It seems an ungracious task, unfair—­perhaps it seems above all retrograde and ignorant—­to express doubt and not to think hopefully of a cause in which so many lives have been spent with singular disinterestedness and self-devotion.  Yet these adverse thoughts are in the air, not only amongst those who are unable to win in the race, but amongst those who have won, and also amongst those who look out upon it all with undistracted and unbiassed interest; older men, who look to the end and outcome of things, to the ultimate direction when the forces have adjusted themselves.  Those who think of the next generation are not quite satisfied with what is being done for our girls or by them.

Catholics have been spurred hotly into the movement by those who are keenly anxious that we should not be left behind, but should show ourselves able to be with the best in all these things.  Perhaps at the stage which has been reached we have more reason than others to be dissatisfied with the results of success, since we are more beset than others by the haunting question—­what then?  For those who have to devote themselves to the cause of Catholic education it is often and increasingly necessary to win degrees or their equivalents, not altogether for their own value, but as the key that fits the lock, for the gates to the domain of education are kept locked by the State.  And so in other spheres of Catholic usefulness the key may become more and more necessary.  But—­may it be suggested—­in their own education, a degree for a man and a degree for a girl mean very different things, even if the degree is the same.  For a girl it is the certificate of a course of studies.  For a man an Oxford or Cambridge degree means atmosphere unique in character, immemorial tradition, association, all kinds of interests and subtle influences out of the past, the impressiveness of numbers, among which the individual shows in very modest proportions indeed whatever may be his gifts.  The difference is that of two worlds.  Bat even at other universities the degree means more to a man if it is anything beyond a mere gate-key.  It is his initial effort, after which comes the full stress of his life’s work.  For a girl, except in the rarest cases, it is either a gate-key or a final effort, either her life’s work takes a different turn, or she thinks she has had enough.  The line of common studies is adapted for man’s work and programme of life.  It has been made to fit woman’s professional work, but the fit is not perfect.  It has a marked unfitness in its adaptation for women to the real end of higher education, or university education, which is the perfecting of the individual mind, according to its kind, in surroundings favourable to its complete development.