors, which include
not only Fielding and Thackeray, but also Cervantes and Mérimée. No
American national culture is thinkable that does not rest on what is best and
most characteristically national in the civilization of Western Europe,
none that does not keep step with the philosophical, political, and economic
theory and the belletristic literature of the great peoples across the Atlantic.

The question as to the choice of modern languages for study in the
American schools and colleges is not one that can be decided a priori.
America is large and the various contacts with its continental and trans-marine
neighbors make varying demands on its business and professional
life. A very strong reason for the study of Spanish exists in the Gulf States
and Southwestern states. The importance of the Oriental trade makes it
advisable to give especial attention on the Pacific coast to the languages of
the Far East. Nevertheless, for the great bulk of American youth the question
has to be decided on broadly national grounds, with a full consciousness
of the great significance of the decision. As a rule our schools can offer no
more than two foreign languages and they do well, indeed, if they can give
efficient instruction in these. In comparison with this last consideration, the
quality of instruction, all others are of secondary importance. It is much
better to do French or German well, for instance, than to try to do French and
German, or French, German and Spanish, as has been tried in many poorly
equipped schools. It must be remembered that while each language has
concrete values and peculiar charm, when a choice is made, regard must be
had to all the factors of national service that have been outlined above.
Thus, while Italian ranks very high for the student of literature and perhaps
also of the theory of the State, its value in other fields is in so far negligible
that it cannot come into consideration where the limit is two languages for
the average high school boy or college boy. It must be emphasized also
that our schools and colleges teach a European history and civilization and
that we live to a great degree from a foreign trade that is in the main European,
though increasingly Latin-American and Oriental. In the economy of
educational life we are driven to confine ourselves to those languages which
open widest the door to all sides of business and cultural possibilities.

For purposes of general culture French stands first for the American
student as for the youth of every people in Europe. The justice of this is so
generally recognized by all who have any knowledge of the history of
Europe since the Crusades and of present-day European conditions that it
seems unnecessary to enlarge upon it. In assigning the second position from
this standpoint, one might select Italian, but for one very important consideration.

As French has been for generations the lingua franca for the
culture of Western Europe, German plays the same rôle to the East of the
Rhine and north of the Alps. For centuries even those nations which, like
the Poles and Czechs, have been in arms against the German advance have
depended upon Germany as their medium of communication with Western
Europe for all branches of culture as well as for business. The same is true,
though to a less degree, of the Scandinavian peoples, and to an even greater
extent of the peoples of the Eastern Baltic and Russia. To their own
immense and significant contributions to physical and historical theory and
economic theory and also to those of their neighbors to the East and North
the Germans open a door which must of necessity pass through Central
Europe. From the Scandinavian tier of states, Ibsen and Björnson and
Strindberg and such moderns as Bojer and Nexö and Lagerlöf found their
way into world literature first through German translations. The same
is true of Tolstoy and Gorki and Sienkiewicz and of dozens of minor novelists,
dramatists, poets, and essayists of the Scandinavian and Slavic world, many
of whom would remain unknown outside their own vernacular but for the
busy German translators.

In the field of science the same is true. Here only two languages really
come into consideration, German and French: the latter through the accomplishment
of its scholars in the fields of the mathematical and historical
sciences, medicine and philosophy; the former through its philosophers,
chemists, physicists, biologists, geologists, and mineralogists. Here again
German plays a significant and indispensable rôle as the intermediary between
West and East. For instance, all of the states that came into existence
as a result of the dissolution of the Austrian Empire and the plucking
off of parts of old Russia have been for many years busily engaged in the
development of their own national culture. The universities at Warsaw and
Cracow and Lemberg, at Dorpat, Prague, Agram and Budapest are centers of
a throbbing national culture that regards the national language as its most
cherished and distinguished asset emblem. Many of these universities
have made in the past important contributions to the world's store of
science and it is probable that under the present conditions these contributions
will be greatly increased. For centuries, however, the Slavic and
Hungarian scholars have depended on German to make their discoveries
known to the western world. It is not presumable that it can ever be otherwise,
for whatever political ties may bind these peoples to England and
France, the bases of their scientific and business life rest on an ancient bilingual
tradition, in which German holds its place as the Koiné of Eastern
Europe.

The gradation series of importance for general culture for American
students then reads, in my opinion, French, German, Italian, Spanish.

For scientific research the position of the two leading languages should
be reversed. In neither field does Spanish play an important part.

Conditions are, however, different when we consider the position of
America in the field of commerce. Here indications point to a relatively
diminishing importance for French as compared with the other languages.
Here Spanish makes a far stronger claim to consideration, for the spread
of the study of Spanish since the war rests on a solid basis, though perhaps
not so broad a one as its more vociferous advocates claim. Its importance
to be sure, lies mainly in the future, but that there is an immense and hitherto
undreamed-of responsibility both politically and commercially in our
relation to the countries to the south of us is one of the results of the falling
of the scales from our eyes that came after 1914. That we were once blind
in this direction does not, however, excuse us for becoming blind in another
direction, for blind we shall surely be if we permit ourselves, in view of the
present disorders in Russia and Central Europe, to overlook what a great
share of our national prosperity depends on the trade of the part of the world
whose Koiné is German. In general, in the choice of the language to be
studied for commerce, some regard must be had to regional considerations.
For the New England and North Atlantic and North Central tier of states,
the Central and Eastern European markets are of the greatest significance,
and even for the cotton-producing states of the South the finger of necessity
points in that direction.

It is far from my purpose to be dogmatic or to do more than to seek to
lay before you the present condition of affairs in modern language instruction
and what seem to be the fundamental bases upon which reconstruction
must rest. In this hour of our national history, when so much
depends upon the discovery of means of economic relief and cultural development,
the country needs no ex parte statements or a priori conclusions.
What it does need desperately is a broad survey of the situation by patriotic
men, among whom ought to be included not merely modern language experts
but practical educationalists and men of affairs, who shall go deeply into the
reasons and methods of modern language study in America and prepare a
program that puts the needs of public service in the foreground.

THE DEMAND FOR TEACHERS OF FRENCH AND SPANISH

By H. Carrington Lancaster, Ph.D., Johns Hopkins University

When I was asked to come here to-day and offer some constructive criticism
in order to show how the University would best fulfil its function in
regard to the teaching of French and Spanish, I felt somewhat overwhelmed
by the thought that the institution where I learned to appreciate this field
of knowledge should turn to me for suggestions concerning it. But I soon

came to the conclusion that you really regard me as one of many scouts
you have been sending out and that I am now called back to headquarters
merely to report on conditions as I have found them. What you prefer to
hear from me must be the conclusion to which I have come as a result of
finding myself at one of those cross roads in academic life where students
come to prepare themselves for the profession of scholar and teacher; and
college presidents to fill up gaps in their faculties.

From the outlook that I get from that observation post I have no hesitation
in saying that the great need of the profession just now is student raw
material of the quality that is produced here at Virginia. This has not
always been the case, for there was a time when our greatest need was of
another sort. But in recent years opportunities for graduate study in the
Romance languages have been greatly improved. Universities are better
equipped in books and scientific journals. The intercollegiate library loan
helps to supply the books that many institutions cannot buy. There is a
far greater variety of specialists than formerly in the various fields. There
are more numerous reviews in which they can publish their work. Opportunities
for study abroad have increased decidedly. When I was a student
it was rarely, if at all, that a man went to Europe on a traveling or research
fellowship. Now there are special organizations that provide scholarships
generously and many universities have traveling fellowships of their own.

Moreover French and Spanish scholars are more ready to coöperate
with us than they used to be. American exchange professorships, clubs like
the American University Union in Paris, and most of all the war itself have
helped to bring us all together. Proposals are now pending that may
enable Americans to study for the doctorat-ès-lettres.

In our own Universities, as well as in the French, Romance philology
and medieval literature are no longer taught to the exclusion of modern
literature, so that another reason that may formerly have kept students out
of the Romance field has ceased to exist.

Statistics recently published in the Modern Language Journal, though
by no means complete, illustrate the great increase among students of these
subjects. In some 109 colleges and universities there were, in 1914, 10,177
students of French; in 1920 there were 19,501. In 1914 there were only
2049 students of Spanish in those institutions; in 1920 there were 12,545.
Indeed, whether we approve or disapprove of this orientation in cultural
studies, the fact is that the public is coming to look upon the Romance
languages next to English, as the chief subject for study among the humanities;
upon the Romance languages with History as the chief subjects by
which we can learn to understand our neighbors in Europe and in Latin
America.

So large is the number of those who study French in an important

western university that the department has had to limit the size of beginners'
sections, but the limit is forty! It is superfluous for me to point out
to you the kind of results one gets from classes of this size unless one is an
adept in the college yell method of instruction which had, as you remember,
a certain vogue in army camps a few years ago.

But with even so generous a limitation there are not enough teachers for
the classes. When I left the Johns Hopkins in June, 1907, there were only
two openings that I had heard of and I was in a position to hear of any that
were reported to the department. This year, my colleagues and I in the
same department have been written to by the authorities in seven colleges
and nine universities. In the list occur a number of our leading institutions
and all of the positions are such that they would give a satisfactory start
to a Ph.D in Romance languages. In some cases we have been able to
supply the man or the woman needed, but in most cases we have not been
able to do so. We are considerably embarrassed by our inability to meet
this demand. The kind of man they usually want is one who understands
the American college boy, who has been abroad enough to speak French or
Spanish with fluency, who can interpret a foreign literature and a foreign
civilization with understanding, and who has shown in his own scholarship
enough originality and energy for him to be counted on for future additions
to the general knowledge of the subject.

Now we do get Ph.D. students who will develop into this type of man,
but we get far too few. And when I say we, I do not mean merely the
University with which I am connected, for I am sure you will get the same
reply from Chicago and Princeton, from Columbia and from Harvard. And
where are we going to turn?

Not, I think, to foreigners to any considerable extent. Several of them
are among our leading scholars and teachers, but their numbers are strictly
limited and necessarily so. Initial difficulties with our speech, more serious
difficulties with our ways militate against the success of many. Those who
have already won fame in their own country are not likely to leave it permanently.
We must, then, depend chiefly on Americans, just as France
depends upon Frenchmen for instruction in English.

What we do need is the graduate of an American college with enough
cultural background and capacity for work to get his training by graduate
study here and in France. While I taught in Amherst College I used every
year to see men graduating that were just the kind we needed, but most of
them were going into business. I suppose that much the same situation is
found here to-day, though I think it was better here in 1903. I wonder if
something cannot be done about it? Certainly business is far less attractive
now than it was a year or two ago. An economist said to me the other day:
"It's a good thing to have hard times now and then; if we didn't, everybody

would go into business." I hope that we can at least take advantage of this
opportunity, when business does not offer its former attractions, and put
before undergraduates the advantages and values of our profession.

And I wonder if this task is not particularly the province of our Alma
Mater. A French friend of mine the other day, after a visit to Mount
Vernon, told me that he had been much impressed by the similarity between
the life in Virginia before the Civil War, as he saw it exemplified there, and
life in France, so much so that he thought that those who were familiar
with our older culture would have a special aptitude for understanding
things French. Perhaps he was carried too far by a pleasant visit to Virginia
or by his politeness to me, but there is, after all, at least this much
truth in what he said. It was particularly here in Virginia that a form of
American civilization was developed in which, to use a consecrated phrase,
men were primarily interested in the art of living, which is, of course, the
essential vocation of the Romance peoples. And while we have doubtless
in many instances sold our birth-right for somewhat dubious advantages of
another sort, there surely remains something of the old spirit in the state
and especially here at the University. So that is one reason why one may
turn to Virginia with hope of a genuine response.

Another reason is—Dr. Wilson. If there is anything that stands out in
my memory of the years I passed here, it is the charm of his teaching. And
from what the alumni tell me he has never lost his rare gift of making
Romance civilization real and vital, of inspiring students with a devotion to
the subject he teaches that may carry them through life. If then, you ask
me how the University will best fulfil its function in regard to Romance
languages, I should say that it would be by making a serious effort, under the
guidance of Dr. Wilson, to interest men who are graduating here in going on
with post-graduate work in order to fit themselves for meeting the very
general and insistent demand for teachers who are in the best sense scholars
and interpreters of foreign manners and of foreign thought.

ENGLISH INSTRUCTION IN THE STATE UNIVERSITY

By Morris P. Tilley, Ph.D., University of Michigan

At the present time in our country there is going on a re-valuation of
educational methods in the light of the increasing cost of state instruction.
A new America is demanding a standard of clearer thinking and of higher
purpose on the part of the student who has spent four years in a state-supported
university or college. General criticism of present results insists
upon a reëxamination of university curricula, of administrative methods,
of the quality of teachers, and of the fitness of students to whom is granted

the privilege of state instruction. It is all an effort to determine and to
justify the final value to the state of the vast sums that are now being spent
in this country for collegiate and professional training.

This examination of the value of our present methods of instruction
comes at a time when there is an abnormal demand on the part of thousands
of young men and women for higher training for their life work. In order
to provide an education for these young people there must be obtained
more classrooms and more teachers! It is a fitting time, therefore, for those
to whom has been entrusted the instruction of the future leaders of our land
to take counsel among themselves and try to decide upon some means by
which better results may be obtained. The purpose of my paper is to
consider some of the problems of English teaching in the state university.
Among the most insistent of these are the necessity, first, of caring for the
freshman English work adequately; second, of securing instructors of suitable
qualifications; and, third, of developing among the members of the
department a spirit of continuous growth.

The most pressing need to-day is that of providing fully for the freshman
work. This cannot be done unless there is a recognition by the administration
of the special claim of the English department for adequate
assistance! It is true that the increasing number of students since the war
has affected the teaching conditions in all subjects. But no department is
threatened to the same extent as is the English with being submerged by
ever increasing numbers.

The large classes and the inferior quality of many of the freshmen are a
severe handicap to the English instructor already burdened with themes
and conferences. As a result he is unable to do effective teaching. The
first year student is the sufferer. He fails to receive at the beginning of his
course the stimulating instruction to which he is entitled.

To correct this condition should be the first aim of those responsible for
the freshman work in English. It should not be difficult by figures and by
comparisons to convince the administration of the urgent need of sufficient
assistance to reduce the sections to twenty-five students each. The department
should see to it, also, that the more experienced and more mature
teachers share in the instruction of the new students. The number of teaching
hours of the younger men should be reduced, where possible, to not more
than twelve a week. And every effort should be made to introduce into the
classroom such methods of instruction as may be most helpful to the student
who has not yet had time to adjust himself to college work.

To make sure of small sections under capable teachers, however, is not
the whole story. There is need of considering further, whether the content
of the course may not be so improved as to secure for the freshmen a more
stimulating appeal. Notable experiments are being conducted this year at

the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and at the University of Missouri.
These consist in a combination of English composition with history
and economics in which the lectures and assigned readings supply the subject
matter of the themes. The general aim of these experiments is to give it to
the writing in English a more vital interest; and it cannot be too highly
commended. Indeed, the success attending these combination courses may
well bring about a radical change in the methods of conducting the written
work in our freshmen English instruction. The outstanding success as
Columbia of a "Contemporary Civilization Course," that is required of all
freshmen, points to the value of organizing first year work in such a way that
the freshman's mind be forcibly stimulated.

If the tutorial system introduced some years ago at Princeton could be
combined with a study of selected English masterpieces dealing with economics,
history and philosophy, we should then have an arrangement of study
well calculated to stimulate the freshman's mind. This course given five or
six hours weekly, would go a great way towards correcting the lack of interest
which marks much of the freshman's attitude.

II

The second problem that presents itself is the difficulty of securing men
with the requisite qualifications. The demand from the over-crowded
English departments of our colleges for well-prepared teachers is far greater
at present than our graduate schools can supply. The standard of preparation
and of personality demanded of university instructors, as a result,
has been lowered. Men have been engaged, who a few years ago would
not have been thought eligible for vacancies on the teaching staff.

But the instructor question to-day is more than one of lowered standards.
The proportion of instructors to professors in our faculties has
steadily increased for a number of years. At the same time the ratio of
students to all members of the teaching staff has tended to become higher.
In this continued weakening of the teaching force there is serious cause
for concern. We need seek no further for an explanation of much of the
criticism directed against university methods to-day. In view of these
conditions the selection of instructors is vitally important.

There is a general agreement, I believe, in the qualifications desirable
in a university instructor. The candidate selected should be the man who
has taught with the most marked success, who has pursued his graduate
work with the greatest originality, and who has the strongest and most
attractive personality. The one hundred per cent. man in each of these
essential requirements is rare at any time! Especially in a period of readjustment
like to-day it may be necessary to be satisfied with a teacher who

does not measure up to the normal standard. But there is a minimum in
teaching experience, in scholarly work and in personality below which a
candidate may not fall. He should have taught long enough to have convinced
himself and others that he finds in teaching an abundant source of
satisfaction, even joy. He should have followed his graduate studies at
least to that point where he recognizes that a scholar cannot continue
successful teaching unless he has an ever deepening knowledge of his own
particular field. And he should have progressed so far in the development
of his personality as to be able to give freely of himself to his students both
in and out of class. To consider the appointment to a university faculty
of a man who is known to be deficient in any one of these qualifications is a
serious mistake; and invites the necessity of dismissing him when he breaks
down under the rigorous tests of success.

There has been a tendency, now fortunately passing, to weight excessively,
in the selection of a new instructor, evidence that is offered of ability
in research work. The more important qualifications of character and of
ability to teach have sometimes been overshadowed by a brilliant doctorate.
But numerous instances where the gifted Ph.D. has failed to develop even
the ordinary instincts of the teacher, and other cases where he has lacked
the basic elements of personal fitness, have caused a more careful regard
to be given to these requirements. It can be safely predicated that a
starved and meager personality is not the stock from which to develop the
flower of a sympathetic and inspiring teacher, or of an original and forceful
investigator. To every alumnus of the University of Virginia it is a source
of pride that the value of an invigorating personality has been recognized
in its various departments.

It is indisputable that the clearer thinking and the higher purpose
demanded of college students to-day cannot be obtained unless their instructors
point the way by example and by precept. When our faculties
in all ranks are made up of men of strong personal and scholarly qualifications,
there wil be a corresponding higher degree of attainment possessed
by the graduates of our universities.

We have next to consider how the candidate desired may be secured.
What are we to offer him in the way of financial remuneration, of opportunity
for development, and of certainty of advancement that will make it
likely that we can secure his service?

In the first place, we must face squarely the fact that the time when we
could get a competent man for twelve hundred dollars has gone, probably
not to return. A minimum sum of eighteen hundred must be offered, if we
are to think of bidding for him with the hope of competing successfully for
his services. I know of instructors to whom two thousand was paid last
year although they had had no experience in university teaching and had not

yet received their doctor's degree. It seems clear that we must be prepared
to pay according to a much higher scale in starting men than we have been
accustomed to in the past.

Other considerations than money, of course, will enter into the acceptance
of a position. A young man leaving a graduate school will weigh
carefully the opportunities for development presented by a position. He
will consider in particular the reputation of the men in the department that
he is asked to join, the library facilities available, the number of teaching
hours required and the character of the work that he is asked to "give."

If a department is able to offer a sufficient number of attractions to be
sure of adding to its ranks only men of first class attainments, it has open to
it the surest way to the development of a strong corps of teachers. It is the
department that is not watchful of the instructors that it adds to its teaching
staff that finds itself in a few years burdened with men that are blocks to
progress. Of such teachers few die and none resign: and the difficulty of
dismissing them increases with their length of service.

III

The English department that has enough men and able men to do its
work has still another problem before it. How may it develop among its
members that spirit of accomplishment that is not satisfied merely with
fulfilling the obligations of teaching, but is determined to win for itself
recognition outside of the university in the world of scholarship? How
may it, in other words, accomplish the hard task of contributing to the sum
of knowledge at a time when the demands made upon it in other directions
are many and continuous? I know of no better way of developing such a
spirit than by a full realization of the importance to the department and to
the university of a faculty of men who are esteemed by their fellow-workers
in other institutions as leaders in their especial fields of research. Once
the importance of such a spirit has been realized there will be an active and
aggressive emphasis laid upon the value of men who are able to show substantial
results in scholarship.

It is not possible for every man to excel in research work, and to startle
his colleagues by discoveries of value. But it is necessary for a department
of English to recognize that other calls than those made by his scholarly
interest are secondary. The younger teachers especially must be on their
guard against spending too much of their time on administrative affairs.
The older members on the other hand are more likely to rest upon their oars
and be satisfied with a routine of teaching. Threshing old straw year after
year, they slip gradually into a condition of ineffectiveness. Security of
tenure and seniority of rank invite them to an increasing inactivity that

undermines their own ability to teach successfully, and encourages a similar
inactivity on the part of their younger colleagues.

The members of the English department particularly have to hold constantly
before them the importance of scholarly work. They will otherwise
find their time consumed with instructing large classes, with the correction of
much written work, with speaking engagements both within and without
the university, with giving assistance to student publications and dramatic
organizations and with many other activities of university life. In the
face of these accumulating demands a teacher will fail to attain his greatest
effectiveness unless he keep clearly in mind the fact that his duty of imparting
the truth goes hand in hand with his second duty of seeking the
truth.

The chief problems, then, of the English department of the state university
are problems of personnel. It must have enough men, without overburdening
its teaching force, to give the students a sufficiently intimate
instruction to urge them to their best efforts. It is even more necessary that
it have able and forceful teachers, who can at the same time add to the sum
of human knowledge. The successful English department to-day is the one
which has an adequate number of able teachers who are at the same time
able scholars.