cellence, but also with regard to the
way in which they are sustained--with the Revue des Deux Mondes or the
Journal des Debats. Or compare our leading politicians with men like
Gladstone, Disraeli, or Sir G. C. Lewis; or even with such men as
Brougham or Thiers. Or compare the slovenly style of our newspaper
articles, I will not say with the exquisite prose of the lamented
Prevost-Paradol, but with the ordinary prose of the French or English
newspaper. But a far better illustration--for it goes down to the root
of things--is suggested by the recent work of Matthew Arnold on the
schools of the continent of Europe. The country of our time where
the general culture is unquestionably the highest is Prussia. Now, in
Prussia, they are able to have a Minister of Education, who is a member
of the Cabinet. They are sure that this minister will not appoint or
remove even an assistant professor for political reasons. Only once,
as Arnold tells us, has such a thing been done; and then public opinion
expressed itself in such an emphatic tone of disapproval that the
displaced teacher was instantly appointed to another position. Nothing
of this sort, says Arnold, could have occurred in England; but still
less could it occur in America. Had we such an educational system,
there would presently be an "Education Ring" to control it. Nor can this
difference be ascribed to the less eager political activity of Germany.
The Prussian state of things would have been possible in ancient Athens,
where political life was as absorbing and nearly as turbulent as in the
United States. The difference is due to our lack of faith in culture, a
lack of faith in that of which we have not had adequate experience.

We lack culture because we live in a hurry, and because our attention is
given up to pursuits which call into activity and develop but one side
of us. On the one hand contemplate Sokrates quietly entertaining a crowd
in the Athenian market-place, and on the other hand consider Broadway
with its eternal clatter, and its throngs of hurrying people elbowing
and treading on each other's heels, and you will get a lively notion of
the difference between the extreme phases of ancient and modern life. By
the time we have thus rushed through our day, we have no strength left
to devote to things spiritual. To-day finds us no nearer fruition than
yesterday. And if perhaps the time at last arrives when fruition is
practicable, our minds have run so long in t