to base a definite opinion of the possibilities of this school on the work hitherto done under circumstances so very discouraging. Even now the gymnasium is favored with privileges which are as yet denied to the Realschule, as no graduate of the latter is admitted to the departments of law and medicine, at least not in Prussia. That the comparatively few graduates of the Realschule have, nevertheless, made a fine and honorable record for themselves is an undeniable fact. It is unnecessary, however, to enter into a defense of that school, as it has not been in existence long enough, at least as a school that aimed to prepare for the university, to show what it will be able to do when once the prejudices now raised against it shall have disappeared.
The German university requires of its candidates for the degree of M. D. such a familiarity with Greek as will enable the students to read Galen in the original; but do the medical students really consult Galen in the original, either at the university or in after-life? I have been at the pains to gain some proofs of this laudable practice, but thus far in vain. The all but unanimous testimony is that the medical student's greatest desire, next to knowing the practical details of his profession, is to be able to read the works of the best English and French authorities, and especially the periodicals that bear on medical and kindred subjects. But English is not, as a rule, taught in the university, nor is it one of the required studies of the gymnasium, and the immense amount of labor the student has to perform makes it impossible for him to do enough for the study by private effort. And, then, the prejudice against so "easy" a language! This prejudice, the result of the peculiar training of the college, is one that college-men entertain like a dogma, and which they never tire of impressing on the student.[1] The acutest critic of France, Sainte-Beuve, incidentally alluded to this prejudice in his defense of Racine's masterpiece, "Athalie." He said: "Great lovers and judges of antiquity, but who are not, perhaps, as great judges of the French beauties of 'Athalie,' maintain that Sophocles (in his 'Antigone') is superior. . . . I listen, and let them talk (J'écoute, et je laisse dire). I envy those who are possibly capable of judging with equal correctness (au même degré) of the two kinds of beauties," etc. The modesty of the remark, coming from one who was himself no mean judge of antiquity, ought to inspire other critics with a reasonable diffidence when about to pass judgment on the difficulties of other languages. One may learn a dozen languages moderately well in less time than it takes to learn a single one well.
On the Continent of Europe one may meet with many illustrations
- ↑ If the difficulties of a language are its chief recommendations as a study for "discipline," the introduction of improved methods of teaching, by enabling the student to master these difficulties by an "easy grade," would in so far destroy their value. For a curious illustration of this prejudice see a recent article on "Ancient Languages" in the "Bibliotheca Sacra."
