The Reminiscences of an Astronomer

by Simon Newcomb

The case was fortified by a letter from M. Michel Bréal, member of the Institute of France, and head of the Franco-American committee, as it was called in Paris, expressing a very flattering desire that I should act.

I soon gave my consent, and wrote to the presidents of eight or ten of our leading universities and several Washington officials interested in education, to secure their adhesion. With a single exception, the responses were unanimous in the affirmative, and I think the exception was due to a misapprehension of the objects of the movement. The views of all the adhering Americans were then requested, and a formal meeting was held, at which they were put into shape. It is quite foreign to my present object to go into details, as everything of interest in connection with the matter will be found in educational journals. One point may, however, be mentioned. The French committee was assured that whatever system of instruction and of degrees was offered, it must be one in which no distinction was made between French and foreigners. American students would not strive for a degree which was especially arranged for them alone.

I soon found that the movement was a much more complex one than it appeared at first sight, and that all the parties interested in Paris did not belong to one and the same committee. Not long after we had put our suggestions into shape, I was gratified by a visit from Dom de la Tremblay, prior of the Benedictine Convent of Santa Maria, in Paris, a most philanthropic and attractive gentleman, who desired to promote the object by establishing a home for the American students when they should come. Knowing the temptations to which visiting youth would be exposed, he was desirous of founding an establishment where they could live in the best and most attractive surroundings. He confidently hoped to receive the active support of men of wealth in this country in carrying out his object.

It was a somewhat difficult and delicate matter to explain to the philanthropic gentleman that American students were not likely to collect in a home specially provided for them, but would prefer to find their own home in their own way. I tried to do it with as little throwing of cold water as was possible, but, I fear, succeeded only gradually. But after two or three visits to New York and Washington, it became evident to him that the funds necessary for his plan could not be raised.

The inception of the affair was still not clear to me. I learned it in Paris the year following. Then I found that the movement was started by Mr. Furber, the sender of the telegram, a citizen of Chicago, who had scarcely attained the prime of life, but was gifted with that indomitable spirit of enterprise which characterizes the metropolis of the West. What he saw of the educational institutions of Paris imbued him with a high sense of their value, and he was desirous that his fellow-countrymen should share in the advantages which they offered. To induce them to do this, it was only necessary that some changes should be made in the degrees and in the examinations, the latter being too numerous and the degrees bearing no resemblance to those of Germany and the United States. He therefore addressed a memorial to the Minister of Public Instruction, who was much impressed by the view of the case presented to him, and actively favored the formation of a Franco-American committee to carry out the object. Everything was gotten ready for action, and it only remained that the prime mover should submit evidence that educators in America desired the proposed change, and make known what was wanted.

Why I should have been selected to do this I do not know, but suppose it may have been because I had just been elected a foreign associate of the Institute, and was free from trammels which might have hindered the action of men who held official positions in the government or at the heads of universities. The final outcome of the affair was the establishment in the universities of France of the degree of Doctor of the University, which might be given either in letters or in science, and which was expected to correspond as nearly as possible to the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Germany and America.

One feature of the case was brought out which may be worthy of attention from educators. In a general way it may be said that our Bachelor's degree does not correspond to any well-defined stage of education, implying, as it does, something more than that foundation of a general liberal education which the degree implies in Europe, and not quite so much as the Doctor's degree. I found it very difficult, if not impossible, to make our French friends understand that our American Bachelor's degree was something materially higher than the Baccalaureate of the French Lycée, which is conferred at the end of a course midway between our high school and our college.

From education at the Sorbonne I pass to the other extreme. During a stay in Harper's Ferry in the autumn of 1887, I had an object lesson in the state of primary education in the mountain regions of the South. Accompanied by a lady friend, who, like myself, was fond of climbing the hills, I walked over the Loudon heights into a sequestered valley, out of direct communication with the great world. After visiting one or two of the farmhouses, we came across a school by the roadside. It was the hour of recess, and the teacher was taking an active part in promoting the games in which the children were engaged. It was suggested by one of us that it would be of interest to see the methods of this school; so we approached the teacher on the subject, who very kindly offered to call his pupils together and show us his teaching.

First, however, we began to question him as to the subjects of instruction. The curriculum seemed rather meagre, as he went over it. I do not think it went beyond the three R's.

"But do you not teach grammar as well as reading?" I asked.