enormously in power and value if it were an organic part of a flexible whole.

We are, I suspect, handicapped in the effort to build up such a curriculum by the tradition that, other than the natural sciences, the only province of culture and education is to be found in the field of letters, an acquaintance with language and literature, with the way in which the imagination of great writers has played upon the scenes and events of human experience. I should be the last to minimize the ennobling and liberating results to be derived from the knowledge and appreciation of great literature. But one may pertinently ask whether the time has not come, if not to add a third thing to the expression "College of Letters and Science," at least to recognize within that college a field which is neither that of letters nor of natural science. We need to be reminded that human life and society, the evolution of civilization and of institutions, supply us with a legitimate and pressing field for scientific and philosophical inquiry, worthy of a place by the side of letters and natural science. I suspect, indeed, that the pure study of letters carries within itself the seeds of dryness and devastation unless it is illumined by a humane interest in the vital problems of man's life in society.

There is an important sense in which it may be said that the university today constitutes the last defense of civilization against fanaticism, against the attack of predatory interests, against the rise of cults and superstitions, all of which, if unchecked, will overwhelm us. And the university can come to the rescue of civilization, it can aid the efforts of men to build up a social structure worthy of human dignity and reason only in so far as it stimulates all its students to understand what it is that human nature needs, and what our human resources are for supplying these needs. This is the study of ethics, and this is my apology for that study.

THE WAY OF PEACE

(Translated from the twelfth book of the Mahabharata)

To hero, sage, and coward,
To poet, dullard, fool,
To weak and strong, comes joy
By no discovered rule.

To him who drinks her milk-
Obtained no matter how-
Calf, herdsman, king or thief,
A cow is still a cow.

The dullest wights on earth
Live joyfully; and so
Do men supremely wise-

The rest are sunk in woe.

For brave men love extremes,
Never the prudent mean;
Extremes, they say, are joy;
And grief, what lies between.

The dunce sleeps joyfully,
Setting his deeds aside,
Wrapped in his foolishness
As in a blanket wide.

The man supremely wise,
Past opposites, and all
Mean envy, sees unmoved
What good or ill befall.

While men not wholly fools,

Yet something less than wise,

Are boisterous in success

And writhe when fortune flies.

The fool is always gay

As angels are in heaven, Glad in his self-conceit,

That gift by folly given.

Joy ends in sloth-and grief; Grief ends in skill-and joy. And fortune dwells with skill, To sloth is ever coy.

Then greet whatever comes

Of joy or grievous smart, Delight or pain, with brave, Unconquerable heart.

A thousand sorrows and

A hundred fears assail

The fool from day to day.

The wise man does not quail.

For sorrow cannot touch

The truly modest soul, Long-suffering, peaceful, wise, Rooted in self-control.

If your own limb should be
The seat of sorrow, doubt,

Wrath, or timidity,

Cut roots, and cast it out.

Desires, departing, leave

A void. Joy fills it higher. But he who will pursue

Must perish by desire.

All heart's desires of earth

And heaven's great bliss fulfilled

Form one-sixteenth the joy

That comes from passion stilled.

This wisdom clasp. Faint not
Upon the righteous path.

Scorn all desires of sense,

And put behind you wrath.

For love is death that lives

And feeds within the heart:

And anger lives until

The soul and body part.

As turtles pull inside

Their shells, pull free from sin:

For glory, light, and peace

Are only found within.

Whatever deeds are done

By one who thinks ""Tis mine," Slope downward through remorse To death, in sure decline.

When none has fear of you,

And when you find release
From fear and hate and hope,
You have eternal peace.

Leave true and false behind;
Sorrow and glee control,
Pain, pleasure, safety, fear-
Find rest unto your soul.

Be brave! Let sinful word

And thought and action cease

Toward every living thing-
So find eternal peace.

Passion-the fatal taint,

The fool's enticing toy,

Still young in aged hearts-
Abandon. This is joy.