July 16th, 2004, 9:57 pm
In a series of popular books, Americans have been informed why Johnny can’t read; why Johnny can’t tell right from wrong; and why Johnny can’t write, lead, concentrate—and still can’t read. For the most part, however, they are not being told (despite the p.r. blurbs) what they can do about it. To repair the damages of an entire century of cultural vandalism, we are told to teach phonics or “good literature” or give positive reinforcement.The most obvious difference between American college graduates of 1903 and those of 2003 is that the former knew Latin and the latter know, more or less, nothing. Any program of rebuilding, therefore, will begin with the revival of the classical tradition. Anyone can learn the basics of reading and writing, but few people can read and write well if they have never studied Latin, and those who have been cut off from the Greek classics are deprived of the deepest and strongest current of human wisdom and beauty that has flowed into Christendom.In 1819, Thomas Jefferson, in a letter to John Brazier, expressed gratitude to his father for providing him with a classical education.Among the values of classical learning, I estimate the luxury of reading the Greek and Roman authors in all the beauties of their originals. And why should not this innocent and elegant luxury take its preëminent stand ahead of all those addressed merely to the senses? I think myself more indebted to my father for this than for all the other luxuries his cares and affections have placed within my reach; and more now than when younger, and more susceptible of delights from other sources. When the decays of age have enfeebled the useful energies of the mind, the classic pages fill up the vacuum of ennui, and become sweet composers to that rest of the grave into which we are all sooner or later to descend.For Thomas Jefferson and John Adams (to name only two Founding Fathers of the American republic), the study of the Greek and Latin classics was more than a luxury to be enjoyed by cultivated gentlemen. The classics were an essential resource for their understanding of political liberty and the indispensable foundation of any true education.While Latin has always been, for men of Western Europe and America, the gateway to all humane learning, Greek, to those who are lucky enough to study it, provides the platform for higher stages of study; and the beauty of the Greek language, for those who have really learned it, is a source of almost indescribable pleasure. As Dr. Johnson (the wisest Christian moralist in our language) observed, “Greek, sir, is like lace. Every man gets as much of it as he can.” This was said in an age when men wore as much lace as they could afford. Jefferson may have preferred republican corduroy, but he agreed with Johnson on the Greek, and, as he grew older, he salted and peppered his letters with learned discussions of Greek meter and antiquities. I find the same thing happening myself and find more to think about in the 100 lines of Euripides or Sophocles with which I begin the morning than in all the journals, newspapers, weblogs, and news broadcasts that will cast their polluted pall over a day that dawned so fair.To this issue of Chronicles, a number of classical scholars and teachers have contributed essays on the advantages of studying the classics and on the particular insights to be gained from reading specific Greek works. Our issue is not offered as a blueprint for studying Greek, much less as a shortcut to instant proficiency in the classics. It is meant only to ring a few bells in the memories of those who might once have dreamed of learning Greek and to stiffen the resolve of parents who have resolved to give their children a gift beyond price, which even the poorest families can afford.Oh oh