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heavily upon the consciences of the early Christians, there came a wave of moral asceticism. The truth that there is an enmity between mind and body beyond a certain point was exaggerated, and the body was considered worthless, if not the actual enemy of the soul and of virtue. This was the time when physical education was in the trough of the wave while the moral ideal as embodied in asceticism was on the crest; this was the time among Christian peoples when the religious, spiritual, and moral star was in the ascendancy—a time of spiritual high tide, according to the ideal of the day. The world, representing material wealth, and the flesh, representing luxury of all kinds, were shunned by the swarming anchorites and cenobites of the deserts.

Without attempting to enumerate the various flood tides of civilization-a task which neither the reader's patience nor the writer's time will permit-suffice it to mention a great wave of intellectualism, corresponding to the physical wave of Sparta and to the moral and ascetic wave of the first centuries. I refer to the period following what is known as the Renaissance. The merely intellectual star came into the ascendent at the time and is still high above the horizon. What was known as the "Revival of Learning," starting after the fall of Constantinople and the scattering of the classics thruout the West, reached its height in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Learning became the fashion; the "scholar" was the man of the hour. Learning, especially that of the ancient world, became the educational summum bonum. It did not matter much whether one was physically or even morally deficient if he only knew; if he had a brilliant mind, he was welcomed anywhere; in fact, physical and moral delinquency were thought to be inseparable from genius, and one of its symptoms. Such lapses were quite excusable in the scholar and even in the schoolmaster: these were supposed to have licenses not accorded to common mortals!

Without a doubt we are still somewhat under the domination of the merely intellectual ideal. After three hundred years we still continue to worship mere knowledge. We hear of "knowledge for its own sake," when a little reflection ought to show that knowledge is a means and not an end. We have such unbounded faith everywhere in mere information. Children in the grades, students in the universities, graduate students-all-act and are induced to act as if they thought that knowledge-even second-hand knowlege-has a transforming power, an infallibly saving grace. Much or most of what is called "knowledge" is a mere white-wash, put on for present

or future occasions of mere display. There is, seemingly, an unseemly scramble for knowledge just to be in the fashion.

There are thousands of students in institutions whose sole motive seems to be the securing of some customary information and an intellectual decoration of some kind. This aspect of human nature is so well known and the mere knowledge ideal so dominant that unscrupulous institutions have often sold titles for money. It is pitiable, the extent to which human nature may be played upon by titles, decorations, and badges, even when these are only "paste diamonds." The Fathers were wise, in order to save us from our vanity, to provide that no title of nobility shall be granted, and that no person holding any office under the general government shall accept any favor or title from a foreign power without the consent of Congress. Old warriors of foreign nations, who should have experienced their true rewards in actual service to their country, are still sufficiently vain to decorate themselves, like Indian chiefs, with medals and badges of all kinds: the tinsel show still has great attraction for the many. I often think it would be a service to real scholarship and a tribute to true worth and honesty if all degrees and titles were abolished in educational institutions, and men and women-teachers and students-were addrest by the usual titles in use in general society.

It should be common knowledge today—and still it is generally forgotten or overlooked—that a test or examination of one's merely intellectual acquisitions is a poor criterion of his whole personality. Such an examination does not and can not mesure, except in a way which leaves room for all kinds of false inferences, the most essential characteristics of manhood, viz: attitude, spirit, faithfulness, integrity, efficiency, and a score of other traits. Intellectual gradings merely show results in the acquisition of knowledge, and these results may mean but little as an exponent of worth and worthiness. The first chapter in Swift's Mind in the Making, entitled "Standards of Human Power," should be read by every college professor. I do not mean that examinations, marks, grades, honors, and whatnot are of no value or significance; but that, being mere intellectual ratings of results or attainments, however achieved, they are not everything nor even a good mesure of life or ability. High "marks" may be secured in schools and colleges while the student may be degenerating physically, morally, or even intellectually. Our National Congress during the present generation has passed three different bills in which ability to read and write was made the test of an immigrant's worthiness to become a citizen of the United States.

This is but little, if any, indication of such worth, and three different Presidents did well to veto them. Such a test would not represent one hundredth part of the immigrant's equipment for good citizenship. To magnify one part in a hundred could only obscure the more essential things and give the impression that these might be overlooked. It is not an immigrant's acquisition of a few conventional signs that is important, but his habits, his attitude, his ideals, his industry, his sobriety, his morals, his health, and his character generally.

This is the age of Science, par excellence; everything is categorized scientifically-intellectually. Intellectual conceptions are imposed upon every form of activity: even life itself is synthesized under forms of the intellect. It is no wonder, then, that education also is conceived in like manner. This is the burden of Henri Bergson's protest and in this respect his philosophical message is timely. All the sciences are merely intellectual constructs; they are mere snap-shots of reality at a certain instant and from a particular point of view-cinematographic and surface views of reality, taken from the outside.

The intellect always talks about things, but cannot give the deepest reality. It is essential, it is true, that reality be, in a sense, captured for the instant by the intellect and held static so that we may be enabled to dwell upon it and lay hold of it somewhat. Hence the intellect is the great practical tool of man; but it always gives us only one particular aspect of reality. An intellectual discussion of education can indicate only symbolically the direction in which the reality may be found. It can only point out the promised land: to possess this, one must go there himself; there is no royal road to education-no short cut to knowledge, culture, or power.

The same is true of an intellectual conception of religion: one may study about religion or study religion and not become religious at all. To study about it or to investigate it is to lay hold of it intellectually and all may end there; the reality itself may not be experienced at all in the process.

The same is true of culture: One may read and study about it; one may even study the culture of a tribe, a nation, or a race at first hand himself, and still not become cultured. To talk about a thing or to think about it is not necessarily transforming. Indeed this may tend the other way, as we often note in the glaring contrast between preaching and practising. One may know all about culture, intellectually, and still lack the poise, self-control, and sweetness which are its essence.

One may also read and read about literature without becoming literary; one may even read any amount of good literature without, in any true sense, becoming literary, if this implies the doing, the writing, the creating. Many who have an intellectual conception of what literature is can not be driven to produce or create any product of a literary nature; they have, consequently never felt the thrill of the reality. It is said that Marion Crawford produced on one occasion 7,000 words a day for six consecutive days. In that experience the writer was certainly breasting the tempestuous waves of literary reality in a way which was not a merely intellectual viewing of the product from the outside.

Words have been piled mountain high in recent years in attempts to indicate intellectually what education is. Thousands have studied about education and have investigated education for themselves; and still only the few are really educated. Those who do not claim to be educated profess to know what education is or is not; just as the man who can not give an address is fairly competent to tell a good speech from a poor one. But the intellectual judging of an address is altogether a different thing from delivering one. It is easy, intellectually, to judge of many things, but most difficult, indeed, to do them. One may know and yet not be able to do; but it is the doing, the concrete experience, that is the reality, and not our intellectual apprehension of it.

Without under-rating either one or the other, neither brilliancy of intellect nor vast acquisitions of knowledge are any guarantee of sanity of judgment, moral rectitude, or real efficiency. It is scarcely possible for the mind of man to propound a theory so absurd and fantastical that it will not have followers. Indeed, one class of people who take up with the wildest vagaries, even in the field of the occult, is made up of the highly intellectual. The most brilliant men will disagree like children on most practical subjects. In a recent work by Hugo Münsterburg, called "Psychology and Social Sanity," he shows in a chapter entitled the Intellectual Underworld the extent to which the intellectually "educated" and brilliant minds become the prey of the wildest conceptions and theories. How men differ in their intellectual estimates, or judgments! People may be much alike the world over in what they are, but they are not alike in what they think. One judge in an oratorical, declamatory, or debating contest may give one of the contestants first place and another judge may give him last place. The estimates of different readers on the same examination papers have been found to range from 30% to 90%.

The periodic criticisms and protests in recent years against the schools and colleges are, in essence, directed against the merely intellectual and the want of perspective. Charges have been made that high school and college graduates can not and will not do things any better than others. This means that education is not adaptive; college students are drowned when their canoe tips over; they can not adapt themselves; the college has taught them to know merely, but not to do. To consider ability to swim as worthy of educational credit would bring a smile to the face of many intellectual professors. To revel in Hebrew points, French accents, or Greek roots is "educative"; but the ability to swim well (merely to give an example) or to play the violin with soul-stirring effect is not "education"! It is our perspective of values that is coming under the criticism of the age; and it is time to admit some of its justice.

Does anyone think for a moment that beauty of face and of form, litheness of muscle and of limb, a vigorous anabolism during the period of physical growth, grace and quickness of movement, a reasonable muscular development and steadiness of nerve under the best and most interesting conditions and under expert-but not too dominating-direction, a great variety of physical activities suited to each person's needs-in a word, a well-developed and healthy body is a matter of but little concern? Are not all these things of the very highest value? And yet they are largely allowed to happen about as they may. There are no degrees and no diplomas for these things—and no medals, no pins, no honorable mention in regard to them except when they eventuate in some spectacular "stunt." We have no artificial rewards for moral courage, for honor, for character generally. Why, then, make so much of intellectual attainments? It may be said that it would be impossible to confer tangible rewards for those better things. I grant that it might be impossible in many or most cases to do justice here; but educational systems and institutions have never tried, for they are dominated by the intellectual ideal: and justice can not be done, as we have seen, even in the intellectual field.

As our comparative evaluation of physical and intellectual education is out of perspective, so there is no discrimination of relative values within the field of physical education itself. Athletics, which are always spectacular, receive most of the attention of managers and students. Institutions are much concerned for a team of some kind or several kinds to represent the institution. When our attention is temporarily turned from the intellectual interest-which is already out of perspective in the student's curriculum-to the

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