All means of obtaining knowledge have been denied him， the contact with living and diverse men， the images which the sensations of his eyes and ears might have stamped on his brain. These images constitute the sole materials of a correct， healthy conception； through them， spontaneously and gradually， without too many deceptions or shocks， he might have figured social life to himself， such as it is， its conditions， difficulties， and its opportunities： he has neither the sentiment of it nor even a premonition. In all matters， that which we call common sense is never but an involuntary latent summary， the lasting， substantial and salutary depot left in our minds after many direct impressions. With reference to social life， he has been deprived of all these direct impressions and the precious depot has never been formed in him.- e He has scarcely ever conversed with his professors； their talk with him has been about impersonal and abstract matters， languages， literature and mathematics. He has spoken but little with his teachers， except to contest an injunction or grumble aloud against reproof. Of real conversation， the acquisition and exchange of ideas， he has enjoyed none， except with his comrades： if， like him， all are internes， they can communicate to each other only their ignorance. If day-scholars are admitted， they are active smugglers or willing agents who bring into the house and circulate forbidden books and obscene journals， along with the filthy provocative and foul atmosphere of the streets. - Now， with excitement of this kind or in this manner， the brains of these captives， as puberty comes on and deliverance draws near， work actively and we know in what sense[59] and in what counter-sense， how remote from observable and positive truth， how their imagination pictures society， man and woman， under what simple and coarse appearances， with what inadequacy and presumption， what appetites of liberated serfs and juvenile barbarians， how， as concerns women， their precocious and turbid dreams first become brutal and cynical，[60] how， as concerns men， their unballasted and precipitous thought easily becomes chimerical and revolutionary.[61] The downhill road is steep on the bad side， so that， to put on the brake and stop， then to remount the hill， the young man who takes the management of his life into his own hands， must know how to use his own will and persevere to the end.
But a faculty is developed only by exercise， and the French internat is the engine the most effective for hindering the exercise of this one. - The youth， from the first to the last day of his internat， has never been able to deliberate on， choose and decide what he should do at any one hour of his schooldays； except to idle away time in study-hours， and pay no attention at recitations， he could not exercise his will. Nearly every act， especially his outward attitudes， postures， immobility， silence， drill and promenades in rank， is only obedience to orders. He has lived like a horse in harness， between the shafts of his cart； this cart itself， kept straight by its two wheels， must not leave the rectilinear ruts hollowed out and traced for it along the road； it is impossible for the horse to turn aside. Besides， every morning he is harnessed at the same hour， and every evening he is unharnessed at the same hour； every day， at other hours， he has to rest and take his ration of hay and oats. He has never been under the necessity of thinking about all this， nor of looking ahead or on either side； from one end of the year to the other， he has simply had to pull along guided by the bridle or urged by the whip， his principal motives being only of two kinds： on the one hand more or less hard guidance and urgings， and on the other hand his recalcitrance， laziness and fatigue； he has been obliged to choose between the two.
For eight or ten years， his initiative is reduced to that - no other employment of his free will. The education of his free will is thus rudimentary or nonexistent.
On the strength of this our (French) system supposes that it is complete and perfect. We cast the bridle on the young man's neck and hand him over to his own government. We admit that， by extraordinary grace， the scholar has suddenly become a man； that he is capable of prescribing and following his own orders； that he has accustomed himself to weighing the near and remote consequences of his acts， of imputing them to himself， of believing himself responsible for them；that his conscience， suddenly emancipated， and his reason， suddenly adult， will march straight on athwart temptations and immediately recover from slips. Consequently， he is set free with an allowance in some great city； he registers himself under some Faculty and becomes one among ten thousand other students on the sidewalks of Paris. -Now， in France， there is no university police force to step in， as at Bonn or G？ttingen， at Oxford or Cambridge， to watch his conduct and punish him in the domicile and in public places. At the schools of medicine， Law， Pharmacy， Fine-Arts， Charters， and Oriental Languages， at the Sorbonne and at the école Centrale， his emancipation is sudden and complete. When he goes from secondary education to superior education he does not， as in England and in Germany， pass from restricted liberty to one less restricted， but from a monastic discipline to compete independence. In a furnished room， in the promiscuity and incognito of a common hotel， scarcely out of college， the novice of twenty years finds at hand the innumerable temptations of the streets， the taverns， the bars， public balls， obscene publications， chance acquaintances， and the liaisons of the gutter.
