From College to University

FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY SJR RoBERT FALCONER T HE past three-quarters of a century has been a period of swift dissolving v.iews, one passing into the other so quickly that attention was usually :fixed on the rapidity rather than on the magnitude of the changes. Occasionally, however, one takes a glance backwarq. over a longer or shorter prospect, and then can realize how far the "hurrying years" have carried us. I .hope that I may, without inducing the tedium which the ageing often inflict upon the younger by their reminiscences, be able to outline some of the academic·movement which, during the last fifty years, I have observed more or less closely. As has been frequently remarked, the educational tradition of English-speaking Canada was drawn from Britain, though it has also been influenced by ideas and custom$ from the United States, which, however, in their origin were oft~n derived from the same so:urce, or from France and Germany. When the foundations of this country were laid, the newcomers sought to preserve the manners and principles which .they had learned in England, Scotland, or Ireland. In the Maritime Provinces , especially in Nova Scotia, the "old inhabitants/' the English, the Scots, the Irish, and many Loyalists were settled in a small area, and they developed, undisturbed by further immigration from Europe or the United States, fixed and quite sharply defined types of character. But,· happily for our present unity, in Upper Canada also during its fonnative period the origins of the population were generally similar to those of the Maritime Provinces, with the result that the ruling educational ideals of 1 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY these two sections have not been very di:fferent from one another. ' · Any survey of our cultural development must take these backgrounds into account. Though distance may now somewhat blur the retrospect, general impressions handed down in families are on the whole trustworthy. My own ancestry is Scottish, from the earliest immigration into the Maritime Provinces, and Loyalist of a slightly later date. In families which were like-minded with ours, education and religion, twin causes, were held worthy of the highest ambition, and those who devoted themselves ·to them were deemed happy in their life's work.. The genuine teacher was not _ content with providing his pupil with the rudimentary instruments of reading, writing, and ar1thmetic, but was eager to extend his influence to the higher levels of mind and character. It would not be incorrect to say that in the opinion of our circle knowledge and virtue were the obverse and reverse sides of the coin, that the person must bear the stamp of both if he was to pass at full value in human society. But by knowledge was n1eant more than intellectual truth; it included an intuitive apprehension of spiritual ideals. Doubtless this conception came in direct line from the New_Testament, in which "knowledge ," gnosis, had this meaning. · But this use of the word goes hac}< much further than the Hellenistic age. "Knowledge, as understood by Socrates, has the closest possible relation . to character. It is a certain over- 'mastering principle or power that lays hold primarily of the intellect, but through the intellect of the entire personality , moulding or disciplining. the will and the emOtions into absolute union with itself, a principle from which courage, temperance, justice and every other virtue inevitably :flow."* · *James Adam) The Religious Teachers of Greece, 1908, p. 329. . 2' FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY This view of knowledge accounted for our fathers' belief in doctrine. It is a mistake, commonly made, to say that their acceptance of dogmas was merely an intellectual assent and for the most part purely formal. Like the clear-cut leafless branches of trees springing from a mighty trunk, these dogmas did often appear sapless when outlined ag·ainst a wintry soul, but, as I remember instruction in them, they were usually covered with the ·· tender foliage of rich mysticism. The knowledge. went far deeper than the formulae. With the doctrinal knowledge was combined an uncompromising, often indeed narrow, code of conduct. That the moral imperative had divine sanction was never doubted. Conscience was an authentic voice of God; but man was to be educated into habits of deciding correctly what was right and wrong. Strict ethical precepts were inculcated; in all true education not the least important element was the impartation of morals. Correct knowledge being so important for religion and virtue, it was necessary that there should be teachers of high intelligence and character. The truth was 1nysterious, and based on Scripture; the preacher was an uexpositor of the \Vord/' and was respected if he was "profound," even if he carried his hearers into depths beyond their ken. But the lay person also was to be educated to read the Scriptures. Each was supposed to have the right of private judgment, though as a matter of fact the interpretation by the individual of such difficult writings as the Bible was bound to follow, as a rule, the lin~s of doctrine; laid down in the standards of the Church. The duty of reading .the Scriptures for oneself was an excellent mental discipline; at its best_, it became meditation upon the subli1nest truths that can engage human thought, and it transformed the spirit. As in Scotland, so in the Scottish circles of this sparsely 3 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO·QUARTERLY settled and poor land, it was held to be a primary public duty to make provision for the education of the people, since both religion and morals required an intelligent democracy. The common school and the college were accepted as the corner-stones of that society. Bqth were to be provided by the state, and were to be open to all without creedal tests. Far from the madding crowd and long before the time of large cities, during the earlier half of the nineteenth century, the inhabitants of the provinces lived in small communities, and adhered to their own type of manners. Such as professed religion were under inhibi...: . tions as to conduct, some were mildly ascetic, and all ·were suspicious of novelty as being likely to lead not merely"to change, but to deterioration of morals. Methodists and Baptists found excitement in periodic revivals of religion; but Presbyterians eschewed such emotion and reinforced a mystical faith by doctrine. Anglicans were supposed by the members of each other body to have less religion than themselves, and of them they were shy as being too dangerously compliant with the ways of the open· world. Each of these circles struggled for the existence of i.ts cultural an·d spiritual ideals. Where none had much of .this world's · goods to spare, all were little moved by differences in economic standards. Anglicanism was patent in influence rather than in nu1nerical strength. It brought from England the prestige of government and some of the culture of a dominant society. That culture was a growth from ancient tin1es. The motto of William of Wykeham, "Manners maketh man," showed that Winchester was a genuinely English school. It signified that there was a way of life consecrated as good by authority, which was to be inculcated as the ideal of English manhood. The moral code W":-S embodied in, and was transmitted by, cultured English 4 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY society. Long afterwards, \Vordsworth prayed for England : "Give us 1nanners, virtue, freedom, power." That society did n.ot hold learning in chief esteem, not even polite letters, though many of the Church's leaders ·had been both learned · and humanist. Education was, ·in accordance with the literal derivation of the word, a process of breeding. Men and women were to be trained to play their part where they h'ad been to the ·manner born. Their manners and morals were distinguished by selfrestraint , maderation, and fairness, supposed to be promo ted by education in maxims of classical literature, and by certain Christian virtues enjoined i:o Scriptural precepts· leading up to the great co1nmand, Fear God, honour the King. That this education produced admirable character, of great endurance, is shown by the place which to-day, notwithstanding all the disintegrating ideas of the past century, the English gentleman holds still in the cultivated society of the world. At his best he has .been a practical idealist, in whom irreproachable integrity has been enriched with fine culture and charm; at his worst he is a dull man of the world, unable to understand others, though his stupidity is for the moment concealed in shreds of polite manners. Anglican culture was, within a restricted circle, a pleasing if self-satisfied manner of life. It looked up to none other, for it.felt little lack; · content _with its own, it shrank from the vulgar. As for the common man, below the level of good birth and breeding, he had been put where he was by Divine Providence; there he should stay; there he would be happy if content·with his lot; he was not to be educated above his station. The time of Democracy .was not yet. . In Anglican culture the Established Church had been a formative influence. It had moulded the education of England in school and university. But there it had not 5 THE UNIVERSITY 0~ TORONTO QUARTERLY been generous in its use of power and high place; it had sought to restrict dissent by denying it the privileges of education. The Scottish Church, however, was not nonconformist ; it was a National Church; it was confident, moreover, of possessing divine authorization for its own form of government. In the North American provinces the Anglican Church assumed a place above all others as ·of right. Conflict was inevitable. Eager to protect its traditions .and culture, the Church set about founding its own colleges as fortresses on the borders of a wilderness. In imposing tests for entrance ~he leaders were actuated probably more by self-protective than by propagandist motives, but they certainly under-estimated the non-Anglicans' desire for education and their tenacity of purpose. A dispassionate. observer to-day is able to, make allowance for Anglican exclusiveness. It was not until I 871 that religious tests were abolished in the Oxford and Cambridge colleges. If colleges were, as the English leaders in Canada believed, the pillars on which society was to be upheld in the unsettled provinces, then seemingly being und~rmined by republicanism, the state should give them support. Otherwise their cultural and political ideals might collapse. Political aims, however, insinuated themselves into church convictions; partisan struggles were embittered by social antipathies; stubborn men would not understand one another, and it was not difficult to invent principles wherewith . to cudgel opponents. When later, in Toron to, the secularization of the s·tate college was effected, the same cry was raised as had been raised against University College, London~ that it was godless. By the nature of the case the Anglicans, who had more families of culture, were first in the field with proposals for colleges,.and since the so-styled "dissenters" would not 6 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY expose their sons to their seductions, these set about establishing colleges of their own. The Scottish leaders advocated state secular institutions, though Queen's -College in Kingston was founded, on the model of Edinburgh , by one hranch of the Presbyterians. Methodists and Baptists, influenced not a little by American ideas, established their own institutions in both East and West. These denominational undertakings involved heroic efforts. Few of those who were earning a scanty living -on- the farm, in the forest, on the sea, or in the small shop, saw the value of a college; few of them sent their sons to it. -But with the faithful the fervour of the appeal was effective; -their sacrifice begot affectio~ for the little college, and it became an emotional nucleus of loyalty to their church. It is easy to-day to see the unfortunate legacy that these denominational antagonisms have left, especially in the Maritime Provinces. For all the stimulus that they gave to a type of cultural effort, they stood in the way of unified higher education·being carried out for the people. at large. The state found in denominational divisions an excellent excuse for doing little or nothing for it, and the British North American provinces lagged far behind their American neighbours, and remained indebted to them too long for advanced training in scholarship and the professions . _American influence thus spread in wide circles, and the creation of a definite Canadian intellectual outlook was delayed. The college cultivated more or less fruitfully the field of humane education. But, except in McGill University, there was no great school of medicine, and engineering was not taken into account. Science was not yet given theplace that was coming to it, though Croft was a pioneer in Toronto_, and Sir \iVilliam Dawson, a few years later, 7 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY made Canada known in wide circles by his researches in geology and botany. For long the class-room lecture, with its prescribed text-book, was the ordinary method of teaching science, and it did not stimulate young minds to inquiry. Laboratory opportunities were very limited. _I can well remember how formidable the requirement seemed to be, when I had to select subjects for the B.A. degree in London, that the candidate in botany or zoology must dissect typical forms of vegetable or animal life. That was as late as 18-88. The faculty of arts was then almost synonymous with the college. We· "went to college" for an education, and because it was the en trance to the learned professions, especially·the ministry, teaching , and the law. Probably this expression originated in Scotland. There the college was really a "faculty," a body of doctors or masters who.gave lectures to classes oT students and then went back to their own homes. There was little fellowship among them in the pursuit oflearning; they had few contacts with one another or with their students. . But according to its original signification the college was a society of scholars incorporated in a university . Association in residence was usual, at any rate close fellowship in teaching and learning. This idea was preserved in the United States, as, for example, in Harvard , Yale, or.Princeton Colleges. Also the residential factor was an important element in the King's Colleges in Wi.ndsor (Nova Scotia), .Frederict'on, and Toran to, and . later in Trinity. But McGill, Dalhousie, Queen's, and, for the most part, University College, Toronto, were nonresidential , approximating in this respect to the Scottish .universities. In these days of immense ·aggregations of students in faculties, the college as a fellowship ·of teachers and students, with at least a large residential centre, should 8 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY continue to flourish. · It will foster desirable qualities of . character, and offer the student closer contact with his fellow-students and his professors. As women have shown such eagerness for higher education, it see1ns probable that colleges for them, with residential facilities and .some measure of separate teaching, will becotne. increasingly popular. The admission of women to ·full privileges, which has come, in most universities, since I graduated, was easier into an arts faculty than into a men's college based mainly on its residence. Even in the later eighties, there were, in the Scottish universities, seven fixed subjects for the arts degree, though political economy, geology, and fine arts were provided for, and the classes in them were attended by a few who ·were definitely interested in these subjects; history was in the faculty of law; botany and natural history were in the faculty of medicine. While in Canadian universities there was greater variety of subjects and latitude of choice, rigidity characterized the arts course ·for many years:, partly because the teaching staffs were · so small; but options slowly made their way in, together with a ·new degree in science. Now the common core in all varieties of the B.A. has come to be meagre. I'n my boyhood I sometimes overheard in conversation. that there were new ideas agitating the outside world. In fact fundamental change was not merely at the door, but was already over the threshold. Science was diffusing its transforming spirit everywhere. The middle of the·nineteenth century saw a revolution in the universities of England. · At the end of the eighteenth century Oxford was asleep. i\s Goldwin Smith wrote: "The · subject matter of liberal education had not been revised for three centunes, and in that interval the classics, once the sole 9 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO ·QUARTERLY depositories of all knowledge and culture, had sunk in value." Of the sister university the report of the University Royal Commission of 192.2 said: "The growth of science at Cambridge since the era of the Royal COlnmission [1853] has been perhaps the greatest fact in the history of the University since its foundation. . . . In classics, history, modern languages, philosophy and economics the value set upon research, new thought and modern treatment is partly owing to their scientific . environment." Intellectual life was stimulated to unprecedented interest. Even to literature a new approach . was given. This vivifying spirit expressed itself in research, which every day removed, not without alarms and anxieties, veils from off the face of the mysterious unknown. Questions as to the .origin of life created hypotheses that stirred the mind of even the average man. The re-birth of intellectual life in Europe led, in the United States, to the expansion of some of the oldest colleges into universities, and the creation of others.· Johns Hopkins was indicative of the new era, but Harvard was not far behind, and others followed rapidly. Also the state university had come into being some time previously, supported by the people out of public revenues and "without discrimination against trustee, president, professor , instructor or pupil on the ground of religious belief or affiliation." Though the American spring was later than the European, it came in with a rush, when hundreds of young Americans returned ii1 the last quarter of the nineteenth century to take positions in the universities of their home-land. Not least in theology was the effect of the new spirit felt. Seventy-five years ago church colleges were citadels of exclusive systems of belief. But the spirit of Science entered these fortresses, not wit~out much 10 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY parleying with the warders, often after repeated refusals of admission. I always think of myself as having been singularly fortunate in the time I spent at the university, from 1885 to 1892. Science was wide awake; it was·propounding knotty problems; an idealistic philosophy was wrestling with naturalism; Greek was being interpreted by a fine modern humanist; in theology there were some class-rooms in which the air was fresh and bracing. Both in Edinburgh and in Germany I was guided into a wonderfully attractive world by pioneers of the new spirit. What was then the method of the few has become to-day the practice of all scholars of any rank. In the magnitude of the change some have seen a decline of religious faith. I do not so interpret it. We have reached more clarified thought, a truer distinction between dogma and faith, between the Church as an institution and the religion which it propagates. It has been demonstrated, through the discovery and appreciation of historical facts, that the exclusive claims of churches to represent their Founder in the possession of peculiar dogmas or ordinances, are not based on truth; that what they hold in common is,far n1ore essential Christianity than what separates them. More than two generations ago, Bishop Lightfoot and Professor Hort, and a little later Professor Sanday, scholars of massive learning and remarkably open mind, were_creating a new outlook i-n B'ritain, and they have had an unbroken line of able successors. The urbane and impartial reviews of theological publications, read by educated laymen in The Times Literary Supplement, for exan1ple, diffuse insensibly, among many in all the churches and others who have slender attachment to any, the conviction that religion is too funda1nental to be . narrowly exclusive, too vital to be made a stimulus to controversy. The scientific spirit need not disturb one's 11 THE. UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY affection for the church of one's inheritance, but it removes unhistorical prejudices, and thereby effects a kindlier feeling toward all who hold the Christian reJigion in sincerity and love. In Canada the colleges of the churches were in time · penetrated by this new spirit. As was natural, the social circles of the; outside laity did not respond to it so quickly, the texture of their belief being inextricably interwoven· with many non-religious strands. But in. the colleges a more genial at1nosphere prevailed, and sincere men now find it possible to work in fellowship with one another, while remaining t1·ue to their own character and convictions. The rise of the modern university made it easier for them to come. together and share in the use of its equipment for scholarship and science,. which it was beyond the power of each college singly to duplicate. A new university had come into being to house the insatiable spirit of a g1ant awakening in strength. The march of Science in the last fifty years has been one ·of the most inspiring spectacles in the history of the human mind. He may be deemed happy who has had the privilege of observing closely its fascinating progress in a great university. The sub-dividing of departments has gone on apace: biology separated into zoology and botany, and these in turn into specialized parts; physical chemistry was added to the inorganic . ~nq organic divisions; physiology threw off bio-~hemistry; physics, astro-physical, experimental, and mathematical, far outdistanced the old natural philosophy; archreology and ethnology now stand by themselves; psychology, hived off from philosophy, has turned experimental and deals in measurements; geography, a new sc1ence separate from geology,. demands its own laboratory. These are out12 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY standing examples of scientific expansion, taken from the Faculty of Arts, as I have seen it in Toronto. But Science infused fresh vigour into non-laboratory disciplines also, and these have sen-t out new shoots:· the classical scholar has been provided with additional textual material and apparatus; he knows much about the Cretan. and the Mycenaean civilizations; and through the accumula- _ tion and sorting of finds he has almost transformed the view of the Hellenistic age: history has been re-written; economics has had to face unprecedented problems and to re-consider-its theories. On this rapid development of scientific departments there followed naturally a demand for the creation of a post-graduate faculty. The initial impulse for this seems to have come from Canadians who had studied in the United States or in Germany. Among them were some of .the ~blest of our graduates. They had caught the vision of scientific research at' a time when the world had once again become young, and they came home eager that _ Canadian universities should have a share in this exploration into the realm of nature. . They had good reason for their ambition, because they had not been put to shame· when they had come into competition with graduates from older and more famous schools. But the proposals for a post-graduate faculty met with a luke-warm reception. There was in this. a quite worthy motive. Professors of the highest standing, who themselves also were interested in research, were only too well aware of the shortcomings of their institutions in respect of both laboratories and libraries; they also felt the burden of under-graduate instruction which it was their primary duty to. carry. They were, therefore, reluctant to offer advanced teaching which might have had the effect of keeping students at home, who should, if possible, be induced to take advan13 THE UNIV~RSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY tage of the greater privileges afforded in the universities of the United States, Britain, or continental Europe. But there was another reason .for hesitation. A real difference of opinion existed between the humanists and the scientists. The latter made it a requirement for the doctor's degree that the candidate should, in his thesis, have made some addition to knowledge, being confident · that this was quite possible for the best students, if, having mastered the scientific method, they applied it diligently to problems of restricted range. Scie.nce ·ad- , vances on the accumulation, observation, and interpretation of a multitude of facts brought to light by an army of workers. Patience, accuracy, imagination in a young "researcher," if he has caught the spirit of Science, will enable him to make some respectable addition to knowledge; at least it will be an earnest of better things to come. · The humanist, on the other hand, especially if he had drawn his ideals from the school ofOxford "Greats," held that the values to be won from the study of language, literature, philosophy, and history lay not in the acquisition of recently discovered facts and their interpretation, but in the understanding and appreciation of fundamental truths, in the comprehension once again by each student of transmitted knowledge and thought. Years of patient study lay ahead of the scholar before he could hope to interpret in true perspective the value of a new discovery. .But archreology is perhaps bringing the humanist and the scientist more closely together Now they both work in post-graduate schools, and they agree that there is a real difference, both in maturity and in methods of study, between the under-graduate and the post-graduate, and that it is in this, rather than in the material of ·study, that the post-graduate faculty finds its raison d'etre. In the growing university, year after year, was re14 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY peated the demand for new laboratories and for extensions to old ones. The professional faculties, especially medicine and engineering, were constantly .scrapping old apparatus and asking for new. In the primitive days, apocryphal of course, a personality at one end of a log and a student.~t the other were said to have been sufficient for an education; it is not so now. Men of science as well as students need laboratories with instrur.rie:nt,s and machines. All need an up-to-date library. As it is not the least essential, so it is one of the most expensive divisions of the university. New books, publications by the thousand, complete sets not only of standard but of rare issues must be acquired, and space_be found for housing them, with arrangements for making them easily accessible to professors and students. Diffi.culties in the disposition of dying or dead books-and what librarian can make unchallengeable pronouncement as to their state?-must be surmounted. Along with the library goes the museum, equally requisite for the scientist, almost equally insistent for space. But if the problem of space presses upon the librarian and the keeper of the museum, that of finance is no less disturbing to .the president. A further demand of the scientific worker is for the publication by.the university of periodicals in which to make known his discoveries or theories. As in the Renaissance of the sixteenth century the printer made possible and gave impetus to new knowledge, to-day university publications are a medium for its diffusion. Exchanges among the _ small groups of workers in any branch of learning throughout the world, carry recent knowledge and "guesses at truth" far and wide in the international commonwealth of science. The modern Canadian university could not have been 15 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY brought into -being, unless during the period of its rapid growth this country had added greatly to its wealth. This material enrichment was i.tself due to the application of science to industry, which filled the harbours of the world with a tide on which rode an abundant commerce. In Canada the concurrent development of her re.sources and· manufactures was impressive. After Confederation, the country passed rapidly from the condition of scattered pioneer settlements, in which the people were, for the most part, poor and uncertain of their future, into a Do1ninion of promise, the provinces consolidating their traditions, the cities attracting the attention of the outside world. Comfort came to the average, wealth to not a few. Confidence in the future is still unabated, in spite of our railway and our wheat problems. Until the depression , provincial governments, fro1n Ontario to British Columbia, made large grants annually to the universities. The action of the Ontario government in supporting the University of Toronto affords some indication of the rapid rise of wealth. In 1906 the Legislature accepted the recommendation of the University Commis~ion, that the University should receive statutorily each year a sum equal to fifty per cent. of the average receipts from succession duties bas~d on the preceding three years. But this amount increased so q'uickly ·that in 1914 the grant was limited to $soo,ooo. Thereafter the additional amounts required for the carrying on of the work were voted annually in the House. During the sa1ne .-period generous private benefact~ons were 1nade to the University , rivalling the support of the state, while the federated universities and colleges received at least proportionately great gifts. At the same time hospitals, used by the University for clinical purposes, the Museum, and the Art Gallery appealed successfully to wealthy 16 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY donors. This spirit ofgenerosity towards public institu..; tions, without the motive of loyalty which inspired supporters of church colleges in the former days, was due to the economic change which the country had undergone. A similar story might be told of McGill and other universtttes . Grateful mention should· be made also of the large grants from _the Carnegie Corporation and Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation to Canadian institutions, to enable them to accomplish their educational ideals. Never, probably, has vast wealth been dispensed with more enlightened and broad-minded vision. But not only by money grants have · our universities received benefit from these ·bodies;- they are debtors to them also for the expert and unbiased manner in which they have investigated several difficult academic situations in the Maritime Provinces and in the West, to say nothing of their reports on problems of edu'cation at large. Such generosity is a factual proof that the Common·wealth of Learning is showing the world the way to a better cooperation than has yet appeared in the realms of .economics or politics. Great social change has resulted from Canada's material development. Hard work, thrift, intelligence taking advantage of opportunity have brought wealth, and with it public position and private standing, to many whose fathers came as immigrants to this land in search of a living. But this has always been the way of the world: He hath put down princes from their thrones, and exalted them of low degree. Too much wealth has been accumulated in the hands of a few, but we are still a genuine democracy, and there is great ftuidi ty in the social strata. · Educational developments have followed on economic and social change; even greater , on the enlarging of the 17 THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUARTERLY range on which .earlier Canadian life grew tb. its first stature. Tides of immigration, full and diverse, from most ·parts of Europe and from the United States, have overflowed the West, changed the population of cities in the East, and reached even long-settled districts, carrying the seeds of potent convictions and customs· to germinate in different soils. Moreover, Canada is now· one of the great thoroughfares of the world. An. unceasing stream of visitors passes across the Dominion. Canadians, too, as they have become well-todo , have taken to travel. But the most m01nentous of all influences has come from the War. It thrust several hundred thousand young men into an utterly strange · environment, and gave a shock to inherited conduct and modes of thought.. All this has borne hard on. the parochial mind as it prevailed a generation ago. As Canada has become an integral part of the wider world, its traditional beliefs and its prejudices are undergoing ruthless intellectual scrutiny, and its manners and customs are being put to the test of endurance in competition with vastly different morals. Nowhere have these changes been more felt than ·in the university. The thousands in attendance are of all sorts and conditions, no longer almost excfusively 9f the older stocks. Together they are played upon powerfully by modern ideas; but Canadians are not easily swept off their feet; they are amenable to reason and respond to generous instincts. The average student is no more of a philistine or a revolutionist than his English brother, nor does he estimate values, any more or any less than he, exclusively by material profit. It would not be highly conjectural to affirm that the number of those in Canadian universities touched to finer issues and sensitive to classical standards, is relatively smaller.than in the British. But if 18 FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY it is, the plea may be entered that much of the best energy of our people had to be spent on getting a living; also that, though there has always been a strain of idealism in them, they inherited little taste and have had scanty leisure for reflection. Fortunately we are not without mentors who act as useful gadflies in what they think is our sluggish gait. In the process of levelling up, rather I am convinced than down, which goes on in a large university, the·college, perhaps more than ever, has a function to perform.· It·represents an etlws based on religion, and is rooted deep · in. traditions. It may be for the relatively few, but its value is to be estimated by the quality of its education not by its numbers. If our civilization is to prosper, it must have a culture both of soul and of mind. In some mea,sure the college helps to provide it; but the university must not leave this function to the college exclusively. The university of the nineteenth century was representative of an era which seems to be now drawing to an end. It was dominated by the conception of material progress and was optimistic of indefinite expansion. The accumulation of riches was credited to science as its especial honour, though the discovery and removal of causes of disease and the partial a1nelioration of human living were acknowledged as being also its due. Now, we know that scienti:fic method has not proved sufficient for the.solution of the greatest problems of humanity. With all our getting we have not yet got understanding. Is the university, then, not called upon to do some serious thinking about its own ideals? Has it allowed· its research to be dominated too much by a material end? Has it laid too little stress on human values in professional education? Has its educational method become analytic to the vanishing of constructiveness?· Not that it should 19 T~E UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO QUART~RLY cease to. be critical; philosophy from of old has asked questions) but with a comprehensive end in view. Though I am ·confiden.t that graduates are better able than nonuniversity folk to address themsdves efficiently and impartially to problems, I ask myself sometimes whether they are less self-centred in character. Do we know ourselves with the knowledge which Socrates enjoined: "a principle from which courage, temperance, justice and every other virtue inevitably flow"? The old college professed, at least, to fit men for their society. The university of the new age should endeavour to fulfil this function at a time when mankind is at a halt wondering whither its way should be. 20 ...