capacity for growth. Now this idea cannot be applied to all members of a society except where intercourse of man with man is mutual, and except where there is adequate provision for the reconstruction of social habits and institutions by means of wide stimulation arising from equitably distributed interests. And this means a democracy. In our search for aims in education we are not concerned, therefore, with finding an end outside of the educative process to which education is subordinate. Our whole conception forbids. We are rather concerned with the contrast which exists when aims belong within the process in which they operate and when they are set up from without. And the latter state of affairs must obtain when social relationships are not equitably balanced. For in that case, some portion of the whole social group will find their aims determined by an external dictation; their aims will not arise from the free growth of their own experience, and their nominal aims will be means to more ulterior ends of others rather than truly their own." (p. 117).

It is here shown that in any other than a democratic society one group will control the education or experiential growth of another group. Our problem, however, was not quite this, but was instead whether an adult may control and direct to some end other than further development as such the growth of the child. If he may, the educational aim can be social participation and social improvement. If he may not, the educational aim cannot be social improvement nor any other end outside the educative process, but must be more growth. From the further discussion of the same chapter one would infer that growth from day to day, growth simply for its own sake, is the aim. The educator is compared to a farmer, for whom "seeds sprout, rain falls, the sun shines, insects devour, blight comes, the seasons change. His aim is simply to utilize these various conditions; to make his activities and their energies work together, instead of against one another. It would be absurd if the farmer set up a purpose of farming, without any reference to these conditions of soil, climate, characteristics of plant growth, etc. His purpose is simply a

Would it not be equally absurd to consider the conditions only, without reference to his purpose a livelihood?

foresight of the consequences of his energies connected with those of the things about him, a foresight used to direct his movements from day to day."5 Now, is it more than the so-called "gentleman farmer" who is here depicted? For this kind of an agriculturist the purpose of farining may indeed be the development of the soil, etc., for its own sake. He needs to take no thought for the morrow, nor for the winter. The real farmer must do so.6 And if we may continue the comparison-is not this true also of the real teacher? Can any serious teacher, whose ultimate purpose is, we will say, the improvement of society, concern himself entirely with promoting the child's growth from day to day? Must he not direct it into desirable channels? And if he does so, is he not violating the spirit of the passage just quoted? He may indeed be in harmony with the principles laid down in chapter three on Education as Direction, but is he not putting behind him all the assertions of chapters four, five,. and six that "education is all one with growing; it has no end beyond itself”? Are we not then forced to believe that the serious student of this outline of the philosophy of education is left without any consistent statement of aim, that he must remain oscillating between two formulated aims so different that they would require of him very different ways of acting in many actual school situations?

To put the matter in a word, the fundamental point of importance in Professor Dewey's discussion of aim seems to be the implicit though occasionally repudiated assumption that encouragement of individual growth will necessarily coincide with social welfare, just as the fundamental fact of his discussion of interest is the assumption that the development of immature interests will coincide with the child's adequate preparation for future life. Whether the last-mentioned coinciding can be made a real one is a question that has been debated long and hotly, and whether the first-mentioned coinciding can be successfully ef fected is now a topic which bids fair to be equally contested. It

7

Pages 124, 125.

We give due acknowledgment to the fact that the ideal worker is the one who appreciates both the purpose and the conditions.

The latter is assumed not in the sense that it is unstated but in the sense that to many people it seems unproved, while the former is perhaps assumed in both senses. "If the environment, in school and out, supplies conditions which utilize adequately the present capacities of the immature, the future which grows out of the present will surely be taken care of." (p. 65).

is obvious that the union would be easy if growth, instead of being made an end, were to be made simply a means for securing the other end. If, then, assuming this as our position for a moment, we attempt to find the sort of direction which a practical teacher may draw from this discussion of the aim of education, the gist of it seems to be this: that in a democracy the aim of education must, from the very definition of democracy,3 be social sharing, and that the best way to promote this aim is (for pedagogical and psychological reasons) to encourage a directed growth of the child's natural tendencies, promoting the desirable ones by keeping them active and ridding ourselves of the undesirable ones by letting them fall into disuse through lack of activity. This would reduce to saying that the end of education in a democracy is social sharing, but that the best means of promoting this end is the encouragement of a selected number of the child's natural tendencies. While this amounts to a setting aside of the many affirmations that "there is nothing to which growth is relative save more growth," it does furnish a real program for the daily work of education.

Perhaps this program, together with all that is meant by a pure domocracy as here described, would lose to us the thoroughgoing individualists. Perhaps growth as an end and social sharing as an end can both be gathered together under a third end that will include them both. If there is such a higher synthesis, as one cannot help feeling who is familiar with Professor Dewey's work in general, there could be no greater benefit conferred upon the American teacher than to have it presently set forth more clearly and explicitly.

"A democracy is more than a form of government; it is primarily a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience." (p. 101). "A society which makes provision for participation in its good of all its members on equal terms and which secures flexible readjustment of its institutions through interaction of the different forms of associated life is in so far democratic." (p. 115).

3. Juno's resentment of the Trojans accounted for (12

33).

II. The narrative. (The story here begins in the seventh year after the fall of Troy.)

1. Aeneas' fleet making for the main land of Italy. (34

35).

2. Tempest drives the fleet to Africa. (36-123).

a.

Aeolus instigated by Juno lets loose the winds. (36-93).

b. Prayer of Aeneas. (94-101).

C. The shipwreck. (102-126).

3. Neptune calms the sea. (124-156). ·

4. Landing on the coast of Africa. (157-222).

a.

b.

Aeneas slays seven stags, one for each ship. (180197).

Exhorts his followers to have patience and hope. (198-207).

5. Venus pleads the cause of Aeneas and the Trojans before Jupiter. (223-253).

6. Jupiter consoles his daughter by foretelling prosperity and limitless power to the Trojans through their posterity, the Romans. (254-296).

7. Mercury sent from Olympus to render Dido friendly to the Trojans. (297-304).

8. Venus appears to Aeneas as a huntress and advises him. (305-409).

а. Story of Dido and Carthage.

For similar Outlines on Caesar's Gallic War, the Catilinian Orations and Cicero's Defense of the proposed Manilian Law by the same author see Education for Nov., 1914, Feb., March, May, October, December, 1915, and September and November, 1916. Attention is called to an error in the title of the Outline printed in September Education,, which should have read: "Cicero's Second, Third and Fourth Catilinian Orations."

I. Story told by Aeneas to the supposed huntress. (325-334). II. Prophecy of Venus as regards the Trojan fleet. (338-370). b. The recognition. (402-405).

9. Aeneas and Achates in a cloud enter Carthage. (410

420).

10. Carthage described. (421-436).

11. Aeneas visits the temple of Juno and sees painted on its walls the battles and heroes of the Trojan war.

(437-493).

12. Dido comes to the temple. (494-508).

13. Deputation from the missing ships of the Trojans waits on Dido. (509-560).

a.

Feelings of Aeneas and Achates. (513-519).

b. The Trojans complain to Dido of ill treatment by

her people. (539-541.)

c. They bewail the loss of Aeneas. (544-554).

14. Dido offers the Trojans a home and promises to search for Aeneas. (561-578).

15. Aeneas and Achates stand revealed; Aeneas thanks Dido for her generosity. (579-612).

16. Dido's welcome. (614-642).

17. Aeneas sends for Aschanias. (643-656).

18. The plot of Venus.

a. She substitutes Cupid for Aschanius; Cupid inspires the queen with a passionate love for Aeneas. (657-722).

19. The banquet in Dido's palace. (699-756).

a. Dido begs Aeneas to tell the story of the fall of Troy and of the seven years wanderings of the Trojans. (753-756).

Book II.

20. In compliance with Dido's request, though reluctant to live over again an experience so terrible, Aeneas begins his story:-(3-13).

a.

b.

Despondency of the Greeks in the tenth year of the war. (13-14).

The stratagem of the wooden horse. (15-267). I. The horse. (15-20).