The University of Pennsylvania Faculty:

A Study in American Higher Education

Richard H. Shryock
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-university-of-pennsylvania-faculty-a-study-in-amer
ican-higher-education-richard-h-shryock/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

The Distributed University for Sustainable Higher

Education 1st Edition Richard Frederick Heller

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-distributed-university-for-
sustainable-higher-education-1st-edition-richard-frederick-
heller/

University Education for Business: A Study of Existing

Needs and Practices James H. S. Bossard

https://ebookmeta.com/product/university-education-for-business-
a-study-of-existing-needs-and-practices-james-h-s-bossard/

Philosophers on the University Reconsidering Higher

Education Ronald Barnett

https://ebookmeta.com/product/philosophers-on-the-university-
reconsidering-higher-education-ronald-barnett/

Improving Quality in American Higher Education Learning

Outcomes and Assessments for the 21st Century 1st
Edition Richard Arum

https://ebookmeta.com/product/improving-quality-in-american-
higher-education-learning-outcomes-and-assessments-for-the-21st-
century-1st-edition-richard-arum/
University Women A History of Women and Higher
Education in Canada 1st Edition Sara Z. Macdonald

https://ebookmeta.com/product/university-women-a-history-of-
women-and-higher-education-in-canada-1st-edition-sara-z-
macdonald/

Faculty Development in Developing Countries Improving

Teaching Quality in Higher Education 1st Edition
Cristine Smith (Editor)

https://ebookmeta.com/product/faculty-development-in-developing-
countries-improving-teaching-quality-in-higher-education-1st-
edition-cristine-smith-editor/

The Racial Crisis in American Higher Education, Third

Edition Kofi Lomotey

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-racial-crisis-in-american-
higher-education-third-edition-kofi-lomotey/

Understanding Institutional Diversity in American

Higher Education ASHE Higher Education Report 39 3 1st
Edition Michael Harris

https://ebookmeta.com/product/understanding-institutional-
diversity-in-american-higher-education-ashe-higher-education-
report-39-3-1st-edition-michael-harris/

A People s History of American Higher Education 1st

Edition Philo A. Hutcheson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/a-people-s-history-of-american-
higher-education-1st-edition-philo-a-hutcheson/
The University of Pennsylvania Faculty
Λ Study in American Higher Education
 Titles included in the Reports of
THE EDUCATIONAL SURVEY
Joseph H. Willits, Director
Malcolm G. Preston, Co-Director
Julia Μ. H. Carson, Assistant Director

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty:

A Study in American Higher Education
by
Richard H. Shryock

Humanistic Teaching and the Place of

Ethical and Religious Values in Higher Education
b
Edwin E. Aubrey

Graduate Study and Research in the Arts

and Sciences at the University of Pennsylvania
b
Hayward Keniston
 The University of
Pennsylvania Faculty
A Study in American Higher Education

by

RICHARD H. SHRYOCK

Director, Institute of the History of Medicine

The Johns Hopkins University

Philadelphia
University of Pennsylvania Press
© 1959 by the Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania

Published in Great Britain, India, and Pakistan

by the Oxford University Press
London, Bombay, and Karachi

Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 58-13164

Printed in the United States of America

 Introduction
Excellence in the University of Pennsylvania, as in other
universities, exists or can be attained only by virtue of excel-
lence in its faculties. Policies and procedures which improve
the quality of the faculties are therefore vital to the well-be-
ing of the institution; and this conclusion—though a seeming
truism—must be central to all thinking about the Univer-
sity's future.
The present study deals with this essential theme, which
for the sake of brevity may be termed the faculty program.
The subject relates to all the major purposes of the Univer-
sity, since these must be carried out—ultimately—by the
academic staff. Moreover, it transcends the interests of par-
ticular schools or areas of learning, and cuts across the result-
ing boundaries of institutional structures and functions.
Under these circumstances, a faculty program may seem so
all-embracing as to be almost the equivalent of university
policy as a whole.
Yet faculties must admit, with becoming modesty, that
they alone do not constitute the University of Pennsylvania.
Studies of other essential elements in this or any similar in-
stitution—as of administrators or of students—will also ramify
in all directions. Delimitation of themes here is a matter of
focus and emphasis. The present study concentrates on the
academic staff and considers other categories only in so far
as they enter the resulting picture.
Problems and policies relating to university faculties are
complex; indeed, they display a disconcerting tendency to
appear more so the more one studies them. This complexity
must be broken down into certain topics for purposes of
5
analysis, even though these interrelate at many points. The
order of presentation need not be entirely arbitrary, since
it may correspond in some degree to the several stages of an
academic career. Such a career begins with appointment
and ends in retirement; while in midstream, so to speak, it
involves important matters which have simultaneous perti-
nence. Among the latter are such items—speaking of faculties
as a whole—as ranks and tenure, salaries and budgets, and
teaching, research, and other functions. All these, as well as
certain extraneous factors, bear upon that elusive something
known as "faculty morale"—the state of which is the final
test of a faculty program.
One must do more, of course, than simply to discuss each
of these matters in relation to the University of Pennsylva-
nia. What exists or occurs here can be interpreted only
against the background of what goes on in other American
universities—with particular reference to those of a com-
parable nature. No claim is made that other institutions have
been thoroughly looked into, and the variations among them
are such that many pertinent comparisons have doubtless es-
caped us. Yet interviews and correspondence with adminis-
trators and faculty members at a number of outstanding
universities, combined with the use of a growing literature
on higher education, have probably brought to our atten-
tion most of the major problems and many proposed solu-
tions which are current on the American scene.
It will also be well to compare the universities of this
country—including Pennsylvania—with those abroad. Our
awareness of this larger background is less complete than is
our knowledge of the national setting; yet to ignore the
former completely would be to share the provincialism
which has characterized much of the literature on higher
education in this country. Serious problems arise from cer-
6
tain peculiarities in the structures and functions—in the
anatomy and physiology—of American universities. Whether
these variations are pathologic or not is a matter of opinion.
But they must, in any case, be brought into the open and
this can be done only by viewing them from an international
perspective.
No detailed knowledge of foreign universities is needed
for this purpose, since reference to their more general fea-
tures will bring out meaningful contrasts. In order to refresh
our impressions, however, we indulged in limited corre-
spondence with European professors, and interviewed a
number of university men in London and in Paris.
Discussion of contrasts between European and American
universities brings one close to the central problems en-
countered in this country and will provide opportunity for
arriving at general principles. Lacking such principles, we
should have before us only a series of more or less disparate
topics to be considered in and of themselves. In so far as
principles can be formulated, on the other hand, we will
have attained what may be loosely called the philosophy of
a faculty program. No doubt some will not accept this "phi-
losophy," but in that case it may at least provide a point of
departure.
In view of these considerations, it seems best to begin
the report with a general discussion of the American scene
—with particular reference to the problems and role of facul-
ties in higher education. Such principles as can be accepted
will then be applicable, subsequently, to each aspect of the
faculty program at Pennsylvania. The outline of the report—
and it is surely orthodox to present an outline—will there-
fore take the form given in the table of contents.

Brief explanations may be added here concerning the

7
procedures and forms which have been employed. Time was
not available for an intensive study of the faculties of each
of the nineteen colleges of the University; and in any case,
such a study would have involved needless duplication of
the separate reports made on these colleges—or on subject-
matter areas—for the Educational Survey. Materials in other
reports re faculties were grist to our mill. We are particularly
indebted to certain of the studies, such as that of Professor
Keniston on the Humanities and that of Professor Fisher
on the Wharton School. Other University documents were
also helpful and were made readily available by administra-
tive officers.
In order to supplement formal information, we conducted
personal interviews with some twenty-five percent of the
Arts College faculty—selected on a basis of random sampling
with due regard to ranks. This provided some sense of the
attitudes of that staff, and like information was available on
the faculty of another large undergraduate college in the
Wharton School reports. The cooperation accorded us by
busy faculty members, some of whom had been bedeviled
by more than one Survey inquiry, was remarkable. In only
one instance was an interview refused, and the great ma-
jority welcomed us or gave every appearance of so doing.
We regret that time did not permit of similar studies in all
the colleges, but it seems likely that in the matter of atti-
tudes, such further investigation would have brought di-
minishing returns. The possibility that striking differences
might obtain within particular colleges was guarded against
by interviewing selected individuals therein.
A report on faculty policies necessarily involves matters
on which there are marked differences of opinion. Theoreti-
cally, one might picture these policies without reference to
their merits or limitations. Such detachment would be diffi-
8
cult in practice, however, for the very selection of data is
influenced by subjective viewpoints. And even if complete
objectivity were possible, it would probably be pointless.
Those who assemble the data also have their reactions
thereto, and those who read will wish to know what these
reactions are. Hence we shall often employ such normative
terms as "ought" or "should," but this usage simply implies
that a given policy is desirable "in our opinion."
A final word is in order, concerning terminology. As in
any inexact subject, the words employed in the literature on
higher education are at times ambiguous. Certain of these
ambiguities—such as the different meanings of "college,"
"undergraduate" or "professor"—are innocent enough, since
distinct connotations are well understood in distinct settings.
More serious is the appearance of divergent meanings within
the same context. The term "scholar," for example, is applied
both to the "productive" professor and to one who seeks rec-
ognition sans productivity. Confusion may be worse con-
founded if, in die second case, it is held that teaching really
is "publication" and should be viewed as such.
No fixed or final definitions are offered here. For the sake
of consistency, however, certain usages will be arbitrarily
adopted. We shall employ "colleges" as synonymous with
"schools" on the level of higher education (law, medicine,
etc.)—of which the arts college is only one. We may then
speak of "university" arts or medical colleges and of "inde-
pendent" arts or medical colleges, depending on whether or
not such units are parts of larger organizations. By "univer-
sities" we mean institutions which not only include a num-
ber of colleges, but which are also devoted to creative
functions (research, etc.) as well as to the transmission of
knowledge. The importance of the first of these functions is
obscured, in recent educational literature, by references to
9
university faculties simply as "college teachers." The latter
term will therefore be used only with due qualifications, and
the same holds true for such a vague appellation as "schol-
ars."
Such words as "professor" or "instructor" will designate
only ranks. "Faculties" or "academic staff" will refer to those
whose primary functions are teaching and/or research, in
distinction to those whose primary functions are administra-
tive in nature. The word "research" itself, incidentally, is
used in the scientific sense, but will be frequently coupled
here with other creative activities in such fields as law, lit-
erature, and the fine arts. In spite of these usages, some am-
biguities may creep in, but a conscious effort will be made
to keep the meanings clear.
The writer wishes to acknowledge, finally, his indebted-
ness to Professor Otto Pollak for valuable aid in preparing
certain of the materials essential to this study. Dr. Pollak
compiled the data and charts concerning salaries, and also
planned and participated in the interviews conducted with
members of the Arts College faculty.
RICHARD H . SHRYOCK
Baltimore, March, 1958

10
 Contents
Introduction 5

1. American Higher Education: Problems

and Policies 15

2. Principles of a Faculty Program 52

3. Reputation and Morale of the Penn-

sylvania Faculties 105

4. Recruitment 119

5. Rank and Tenure 131

β. Faculty Distribution 141

7. Appointments and Promotions 154

8. Suspensions and Dismissals 179

9. Salaries and Fringe Benefits 190

10. The Teaching Function 216

11. Research and Other Creative

Activities 237

12. Retirement 251

13. What of the Future? 255

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty
A Study in American Higher Education
 1
American Higher Education:
Problems and Policies
Undergraduate Colleges. The University of Pennsylvania
was once unique in this country in respect to its secular
status, and it was also the first American institution which
—beginning as an arts college—added a second college in
the form of a medical school. Like its counterparts, however,
it did not become a university until late in the nineteenth
century. Since then, it has developed along lines similar to
those followed elsewhere. Although no one institution is just
like another and variations may be significant, Pennsylvania
is fairly typical of our large, secular universities.
The stimulus which inspired universities in this country
was of German origin, but the resulting programs were taken
on by institutions whose forms derivedfrompre-existing arts
colleges. Without going into the history of these colleges or
of their English antecedents,1 one may note that their cul-
tural environment, their levels of instruction, and their ad-
ministrative structures were quite different from those
obtaining in the German institutions. A working combina-
tion, within American universities, of these two distinct tra-
ditions—of native forms and of foreign functions—was not
easy to achieve. Some analysis of the problems involved is
essential to an understanding of the present scene.
1 See especially, Richard Hofstadter and W. P. Metzger, The Develop-

ment of American Academic Freedom, New York, 1955.

15
 The American arts college was originally little more than
a secondary school and was so viewed abroad. Its students
subsequently became older and its studies more advanced,
but it still exhibits some of the characteristics of the second-
ary level—particularly during the first two of its four years.
Such colleges, for example, are still expected to act in loco
parentis. When American universities set up "graduate" or
advanced professional schools, the arts college found itself
midway in the educational pyramid between these upper
colleges and the strictly secondary level (high schools).
Whether or not a university originated in an arts college, it
always included one and termed the students therein "un-
dergraduates." Matters were further complicated by the es-
tablishment of professional or vocational colleges (business,
engineering, home economics) on this same undergraduate
level.
In Continental Europe, in contrast, students attend sec-
ondary schools until 18 or 19 years of age and then enter di-
rectly into professional training in universities. Although
European lycees or gymnasia may be criticized for their
rigidity, they have the reputation of giving a more disci-
plined academic education than do American secondary
schools. Hence American students who go directly from high
schools into university colleges of business or engineering
may be less well grounded than are their European counter-
parts.
If it were desired, the American system could be made
similar to the European in either of two ways. Students
could add the first two years of arts college to their high
school training and then be admitted directly to any univer-
sity college—provided they did not wish to complete four
16
years in arts. Certain advanced professional schools (medi-
cal) now approve this sequence, which promises to save their
students both time and money. And undergraduate profes-
sional schools (business, engineering) which wish to become
graduate, might find the transition easier if they required for
admission only two years of arts college rather than the tra-
ditional four.
If the first two arts years are organized into a "junior col-
lege," moreover, this can provide a respectable end-point for
the education of those who are unable or unwilling to go
further. Such a sequence, however, threatens the place of
the four-year arts college and so may meet with resistance if
adopted on a large scale.
As an alternative, time-saving may be effected on the
elementary and/or secondary levels. Students might be ad-
vanced more rapidly through the early grades, or they could
be admitted to a four-year arts college after only two years
of high school. From the viewpoint of the arts college, such
arrangements would have two advantages. If college stand-
ards are higher than those of high schools, the proposed se-
quence would bring students up to these standards at an
earlier age. And, in any case, the four-year college is pre-
served intact. The arrangement has been tried successfully
only with gifted students and is probably not applicable to
others.
Resistance to the elimination of four-year arts colleges is
based on more than vested interests. Just to the extent that
high schools provide less effective academic training than
do gymnasia, it may be held that Americans need two more
years of such training (at ages 19-21) than do Europeans.
Other observers, without necessarily admitting this, believe
that "liberal" education is so valuable that Europeans as well
17
as Americans should continue it through the ages men-
tioned.2
Somewhat distinct from the claims of liberal education, is
the appeal which the arts college makes in terms of "college
life." Such life is compounded of various activities which are
hard to disentangle. There can be real self-education within
student groups, but there is also a very human and wide-
spread desire to have a good time. Significant here is the
contrast between the old literary societies and the present-
day fraternities. In effect, many American colleges have be-
come institutions whose appeal is as much or more social
than it is educational in the traditional sense. Other societies
cannot afford and probably have never desired to indulge
large numbers of young people to this degree, and it is
doubtful if American society can really afford it much
longer.3
One encounters, in this connection, the usual difficulty
which faces those dealing with American undergraduates;
namely, student indifference to learning. Woodrow Wilson
once applied a stronger term here in referring to actual "re-
sistance." Such attitudes may be ascribed to various circum-
stances : to poor standards in lower schools, to lax admission
requirements, to competition between academic and social
values; or—more generally—to the whole nature of American
society and culture. But the arts and similarly non-techni-
cal, undergraduate colleges, where student nonchalance is
most apparent, must also take some of the blame.
2 Americans, during the Occupation, sought to graft the arts college on

to the German system as a "bridge" between the gymnasium and the uni-
versity; see O. F. Kraushaar, "New Stirrings in German Universities," Scien-
tific Monthly, LXXVI1I (April, 1954), 201-207.
3 "College life" had an aristocratic, English background, where it was

largely restricted to a privileged few at Oxford and Cambridge. It seenns to

have been taken over, in American colleges, in more widely distribmted,
somewhat democratized forms.
18
 General pre-professional education is given, in Europe, in
schools which require learning. Those who survive such
schools and go on are then free to sink or swim in a profes-
sional environment. The American arts college, in contrast,
continues general education until about age 21 in an envi-
ronment which lacks both the discipline of the gymnasium
and the motivations of professional schools. This lack of po-
tent pressures on students from without or from within
seems to be an inherent weakness.
It is sometimes claimed that the arts college, with its com-
promise between the rigidity of gymnasia and the freedom
of European universities, at least enables students to attain
"social maturity"—a view analogous to that of public school
educators re the cultivation of "the whole child." Quite apart
from whether this should be a primary aim of higher educa-
tion, one may question whether it is in fact realized. Do the
colleges advance the social or emotional maturity of their
students or do they, rather, indulge them in a somewhat
prolonged adolescence?
Whatever the answer here, the indifference of many un-
dergraduates to serious study is a fact.4 The phenomenon is
difficult to measure and there are numerous exceptions—not
only in terms of individuals but also in regard to superior
colleges. But we are speaking here of rank-and-file institu-
tions. If one doubts the generalization, let him compare the
attitudes of average undergraduates with those of average
students in law or in medicine.
Experience with "G.I.'s" after World War II suggests that
more serious attitudes might have developed if students had
been "on their own" or "out in the world" before matricula-
4 Excepting those in such technical, undergraduate schools as engineer-

ing. Recent studies have claimed, however, that there is now a trend to-
ward serious attitude among undergraduate personnel.
19
tion. One can even toy with the thought that undergraduate
colleges could improve the quality of student work if they
would require a record of previous self-support for admis-
sion.5 In regard to such previous experience, the large-scale,
informal systems of education in this country (within corpo-
ration, military, and adult programs) have an advantage over
the formal schools. Yet the latter must serve as the base for
the nation's entire educational effort.
Some faculty members combat student nonchalance, while
others accept it in the course of adjusting to their environ-
ment. It could be overcome to some extent by better teach-
ing. But in so far as this attitude persists, it pervasively
undermines all schemes for making college instruction more
effective.
There is no easy escape from these circumstances. No one
can wave a wand and transform popular attitudes toward
learning or turn high schools and colleges into gymnasia
overnight—even if we wished to do this. Transformations in
education usually take time. The tempo of change, neverthe-
less, may be quickened somewhat by impending social de-
velopments. Hence one must turn aside, at this point, in or-
der to inquire: What are the implications of extraneous
trends for higher education?

Mass Enrollments in Undergraduate Colleges. As everyone

knows, a wave of mass enrollments has reached the high
schools and is headed toward the undergraduate colleges.
Since its momentum derives from a growing desire "to go
to college" as well as from sheer increases in population,
both higher education and secondary are about to be in-
5 Since this was written, Dr. Herbert Scoville, Jr., of the C.I.A., has

reported that Russian students—after completing a 10-year school program

—are encouraged to "do a two-year interim stint in industry" before groing
on to "college" (a university); see Baltimore Sun, Nov. 2, 1957.
20
undated. It seems probable, from statistics now available,
that the number of students "in colleges and universities"
wiH about double between 1956 and 1970 (three million to
six million).® The prophets, of course, could be mistaken:
numbers may not multiply as rapidly as is anticipated. But
even if predictions prove to be twenty-five percent too high,
the figures will still be impressive.
Some part of increased enrollments will consist of good
students whose prototypes were denied a "college educa-
tion." But many others will wish to attend because college
life is pleasant, because graduation in itself opens the door
to opportunity,7 or just because "it is the thing to do." (Have
we not become a nation of conformists?) These motives are
not new, but they will soon move greater numbers and are
not calculated to produce serious students.
It may be hoped that fears on this score are exaggerated,
but the experience of high schools two generations ago gives
one pause. An early wave of enrollments reached this level
between 1890 and 1915, and there is some evidence that it
was associated with a decline in standards—among teachers
as well as among students.8 The few public high schools of
1850 were, indeed, rather similar to the colleges of that ere;
and one of them, Central High in Philadelphia, still gives
degrees. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they
were much like gymnasia, and they suggest what might have
been in American secondary education. Some of these old
β
An able analysis of all factois making for increasing enrollments is pro-
vided in F. J. Brown, "A Long-Range View of Higher Education," Anruus of
the Amer. Acad, of Polit. and Social Sei., vol. 301 (Sept., 1955), 1-β.
7
Seen in a Philadelphia bank window: "College graduates make $75,000
morel"
8
This may not be conclusive, since one should presumably check com-
parative performance tests for high school students, say, of 1850 and 1915.
Our assumption about the standards of the older high schools is based on the
qualifications of their faculties and on their curricula.
21
schools survived but, after 1915, they were increasingly lost
among the innumerable high schools of the now-common
type.
If it is true that high school standards declined with mass
enrollments, the danger that similar results will follow simi-
lar expansion on the college level cannot be ignored. No one,
of course, wants that. A national committee which welcomes
expansion declares, nevertheless, that "to masquerade mass
production of mediocrity under the guise of higher educa-
tion" would be disastrous.® But in practice, two views
emerge about the whole prospect. Some point with pride,
emphasizing the values of widening opportunity and mini-
mizing the dangers to standards. Others view with alarm and
reverse the emphasis.
Most Americans probably agree that the percentage in-
crease of those of college age who attend college (4 percent
in the early 1900*5, to 28 percent in 1950) has been "a spec-
tacular achievement."10 They may exaggerate the dis-
tinctiveness of this trend, since many other nations are
extending secondary schooling and increasing university en-
rollments. But until recently, at least, certain factors which
permitted exacting standards in European secondary schools
—class distinctions and selectivity—were barriers to mass ed-
ucation in the upper grades and also limited entree to uni-
versities.11 American high schools, in contrast, provide a
single high road to undergraduate colleges. Students in this
country may thus postpone career decisions until they are 17
or (if they attend arts colleges) 21 years of age. In addittion
9 President's Committee on Education Beyond the High School, Second
Report, July, 1957, 4.
1 0 J. F. Wellemeyer, Jr., in School and Society, Nov. 14, 1953, 145-152.
1 1 For current European discussions of this problem, see, e.g., ГО. C.

Doty's report on France in the New York Times, July 25, 1957.
22
to its democratic implications, such a sequence has obvious
advantages for the Tate bloomers."
As far as pre-college, academic requirements are con-
cerned, therefore, the American system makes it easier for
students to keep career lines open until they are relatively
mature. But one must recall that other circumstances in-
fluence the sum total of opportunity. There is evidence, for
example, that higher-education costs are greater for Amer-
ican students than for the British or German. Whether this
difference is fully counterbalanced by higher family incomes
in the United States we do not know.
It is usually said, of course, that the greater percentage
of college-age population enrolled in American colleges—as
compared with university enrollment abroad—is final evi-
dence of superior opportunity in this country. Yet even here
one must raise questions. Can we be sure that the figures
are comparable? Is the same age-group (18-21) used in
both cases? If so, are data for the last two years of 1усёеβ or
gymnasia (18-19) included in the total of European en-
rollments? And does the latter figure also include those at-
tending certain types of vocational schools which are outside
universities in Europe but inside them in the United States?
But let us assume that, even with allowance for such varia-
tions, the balance indicates a higher ratio of enrollments
and a correspondingly higher index of opportunity in this
country.
Those who emphasize this opportunity usually assume
that a large proportion of future high school graduates
should "go to college." The national committee just quoted
states that "at least 50 percent" of them will benefit from for-
mal education beyond secondary school.12 Whether this rel-
atively moderate estimate can be held to will probably
12
President's Committee, Second Report, 9.
23
depend, later, on the manner in which economic circum-
stances increase or diminish admission pressures. But any
attempt to set lower percentages in principle is viewed by
the committee as "unrealistic," and it stoutly declares that
this country will "never tolerate" an intellectual elite.13
There are critics, nevertheless, who take a dim view of the
American achievement. Mass education, they agree, has
widened opportunity, has tended to unify peoples of many
origins, and has benefited society by improving the train-
ing of the rank and file. But it has also, they hold, frustrated
the gifted while catering to the majority. And does not pres-
ent society need, more than did any preceding order, well-
planned training for excellence? 14
More serious is the view that mass education, if brought
up to the college level, will carry many young people be-
yond the point at which they are able or willing to benefit.
Or, if they benefit at all, this will be accomplished only at a
disproportionate cost to standards and hence to the interests
of competent students.
Joseph Wood Krutch, for example, indicts mass education
for discouraging non-conforming excellence, and remarks
that "we are more inclined to boast how many Americans
go to college than to ask how much the average college edu-
cation amounts to." 15 John A. Perkins, President of the Uni-
versity of Delaware, refers to the "alarming idea" that nearly
all high school graduates should go to college, regardless of
motivation or aptitude. He adds that colleges should take
warning from the experience of high schools, which now
13 President's Committee, First Interim Report, 1956, 4ff.
1 4 Here a standard study is Dael Wolfle, American Resources of Spe-
cialized Talent, New York, 1954. See also Μ. H. Trytten, "Meeting Man-
power Needs," Annals, vol. 301 (Sept. 1955), 19 ff.
IB "Is Our Common Man Too Common?", Saturday Review Reader, No.
3,1954, 47-59.
24
struggle with those who "should have gone to work."18 And
a faculty committee of the University of California protests
"against the current, unfortunate belief that university edu-
cation is a 'must' for everybody."1T
In the opinion of faculties, mediocrity as well as indiffer-
ence already characterizes many undergraduates. In the
Wharton School at Pennsylvania, for example, three-fourths
of the faculty declare that most students are incompetent or
competent only "to a moderate degree" in meeting the
School's objectives.18 Where this is true in present colleges,
rapid future expansion could easily make matters worse. If
so, not only will the better students be frustrated: faculties
also will suffer the consequences. The dangers are greatest,
of course, in the weaker, independent colleges or in state
units which must accept all high school graduates.
Private institutions may protect themselves from medi-
ocrity by maintaining or raising entrance requirements, or
by requiring high standards after admission. Yet even such
measures cannot prevent the number of qualified applicants
from rapidly increasing, and further complications mil then
ensue. Private colleges and universities have semi-public re-
sponsibilities and will feel some moral obligation to accept
as many qualified students as possible.
Fears have already been aroused among high school
youngsters about prospects for admission to college (particu-
larly to a "good" college) and pressures will mount There
will be a temptation to overcrowd facilities and to overbur-
den faculties—all in a good cause. Even if funds can be
found for expansion, can the faculties themselves be found?
1 6 Quoted in What the Colleges Are Doing, Ginn and Co, Spring,

1957, 3.
1 7 Study Committee No. 1, Fifth All-University Faculty Conference,

1950, 7.
1 8 Μ. E. Wolfgang, Wharton Faculty Attitude Survey, 1957, 8β.

25
At some point, traditional qualifications will have to be
modified if sufficient academic personnel are to be secured;
even if, meantime, the ratio of students to faculty has been
increased. And a modification of appointment standards may
either improve or lower those standards. The danger of the
latter outcome will be greatest in real universities, which
have other objects beside teaching in view. More must be
said on this theme under the headings of "Recruitment" and
of "Appointments."
Faced by these perplexities, some university presidents
have hinted or even said out loud that they will "hold the
line" against increased enrollments. Others state their inten-
tion to maintain standards but imply some hope of finding
resources which will permit of expansion. Thus, President
Griswold states that Yale "should not rush into bigness" but
adds that "perhaps society will find means of supporting its
increased demand for a Yale education." 19
At Pennsylvania, meantime, President Harnwell notes the
seeming incompatibility of quantity and quality but believes
that these can be reconciled. "We cannot ignore the rising
demands of students for a Pennsylvania education," he
states, "nor can we acquiesce in any lessened impact of Penn-
sylvania on the world of education. . . . At the same time,
we must maintain and improve the educational tradition . . .
which we cherish." With adequate funds, he concludes,
some fraction of additional, qualified applicants may there-
fore be admitted in conjunction with an actual improvement
in student standards.20
There is no doubt that an expansion of universities will be
in the public interest, if they can secure the necessary funds
and the qualified faculties. Although the chances for secur-
19 Report of the President to the Alumni, Yale University, 1954-55, 15-19.
20 President's Report, 1956, 8ff.
26
ing funds are fairly good, the prospect of finding greater
numbers of scholars who merit university appointments is
said to be dim indeed. Even if salaries are so raised as to
make academic careers more attractive, universities will
meet increasing competition for expert personnel from busi-
ness, government, and the professions. It is a nice question
whether society is not headed toward a point where its latent
"pool of brains" no longer will be sufficient to meet increas-
ing demands.
In any case, a private university which aspires to excel-
lence will presumably not increase its enrollments beyond a
point which is consistent with the highest standards concern-
ing students, facilities and staffs. This was the almost unani-
mous opinion of faculty members whom we interviewed at
Pennsylvania.
Thus to limit enrollments, in some institutions, is not only
consistent with democracy but is actually in its best interest.
Education for intellectual leadership is at least as essential
in a democracy as in any other type of society. It would be
unfortunate if only private universities in this country could
maintain such standards; but this will not necessarily occur,
since certain state universities also may be enabled to control
the size of student bodies.
The country clearly needs a limited number of institutions
—let us say, twenty-five—which are universities in the best
sense of the word. We are convinced that the University of
Pennsylvania, in terms of tradition, resources, and present
intent, belongs within this group.

Mass Opportunity and Training for Excellence. We can-

not consider here, in any detail, the problems of mass educa-
tion which parallel those of training for excellence. But
neither can the former be dismissed outright, since what is
27
done about mass education in and beyond high schools has
some bearing on what will occur within university colleges.
By the same token, these outside trends will be of concern to
university faculties. One may therefore conclude this discus-
sion with illustrations of how mass opportunity may be
reconciled with training for excellence.
Various efforts are being made, at present, to improve the
work of high schools and of undergraduate colleges. But the
value of most such proposals is limited by the fact that they
relate to only one stage in a long sequence. Improvement of
colleges does not overcome the inadequacy of high schools,
nor does a reorganization of the latter have much bearing on
what happens in elementary grades. Each level blames its
troubles on the preceding one, and a good time is had by all
except those who teach in the beginning years. Even if each
level is improved in itself, problems of correlation will re-
main—since the whole of the educational sequence is more
than the sum of its parts. Something may be accomplished, as
far as undergraduate colleges are concerned, by discussions
of the "transition" between high school and college,21 but
this matter does not reach to the heart of the problem.
What seems to be needed is a reorientation concerning for-
mal education as a whole. Education should be envisaged as
a continuing process, in which what occurs on one level af-
fects all those which follow. And the clue to reorientation is
provided in the point noted above; namely, that American
schools have provided opportunity for the masses at the ex-
pense of the gifted. Why not face up at all school levels to
the psychological realities, by providing continuing programs
for the better students as well as for the rank and file?
2 1 The very attention given to this matter highlights the fact that the

first college years represent a continuation of secondary schooling; hence the

difficulty of distinguishing, "in transition," between the upper high school
and the lower college years.
28
 Once this view is accepted, various means for implement-
ing it can be envisaged. The most sweeping proposal, made
recently by Paul Woodring,22 is that we should admit bright
youngsters into a four-year high school at age 11 instead of
age 14; and on into a four-year undergraduate college at 15
instead of at 17 or 18. They would then be ready for grad-
uate or professional school at 19 instead of 21. Meantime,
average students could proceed somewhat more slowly,
terminating their formal schooling by graduating from jun-
ior or community colleges at about 18. The third group
(of slow learners) could go through early grades at a re-
tarded pace, and could be set happily free upon completing
high school at 17—or even before graduating on this level.
Some differences in curricula, as well as distinct time
schedules, would probably be desirable in these three pro-
grams. Until about sixty years ago, most high schools cul-
tivated only traditional subjects which prepared students for
college. Emphasis was placed on training in the disciplines
as such. But when these schools expanded by enrolling many
who did not go on to college, secondary education was
proudly envisaged as an end in itself. And it then appeared,
to educators, that most students needed something more
than—or at least something different from—the old concern
about "training the mind." Objectives were broadened to
include personal, social, and vocational goals, so that chil-
dren could adjust to life as a whole. All this promised to
serve the majority more effectively than the earlier program
could have done.28
Meantime, however, these trends lent themselves to the
22 Paul Woodring, "Reform Plan for Schools," Life, Sept. 2, 1957, 123 ff.
Cf. A. S. Hopstock, "Gifted Children . . . Ed. Digest, XXIII, Oct,
1957, 4-6.
2 8 See, e.g., Will French and Associates, Behavioral Coals in General

Education in High School, New York, 1957, 21-24.

29
natural inclination of youngsters to "take things easy" and
have a good time. No such effort was involved in discussing
personal health or civic responsibilities, as had earlier been
required for some understanding of Latin or of mathematics.
Discipline in learning, moreover, was intentionally relaxed
in terms of "progressive education." Most handicapped in
consequence, as already stated, were those students who
were potentially qualified for higher education. Hence, in
recent years, academic critics have urged that high schools
return to old-type curricula and standards.24
The ensuing controversy results, in our opinion, from the
inability or unwillingness of either side to distinguish be-
tween the needs of average and of gifted students. Many
educators desire the same "life adjustment" curriculum for
all students, while academic critics demand an equally undis-
criminating discipline for all young minds. The controversy
can be resolved if here, again, there is a facing of facts. The
old disciplinary program will not meet the full needs of the
majority of students, and probably transcends the ability of
some of them. Conversely, such programs are just what fu-
ture university students do need in their secondary years.
Why not strive to give each element what will best serve its
own interest?
Curiously enough, however, one of the few points on
which many professional educators agree with their aca-
demic critics is in viewing separate programs for the gifted
as "undemocratic." The former are inclined to distrust "seg-
regation" of this sort as socially undesirable—as making for
an έΐίίβ. Meantime, academic critics ("neo-conservatives")
insist that all children can profit from disciplined learning in
2 4 See, e.g., the C.B.E. Bull. (Council for Basic Education), 1956, 1937.

Cf. R. A. Skaife, "Neo-Conservatives Are on the March . . . ," Ed. Digest,

XXIII, Sept. 1957, 8-10.
30
traditional subjects, and hold that any doubt on this score
reveals a lack of confidence in the common man. Each group
suspects the other of betraying democracy and claims—for
quite different reasons—that it alone maintains the faith of
the fathers.26
Our own view, as implied, is that democracy will be better
served by adapting education to the capabilities of the chil-
dren. We see nothing dangerous in restricting enrollment
in certain programs to students with superior records—pro-
vided all had the same opportunity and that provision is
made for the "late bloomers." Or, to put the matter in tra-
ditional American terms, we would maintain here the prin-
ciples of Jeffersonian rather than of Jacksonian democracy.
It should be added, however, that the education of distinct
groups need not be totally different. All children could be
taught together during the early, formative years. Broad
goals need not be entirely overlooked in the subsequent
training of the gifted, nor need standards be entirely relaxed
in the education of the majority. Some competitive processes,
for example, should be maintained or re-established among
this latter group, if we are to take seriously the claim that ed-
ucation is to prepare for life—or is to offer a normal segment
of life itself.2«
If distinct programs were developed for the three student
groups mentioned, mass opportunity would be preserved
and the gifted would not be delayed. The four-year under-
graduate college would be maintained, not for sentimental
reasons, but because it has a definite place in the whole
* C f „ e.g., A. S. Hoppock, "Gifted Children . . . " Ed. Digest, XXIII,
Oct, 1957, pp. 4-6; and Arthur Bestor, "Progressive Education: A Debate,"
N. Y. Times Mag., Sept 8, 1957, 25 ff.
2 8 Here, as so often, American schools seem the antithesis of European.

In some of the latter, competition has apparently been carried to unhealthy

extremes.
31
scheme. And in so far as this college received the better, pre-
professional students, something would be done to improve
undergraduate attitudes and faculty morale.
Difficulties there would be. How to overcome sentimental
claims that such arrangements would be undemocratic? How
and when to select the three groups and to preserve cross-
over opportunities at older ages? (The latter point is vital,
since an irrevocable decision at so early an age as 11 would
be unfair to some children.) And how, finally, to provide
for three programs within the same or in distinct schools? All
such questions, moreover, must be asked within an educa-
tional environment which resists major innovations, both
because it is inherently conservative and because it is subject
to no centralized control. Yet the questions are not neces-
sarily unanswerable, and education does change. Plans to
restrict enrollment in universities and the expansion of jun-
ior colleges, on the one hand, and efforts to do more for
gifted students in lower schools on the other, already point
in the directions suggested.
Whether by intent or not, the sort of program just noted
approaches the European system. The proposal that bright
youngsters should go through high school and college during
ages 11 to 19 offers a sequence which approximates that of
the gymnasium—which was always intended for the gifted.
And the arrangements suggested for average and for slow
learners also have their counterparts in European schools. At
first glance, then, these "revolutionary" proposals for Ameri-
can education seem only to return to the European tradition.
But there is at least one important distinction. Selection
within an American program would be based on ability,
rather than on this quality in combination with social dis-
tinctions.
In a word, both European and American education have
32
something to offer here, in a common effort to reconcile op-
portunity with training for leadership. The two purposes
must be distinguished, yet are not incompatible. But it will
require far more intelligent planning to pursue them simul-
taneously than it ever did to seek only one or the other. It
would seem that both European nations and this country are
converging on this dual objective; the first from a tradition
which long limited opportunity, and the second from a back-
ground in which excellence was often lost from view.

University Faculties and Undergraduate University Col-

leges. The existence of undergraduate colleges within Amer-
ican universities imposes problems unknown to most
European institutions. If the faculties of these colleges serve
primarily as teachers, the situation is similar to that obtain-
ing in most independent colleges. This had once been the
case, in some measure, even in European faculties. But dur-
ing the late eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, the teacher-
professor had been gradually replaced by the research man;
and research (or analogous creative activities) came to be
recognized as the distinctive function of a university.27 Fac-
ulty members continued to lecture but gave their time pri-
marily to original work.
This pattern was well-established by the time it was taken
over in the United States after 1875, when it became the
basis for the new graduate schools and was also adopted in
varying degrees within professional colleges. Universities
could, theoretically, have set up separate graduate faculties;
but because of considerations relating to finances or person-
nel, they appointed staffs who were expected to teach on
27 This transition varied with fields, as well as in time and place. In

German medicine, e.g., it occurred between about 1850 and 1870; see, e.g.,
Ε. T. Nauck, "Die Ersten Jahrzehnte des neurologischen Unterrichts in
Freiburg i. Br.," Ber. Naturf. Ges. Freiburg, vol. 46 (1956), 73.
33
both the undergraduate and graduate levels. In connection
with the latter, professors also devoted themselves to re-
search. Their two functions may therefore be defined as
those of undergraduate-teaching and of graduate-teaching—
research. The words "teacher" or "teaching" will hereafter
be used only for the first of these, and "research" for the sec-
ond, unless otherwise stated.
This dichotomy most clearly obtains within the combined
arts college-graduate school faculty, but it also appears
within any undergraduate college—or even within any de-
partment—in the degree to which such a unit pursues both
aims. The first procedure would be viewed, abroad, as of an
advanced, secondary nature; the second as a university func-
tion.
Out of this situation, almost inevitably, have arisen certain
difficult questions. To which function should a faculty give
chief attention, for which should it be primarily trained, and
what may be done with those who do not conform to prevail-
ing emphases? Or should each function receive its due, in
which case will they not compete for the greater share of
staff time? Since some university men feel strongly about
these matters, they may summarize them under the heading,
"Teaching versus Research," though this phrase seems a bit
on the provocative side.
The old arts faculties, even within so-called universities,
devoted themselves primarily to teaching, combined with
such reading as they thought necessary thereto. In reaction
against this after 1875, institutions which wished to become
"real universities" emphasized research and gave little at-
tention to teaching—appointing and promoting staffs ac-
cordingly. The Ph.D., with its research-training, became a
requirement for appointment,28 and research-based publica-
28 Except in certain professional schools.
34
tions were equally essential for promotion thereafter. At
Pennsylvania, an apparently official pamphlet advised fac-
ulty members who were absorbed in teaching to go else-
where.
This state of affairs, established as early as about 1900, was
not often challenged prior to the 1940's. But since then, it
has come increasingly under attack, both from college au-
thorities and from professors of education who had long cast
critical eyes at college teaching.29 The reaction may be
viewed in part as the usual swing of the pendulum, but it
also picked up momentum in response to the enrollment
pressures already mentioned. If undergraduate colleges are
to be swamped with students, is it not necessary to re-ex-
amine all aspects of their teaching obligations?
A strong case may be made for this view, both on prag-
matic grounds and on principle. Pragmatically, "college
teachers" must be recruited and trained, and there will never
be enough of them if they must all "take" Ph.D.'s. May their
training not actually be improved by preparation which is
not so lengthy, but which envisages the teaching function
for which most of them will be employed? And since person-
nel shortages are feared, methods must be sought for making
the most of this "scarce resource." Meantime, in principle,
there is a moral obligation to provide undergraduates with
the most effective teaching possible.
All these points seem applicable to independent, under-
graduate colleges; but, unfortunately, those who present
them rarely consider the peculiar needs of university col-
28
See, e.g., C. P. Smith, "Sins of Higher Education," Jour, of Higher
Education, vol. 26, 1955, 31 ff. The Asso. of Am er. Colleges maintain»! a
committee on teaching, 1922-1936, but the Chairman thought the results
dubious. Not until the late 1940's did this Asso., the U. S. Office of Educa-
tion, the Amer. Council on Education, and the Fund for the Advancement
of Education become active in this field; C. G. Dobbins (Ed.), Expanding
Resources for College Teaching, Wash., Amer. Council on Ed., 1956, 4.
35
leges. Moreover, present enthusiasm for the teaching role
carries some critics to the extreme of deprecating or even
ridiculing research. They accord the latter some lip service,
but have more to say about the sins committed in its name.
Much research, as judged by resulting publications, is in-
dicted as dull, repetitive and trivial. Not only is it "point-
less" in itself, but the pressure to publish results early "is a
main cause of uninspired, ineffective and . . . unscholarly
teaching" 30
Such comments certainly raise the spectre of "teaching
versus research," as far as conventional publications are con-
cerned, though it rarely occurs to the critics that this argu-
ment cuts both ways. Will not the pressures of routine
teaching, within a university, make for uninspired or trivial re-
search? At any rate, we are assured that there is no natural
conflict here—no real dichotomy. Some academic men are
said to "do research" and "publish" the results by teaching;
while others do it and publish through printed materials.
Some are "teaching scholars," the others "writing scholars."
And of the two, it is claimed that non-writers communicate
scholarship "more widely—even perhaps more fully and in-
telligibly" than do those who rely "on the uncertain device of
distributing reprints." Indeed, "our confidence in the magic
of print" might be shaken if we knew "how soon, how well,
and how widely the contents of those 'little articles' are
known . . ." 81
In a word, many research-based publications (in the usual
sense) are not only considered trivial: they are said to reach
a smaller audience than does research-based teaching. Here
comparison is made between minor or inferior publications,
80 F. W. Strotbman (ed.), The Graduate School Today and Tomorrow
("Committee of Fifteen"), N. Y., Fund for the Advancement of Education,
1955, 19.
8» Ibid., 17.
36
on the one hand, and good teaching on the other. Imagine
the reverse, if one compared inferior teaching with the bet-
ter publications!
Meantime, the dichotomy is still there under new names:
"teaching scholars" and "writing scholars." This terminology
has the merit of implying that the first type may be as worthy
of respect as the second. There is a qualitative distinction
even here, however, since the "scholarship" of writers is ex-
posed more directly to outside, professional criticism than
is that of teachers. The latter may be scholarly and effective
or they may not, but even in the latter case they usually "get,
by"; whereas the writer must meet at least minimal stand-
ards of industry and intelligence. Laziness is not unknown
among college teachers but can hardly be ascribed to prolific
writers.
A more serious distinction relates to the respective audi-
ences of the two groups; the first reaching immature stu-
dents, the second the world of learning. The first function is
shared by all undergraduate faculties, the second is the dis-
tinctive function of university (that is, "graduate") faculties.
If it were not for this second activity, universities would
lose their chief raison d'etre. Thus it is quite proper and
desirable that university staff members should be known
first for their publications or the equivalents in creative
work. Discussions which lump all "college teachers" together
ignore this peculiar responsibility of university-college facul-
ties.32 And pleas that such faculties should give as much (or
more) attention to undergraduate teaching as to original
work, may undermine the research tradition so painfully
built up in this country a half-century ago.
3 2 There are, of course, a number of superior, independent colleges

whose faculties do considerable writing and guide some graduate work. To

the extent that this is done, such institutions are taking over the university
function.
37
 The policy which a real university should follow, in con-
fronting the respective claims of teaching and of research,
can be stated quite simply. Every effort should be made to
improve teaching within the limits set by the primary obli-
gation to research. By the same token, any program to im-
prove teaching which will inhibit research—for example,
staffing a department largely with "scholar-teachers" rather
than with "scholar-writers"—should be suspect. The imple-
mentation of this policy, of course, is far from simple, and
this will be discussed below under "Teaching" and "Re-
search."
Some critics may conclude that, if such a policy is fol-
lowed, university undergraduate teaching will become
inferior to that in independent colleges.33 This point remains
a matter of opinion, however. Some are confident that the
able research man is almost automatically a good teacher;
and, what is more, that teachers gradually become ineffective
if they do not "do research." If so, university teaching has an
advantage. But others are equally convinced that some re-
search men make dull teachers, and claim further that good
teachers can "stay alive" without bothering with publica-
tions.
Most faculty members interviewed at Pennsylvania took
the first of these views, but a minority upheld the second.
The truth is, we have no objective data by which to compare
them: each observer is apparently swayed by instances
which he recalls—one way or the other. But note that in a
university which has rewarded only research, good, non-
writing teachers have not often survived and so do not come
within the view of colleagues. Majority opinion in independ-
ent colleges might be more favorable toward such men.
34
The great majority of the latter report that they give primary heed to
teaching; as, for example, in promotion policies.
38
 One may hold, nevertheless, that there is no clear case
against university teaching as compared to that in independ-
ent colleges. In thefirstplace, much can and should be done
to improve the former, within the limits of the policy stated
above. In the second place, although in our opinion there are
some dull "scholar-writers," there are many others whose
originality is stimulating to good students. Hence it is not
surprising that certain outstanding arts colleges are located
within universities.
There remains the question whether, in the interest of re-
search faculties, it would be better to disassociate them alto-
gether from undergraduate teaching." This could be done in
either of two ways. The first would be to assign some faculty
members to only undergraduate teaching, thus relieving oth-
ers for exclusively graduate instruction. The line between the
two groups could be drawn within departments, or it could
separate entirely distinct college and graduate school facili-
ties.
A separation of faculties would be difficult in the case of
a university whose staff had long been accustomed to operat-
ing on both levels. Some tensions might result if professors
in arts college departments were pulled out and organized
into a graduate school staff, while their colleagues were as-
signed to a separate, undergraduate faculty. There would
tiien be two departments in each field, one having greater
prestige than the other.
The most feasible procedure here, therefore, is gradually
to assign a few department members to an exclusively grad-
S 4 Some scholars may wish to avoid, temporarily or permanently, all

teaching responsibilities—even with graduate students. Such men, if not

free-lances, may find refuge in research institutes; but a university, as such,
is committed by tradition to some sort of teaching function. In so far as a
university sets up exclusively research chairs, it is becoming another type of
institution and such chairs should therefore be viewed as exceptional.
39
uate function. As a corollary, the non-writing but able
teacher (who occasionally appears within a university col-
lege) could be assigned entirely to undergraduate teaching.
This could be done without formal distinctions and within
existing departments. Such an arrangement is approached
now in departments in which certain men, usually senior in
rank and age, work primarily on the graduate level. Moreover,
room could be made, in any large department, for men who
are qualified to do both undergraduate and graduate teach-
ing. The senior man who is able and willing to teach a gen-
eral course is an asset to any department.
A more drastic means for relieving research faculties from
teaching would be to abandon university undergraduate col-
leges altogether. Professional or vocational colleges which
have been undergraduate could survive by moving up to the
graduate level—a step already taken by schools of business
and of education in certain universities. This process would
be made easier, as mentioned, if such schools accepted the
graduates of junior as well as of four-year arts colleges. If,
meantime, the university arts college were closed, the univer-
sity would then operate only on a graduate-professional level
in the European manner.
Logically, such a program is appealing. There would be no
further straddling of secondary and advanced educational
levels, fewer worries about "teaching versus research," and
less concern about the attitudes of immature students. About
seventy-five years ago, several American institutions—Cath-
olic University, Johns Hopkins, Clark—seem to have had this
ideal in mind, but it did not materialize in the American set-
ting.
The great obstacle to so drastic a reorganization is, of
course, the arts college itself. Unlike undergraduate profes-
sional schools, this unit by definition could not move up to
40
graduate status: its functions could only be abandoned to in-
dependent colleges. Yet, to abolish the university arts college
would involve a multitude of difficulties. Most obvious would
be that of unscrambling the faculty, many of whom would
no longer be needed. Moreover, the alumni—with their mem-
ories of "college days"—would be alienated, and their reac-
tions might dry up sources for university funds. Even the
general public would be disturbed if it saw universities tak-
ing such action just when mass enrollments demand all the
arts colleges which can be maintained.
The university arts college, despite its inherent weaknesses
and the complications which its existence imposes, seems too
thoroughly implanted to be uprooted in the near future.
Whether its hold will eventually be loosened by the growth
of junior colleges or whether it will survive in a sort of gym-
nasium-sequence for gifted students is a problem which is
not peculiar to university colleges. Meantime, in most in-
stitutions, it is more feasible to distinguish graduate and
undergraduate functions within the present university frame-
work than it would be to disrupt that framework altogether.

The Government of Universities. American universities

differ from the foreign not only in their relations to lower
schools and to levels of instruction, but also in terms of ad-
ministration or management.
Since most European universities are state institutions and
derive funds from ministries of education, the latter have ex-
ercised—to a degree varying with different times and places
—considerable influence over university conditions and poli-
cies. The development of research in German universities
after 1850, however, was paralleled by increasing Lehrfrei-
heit and quasi-independence from the ministries. Moreover,
even if the minister of education was an influential figure, his
41
post was external to the universities and he could hardly
wield the control which might have been exercised by a local
official. There were, indeed, no intramural administrative of-
ficers other than honorary rectors and secretarial aides. Pol-
icy decisions, including appointments, were largely in the
hands of professors who acted through some sort of council
or senate.
This German pattern was similar to that established in
other European states, for example, in Italy. Some variations
on it existed in particular countries, however, as in England
and in The Netherlands. The old English universities were
private institutions, and some municipal universities devel-
oped in that country and elsewhere. In England and in The
Netherlands, moreover, superior councils (made up wholly
or in part by laymen) were given ultimate, legal authority
over universities. In the former country, local administrative
officers appeared—vice chancellors, registrars, and princi-
pals. But the latter exercised influence through bodies which
also represented faculties, instead of acting independently
of the staffs. As for the superior councils or "courts," these
bodies simply approved faculty recommendations except in
rare instances when public or national policy seemed to be
involved. As the rector of Belfast University recently put it,
power in British universities moves up from below.35
When one speaks of faculties in this context, it should be
remembered that only professors are indicated. Lower ranks,
such as English lecturers or German privat dozenten, rarely
had any share in institutional government. This situation was
not particularly undemocratic in times and places where
35
Sir Eric Ashby, "Self Government in Modern British Universities,"
Science and Freedom, No. 7, Dec., 1956, 3-5. A reading list on higher edu-
cation, chiefly in Europe and the U.S.A., is available at the International
Universities Bureau, 19 Ave. Kleber, Paris, XVIе. For current developments,
see Bull, of this Bureau.
42
most of the faculties were of senior rank; that is, within uni-
versities which recruited professors from lycies or gymnasia
and so had few junior-rank men of their own. The latter ar-
rangement, parenthetically, implied a quality in secondary
school faculties which can rarely be obtained when—as in the
United States—there is almost no transfer of personnel from
secondary to higher education.
Wherever a body of lower-rank men grew up within a uni-
versity, however, "faculty rule" of the sort described meant
a rule of all the staff by professors. At best, this provided an
enlightened oligarchy; at worst, a sort of gerentocracy. Senior
men, of course, tend to dominate any institution. But in order
to check this, conscious attempts have been made in Eng-
land to bring lower university ranks into the administrative
pattern and these efforts seem to have been moderately suc-
cessful.36
At first glance, nevertheless, European universities seem
less democratic than American in this matter of lower-rank
participation in faculty affairs. The latter, for example, com-
monly admit all or nearly all ranks to department meetings,
college faculties, and even to university senates. How far
junior ranks really participate in determining faculty policies
in this country is another matter. Practice varies widely from
college to college and from department to department.
Americans were quite aware of European patterns when
they set about creating universities after 1875. But little heed
was given to these forms because a homemade plan for
higher education was already at hand in the arts college—an
institution governed by a lay board. Now, the early American
college had been a small, relatively simple institution, easily
36
"Representation of Teaching Staffs on University Governing Bodies,"
The Universities Review, vol. 16, Nov., 1943, 2.
43
understood by resident trustees. And as long as this was the
case, trustees exercised direct oversight—the president being
little more than the chief (and sometimes, only) professor.
But as a college became larger and more complicated, the
governing board could no longer follow all operations and
depended more and more on the president's guidance. Mean-
time, in the stronger colleges, secular trends reduced the
proportion of clergy (who had known much about the earlier
education) on the boards, and increased the proportion of
business men and lawyers (who knew relatively less about
the new education). This shift further encouraged trustee
dependence on presidents. The net result was a delegation of
much trustee authority to the chief administrative officer.
This type of government was familiar to those who
founded American universities, and it seemed the most natu-
ral thing in the world to adopt it in the new institutions.
Even "state universities" modeled themselves on the older
arts colleges, although their presidents had to deal with
legislatures as well as with trustees.
Since presidents, in effect, held final power over appoint-
ments and policies, they could dominate colleges or univer-
sities in a manner quite unknown abroad. German critics,
astonished by this phenomenon, referred to the American
university president as an autoritativer Führer,37 But the sit-
uation seemed normal enough to American trustees, many of
whom looked upon a university as analogous to a business
corporation.
In due time, as universities expanded, presidents delegated
some of their powers in turn to administrative associates. A
hierarchy of vice-presidents, provosts, deans, and other of-
3 7 Prof. Brandl of the Univ. of Berlin, writing in Deutsche Rundschau,
April, 1907; quoted in J. McK. Cattell (Ed.), University Control, N. Y.,
1933, 398.
44
ficials appeared, some members of which dealt with business
affairs, others with the educational. These officers, who might
or might not be academic men, usually received higher sal-
aries and possessed greater public prestige than did the pro-
fessors. In any case, they became a distinct group, and a
dichotomy appeared in terms of "administration and fac-
ulty." Some presidents consulted more frequently with a
"cabinet" of associates than they did with professors.38
On the lowest rung of the administrative ladder were the
departmental "heads" or "chairmen." These men had respon-
sibilities for their respective units and worked with deans in
this connection, but they also served as professors among
their peers. They functioned, to use a military analogy, as the
"non-coms" of the university hierarchy, and provided the
most direct contact between administrative officers and the
faculty rank and file.
Running counter to other administrative trends, meantime,
was a tendency to grant certain powers to faculties—particu-
larly to those in the stronger institutions. The attainment of
considerable faculty control resulted, in some instances, from
the relatively independent position of certain academic
groups. This situation was most obvious in strong profes-
sional schools where staff members were not necessarily de-
pendent on colleges for income or professional standing.
Professor Lon Fuller of Harvard University observes, in
this connection, that law schools in general "rank high among
university departments in their capacity for self-govern-
ment"; and he adds that "among the leading law schools of
the United States it is unlikely that any would be found to
8 8 It was this aspect of American university government which often

surprised foreign observers. See, e.g., M. Callery, Let Unicersitis . . . Aux

Etat» Unis, Paris, 1917, 43 ff.; Ε. R. Holme, The American University: An
Australian View, Sydney, 1920, 34 ff.
45
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 notkot nuoriksi vesoiksi. pihlajat pyhille maille, pajut maille
paisuville, katajat karuille maille, tammet virran vieremille.»

Toisissa yhteyksissä tulee lisäksi vain joku puulaji kuten lehmus,

vaahtera, pähkinä, omenapuu, kuusan sekä haapa, joista useimmat
ovat Suomessa harvinaisia. Vanhimmaksi, alkuperäisimmäksi puuksi
mainitaan eräässä kohden paju (»paju puista ensimäinen»), joka
luonnontieteilijäin mielestä ei liene mikään mahdottomuus
suoperäisessä maassamme. Että tammikin, joka oikeastaan kuuluu
eteläisempiin seutuihin, on joutunut karjalaisiin runoihin, saanee
selityksensä siitä, että siihen on liittynyt uskonnollisia ja taruperäisiä
mielikuvia. Sitä nimitetään näet »Jumalan puuksi» ja se kasvaa
»aikojen alussa» maailman suurimmaksi puuksi, jommoisia tavataan
melkein kaikkien kansojen sadustossa:

»Ojenteli oksiansa, levitteli lehviänsä, latva täytti taivahalle,

lehvät ilmoille levisi, piätti pilvet juoksemasta, hattarat
hasertamasta, päivän peitti paistamasta, kuuhuen
kumottamasta.»

Pari kertaa se kasvaa niinikään suomalaisen mielikuvituksen

ihmepuuksi:

»Tammelle tasaiset oksat, joka oksalle omenan, omenalle

kultapyörän, kultapyörälle käkösen: kun käki kukahtelevi,
kulta suusta kuohahtavi, vaski leuoilta valuvi, hopea
kohahtelevi, kultaiselle kunnahalle, hopeiselle mäelle.»

Oikea suomalainen laulun ja soiton puu on kuitenkin koivu,

runollisin, kesäisin ja neitseellisin kaikista puulajeistamme. Se se
jätetään ennen muita käen kukuntapuuksi, siitä saadaan soiva koppa
Väinön kanteleeseen, niinkuin kerrotaan ihanassa koivahaisen
runossa (44:n alussa). Koivu ja käki, kevät ja kesäisen ikävän
kajahtelu lehdoissa, siinä lyyrillinen Kalevalan tunnelma, jolle
tavataan vertauskohtia myöhemmässä lyriikassamme, sekä
suorasanaisessa että runomittaisessa. — Muista puulajeista näyttää
pihlaja olleen enimmin suosittu ja rauhoitettu. Se oli »pyhä puu» ja
»pihapuu», niinkuin on vielä tänä päivänä itäisimmässä Suomessa.

»Pyhät on pihlajat pihalla, pyhät lehvät oksasilla, pyhät

oksat pihlajissa, marjaset sitäi pyhemmät.»

Pihlajata käytettiin myöskin arpapuuna, ennustamassa tulevia

asioita. Omenapuu näyttää vaikuttaneen suuresti suomalaisten
kauneusaistiin hedelmillänsä, sillä »omenaksi» tai »kultaomenaksi»
nimitetään Kalevalassa usein sitä, mikä on kalleinta, rakkainta tai
kauneinta, olipa se sitten pikku lapsi, nuori neitonen tai arvokas
eläin.

Tavallisten viljalajien — rukiin, vehnän, ohran, kauran, pavun ja

herneen — esiintyminen osoittaa puolestaan maanviljelyksen
edistyneisyyttä, samaten kuin kaskeaminen ja pellonkyntö. Ainakin
ohra näkyy viihtyvän hyvästi poltetussa maassa, sillä siitä mainitaan
nimenomaan:

»Kasvoi ohra mieltä myöten, tähkät kuuella taholla, korret

kolmisolmuisena.»

— Tarkemmin kuin minkään muun viljelyskasvin käyttely on

kuvattu liinan kylvö, kyntö, kasvaminen, perkaaminen ja rihmaksi
valmistaminen runossa 48. Nauris, kaali ja humala mainitaan myös
Kalevalassa syventymättä niiden viljelysmuotoihin.
 Metsämarjoista tavataan mansikka, puola, mesimarja, vaapukka,
karpalo, muista kasveista kaisla, ruoko, saraheinä, kanerva, matara,
apila, vehka, lumme, kultalumme ja putki sekä lukemattomat
nimettömät kukat ja heinät, joista mehiläinen käy mettä imemässä.
Mansikka kasvaa tietysti »mäellä», punapuola »kankahalla», karpalo
»suolla», lumme »lammin päällä», saraheinä »sammalessa» j.n.e.
Satumaiseksi on marjoista muodostunut ainoastaan se punapuola,
jonka syöminen tekee Marjatan raskaaksi. Se oli kooltaan suurempi
ja kannaltaan kiinteämpi kuin tavallinen puolukka:

»On marja näkemiänsä, ylähähkö maasta syöä, puola

ilmoin luomiansa. alahahko puuhun nousta.»

Alhaisemmista kasvilajeista mainitaan ainakin sieni ja naava.

*****

Harvan, tuskinpa minkään maan kansanrunous esittänee ihmistä

niin läheisessä yhteydessä ympäröivän luonnon ja sen eläin- ja
kasvimaailman kanssa kuin Kalevala sen tekee. Suomalainen silmä
on säilyttänyt harvinaisen paljon ja harvinaisen teräviä piirteitä
näkemistään luonnonilmiöistä. Saattaa melkein sanoa, että
Suomenmaan kasviston ja eläimistön huomattavimmat lajit ovat
edustettuina Kalevalassa, väärentämättömässä muodossaan. Mutta
runoutemme ei pyri suinkaan tyhjentämään tätä aiheenrikkautta eikä
maalailemaan havainnollisesti luonnonesineiden kokonaiskuvia,
kuten esim. homerolainen runous. Kalevala antaa vain nopeasti
vilahtelevia yksityispiirteitä, värivaikutuksia, ääriviivoja. Homeron
laulujen kuvaamistapa on plastillista, Kalevalan impressionistista.
Edellisten väkevyys on rauhallisessa ulkonaisten muotojen
esittämisessä, jälkimäisen vivahdusten rikkaassa väreilyssä ja
sisäisessä rytmielossa. Tämä lakkaamatta piirteestä piirteeseen,
ilmiöstä ilmiöön rientäminen särkee usein kokonaiskuvan, kasaa
päällekkäin liian paljon aineksia, jotka eivät kuulu elimellisesti
yhteen. Varsinkin kalevalainen säekerto (parallelismi), joka liittää
uuden mielikuvan entiseen melkein joka säeparissa, on suurena
syynä luonnottomiin ajatushyppäyksiin ja kokonaiskuvan häilyvään
epämääräisyyteen. Se tarjoo samalla hyvän tilaisuuden niille
liioitteluille, joista ovat valaisevina esimerkkeinä m.m. edellämainitut
suunnattoman suuret kokot ja käärmeet, hauit, ja härät, tammet ja
puolukat. Ilmanalamme utuisen hämäryyden syyksi niitä tuskin
käynee lukeminen, tuskinpa katseen puuttuvan terävyydenkään
syyksi, sillä onhan se, kuten edellä on osoitettu, tavoittanut luonnon
ilmiörikkaudesta monet piirteet niin kirkkaasti ja täsmällisesti kuin
toivoa saattaa. Ja paisutuksissakin pitää aisti kiinni aina ilmiöön
kuuluvista ominaisuuksista, vaikka se kasvattaa ne erä erältä yli
luonnollisten mittasuhteiden: ihmekokolla on siivet ja pyrstö ja nokka,
hauilla hampaat j.n.e. Tämmöiset liioittelut todistavat vain ajatuksen
nuoruutta ja mielen lapsellista herkkyyttä. Epäilemättä ovat ne
»partasuut urohot», jotka Karjalan saloilla muistissaan säilyttivät ja
edelleen kehittelivät Kalevalan runoja, tunteneet samanlaista naiivia
mielikuvituksen iloa kuvatessaan esim. Pohjolan härän mitattomuutta
kuin lapset tuntevat, kun he kilpailevat keskenänsä keksimällä toinen
toistaan mahdottomampia ominaisuuksia jollekin esineelle. Se on
jonkunlaista hengenvoimistelua sekin, vaikka sangen alkeellista
laatua. Siinä suhteessa Kalevala on ja pysyy aina nuorten kirjana,
ihmeellisenä muistomerkkinä Suomen kansan lapsuudenpäiviltä.
LOITSU JA TAIKA KALEVALASSA

Esittänyt F.A. Hästesko

Kalevalan loitsurunot, ollen vain liitoksia muitten runojen välissä,

eivät ole niin monipuolisia, eivätkä edusta kaikkia lajeja, että niistä
voisi saada kokonaiskuvaa suomalaisesta loitsurunoudesta. Mutta
samalla loitsiminen ja siihen läheisesti liittyvä taikominen kuitenkin
muodostavat siellä niin huomattavan sijan, että Kalevalaa
ymmärtääkseen täytyy tutustua myös tähän puoleen kansan uskoa.

Vihkosessa »Ihminen ja luonto Kalevalassa» on jo osoitettu se

läheinen suhde, mikä vallitsi luonnon ja ihmisen välillä. Luonto ei
esiintynyt Kalevalan kansalle kuolleena, vaan elollisena olentona,
joskin tuo elollisuus yleensä oli vain mielikuvituksen tuotetta eikä
todella olevaksi oletettua. Loitsu, jolla luontoa pyritään hallitsemaan,
perustuu toiselta puolen ajatukseen, että ollaan tekemisissä todella
elävän olennon kanssa ja toiselta puolen siihen varmuuteen, että
ihminen sanansa voimalla voi ajatella luontoa käskevänsä. Niinpä
hän tautia parantaessaan luulottelee lukevansa loitsujaan elävälle
olennolle, jommoiseksi tautia yleensä kuviteltiin; taikkapa karjalle
menestystä pyytäessään hänen ajatuksissaan kulkevat monen
monet haltijat, joitten apua hän odottaa. Loitsiessaan taas esim.
veren juoksua pysähtymään tai manatessaan rautaa sen pahoista
töistä, hän ajatellen itseään luontoa voimakkaammaksi asettuu
käskijän asemaan: »seiso, veri, niinkuin seinä!» j.n.e.

Suomalaiselle loitsurunoudelle kaikkein ominaisimpia piirteitä on

se, että loitsu sellaisenaan ei auta, ellei loitsija tunne sen esineen tai
asian alkuperää, syntyä, jota hän loitsun kautta tahtoo muuttaa.
Vasta tietäessään käärmeen synnyn on loitsijalla täysi valta; sen yli;
tauti voidaan karkoittaa, kun on tiedossa, mistä se on saanut
alkunsa; pakkanenkin voidaan tuhotöistä estää, jos tunnetaan sen
synty j.n.e. Syntyjen syvien laulaminen ja taitaminen on Kalevalassa
miehuuden mitta. Se on mietiskelevän suomalaisen luonteen
tunnusmerkki.

Kalevalan loitsuissa esitetään useita synlyrunoja. Sellainen on

esim. käärmeen synty. Kun Lemminkäinen kutsumatta lähti Pohjolan
häihin oli hänellä, kuten hänen äitinsä ennusti, monet vaarat tiellä
tarjona. Viimeisenä oli hirveän suuri, pirtin hirttä pitempi ja portin
patsasta paksumpi käärme, joka vartioi Pohjolan porttia. Ohi
päästäkseen Lemminkäinen siinä kyllä luki kaikki käärmelukunsa,
mutta »ei sitä mato totellut, ain' ylös kähäelevi, ylös kielin kiehahtavi,
suin ylös suhahtelevi, pään varalle Lemminkäisen». Kun eivät enää
muut luvut auttaneet tarttui Lemminkäinen voimakkaimpiin sanoihin,
käärmeen synnyn lukemiseen:

Syöjätär, paha olento, sylki veteen. Tuuli tuuditteli sylkeä meren

selällä kuusi vuotta ja seitsemän kesää. Siinä vesi sen pitkäksi
venytti, päivä paistoi pehmeäksi ja vihdoin aalto ajoi rannalle. Sattui
kolme Luonnotarta kulkemaan rannalla, näkivät sylen siinä ja
arvelivat itsekseen:
 mipä tuostaki tulisi, kunpa luoja hengen loisi, tuolle silmät
siunoaisi?

Luoja sen kuuli ja sanoi:

pahasta paha tulisi, konna konnan oksennosta, jos ma

tuolle hengen loisin, silmät päähän siunoaisin.

Mutta häijy hiisi kuuli tämän keskustelun, tekeytyi itse luojaksi:

antoi Hiisi hengen tuolle konnan ilkeän kinalle, syöjättären

sylkemälle; siitä kääntyi käärmeheksi, muuttui mustaksi
maoksi.

Yksityisiä ruumiinosia myöten Lemminkäinen osoitti käärmeen

alkuperän: sydän ja suu sillä on syöjättären sydäntä ja suuta; silmät,
korvat, kieli, vieläpä pää ja selkäkin ovat hiiden ja lemmon
laitoksista; häntä paholaisen palmikosta; hampaat, ikenet ja suolet
kalman kotoa, vihdoin aivot ja tunto veden kuohusta.

Kun Lemminkäinen näin tarkalleen näytti käärmeen halvan ja

ilkeän alkuperän, masentui käärmeen mahti ja se tunsi olevansa
voimakkaamman olennon edessä. Siksipä se kääntyikin syrjään ja
antoi Lemminkäisen kulkea ohitsensa.

Monivaiheinen Lemminkäinen joutui kerran pakkasenkin kanssa

taisteluun. Hän oli juuri entisen sotatoverinsa Tieran kanssa
sotaretkellä Pohjolaan, kun pakkanen heidät matkalla yllätti. Se jääti
heidän veneensä keskelle selkää ja oli palelluttaa miehetkin. Silloin
täytyi Lemminkäisen taas turvautua loitsutaitoonsa, masentaa
pakkasen voima. Hän käski »Pakkasta, Puhurin poikaa, talven
poikaa hyyelmöistä» kylmämään maita ja soita, kiviä ja puita, vaan ei
ihmistä. Varminta oli samalla laulaa pakkasen syntykin:

Turmiollinen oli pakkasen isä, kelvoton sen äiti ja heistä sitten

Pakkanen pajuilla syntyi, kova ilma koivikolla, Pohjolan

koan perässä, pimentolan pirtin päässä.

Mutta kukas pakkasen imetti, kun sen äiti ei siihen kyennyt:

Kyyhyt pakkasen imetti, kyy imetti, käärme syötti, nännillä

nenättömillä, utarella uuttomalla. Pohjoistuuli tuuitteli, vilu ilma
viihytteli, pahoilla pajupuroilla, hereillä hettehillä.

Kesät se sitten eleli kylmissä hetteissä ja suurilla soilla, mutta

talvisin aina nousi metsiin, lepikköön ja koivikkoon. Siellä se kylmi
puita ja heiniä, puri puut lehdettömiksi, kanervat kukattomiksi. — Se
oli synty pahantapaisen Pakkaspojan.

Synnyn lukemalla oli loitsija saanut kysymyksessä olevan pahan

valtaansa. Nyt oli hänen mahdollista hyvin suoriutua tehtävästään:
tuli vain lukea tarvittavat sanat, joilla joko manattiin paha pois tai
parannettiin sen aikaansaamat viat. Voimakkaimmat manaussanat
on Kalevalassa pantu Antero Vipusen suuhun hänen loitsiessaan
pois sitä kummaa tuskaa, minkä hän sisässään tuntee. Ankara oli
kipu ja outo oli tauti, siksi hän lukikin monenkertaiset tautien
syntysanat: joissakin niistä tämänkin taudin alku varmaan tuli
mainituksi. Nyt oli itse tauti manattava pois: jos olet tauti tuulen
tuoma, niin mene tuulen tietä myöten —; jos olet vieno veen vetämä,
niin vieno vetehen mennös, alle aaltojen ajaite —; lienet kalman
kankahalta, niin pakene kalman kankahalle —; jos metsän hiiden
hinkalosta olet, pakene sinne jälleen —; ja
 tuonne sinun manoan — Pohjan pitkähän perähän, Lapin
maahan laukeahan, ahoille vesattomille, maille
kyntämättömille, kuss ei kuuta aurinkoa, eikä päiveä ijässä.

Siellä on taudilla muka onnellinen olo, siellä on puihin hirviä

hirtetty, siellä on syödä nälkäisen taudin. — Väliin ikäänkuin
irroitetaan taudin juuria:

Lähe nyt kumma kulkemahan, maan paha pakenemahan,

ei täällä sinun sijoa, siankana tarpehella, muunne muuttaos
majasi etemmä elosiasi, isäntäsi istumille, emäntäsi astumille.

Koetetaan hyvälläkin, luvataan kyyti antaa:

josp' on kyytiä kysynet, anonet ajohevoista, kyllä mä sulle

kyyin laitan ja annan ajohevoisen: hiiess' on hyvä hevonen,
punatukka tunturissa, jonka turpa tulta tuiski, nenä varsin
valkeata.

Toisinaan täytyy turvautua uhkauksiinkin:

Kun et vääjänne välehen, eronne emotoin rakki, saan minä

kokolta kourat, veren juojalta vekarat, joilla konnat
kouristelen, ilkeät ikiasetan.

Yhä uudelleen neuvotaan paikkoja, mihin taudin pitäisi mennä:

Rutjan koskehen kovahan, palavahan pyörtehesen, johon

puut päin putoovat perin vierevät petäjät. —

Ellei tauti sielläkään tahdo pysyä, tiedetään paikka, mistä se ei

pääse, ellei loitsija itse käy päästämässä: Tuonelan musta joki,
Manalan ikipuro.
 Voimakkaat ja laajat ovat myös ne sanat, joilla vanha ukko
pysäyttää veren juoksun Väinämöisen polvesta. Kuultuaan raudan
synnyn, joka tässäkin oli välttämätön, koska rauta oli haavan
aiheuttanut, ukko loitsii:

Piäty veri juoksemasta, hurme huppelehtamasta, — veri

seiso kuni seinä, asu hurme kuni aita, kuin miekka meressä
seiso, saraheinä sammalessa, paasi pellon pientaressa, kivi
koskessa kovassa.

Jos veren tekee mieli liikkua, niin liikkukoon se ihmisen suonissa,

ihon alla. Ei miehen veri maahan jouda; sydämessä sen sija on,
keuhkon alla kellari. Ei se ole joki juoksemaan, eikä lampi
laskemaan, siksi sen tulee pysähtyä juoksemasta:

Tyy'y nyt tyyris tippumasta, punainen putoamasta, kun et

tyy'y, niin tyrehy, tyytyi ennen Tyrjä» koski, joki Tuonelan
tyrehtyi, meri kuivi, taivas kuivi sinä suurna poutavuonna,
tulivuonna voimatonna.

Toisia lukuja taas, joissa itse tautia ei manata, vaan koetetaan

vioittunut kohta saattaa entiseen asuunsa, sanoisimme mieluimmin
parannussanoiksi. Niin parannetaan esim. tulenpolttama
toivottamalla, että pohjoisesta, Lapista tai Turjasta tulisi tyttö, jolla on

hyyssä sukka, jäässä kenkä, hallassa hamehan helma,

hyinen kattila käessä, jäinen kauha kattilassa.

Häntä pyydetään palaneeseen paikkaan viskomaan jääsiruja ja

kylmää vettä. Ellei tästä muka apua, pyydetään Pohjolasta miestä,
jolla on
 hyiset kintahat käessä, hyiset saappahat jalassa, hyinen
lakki päälaella, hyinen vyöhyt vyölle vyötty.

Hän tuokoon hyytä ja jäätä Pohjolasta, missä sitä on paljon, siellä

kun

hyyss' on virrat, jäässä järvet, ilmat kaikki iljennessä, hyiset

hyppivät jänikset, jäiset karhut karkelevat, hyiset joutsenet
joluvat, jäiset sorsat soutelevat.

On selvää, että tällaiset sanat toisinaan vaikuttavat virkistävästi

sairaan mielentilaan: yhä toistuva jään ja hyyn mainitseminen esim.
tuottaa virkistävää vastavaikutusta palohaavoja kärsivän sairaan
tuskiin. Niinikään silloin kun runsaan verenvuodon ehkäisemiseksi
luetaan:

huuan hiiestä patoa, jolla verta keitetähän, hurmetta

varistetahan ilman tilkan tippumatta, punaisen putoamatta,

saadaan sairaassa verta jähmetyttävä pelonalainen tunne

syntymään.

Usein täytyi kuitenkin loitsijan tuntea, että hän ei yksin kyennyt

tointansa suorittamaan, vaan hänen täytyi pyynnöillä ja rukouksilla
kääntyä jonkin jumalan tai haltijan puoleen. Kerta toisensa jälkeen
toistuu loitsuissa ihmisen nöyrä tunnustus:

en puhu omalla suulla, josp' on suu suloisin, puhelen

Jumalan suulla, suloisempi suu Jumalan,

tai:
 Kun ei lie minussa miestä, onp' on taatto taivahinen, pilven
päällinen Jumala, joka miehistä pätevi, urohista kelpoavi!

Niinpä esim. tautia pois manatessa toisinaan pyydetään Kivutarta

eli Kiputyttöä ottamaan taudit huostaansa, viemään ne Kipuvuorelle
ja siellä keittämään tai painamaan ne kiven sisään:

Kiputyttö, Tuonen neiti, — ota kivut kippahasen, vaivat

vaskivakkasehen, kivut tuonne vieäksesi, vammat
vaivutellaksesi keskelle Kipumäkeä, Kipuvuoren kukkulata,
siellä keittäös kipuja, pikkuisessa kattilassa, yhen sormen
mentävässä, peukalon mainittavassa. Kivi on keskellä mäkeä,
reikä keskellä kiveä, — siihen kivut kiskotahan, pahat vammat
vallatahan

Tärkeissä paikoissa loitsija aina kääntyykin jonkin jumaluuden

puoleen.
Itse Väinämöinenkin pyysi Ukolta apua parantaessaan kalevalaisia
Pohjolan emännän lähettämistä taudeista:

Oi Ukko ylijumala, pilven päällinen jumala tule tänne

tarvittaissa, ajaite anottaessa nämä tuskat tuntemahan,
hätäpäivät häätämähän.

Samoin vanha ukko, joka Väinämöisen polvenhaavan paransi,

rukoili:

Oi Ukko ylinen luoja, — tule tänne tarvittaissa, käy tänne

kutsuttaessa, tunge turpea kätesi, paina paksu peukalosi
tukkeheksi tuiman reijän, paikaksi pahan veräjän.
 Monen monia muita jumalia ja haltioita, osittain tekaistuja, osittain
todella oleviksi ajateltuja, loitsija lisäksi pyytää avukseen. Kun
Lemminkäisen äiti parantelee poikaansa, niin hän pyytää Suonetarta
asettelemaan suonet ehjiksi paikoilleen:

Suonetar sorea vaimo, — siallensa suonet laita,

asemellensa aseta, suutatusten suuret suonet, valtasuonet
vastatusten, limitysten liutasuonet, pienet suonet
pääksytysten.

Lisäksi hän pyytää Suonetarta kasvattamaan kalvoa, missä se on

särkynyt; solmielemaan, mistä se on katkennut; siihen verta
lisäämään, mistä sitä on pois päässyt; mistä luu luhoksi mennyt,
siihen luuta lisäämään; mistä lihaa lähtenyt, siihen lihaa liittämään.

Kun Ilmarisen emäntä keväällä laskee karjansa laitumelle, rukoilee

hän Suvetarta, Etelätärtä, Hongatarta, Katajatarta, Pihlajatarta,
Tuometarta, Mielikkiä metsän emäntää, Tellervoa Tapion neittä
katsomaan hänen karjaansa, varjelemaan sitä soista soiluvista,
lähtehistä läilyvistä, antamaan sille ruokaa ja juomaa metsässä, että
se hyvin säilyisi ja paljon maitoa kantaen illoin kotiin saapuisi. Jos
karhu sen kimppuun pyynnöistä huolimatta pyrkisi, tulisi Ukon
muuttaa karja kiviksi ja kannoiksi. Useat rukousluvut ovat hyvin
kauniita. Viittaan esim. metsämiehen lukuihin. (14 runo).

Toisinaan loitsija ei käytä ainoastaan sanoja, vaan tarvitsee joskus

rohtojakin. Kun Lemminkäisen äiti oli saanut poikansa jo muuten
terveeksi, henkeä vain enää puuttui, niin hän pyysi mehiläistä,
paraitten voiteitten tuojaa, hakemaan tähän tarvittavia lääkkeitä:

Mehiläinen meiän lintu, mieluisasta metsolasta, metsän

kukkien kuningas, tarkasta Tapiolasta, lähe nyt mettä
 noutamahan, monen kukkasen kuvusta, simoa tavottamahan,
monen heinän helpehestä.

Mehiläinen haki nämä lääkkeet, mutta ne eivät kuitenkaan olleet

kyllin hyviä näin vaikeaan tapaukseen. Uudesta paikasta sen tuli
vielä käydä niitä noutamassa:

mehiläinen lintuseni, lennä tuonne toisialle, ylitse meren

yheksän, saarehen selällisehen, metisehen manterehen.

»Mehiläinen mies kepeä, taasen ienti liihytteli», mutta eivät vielä

sieltäkään saadut lääkkeet olleet kyllin päteviä. Kaikkein paraimmat
tässä olivat tarpeen, kaikkein korkeimmasta paikasta ne oli haettava,
sieltä minne mennään »yli kuun, alatse päivän, taivon tähtien
välitse»:

mehiläinen ilman lintu, lennä tuonne kolmas kerta, ylähäksi

taivahasen, päälle taivosen yheksän.

Ja mehiläinen »lenti luojan kellarihin, kamarihin kaikkivallan» ja toi

ne tepsivät voiteet, »joillapa Jumala voiti, luoja vammoja valeli».
Niillä nyt äiti voiteli poikaansa ja sai hänet jälleen henkiin.

Loitsuihin kuuluvat vielä sellaiset luvut, joita Lönnrotin mukaan

voisimme kutsua taikasanoiksi, vaikka ahtaammassa merkityksessä.
Taikasanoilla tarkoitan sellaisia loitsuja, joissa itse sanoille ei anneta
parantavaa tai muuta vaikuttavaa voimaa. Ne ovat vain ikäänkuin
täydentämässä ja selittämässä sitä taikatoimintaa, jolla siinä on
päämerkitys. Kun Pohjolan emäntä oli kalevalaisilta kuun ja auringon
kätkenyt piiloon, niin Väinämöinen arvan avulla koetti saada selville,
mihin nuo valoa antavat taivaankappaleet olivat hävinneet. Hän
leikkasi ohuet lepän lastut, asetti ne nurinkäännetyn seulan pohjalle,
joka oli eri osiin jaettu ja jossa kukin osa merkitsi jotakin paikkaa,
missä etsittävien kappaleitten arveltiin olevan. Seulaa liikutettiin ja
samalla sanottiin:

Sano totta luojan merkki, juttele Jumalan arpa, minne

meiltä päivä päätyi, kunne meiltä kuu katosi, kun ei ilmoisna
ikänä nähä noita taivahalla.

Lastu hypähtää nyt johonkin kohtaan seulan pohjalla ja siitä

päätellään vastaus. Mutta arpaa täytyi myös varoittaa totta
puhumaan, ettei se katsoisi arpojan mieltä, vaan sanoisi totuuden:

sano arpa syytä myöten, elä miehen mieltä myöten, tuo

tänne toet sanomat, varmat liitot liikahuta. Jos arpa
valehteleisi, niin arvo alennetahan, arpa luoahan tulehen,
merkki miesten poltetahan.

*****

Kalevalassa kerrotaan vielä lukuisia ja mitä ihmeellisimpiä

tapauksia, mitä loitsuilla on suoritettu. Jo kolmannessa runossa
tapaamme Joukahaisen, joka on lähdössä Väinämöisen kanssa
kilpailemaan laulutaidossa, kumpi heistä olisi voimakkaampi
loitsimaan. Kotiväki pelkäsi, että Väinämöinen laulaa Joukahaisen

suin lumehen, päin vitihin, kourin ilmahan kovahan, käsin

kääntymättömäksi, jaloin liikkumattomaksi.

Mutta Joukahainen lupasi puolestaan laulaa Väinämöiselle

jalkahan kiviset kengät, puksut puiset lantehille, kiviriipan

rinnan päälle, kiviharkon hartioille, kivikintahat kätehen,
päähän paatisen kypärän.
 Pitkin Kalevalaa sitten kerrotaan ihmeistä, joita loitsutaidolla on
suoritettu. Milloin loitsii Väinämöinen »tuulen tuppurihin», niin että se
tempaa suuren kuusen juurineen maasta ja kiidättää sen sekä sen
latvaan kiivenneen Ilmarisen ilmojen halki Pohjolaan, milloin hän
loitsimalla valmistaa itselleen veneen, milloin mitäkin. Jokainen
Kalevalan sankari tällaiseen työhön kykenee: Ilmarinen loitsii uuden
morsiamensa linnuksi järven rannalle; Kullervo laulaa sudet ja karhut
lehmiksi ja ajaa ne kotiin; Pohjolan väkikin loitsii Lemminkäisen
hevosen kiveksi ja reen pajupensaaksi. Ja etenkin Lemminkäinen on
tällaisesta loitsutaidosta kuuluisa: hevosensa ja rekensä
menetettyään hän laulaa itsensä kokoksi, siten pelastuen
Pohjolaisten kostolta; Pohjolassa hän laulaa kaiken kansan minkä
minnekin: ahoille vesattomille, lampihin kalattomihin, Rutjan koskeen
j.n.e. ja saarelle pakoon tullessaan hän naisten suureksi ihmeeksi

lauloi pihlajat pihoille, tammet keskitanhuille, tammelle

tasaiset oksat, joka oksallen omena, — lauloi hiekat
helmilöiksi, kivet kaikki kiiltäviksi, — lauloi kaivon kartanolle,
— lauloi lammit tanterille, —

Ja tupaan tultuaan hän lauloi tuopit täytehen olutta, lauloi itselleen

kultaveitsen j.n.e. Eipä ihme, että naiset kaikki häneen niin
ihastuivat, että siinä Lemminkäinen »kunnepäin on päätä käänti,
siinä suuta suikatahan, kunne kättänsä ojenti, siinä kättä
käpsätähän». Erittäin voimakas on esim. kuvaus Lemminkäisen ja
Pohjolan isännän loitsukilpailusta: Lemminkäinen oli kutsumatta
tullut Pohjolan pitoihin, käyttäytyi siellä ylimielisesti ja pyysi olutta
juodakseen. Mutta siitä vihdoin Pohjolan isäntä suuttui ja

lauloi lammin lattialle

Lemminkäiselle etehen
 ja käski hänen siitä juomaan. Lemminkäinen kopeana vastasi,
ettei hän ollut mikään vaimojen vasikka ja

lauloi sonnin lattialle,

härän suuren kultasarven.

Härkä joi lattialla olevan lammin suuhunsa, mutta silloin Pohjolan

isäntä

suen suustansa sukesi, senpä lauloi lattialle. surmaksi

lihavan sonnin.

Ei hätäillyt Lemminkäinenkään:

lauloi valkean jäniksen lattialle hyppimähän sen sutosen

suun eessä.

Pohjolainen puolestaan

lauloi koiran koukkuleuan tuon jäniksen tappamahan.

Lemminkäinen laulaa sitten oravan, jota koira käy haukkumaan;

vielä tulee esille näätä, kettu ja kana, jonka ilmassa liitelevä haukka
viimein sieppaa mukaansa.

Hirveä oli loitsun voima. Antero Vipusen loitsiessa

aallot seisattui selällä, lainehet lahen perällä, puuttui virran

vieremästä, Ruotjan koski kuohumasta, vuotamasta Vuoksen
koski joki Juortanin pysähtyi.

Mutta intoa ja voimaa tarvittiin loitsijassakin. Lemminkäisen

laulaessa,
 tulta iski turkin helmat, valoi silmät valkeata.

Mutta miten on tämä ymmärrettävä? Onko kansa todella uskonut

loitsulla olevan tällaisen voiman? Me ymmärrämme helposti sellaiset
loitsut, joissa asioitten syntyä tutkitaan, jotta saataisi voima niiden yli;
ymmärrämme manaukset, joissa sanan voimalla koetetaan pahaa
saada vaikenemaan; ymmärrämme rukous-, parannus- ja
taikasanatkin. Mutta miten on selitettävä sellainen loitsu, joka
kykenee muuttamaan ihmisen linnuksi tai kiveksi, kutsumaan
tyhjästä esiin eläimiä j.n.e.? Onko kansa ajatellut sen mahdolliseksi.
On huomattava ensin, että Kalevalan runot kuvastavat aikaa, jolloin
kansamme mielikuvituksessa todellisuus ja lapsellinen usko eivät ole
jyrkästi erotettuja. Onhan meillä paljon taikauskoa, jossa samanlaiset
ajatukset tulevat esille ja jotka ovat kansamme kesken olleet täydesti
luotettuja. Onhan monia neuvoja, millä saa itsensä näkymättömäksi,
on ollut usko, että ihminen yöllä voi muuttua painajaiseksi, joksikin
kummalliseksi olennoksi, joka ahdistaa eläimiä ja tästä
olomuodostaan edelleen muuttua kuolleeksi esineeksi, tadikoksi
j.n.e., onhan todeksi uskotuita tarinoita, että höyheniä ilmaan
puhaltamalla on saatu aikaan sotajoukko j.n.e. Suurempia ihmeitä ei
kerrota loitsullakaan tehtävän. Sen lisäksi on toiseksi huomattava,
että milloin loitsulla tällaisia tekoja kerrotaan tehdyn ei koskaan
esitetä sitä loitsua ja niitä sanoja, millä se olisi suoritettu. Näin ollen
eivät siis tällaiset loitsukuvaukset osoita, että niitä todellisessa
elämässä olisi koetettukaan tehdä, on vain ollut sellainen usko, että
niin voidaan tehdä. Siksi ei myöskään käytännöllinen tarve ole
sellaisia loitsuja synnyttänyt.

Olemme täten joutuneet toiselta puolen lähelle taikomista, jossa

myös luulottelun pohjalla ilman loitsusanoja koetetaan suorittaa
vaikeita tekoja, ja toiselta puolen rajattoman mielikuvituksen alalle.
 Edellisestä mainittakoon muutamia esimerkkejä. Kun
Lemminkäinen Pohjolanmatkallaan tahtoi päästä tulista koskea
vartioivan kokon ohi, niin hän taskustaan:

otti teiren sulkasia, hieroa hitustelevi, kahen kämmenen

välissä, sormen kymmenen sovussa, siitä syntyi teirikarja,
koko parvi koppelolta.

Samalla tavalla hän susien käsistä päästäkseen otti uuhen villasia,

hieroi niitä kämmeniensä välissä ja puhalsi kerran käteensä, niin

uuhet juoksuhun uhahti koko lauma lampahia, karitsoita

aika karja,

Taikominen ei kuitenkaan aina ole ihmeitten tekoa, vaan

useimmiten salaperäistä uskoa näkymättömiin voimiin. Kun
Pohjolassa huomattiin vieraitten tulevan, niin koetettiin tuliin
pannuista pihlajista päättää, olivatko tulijat ystäviä vai vihollisia; sillä
puu

kun on verta vuotanevi, niin silloin sota tulevi, kunp' on

vettä vuotanevi, aina rauhassa elämme.

Jos toivottiin saunalla olevan erikoisen menestystä ja onnea

tuottavan tai tauteja parantavan vaikutuksen, tuli se eri lailla
lämmittää. Valmistaessaan Ilmarista Pohjolaan kosimaretkelle hänen
sisarensa

Annikki hyvänimikkö lämmitti saloa saunan puilla tuulen

taittamilla, ukon ilman iskemillä; kivet koskesta kokosi, saattoi
löylyn lyötäväksi, veet lemmen lähtehestä, heraisesta
hettehestä.
 Veden ympäröimällä kivellä arvellaan niinikään olevan voimakkaan
vaikutuksen. Lähtiessään Pohjan neittä kosimaan Lemminkäinen
varustelee itseään Pohjan kansan taikoja vastaan

tien kahen jakaimessa sinisen kiven selässä — kosken

kopruilla kovilla veen vankan vääntehessä.

Vesikivellä Tuonelankin akka kutoi nuotan, millä koetettiin estää

Väinämöisen poispääsyä; siellä takoi Ilmarinen suitset, joilla hän
suisti Tuonen karhun.

Kun iso tammi, joka oli pidättänyt pilvet juoksemasta, oli kaadettu,
saatiin sen oksista ja lehdistä onnea tuottavia kappaleita:

kenpä siitä oksan otti, se otti ikuisen onnen, kenpä siitä

latvan taittoi, se taittoi ikuisen taijan, kenpä lehvän leikkaeli,
se leikkoi ikuisen lemmen.

Samanlainen ajatus: luulo ihmisen ulkopuolella oleviin ja ihmisen

tietämättä vaikuttaviin voimiin, mutta joita ihmisen tuli koettaa päästä
hallitsemaan, on sekä loitsun että taijan pohjana. Tällainen ajatus
näkymättömistä voimista synnytti myös ajatuksen teoista ja
tapahtumista, jotka ihmiselle hänen omilla voimillaan olivat
mahdottomia suorittaa.

Suuri voima ajateltiin loitsijalla olevan hallussaan. Luulisi siis, että

loitsutaitoisen ihmisen oli turvallinen kulkea, sillä tuskin oli sellaista
paikkaa, mistä hän ei luvuillaan olisi selviytynyt. Luonnonesteet
hänen edestään väistyivät, vaarat kaikki vältettiin, vihamiehensä hän
saattoi loitsia kuolleeksi kiveksi. Mitä enää olisi kaivattu? Mutta
sittenkin elämä oli hyvin turvatonta. Olihan toisellakin samanlainen
voima hallussaan. Eihän voinut sanoa, missä jonkun kateellisen