Editorial Comment

Phi Beta Kappa

The fact that a student of Dartmouth College whose rank entitled him to election to Phi Beta Kappa recently expressed his unwillingness to accept membership in that ancient and supposably rather honorable organization looks like a repercussion of the agitations at Hanover within recent years, which have had for their object the adoption of some other standard than what are usually called "mere marks" for admission to this society. At all events the student who has attained a transitory celebrity by his unusual attitude put forward his antipathy to the exaltation of "mere marks" as the chief reason, holding that Phi Beta Kappa would mean more if it ceased to make marks the, sole qualification.

Whether or not it ought to be esteemed an honor to be included in the Phi Beta Kappa fraternity, as the oldest of American Greek Letter societies and the only one based on scholarship, the, fact is that for a century and a half it has been so esteemed. That this venerable institution would not escape criticism at the hands of a generation specializing in revolt might be expected. None the less a great deal of notice has been taken of the incident at Dartmouth throughout the country, because so far as known this is the first instance in which one entitled to wear the golden watchkey has deliberately refused to enter the mystic bonds typified thereby; and the commept has varied from polite alumni amusement to enthusiastic undergraduate cheering. One suspects that the custom of refusing election will not become very common, in part because few would take the exalted intellectual view required, and in part because too many recusants would take all the glamor out of it. In such situations the essence is to be aloof and alone.

It is fair to assume that the student who adopted this unusual course was completely sincere in his belief and not posing for the sake of the notoriety practically sure to follow his announcement —but if many follow it, there will be some ground for surprise. The testimony of 150 years ought to be worth something. There has always, however, been a vague feeling that there is a tinge of intellectual snobbery involved, as well as a potential honor; and those who have not won the distinction have been heard on occasion to refer sarcastically to the Phi Beta Kappa as the "I Am Smart Club." The proportion of Phi Betes to non-Phi Betes in the extant army of American alumni must be small—which again is of the essence. Very seldom, if ever, has any one duly qualified for admission waved aside the offer of an election. It appears to be a matter of individual choice—and no doubt the society itself will survive.

Thus far no one has suggested anything to supersede "mere marks" as evidence of intellectual primacy, fallible testimony as these may be. Whatever has been urged has seemed to us rather worse than better. Meantime it is perhaps in order to remark that the outside world has in recent years been inclined to take Phi Beta Kappa keys rather seriously as evidence of the wearer's worthwhileness. 'is this going by the board? It may be that the fraternity founded at William and Mary in 1776 will find its way to the scrap-heap, along with sundry other traditional features of American college life which modern youth views with such withering scorn. But if it happens, many will feel that there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

What Is College Age?

In his latest annual report to the Overseers of Harvard University President Lowell touches interestingly on the problem of the proper age at which a boy should enter college, especially in view of the protracted preparation now required of such as plan to enter professional life, or even business life. That period is indeed much longer than formerly it was. The young man who postpones going to college because although he is fitted to enter at 17 he feels that he "would get more out of it" if slightly more, mature, will graduate in the normal course of events when he is 22 or 23 years old. He will then very probably spend three or four years in a professional school, which will make him 25 or 26 years old before he may hope to strike out for himself—and even then there is, for most, a further period of suspense during which one must serve as an apprentice, in his chosen craft, as a mere articled clerk in a law firm, or an interne at a hospital. Allowing a year or two more, as one must, for establishing even a moderate business standing and the accumulation of such small savings as justify a brave man in marrying, which means more than merely earning his living, it brings the marriageable age of college and professionally trained men pretty close to 30.

President Lowell therefore inclines to fe,el that it is a mistake to postpone college entrance and appears to argue for a more intensive preparation in the secondary schools with a view to getting more boys into college at 17 at the latest. He says, in part:

The reason that young men come to the age of eighteen with minds less trained than their contemporaries in Europe is to'be found chiefly in the fact that they begin their schooling later, and in the early years proceed less rapidly. Masters of secondary schools have often asserted that they could prepare boys for college earlier if sent to them younger, and there can be no doubt that boys would be prepared earlier if there were a demand for it. But although a feeling appears to be gaining ground that education is finished at too advanced an age, yet a considerable number of parents whose sons are prepared for college and pass their admission examination at seventeen, postpone their entrance for a year. This is almost always a mistake. The youth is takep out of the normal current of his life to do something else, and does not usually regain his pace. Statistics, covering a number of years, show that the students who enter college young are on the average better scholars and incur less serious discipline than those who are older. No doubt this is in part due to the, fact that they are the brighter and more industrious boys, for that is a reason why they have been prepared sooner than their fellows; but the very age is in itself a factor. There is a natural time for the innocent - pleasures and preparatory studies of youth, and a time when a man should be occupied in his life's work. A century ago a certain boy was sent to college, by his father at a tender age that he might be "too young to be dissipated." In his case the precaution seemed to a later generation needless, but it was not without good sense.

The parents who keep their son out of college a year after he is prepared are often moved by a belief that he would otherwise be at a social and athletic disadvantage, and this is so far true that if such things were the main object of college the motive would be serious. A student younge.r than his classmates is usually somewhat less prominent in these matters; but by no means always.

The answer appears to depend on the balance of advantages and disadvantages. It is easy to see that the longer a boy waits before going to college, the longer the postponement of his active career must be. It remains to make sure that this evil is greater than the evils offsetting it. President Lowell admits the social and athletic handicap, and properly states that this is a matter of secondary concern. There is also to be considered the frequently made allegation that a boy of 18 is sufficiently more mature than one of 16 or 17 to enable him to get more out of his college courses—which is rather doubtful. If one were to get the maximum out of his educational opportunities it would be, well to go to college at about the age at which one normally graduates, or even later, and that is clearly out of the question, of course.

So far as the desirability of making the college age cover the years between 16 and 20, or 17 and 21, there is much to be said for President Lowell's view. Whether or not intensive preparation in the secondary schools can be speeded up so as to produce that result without adding to the perplexities and costs of public and private schools (already staggering) is open to more question. There are obstacles also to comparisons between our secondary-school students and those of Europe, based in part on numbers and in part on the lack of homogeneity in our population.

None the less we incline to believe that the general proposition is sound that a boy should go to college just as early as he can be made, ready, weighing all the factors for and against such early entrance.

Setting New Records

There has been some comment in the public prints during the past few weeks concerning the unusually good showing, from the scholastic standpoint, made by the present freshman class (1931) at Dartmouth. It is revealed by the, tabulations for the first semester that only a dozen men out of a class of something over 500 had been dropped for failure to maintain the required scholastic standing. Comparing this with the immediately preceding classes in their freshman first term reveals an improvement as steady as it is gratifying. Tracing the record backward, the numbers separated from college for this cause have been successively 17, 24, 25, 29, 32 and 37. One may readily visualize the curve which this would make on a graph, and it seems reasonable to take it as a very convincing commentary on the excellent results which are being obtained with the present selective process of admissions. Dean Bill surmises that the low mortality revealed by 1931 in its opening months of residence has not been surpassed by many colleges in Dartmouth's general class, if by any. Reduced to percentages, the record for 1931 is 1.9, contrasting with 2.5 for the next best previous class, and running up, of course, as do the positive figures first quoted.

But this is not the whole story. Only 31 members of the current Fre.shman class were on probation at the end of the semester, as against 59 in that precarious condition in the immediately preceding class at the same stage of its career; and that in turn was an improvement over the 71 scored by the class before, that. The trend here also is in the right direction.

There is still more to it. In the present Freshman class 79.1 per cent of its members passed all their courses, the record for this in the immediately prior classes having beep, respectively, 70.3, 68.2, 67.4 and 65.7. This also should make an interesting line on the chart. It is to be added as an after-thought that "no member of 1931 was either separated or put on probation as a result of irregular attendance." And to make the summary complete, it is announced that 48 freshmen (7.6 pe.r cent of the whole) scored average ranks of B or better (i.e., between 3.0 and 4 in scale of 4 now commonly used) which is better than the best previous record of 6.4 per cent of such classes.

Of course the first semester tells only half the tale, and the record for the second half may be a different matter, although there is no discernible reason why it should be. Ordinarily the greater mortality occurs early in the course, weeding out the congenitally incapable or wilfully indolent. The danger one imagines it not to be very grave—in the unusual case of 1931 is that having received much applause for its scholastic excellence at the outset of its career it may wax careless and find its later recprd less flattering. On the other hand it may prove an extra incentive—as one rather inclines to believe it will.

Taking the figures for the past five years as an index it does seem to point to a very real efficacy in the process now exployed for selecting material to come to Hanover. If the improvement had been irregular, or sporadic, one might read less into it; but the gain in scholastic standing has been so steadily maintained as to warrant the belief that there's a reason at work under it all, and not mere fortuitous circumstance.

American Literature

The American Mercury, which finds few things to praise and very few to love in the curriculum of American colleges, recently published an interesting analysis of the courses devoted to literature with the result of discovering that to all appearance purely American literature is treated by our own institutions of learning as only one-tenth as important as the literature of England, one-fourth as important as the literature of France, one-third as important as German literature, and just about on a parity with that of Scandinavia. It seems to be the critic's opinion that this is an unjust, as well as an unflattering, estimate. "More attention," he complains, "is given to the works of Shakespeare than is given to all American literature." Possibly that is because Shakespeare is worth considerably more—although one gathers that such is not the belief of the writer who pens the criticism. Chaucer, as the foundation stone, runs Shakespeare close,. The article ends with a word of praise for one of our own fellowship, Professor F. L. Pattee, whose department at Pennsylvania State offers in American literature six undergraduate courses as against 27 in English—which is described as "something like a decent academic respect for the native culture of the Republic."

Is American literature unfairly treated when it is rated at about one-tenth the importance of the much older and far more voluminous classics of the mother country ? Opinions will differ. Indeed some have expressed surprise that the American Mercury, with its scorn of American moroncy, should raise this question. It will be noted, however, that the critic quoted above does not claim that parity for American letters which is being demanded for our naval strength. Six courses in American letters against 27 in English is specified as fairly "decent respect" for our attainment—which makes our literature only about one-fifth as important as British. And that is as far as Mr. Mencken's magazine writer sees fit to push the claim.

It is easy to sympathize. It is easy also to suspect that the reason for the dis- parity complained of is- to be found in rooted practice, in long habit, and in the well distributed local custom of failing to perceive that the American nation is growing up to man's estate,, instead of being, as it once was, a new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Something can be said and ought to be said for native-born culture, which is coming to have a few defenders who are not disposed to be unduly apologetic. The comforting thought is that American literature is certain in time to receive the attention it deserves, even if it falls short of it now. Perspective, which has established the study of British letters, will eventually allow us to make a truer estimate of our own. For the present there is little doubt that our curricula make less of it than is its due—but perhaps that is better than it would be to make too much of it.

Tightening the Lines

The mysterious disappearance during the early winter of a freshman student at Smith College has evidently led to a very general tightening of requirements affecting absences from college, especially in the colleges for young women. The pendulum of personal liberty seems to be on the point of swinging back again toward the older theory that young people of ages ranging from 17 to 22, away from home and rejoicing in this unaccustomed fre.edom from parental oversight, ought to be rather anxiously supervised. It is unlikely that the ancient customs will ever be revived in all their ancient rigidity, but at least there has been a shock which raises a question of the propriety of making such young people quite so free to come and go without permission and without regular check ing-up.

Fathers and mothers reared in a less liberal day have been heard to wonder at the latitude accorded their sons and daughters, especially in colleges adjacent to large centres of population, where it had come to be a fairly simple matter to "run into town" at will for purposes of pleasure; but so long as this led to nothing particularly alarming it was acquiesced in, and the idea seems to have grown up among college authorities that it is belittling to exert a disciplinary restraint on a young student's freedom in his or her idle time. Let the students appear at their required places at the required times and do their work—and who cares what they do at othe.r times? The tendency to treat youth as fully grown and fully responsible has had its attractions—not unlike the honor system—and like the honor system it has unfortunately revealed a failure on the part of theory to square with practice.

It may be as well to admit that young people not yet arrived at what used to be called of discretion still need a trifle of guidance and a certain amount of restriction, warmly as this may be resented and indignantly as it may be denied by such as impute infallibility to youth. Certainly it is well for college authorities, standing in loco parentis, to know about the comings and goings of those committed to their charge and to retain some degree of control over the process. Incidents like that at Smith are happily uncommon, but when they do occur the danger is suddenly revealed.

One may add that in these days of motoring the radius of holiday activity is so enormously extended as to enhance the difficulties. There may be an unpleasant savor of the lower schools about the custom of demanding what in classical universities are called "exeats," against which young people nearly old enough to vote rebel; but in view of all the facts it is hard to see how the requirement can be done away with safety, and one is tempted to remark that youth is in danger of having too little discipline, rather than too much.

Student Antics Abroad

Europe, long inclined to high-hat the crude and boorish United States on the score of lack of culture, has unfortunately to face the fact that student life on the eastern side of the Atlantic sometimes shows itself unseemly to a degree which in American colleges would hardly be possible. One passe,s over for the moment the numerous occasions on which age-old continental student bodies engage in riotous political demonstrations, to consider the outbursts of indignation in England over the excesses incident to the most recent "Rugger Night," as carried out by turbulent representatives of Oxford and Cambridge in and around London theatres and hotels. It appears that British public opinion, though tolerant as always of the high spirits of youth, has. at last rebelled against the flagrant muckerism of the latest ebullitions thereof, and has condemned the same in terms of that extremest of unpardonable British sins, a "lack of sportsmanship."

One knows the failings of college youth and expects more or less unbuttoned glee after a great football match, in which the ministrations of Bacchus figure somewhat more prominently than is pleasant, but which one generally overlooks with malice toward none and charity for all. But whe.n the thing assumes such proportions as it apparently did on the last "Rugger Night," the consensus is that it transcends the tolerable and so clearly enters on the wantonly criminal as to warrant stern repression and rebuke. In other words, it has ceased to be funny. There are limits beyond which one may not condone the hoodlumism of young men on a postathletic spree. It would be folly to assume that such outbreaks are unknown in this country; but at least one may maintain that their occurrence in Britain precludes the critics there from casting the first stone at American college behavior.

The entrance and court at Dick's House