4.B

FOR

COR once we are allowing ourselves to be betrayed into dogmatic statement. And the statement is this: the most encouraging characteristic of this age is its restlessness.

If this be heresy, make the most of it! This quality, to which the graybeards attribute all the evils of our present civilization, is the very essence of Rank life. Whatever progress this Schism staggering old planet has achieved is due to it; the poignant and beautiful books and pictures and music and sculpture have come out of an inner restlessness which would not be stilled until it attained release and expression. And restlessness is innocent of that greatest evil of all, stagnation.

President Hopkins of Dartmouth in an address recently made before Harvard students spoke of the educated man:

Such a man must have been humble in the presence of great minds and great souls, must have been simple in contacts with his fellows, and must have been indefatigable in his desire to cultivate and to maintain the power of his mind and to accumulate that knowledge which makes up the data of accurate reasoning.

If for "simple," we substitute "transparent," we should be surprisingly near the title and the idea of George Sarton's essay in this

Are You

Educated? number. Doctor Sarton, as he said in a recent letter to Michael Pupin, is the only person in the world who makes his living by the study of the history of science. He is editor of Isis, an international quarterly devoted to the history of science and civilization. The publication of the magazine in Brussels was halted by the German invasion, and Doc

tor Sarton, a native Belgian, came to this country. Now he spends much of his time in the Harvard Library. As for his essay in this number, we can characterize it in a phrase as a philosophy of life in six pages.

For those who have eyes to see, and ears to hear, and sensitive fingers to touch, restlessness comes as a matter of course. It is an eagerness to experience and to understand, demanding the full use of all our powers.

Advocate

We refer those men of the church who salve their own consciences by bewailing the tendencies of the present age to the parable of the tal- The Devil's ents. For we are unprofitable servants who bury our talent Scripture in isolation from the world, in self-satisfaction, in fear of becoming spotted by contact with the naughty people about us. We never knew anyone to obtain anything by sleeping. Now, if the morticians of modern civilization had said "aimlessness" that would be something else again.

Simple and indefatigable, says Doctor Hopkins. The educated man is restless, but he doesn't bruit his learning abroad, nor make his restlessness a pose. And the educated man rarely becomes an evangelist.

He affects the world by example, and not by posing as an example. The carpers had better talk of lack of balance and lack of real education, which is driving the restless to seek release in externals, continuous movement and action without thought.

The educated man is a man with certain subtle

spiritual qualities which make him calm in adrational and sane in the fullest meaning of the versity, happy when alone, just in his dealings, word in all the affairs of his life.

Donald, the doughty Scot, who is not a university man save by adoption. The former Premier has come closer to a definition than most of the academicians. Our transient grant of life is short. Not by wasting it in inconsequential things, not by accepting things as they are and remaining in our own particular little rut, hoping that something will turn up to lift us out and shove us into the place where we wish to be, can we hope to find any satisfaction.

Wanted: Propaganda for the Art of Living

There is much talk of art in the abstract. Even those who do not understand it, respect it. But there is not enough respect for the art of living. There is more talk of vocations and lines of work, but none at all of the vocation of living. What use is the detail if the whole is worthless? What use is work as such? What satisfaction in grubbing away from day to day in an office if it is not leading to some end? What use the amassing of money if there is nothing to do with it?

And what use is there of living in a country such as this if no effort is made to grasp its significance, its relation to the rest of the world, its connection with the past, its place in the future?

It seems to us that a yawning abyss is left in present-day writing between the Scylla of the optimists and the takersfor-granted, on the one side, and the Charybdis of the pessimists and the damners of everything regardless, on the other. The Scyllies devote their whole effort to justifying things as they are and to glorifying them to heroic proportions. They shout from the housetops that this is the greatest country in the world without doing anything to make it so. And one soon grows weary of their superlatives and their pitiable defenses and their myths.

tinted spectacles had the monopoly.

Between the two extremes there is a course which is rarely charted. And we take pleasure in presenting one of the few who sail the There's Hope for the Old channel. He is Struthers Boy Yet Burt, and in his essay, "The Epic Note," he shows the modern attitude toward life. "We live in as gallant, desperate, gorgeous, and uncomfortable age as the world has ever seen," he says. But he also sees hope for the poor old human race and especially for America. "I think there is nothing like the physical beauty of America. And it is a fairly hopeful place. Any land having such beauty is bound to be."

We also note with a deprecating gesture that the moving picture which the Associated First National Pictures is making out of "The Interpreter's House," that successful first novel of his, is to be called "I Want My Man."

John Hays Hammond links up the West of yesterday with the America of to-day. His is the ability to tell a thrilling tale of adventure and the greater ability to see the significance of it. He sleeps with a murderer in Arizona, and discovers the significance of it in South Africa. His first paper on "Strong Men of the Wild West" appeared last month.

About the time the West was coming into prominence the South was going under a cloud. She is just He Goes beginning to recover some- Unlynched thing of her former light, and Gerald W. Johnson has had no small part in that battle to emerge. He was for a time a writer of militant editorials on the Greensboro, N. C., News, and is now instructor in journalism at the University of North Carolina, where Judge Winston resides as the Nestor of the undergraduates, as told in the Christmas number of SCRIBNER'S. Much that is derogatory has been said of "the late Confederacy, and Gerald Johnson would not have us don the cap and bells of the optimist. But he does see encouraging signs. And perhaps one of the signs that he does not see, which others do, is the very fact that Johnson himself is not lynched.

There is a distinctly hopeful note and a pun which we will even excuse in the title of Doctor Guérard's article. His

4.8

FOR

COR once we are allowing ourselves to be betrayed into dogmatic statement. And the statement is this: the most encouraging characteristic of this age is its restlessness.

If this be heresy, make the most of it! This quality, to which the graybeards attribute all the evils of our present civilization, is the very essence of Rank Schism life. Whatever progress this staggering old planet has achieved is due to it; the poignant and beautiful books and pictures and music and sculpture have come out of an inner restlessness which would not be stilled until it attained release and expression. And restlessness is innocent of that greatest evil of all, stagnation.

President Hopkins of Dartmouth in an address recently made before Harvard students spoke of the educated man:

Such a man must have been humble in the presence of great minds and great souls, must have been simple in contacts with his fellows, and must have been indefatigable in his desire to cultivate and to maintain the power of his mind and to accumulate that knowledge which makes up the data of accurate reasoning.

If for "simple," we substitute "transparent," we should be surprisingly near the title and the idea of George Sarton's essay in this

Are You

Educated? number. Doctor Sarton, as he said in a recent letter to Michael Pupin, is the only person in the world who makes his living by the study of the history of science. He is editor of Isis, an international quarterly devoted to the history of science and civilization. The publication of the magazine in Brussels was halted by the German invasion, and Doc

tor Sarton, a native Belgian, came to this country. Now he spends much of his time in the Harvard Library. As for his essay in this number, we can characterize it in a phrase as a philosophy of life in six pages.

For those who have eyes to see, and ears to hear, and sensitive fingers to touch, restlessness comes as a matter of course. It is an eagerness to experience and to understand, demanding the full use of all our powers.

We refer those men of the church who salve their own consciences by bewailing the tendencies of the present age to the parable of the tal- The Devil's Advocate ents. For we are unprofitable servants who bury our talent Scripture in isolation from the world, in self-satisfaction, in fear of becoming spotted by contact with the naughty people about us. We never knew anyone to obtain anything by sleeping. Now, if the morticians of modern civilization had said "aimlessness" that would be something else again.

Simple and indefatigable, says Doctor Hopkins. The educated man is restless, but he doesn't bruit his learning abroad, nor make his restlessness a pose. And the educated man rarely becomes an evangelist.

He affects the world by example, and not by posing as an example. The carpers had better talk of lack of balance and lack of real education, which is driving the restless to seek release in externals, continuous movement and action without thought.

The educated man is a man with certain subtle

spiritual qualities which make him calm in adrational and sane in the fullest meaning of the versity, happy when alone, just in his dealings, word in all the affairs of his life.

Donald, the doughty Scot, who is not a university man save by adoption. The former Premier has come closer to a definition than most of the academicians. Our transient grant of life is short. Not by wasting it in inconsequential things, not by accepting things as they are and remaining in our own particular little rut, hoping that something will turn up to lift us out and shove us into the place where we wish to be, can we hope to find any satisfaction.

Wanted: Propaganda for the Art of Living

There is much talk of art in the abstract. Even those who do not understand it, respect it. But there is not enough respect for the art of living. There is more talk of vocations and lines of work, but none at all of the vocation of living. What use is the detail if the whole is worthless? What use is work as such? What satisfaction in grubbing away from day to day in an office if it is not leading to some end? What use the amassing of money if there is nothing to do with it?

And what use is there of living in a country such as this if no effort is made to grasp its significance, its relation to the rest of the world, its connection with the past, its place in the future?

It seems to us that a yawning abyss is left in present-day writing between the Scylla of the optimists and the takersfor-granted, on the one side, and the Charybdis of the pessimists and the damners of everything regardless, on the other. The Scyllies devote their whole effort to justifying things as they are and to glorifying them to heroic proportions. They shout from the housetops that this is the greatest country in the world without doing anything to make it so. And one soon grows weary of their superlatives and their pitiable defenses and their myths.

Devil and the

The Charrions probably got that way from being megaphoned at so long by the Scyllies. They derive their Between the satisfaction from trotting True Blue out their superiority comBooster plex for an airing upon any or no occasion. They get the greatest joy from their hates. They are much more necessary than the Scyllies. And America is becoming more grateful for their barks, because in the last cen

tinted spectacles had the monopoly.

for the Old

Between the two extremes there is a course which is rarely charted. And we take pleasure in presenting one of the few who sail the There's Hope channel. He is Struthers Boy Yet Burt, and in his essay, "The Epic Note," he shows the modern attitude toward life. "We live in as gallant, desperate, gorgeous, and uncomfortable age as the world has ever seen," he says. But he also sees hope for the poor old human race and especially for America. "I think there is nothing like the physical beauty of America. And it is a fairly hopeful place. Any land having such beauty is bound to be."

We also note with a deprecating gesture that the moving picture which the Associated First National Pictures is making out of "The Interpreter's House," that successful first novel of his, is to be called "I Want My Man."

John Hays Hammond links up the West of yesterday with the America of to-day. His is the ability to tell a thrilling tale of adventure and the greater ability to see the significance of it. He sleeps with a murderer in Arizona, and discovers the significance of it in South Africa. His first paper on "Strong Men of the Wild West" appeared last month.

He Goes

About the time the West was coming into prominence the South was going under a cloud. She is just beginning to recover some- Unlynched thing of her former light, and Gerald W. Johnson has had no small part in that battle to emerge. He was for a time a writer of militant editorials on the Greensboro, N. C., News, and is now instructor in journalism at the University of North Carolina, where Judge Winston resides as the Nestor of the undergraduates, as told in the Christmas number of SCRIBNER'S. Much that is derogatory has been said of "the late Confederacy,' and Gerald Johnson would not have us don the cap and bells of the optimist. But he does see encouraging signs. And perhaps one of the signs that he does not see, which others do, is the very fact that Johnson himself is not lynched.

There is a distinctly hopeful note and a pun which we will even excuse in the title of Doctor Guérard's article. His