Exercise II. Translate the following newspaper articles into Ukrainian. Be careful to convey faithfully their peculiar features of style and expressiveness.

Exercise I. Translate the excerpt of S. Leacock's essay Oxford as I See It. Be sure to find and faithfully render into Ukrai­nian all characteristic features of its style. Make use of the ways of semantic and stylistic analysis employed in the translation of the belles-lettres text (Arrangement in Black and White) above.

1. My private station being that of a university professor, I was naturally deeply interested in the system of education in England. I was therefore led to make a special visit to Oxford and to submit the place to a searching scrutiny.

2. Arriving one afternoon at four o'clock, I stayed at the Mitre Hotel and did not leave until eleven o'clock next morning. The whole of this time, except for one hour in addressing the undergraduates, was


devoted to a close and eager study of the great university. At any rate I can at least claim that my acquaintance with the British university is just as good a basis for reflection and judgment as that of the numer­ous English critics, who come to our side of the water. I have known a famous English author to arrive at Harvard University in the morning, have lunch with President Lowell, and then write a whole chapter on the Excellence of Higher Education in America. I have known another one come to Harvard, have lunch with President Lowell, and do an entire book on the Decline of Serious Study in America. Or take the case of my own university. I remember Mr. Rudyard Kipling coming to McGill and saying in his address to the undergraduates at 2.30 p. m., «You have here a great institution.» But how could he gather this information? As far as I know he spent the entire morning with Sir Andrew Macphail in his house beside the campus, smoking ciga­rettes. When I add that he distinctly refused to visit the Palaeontologic Museum, that he saw nothing of our new hydraulic apparatus, or of our classes in Domestic Science, his judgment that we had here a great institution seems a little bit superficial.

3. To my mind these unthinking judgments about our great col­lege do harm, and I determined, therefore, that anything that I said about Oxford should be the result of the actual observation and real study based upon a bona fide residence in the Mitre Hotel.

4. On the strength of this basis of experience I am prepared to make the following positive and emphatic statements. Oxford is a noble university. It has a great past. It is at present the greatest uni­versity in the world: and it is quite true that it has a great future. Oxford trains scholars of the real type better than any other place in the world. Its methods are antiquated. It despises science. Its lec­tures are rotten. It has professors who never teach and students who never learn. It has no order, no arrangements, no system. Its curricu­lum is unintelligible. It has no president. It has state legislature to tell it how to teach, and yet - it gets there. Whether we like it or not, Oxford gives something to its students, a life and a mode of thought, in America as yet we can emulate but not equal.

5. These singular results achieved at Oxford are all the more surprising when one considers the distressing conditions under which the students work. The lack of an adequate building fund compels them to goon working in the same old buildings which they have had for centuries. The buildings at Brasenose College have not been re­newed since the year 1525. In New College and Mandolin the stu-


dents are still housed in the old buildings erected in the sixteenth century. At Christ Church I was shown a kitchen which had been built at the expense of cardinal Wolsey in 1527. Incredible though it may seem, they have no other place to cook in than this and are com­pelled to use it today.

6. The same lack of a building-fund necessitates the Oxford students living in the identical old boarding houses they had in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Technically they are called «quad­rangles», «closes» and «rooms»; but I am so broken into the usage of my student days that I can't help calling them boarding houses. In many of these the old stairway has been worn down by the feet of ten generations of students: the windows had little latticed panes: there are old names carved here and there upon the stone, and a thick growth of ivy covers the walls. The boarding house at St. John's Col­lege dates from 1509, the one at Christ Church from the same period. A few hundred thousand pounds would suffice to replace these old buildings with neat steel and brick structures like the normal school at Schenectady, N.Y., or the Peel Street High School at Montreal. But nothing is done.

7. It can hardly be due to anything in the curriculum or programme of studies. Indeed, to anyone accustomed to the best models of a university curriculum as it flourishes in the United States and Canada, the programme of studies is frankly laughable. There is less Applied Science in the place than would be found with us in theological col­lege. Hardly a single professor at Oxford would recognize a dynamo if he met it in broad daylight. The Oxford student is the merest amateur.

 

8. This is bad enough. But after all one might say this is only the mechanical side of education. True: but one searches in vain in the Oxford curriculum for any adequate recognition of the higher and more cultured studies. The more one looks at these things, the more amazing it becomes that Oxford can produce any results at all.

9. The effect of the comparison is heightened by the peculiar position occupied at Oxford by the professors' lectures. In the col­leges of Canada and the United States the lectures are supposed to be a really necessary and useful part of the student's training. Again and again I have heard the graduates of my own college assert that they had got as much, or nearly as much, out of the lectures at col­lege as out of athletics or the Greek letter society or the Banjo and Magdalen Club. In short, with us the lectures form a real part of the


 




college life. At Oxford it is not so. The lectures, I understand, are given and may even be taken. But they are quite worthless and are not supposed to have anything much to do with the development of the student's mind. «The lectures here,» said a Canadian student to me, «are punk.» I appealed to another student to know if this was so. «I don't know whether I'd call them exactly punk», he answered, «but they're certainly rotten». Other judgments were that the lectures were of no importance; that nobody took them; that they don't matter; that you can take them if you like; that they do you no harm.

10. I understand that the key to this mystery is found in the operations of the person called the tutor. It is from him, or rather with him, that the students learn all that they know: one and all are agreed on that. Yet it is a little odd to know just how he does it. «We go over to his rooms,» said one student, «and he just lights a pipe and talks to us.» «We sit round with him,» said another, «and he simply smokes and goes over our exercises with us.» From this and other evidence I gather that what an Oxford tutor does is to get a little group of stu­dents together and smoke at them. Men who have been systemati­cally smoked at for four years turn into ripe scholars.

11. In what was said above, I seem to have directing criticism against the Oxford professors as such: but I have no intention of doing so. For the Oxford professor and his whole manner of being I have nothing but a profound respect. There is indeed the greatest differ­ence between the modern up-to-date American idea of a professor and the English type.

12. The American professor deals with his students according to his lights. It is his business to chase them along over a prescribed ground at a prescribed pace like a flock of sheep. They all go humping together over the hurdles with the professor chasing them with a set of «tests» and «recitations», «marks» and «attendances», the whole obviously copied from the time-clock of the businessman's factory. This process is what is called «showing results». The pace set is necessarily that of the slowest, and thus results in what I have heard Mr. Edward Beatty describe as the «convoy system of education».

13. Now the principal reason why I am led to admire Oxford is that the place is little touched yet by the measuring of «results», and by this passion for visible and provable «efficiency». The whole sys­tem at Oxford is such as to put a premium on genius to let mediocrity and dullness go their way. On the dull student Oxford, after a proper lapse of time, confers a degree which means nothing more than that


he lived and breathed at Oxford and Kept out of jail. This for many students is as much as society can expect. But for the gifted stu­dents Oxford offers great opportunities. He need wait for no one. He may move forward as fast as he likes, following the bent of his genius. If he has in him any ability beyond that of the common herd, his tutor, interested in his studies, will smoke at him until he kindles him to a flame. For the tutor's soul is not harassed by herding dull students, with dismissal hanging by a thread over his head in the class-room. The American professor has no time to be interested in a clever stu­dent. The student of genius merely means to him a student who gives no trouble, who passes all his «tests», and is present at all his «reci­tations». Higher education in America flourishes chiefly as a qualifi­cation for entrance into a money-making profession, and not as a thing in itself. But in Oxford one can still see the surviving outline of a noble type of structure and a higher inspiration. In one respect at least I think that Oxford has fallen away from the high ideals of the Middle Ages. I refer to the fact that it admits women students to its studies. Oxford... has not stood out against this change.