HARVARD'S ELECTIVE SYSTEM.

The advantages of the elective system as deduced from both theory and practice, says the New York Times, may be briefly summarized as follows: To the man whose object is general raining, who wants an education only that he may enjoy its broadening influences, the elective system opposes no obstacle; the required system is, if efficiently carried out, equally valuable to this class, but it is not more so. But to that much larger class who want an education to train them for some special calling, or who have a special fondness for some one line of study, the elective system gives the opportunity which the required system refuses. This is the fundamental principle on which the elective system rests. It works to develop a man's individuality, believing that it will better for himself and for society that each man should be himself rather than that every one should be forced into a dull uniformity. The prescribed system, on the other hand, works on the principle that one shoe should be established by induction or inspiration or what not, and every foot turned and twisted and jammed to fit it.

But the practical workings of the elective system have developed great economical advantages which could hardly have been anticipated by theory. In a class-room where both student and instructor are studying the subject because they are thoroughly interested, their old position as natural and hereditary enemies is lost sight of, and both the quantity and the quality of the work show the advantages of harmony and enthusiasm. There are no laggards to hold back the rest, while the very men whose lack of comprehension of a subject would under the required system, tend to laziness and failure are often enthusiastic and successful students in the department where their talents take them. Another great advantage is that useless courses or incompetent instructors are left in solitary state. In this way the instruction of the college regulates itself. A failure which might only be suspected under the required system becomes glaringly evident under the elective.

It is frequently objected by the upholders of the old system that the student, when left to himself, will choose injudiciously, and will choose easy courses. Those who put forward these arguments as of any real weight only display thereby their own ignorance of the subject. The average age of the Harvard sophomore is something over 20 years, while he is limited in his choice, first by the rule that he must take only such courses as his previous studies qualify him to pursue, and, second, by the advice of his parents and instructors. If one who lacks only four or five months of citizenship is unable, with these aids, to make a wise choice for himself, the probabilities are that he is an imbecile, whose subsequent fate does not matter much. But even if we allow some weight to this argument it tells still more strongly against the required system. For if a man of 20 or over, with the united wisdom of friends, parents, and instructors to back him, cannot select a suitable course of study for himself how is it to be expected that the half-dozen men who drew up the scheme of required studies, and who have never seen or thought or this individual, should be able to do it for him?

To the other objection, that "soft" courses are generally selected, we can only oppose the counterbalancing argument that this is not true. When the required work in Greek was abolished at Harvard it was generally expected that the student of Greek would immediately become as rare as the mastodon or the dodo. But the Greek courses are still crowded, their students are more successful and enthusiastic than ever, and the Harvard Greek department is one of the chief glories of the university.

But, after all, the strongest argument in favor of the elective system is the way in which educators are being converted to its support and in which college after college is swinging into line. Almost unknown on this continent a half-score years ago, it has now obtained more or less recognition from nearly every college of repute in the land.

The best way to understand and judge the elective system is to see its practical workings. Courses in ancient languages are taken by 564 men, of whom 295 take Greek and 209 Latin. Courses in modern languages are taken by 807 men, of whom 324 take German, 178 English, 188 French and 51 Italian. 182 men elect Philosophy, 188 Political Economy and 588 History, while Fine Arts is elected by 138. Courses in Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry and Natural History occupy the attention of 736 men.

It will be seen from these statistics that it is not the difficulty of a study, but its value, which men consider in selecting their courses. Greek is a language considerably more difficult to master than Latin, yet because of the interest and value of the Greek literature and the excellent quality of the instruction, the Greek department counts three students for every two in the Latin. German and French or Political Economy and Italian stand in the same mutual relation. In fact, the hypothesis that the American youth is so foolish and so short-sighted that he will inevitably choose easy and useless studies in preference to useful and difficult ones finds no support in experience.

The amount and variety of the instruction given at Harvard is nearly or quite double what any other American institution can show. As to its quality, the common reputation of the college and the names of scholars and scientists known the world over should be sufficient evidence.

The most prominent weak point is the lack of competent and sufficient instruction in the branches which fit one for the duties of citizenship. Though the departments of history and political economy are crowded with students, yet in the former United States history is almost entirely neglected, while in political economy there is but one instructor for every 100 students, as against an average for the whole university of one teacher to 9 scholars, (163 instructors, 1,428 students.) What is needed in these departments is an increase in the amount of instruction, instructors of learning and reputation, and courageous, fairminded discussion of topics of the day. The scientist or philosopher must not be allowed to lose sight of the fact that he is an American citizen.

Another glaring fault is seen in the department of English. While the elective courses in Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Beowulf are conducted in the most unexceptionable manner, the required work of the department (the only work required after freshmen year) is notoriously a failure. The instruction in rhetoric is ridiculous and imbecile, while the so-called "instruction" in forensics consists in handing in a few sheets of paper every two months and in being marked upon the same, not a word of advice or criticism ever being given. In themes, however, the written exercise is returned with some cabalistic pencil marks upon it. And this is all the foremost university in America does for the English language. It goes without saying that the ability to write one's own language clearly, understandingly and forcibly is the most important of arts, and until Harvard pays as much attention to English as to German, Greek, or Hebrew there will be a terribly vulnerable point in her armor. Other deficiencies might be named, but those above-mentioned, which have to do with the practical side of an education, are the most glaring and the most pernicious.

To sum up in as few words as possible the present educational status of Harvard, the college has prospered under the elective system, and has proved the latter a success. On the other hand, the novelty of the situation has allowed abuses and failures to find a place from which they should speedily be ousted. The greatest need of the college is broad and thorough instruction in the practical matters of the use of the English language and the principles of political science and American history. When these gaps are well filled Harvard's free and liberal system will firmly secure to her the position which she now holds by a somewhat frail tenure, that of the foremost American universities. In spite of many faults and failures, she is already not far from what the ideal American school should be.