第89章

I soon became intensely interested in my work, and looked forward to it every day with pleasure. The first part of it was instruction in modern history as a basis for my lectures which were to follow, and for this purpose Iused with the sophomores two text-books. The first of these was Robertson's ``Philosophical View of the Middle Ages,'' which forms the introduction to his ``Life of Charles the Fifth.'' Although superseded in many of its parts by modern investigation, very defective in several important matters, and in some things--as, for example, in its appreciation of medieval literature--entirely mistaken, it was, when written one hundred years ago, recognized as a classic, and it remains so to this day. It was a work of genius. Supplemented by elucidations and extensions, it served an admirable purpose in introducing my students to the things really worth knowing in modern history, without confusing them with masses of pedantic detail.

The next text-book which I took up was Dr. John Lord's ``Modern History,'' the same which President Woolsey had used with my class during its senior year at Yale. It was imperfect in every respect, with no end of gaps and errors, but it had one real merit--it interested its readers.

It was, as every such work ought to be, largely biographic.

There was enthusiasm, a sort of ``go,'' in Dr. Lord, and this quality he had communicated to his book, so that, with all its faults, it formed the best basis then obtainable for further instruction. Its omissions and errors I sought to rectify--as Woolsey, I am sorry to say, had never done to any extent--by offhand talks and by pointing out supplementary reading, such as sundry chapters of Gibbon and Hallam, essays by Macaulay, extracts from Lingard, Ranke, Prescott, Motley, and others. Once a fortnight through the winter, the class assembled at my house socially, ``the more attractive young women of the little city being invited to meet them; but the social part was always preceded by an hour and a half's reading of short passages from eminent historians or travelers, bearing on our classroom work during the previous fortnight. These passages were read by students whom I selected for the purpose, and they proved useful from the historical, literary, and social point of view.

For the class next above, the juniors, I took for textbook preparation Guizot's ``History of Civilization in Europe''--a book tinged with the doctrinairism of its author, but a work of genius; a GREAT work, stimulating new trains of thought, and opening new vistas of knowledge. This, with sundry supplementary talks, and with short readings from Gibbon, Thierry, Guizot's ``History of Civilization in France,'' and Sir James Stephen's ``Lectures on French History,'' served an excellent purpose.

Nor was the use of Guizot's book entirely confined to historical purposes. Calling attention to the Abb

Bautain's little book on extemporaneous speaking, as the best treatise on the subject I had ever seen, I reminded my students that these famous lectures of Guizot, which had opened a new epoch in modern historical investigation and instruction, were given, as regards phrasing, extemporaneously, but that, as regards matter, they were carefully prepared beforehand, having what Bautain calls a ``self-developing order''; and I stated that I would allow any member of my class who might volunteer for the purpose to give, in his own phrasing, the substance of an entire lecture. For a young man thus to stand up and virtually deliver one of Guizot's lectures required great concentration of thought and considerable facility in expression, but several students availed themselves of the permission, and acquitted themselves admirably. This seemed to me an excellent training for effective public speaking, and several of my old students, who have since distinguished themselves in public life, have confessed to me that they found it so.

My next and highest duty was giving lectures to the senior class and students from the law school. Into this I threw myself heartily, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing my large lecture-room constantly full. The first of these courses was on the ``Development of Civilization during the Middle Ages''; and, as I followed the logical rather than the chronological order,--taking up the subject, not by a recital of events, but by a discussion of epochs and subjects,--I thought it best to lecture without manuscript or even notes. This was, for me, a bold venture. I had never before attempted anything in the way of extended extemporaneous speaking; and, as I entered the old chapel of the university for my first lecture, and saw it full of students of all classes, I avowed my trepidation to President Tappan, who, having come to introduce me, was seated by my side. He was an admirable extemporaneous speaker in the best sense, and he then and there gave me a bit of advice which proved of real value. He said: ``Let me, as an old hand, tell you one thing: never stop dead; keep saying something.'' This course of lectures was followed by others on modern history, one of these being on ``German History from the Revival of Learning and the Reformation to Modern Times,''

another on ``French History from the Consolidation of the Monarchy to the French Revolution,'' and still another on the ``French Revolution.'' To this latter course I gave special attention, the foundation having been laid for it in France, where I had visited various interesting places and talked with interesting men who recalled events and people of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic periods. For a text-book foundation I read with my lower classes Mignet's ``History of the Revolution,'' which still remained what Carlyle pronounced it--the best short summary of that great period.