||16 THE TWO HORIZONS psychology or anthropology for instance. To have them is more important than to place them. Even should the historian or the philosopher reject these well-meant advances and testily take refuge in the house of social science, it does not matter. He has something I want, and him will I follow though he slay me. Furthermore, each of these gentlemen must submit willy-nilly to my saying a few kind words about him, for I propose to take history, philosophy, and literature as my essential examples. First, however, one word more about the genus. To borrow a phrase from Professor Castell of Minnesota, humanity is the subject matter of the humanities, and humanity means people. Let us add, tritely enough, whole people, seen in the context of events. The stock in trade of the humanities is human experience and human values; their function is the chronicle, interpretation, and judgment of men's lives. I can do no better than to use the words of Sir Richard Livingstone: The humanities, he says, are the visions of human life which religion and poetry and thought have conceived, the "study of what man is and what he should pursue," and the record of his achievements in the world. These studies are indispensable to all men as men and to all citizens as citizens, and a life or an education without them is hopelessly maimed. . . . (Their) subject is Man â€" man viewed in himself and his proper nature, viewed as literature views him, as a being with feelings and prejudices, virtues and vices, ruled by intellect, or perverted by passion, inspired by ideals, torn by desires, . . . Aegisthus, Oedipus, Hamlet, Macbeth, Faust â€" or man, viewed as a being governed by the laws of a universe outside him, viewed as philosophy views him, subject to limitations of time and space, of his own origin, nature and destiny, ... or, thirdly, man viewed as a political and social being, viewed as history views him, creating states and overthrowing them, making laws and refusing to be bound by them, ... Pericles or Augustus, Cromwell or Robespierre. Before the student of literature, philosophy, and history are displayed all the forces and ideas that have governed man . . .13 Thus Sir Richard. Let us amplify this account a little, keeping in mind the argument that these studies arm us to confront the near horizon. One reason for this is that they bring to us the horizons of the past, the experience, the standards, the wisdom of the total human adventure. Taken in its broadest sense, as general education ought to take it, history is the mother of us all. It is the universal matrix: every branch of knowledge has had its evolution, and history includes its annals. We cannot individually encompass all of history, nor is it necessary to do so. The great past holds source and seamark of the present and future: we can learn from it why we are where we are; we can also learn from it what may bring us where we may be. Whether one chooses to follow Toyn-bee or Spengler or some one else, it is idle to say that history teaches nothing; it teaches as much as men are willing to learn; it teaches cause and consequence, and it teaches character. No one can tell me that Burke and Bismarck, Valley Forge and Versailles, Lincoln at Gettysburg, Neville Chamberlain at Munich, and "the Spartans on the sea-wet rock" have no meaning. The task of general education is such a choice from the storehouse of history as has maximum relevance to our needs for a minimum expenditure of time. 13 "The Future in Education," pp. 34-35, 72-74.