al provincial connections. These are inns and resting-places... so
many images of the great country, in which the heart found something which
it could fill."[1]
[Footnote 1: _Reflections on the French Revolution_, pp. 292, 494 (of vol.
iii. of _Collected Works_, ed. 1899).]
There is one fairly safe test for a system of education: What do its
victims think of it? "In Prussia," says Dr. Sadler, "a schoolboy seems to
regard his school as he might regard a railway station--a convenient and
necessary establishment, generally ugly to look at, but also, for its
purpose efficient." The illustration is an apt one: for a Prussian school
is too often, like a railway station, simply a point of departure,
something to be got away from as soon as possible. "In England a boy who
is at a good secondary school cares for it as an officer cares for his
regiment or as a sailor cares for his ship," or, we may add, as a Boy Scout
cares for his Troop.[1]
[Footnote 1: _Special Reports_, ix. p. 113. Dr. Sadler's article deals with
secondary schools only. Unfortunately, no one can claim that the idea of
fellowship is as prominent in English elementary schools, or even in all
secondary schools, as the quotation might suggest.]
Democracy and discipline, fellowship and freedom, are in fact not
incompatible at all. They are complementary: and each can only be at
its best when it is sustained by the other. Only a disciplined and
self-controlled people can be free to rule itself, and only a free people
can know the full meaning and happiness of fellowship.
Sec.5. _German and British Ideals of Civilisation._--Lastly, the German system
regards national "culture" rather than national character as the chief
element in civilisation and the justification of its claim to a dominant
place in the world. This view is so strange to those who are used to
present-day British institutions that it is hard to make clear what it
means. Civilisation is a word which, with us, is often misused and often
misunderstood. Sometimes we lightly identify it with motor cars and
gramophones and other Western contrivances with which individual traders
and travellers dazzle and bewilder the untutored savage. Yet we are seldom
tempted to identify it, like the Germans, with anything narrowly national;
and in our serious moments we recognise that it is too universal a force to
be the appanage of either nations or individuals. For to us, when we ask
ourselves its real meanin
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