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SCIENCE
AND EDUCATION

ESSAYS

BY

THOMAS H. HUXLEY

» r

NEW YORK
D. APPLE TON AND COMPANY

1899

Authorized Edition.

; / 0 3 I

PREFACE

The apology offered in the Preface to the first
volume of this series for the occurrence of repeti-
tions, is even more needful here I am afraid. But
it could hardly be otherwise with speeches and
essays, on the same topic, addressed at intervals,
during more than thirty years, to widely distant
and different hearers; and readers. The oldest
piece, that " On the Educational Value of the
Natural History Sciences," contains some crudities,
which I repudiated when the lecture was first
reprinted, more than twenty years ago; but it
will be seen that much of what I have had to say,
later on in life, is merely ^ development of the
propositions enunciated in this early and sadly-
imperfect piece of work.

In view of the recent attempts to disturb the
compromise about the teaching of dogmatic the-

vi PREFACE

ology, solemnly agreed to by the first School Board
for London, the fifteenth Essay; and, more par-
ticularly, the note on p. 388, may be found inter-
esting.

T. U. II.

HODESLEA, EaSTBOUKNE,

iSept ember •ith, lb93.

CONTENTS

PAOB
JOSEPH PRIESTLEY [1874] 1

(An Address delivered on the occasion of
the presentation of a statue of Priestley to
the town of Birmingham)

II

ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF THE NATURAL HISTORY

SCIENCES [1854] 38

(An Address delivered in S. Martin's Hall)

III

^ EMANCIPATION — BLACK AND WHITE [1865], 66

IV

A LIBERAL EDUCATION ; AND WHERE TO FIND IT [1868] . 76

(An Address to the South London Work-
ing Men's College)

vu

viil CONTEXTS

V

PAGE
SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION : NOTES OP' AN AFTER-DINNER

SPEECH [1869] Ill

(Liverpool Philomathic Society)

vr

SCIENCE AND CULTURE [1880] 134

(An Address delivered at the opening of
Sir Josiah Mason's Science College, 13ir-
raingham)

VII

ON SCIENCE AND ART IN RELATION TO EDUCATION [1882] IGO

(An Address to the members of the Liver-
pool Institution)

VIII

UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL [1874] 189

(Rectorial Address, Aberdeen)

IX

ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION [1876] 235

(Delivered at the opening of the Johns
Hopkins University, Baltimore)

X

ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY [1876] 263

(A Lecture in connection with the Loan
Collection of Scientific Apparatus, South
Kensington Museum)

CONTENTS ix

PAGE
ON ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY [1877] . . 294

XII
ON 3IEDICAL EDUCATION [1870] 303

(An Address to the students of the Faculty
of Medicine in University College, London)

XIII

THE STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION [1884] . . . 323

XIV

THE CONNECTION OF THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES WITH

MEDICINE [1881] 347

(An Address to the International Medical
Congress)

XV

THE SCHOOL BOARDS : WHAT THEY CAN DO, AND WHAT

THEY MAY DO [1870] 374

XVI

TECHNICAL EDUCATION [1877] 404

XVII

ADDRESS ON BEHALF OF THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR

THE PROMOTION OF TECHNICAL EDUCATION [1887] . 427

JOSEPH PEIESTLEY
[1874]

If the man to perpetuate whose memory we
have this day raised a statue had been asked on
what part of his busy life's work he set the highest
value, he would undoubtedly have pointed to his
voluminous contributions to theology. In season
and out of season, he was the steadfast champion
of that hypothesis respecting the Divine nature
which is termed Unitarianism by its friends and
Socinianism by its foes. Regardless of odds, he
was ready to do battle with all comers in that
cause; and if no adversaries entered the lists, he
would sally forth to seek them.

To this, his highest ideal of duty, Joseph
Priestley sacrificed the vulgar prizes of life, which,
assuredly, were within easy reach of a man of his
singular energy and varied abilities. For this
object he put aside, as of secondary importance,

those scientific investigations which he loved so

1

2 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

well, and in which he showed himself so com-
petent to enlarge the boundaries of natural knowl-
edge and to win fame. In this cause he not only
cheerfully suffered obloquy from the bigoted and
the unthinking, and came within sight of martyr-
dom; but bore with that which is much harder to
be borne than all these, the unfeigned astonish-
ment and hardly disguised contempt of a brilliant
society, composed of men whose sympathy and
esteem must have been most dear to him, and to
whom it was simply incomprehensible that a phi-
losopher should seriously occupy himself with any
form of Christianity.

It appears to me that the man who, setting
before himself such an ideal of life, acted up to it
consistently, is worthy of the deepest respect,
whatever opinion may be entertained as to the
real value of the tenets which he so zealously pro-
pagated and defended.

But I am sure that I speak not only for myself,
but fur all this assemblage, when I say that our
purpose to-day is to do honour, not to Priestley,
the Unitarian divine, but to Priestley, the fearless
defender of rational freedom in thought and in
action: to Priestley, the philosophic thinker; to
that Priestley who held a foremost place among
" the swift runners who hand over the lamp of
life," * and transmit from one generation to an-

* " Qnnsi f nrsores, vital larapada tradunt." — Lucr. De
Rerum Nat. ii. 78.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 3

other the fire kindled, in the childhood of the
world, at the Promethean altar of Science.

The main incidents of Priestley's life are so well
kpown that I need dwell upon them at no great
length.

Born in 1733, at Fieldhead, near Leeds, and
brought up among Calvinists of the straitest or-
thodoxy, the boy's striking natural ability led to
his being devoted to the profession of a minister
of religion; and, in 1752, he was sent to the
Dissenting Academy at Daventry — an institution
which authority left undisturbed, though its ex-
istence contravened the law. The teachers under
whose instruction and influence the young man
came at Daventry, carried out to the letter the
injunction to " try all things: hold fast that which
is good," and encouraged the discussion of every
imaginable proposition with complete freedom,
the leading professors taking opposite sides; a
discipline which, admirable as it may be from a
purely scientific point of view, would seem to be
calculated to make acute, rather than sound,
divines. Priestley tells us, in his " Autobiog-
raphy," that he generally found himself on the un-
orthodox side: and, as he grew older, and his fac-
ulties attained their maturity, this native tendency
towards heterodoxy grew with his growth and
strengthened with his strength. He passed from
Calvinism to Ariauism; and finallv, in middle life.

4 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

landed in that very broad form of Unitarianism
by which his craving after a credible and consist-
ent theory of things was satisfied.

On leavin*r Daventry Priestlev became minister
of a congregation, first at Xeedham Market, and
secondly at Xantwich; but whether on account of
his heterodox opinions, or of the stuttering which
impeded his expression of them in the pulpit, little
success attended his efl:orts in this capacity. In
1761, a career much more suited to his abilities
became open to him. He was appointed " tutor
in the languages " in the Dissenting Academy at
Warrington, in which capacity, besides giving
three courses of lectures, he taught Latin, Greek,
French, and Italian, and read lectures on the the-
ory of language and universal grammar, on ora-
tory, philosophical criticism, and civil law. And
it is interesting to observe that, as a teacher, he
encouraged and cherished in those whom he in-
structed freedom which he had enjoyed, in liis
own student days, at Daventry. One of his pupils
tells us that,

" At the conclusion of his lecture, he always cncourac^ed
his students to express their sentiments relative to the sub-
ject of it, and to urge any objections to what ho had deliv-
ered, without reserve. It pleased hira when any one com-
menced such a conversation. In order to excite the freest
discussion, he occasionally invited the students to drink tea
with hira, in order to canvass the subjects of his lectures.
I do not recollect that he ever showed the least displeasure
at the strongest objections that were made to what he de-

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 5

livered, but I distinctly remember the smile of approbation
with which he usually received them : nor did he fail to
point out, in a very encouraging manner, the ingenuity or
force of any remarks that were made, when they merited
these characters. His object, as well as Dr. Aikin's, was to
engage the students to examine and decide for themselves,
uninfluenced by the sentiments of any other persons." *

It would be difficult to give a better description
of a model teacher than that conveyed in these
words.

From his earliest days, Priestley had shown a
strong bent towards the study of nature; and his
brother Timothy tells us that the boy put spiders
into bottles, to see how long they would live in the
same air — a curious anticipation of the investi-
gations of his later years. At Nantwich, where
he set up a school, Priestley informs us that he
bought an air pump, an electrical machine, and
other instruments, in the use of w^hich he in-
structed his scholars. But he does not seem to
have devoted himself seriously to physical science
until 1766, when he had the great good fortune to
meet Benjamin Franklin, whose friendship he ever
afterwards enjoyed. Encouraged by Franklin, he
wrote a " History of Electricity,'' which was pub-
lished in 1767, and appears to have met with con-
siderable success.

In the same year, Priestley left Warrington to
become the minister of a congregation at Leeds;

* Life and Correspondence of Dr. Priestley, by J. T.
Rutt. Vol. L [). 50.

6 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

and, here, happening to live next door to a public
brewery, as he says,

"I, at first, amused myself with making experiments on
the fixed air which I found ready-made in the process of
fermentation. When I removed from that liouse I was
under the necessity of making fixed air for myself; and
one experiment leading to another, as I have distinctly
and faithfully noted in my various publications on the sub-
ject, I by degrees contrived a convenient apparatus for the
purpose, but of the cheapest kind.

" When I began these experiments I knew very little of
chemistry, and had, in a manner, no idea on the subject be-
fore I attended a course of chemical lectures, delivered in
the Academy at Warrington, by Dr. Turner of Liverpool.
But I have often thought that, upon the whole, this circum-
stance was no disadvantage to me ; as, in this situation, I
was led to devise an apparatus and processes of my own,
adapted to my peculiar views ; whereas, if I had been pre-
viously accustomed to the usual chemical processes, I
should not have so easily thought of any other, and without
new modes of operation, I should hardly have discovered
anything materially new."*

The first outcome of Priestley's chemical work,
publislied in 1772, was of a very practical charac-
ter. He discovered the way of impregnating
water witli an excess of " fixed air," or carbonic
acid, and tliereby producing what we now know
as " soda water " — a service to naturally, and
still more to artificially, thirsty souls, which those
whose parched throats and hot heads are cooled
by morning draughts of that beverage, cannot
too gratefully acknowledge. Tn the same year,

♦ Autohiography. ^'ij KM), 101.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 7

Priestley communicated the extensive series of
observations wliicli his industry and ingenuity had
accumulated, in the course of four years, to the
Eoyal Society, under the title of " Observations
on Different Kinds of Air " — a memoir which was
justly regarded of so much merit and importance,
that the Society at once conferred upon the author
the highest distinction in their power, by awarding
him the Copley Medal.

In 1771 a proposal was made to Priestley to
accompany Captain Cook in his second voyage to
the South Seas. He accepted it, and his congre-
gation agreed to pay an assistant to supply his
place during his absence. But the appointment
lay in the hands of the Board of Longitude, of
which certain clergymen were members; and
whether these worthy ecclesiastics feared that
Priestley's presence among the ship's company
might expose Ilis Majesty's sloop liesolution to
the fate which aforetime befell a certain ship that
went from Joppa to Tarshish; or whether they
were alarmed lest a Socinian should undermine
that piety which, in the days of Commodore
Trunnion, so strikingly characterised sailors, does
not appear; but, at any rate, they objected to
Priestley " on account of his religious principles,'^
and appointed the two Forsters, whose " religious
principles," if they had been known to these well-
meaning but not far-sighted persons, would

probably have surprised them.
61

8 JOSEPH riilESTLEY I

In 1772 another proposal was made to Priest-
ley. Lord Shelburne, desiring a " literary com-
panion/' had been brought into communication
with Priestley by the good othces of a friend of
both, Dr. Price; and olfered him the nominal
post of librarian, with a good house and appoint-
ments, and an annuity in case of the termination
of the engagement. Priestley accepted the olfer,
and remained with Lord Shelburne for seven years,
sometimes residing at Calne, sometimes travelling
abroad with the Earl.

Whv the connection terminated has never been
exactly known; but it is certain that Lord
Shelburne behaved with the utmost consideration
and kindness towards Priestley; that he fulfilled
his engagements to the letter; and that, at a later
period, he expressed a desire that Priestley should
return to his old footing in his house. Probably
enough, the politician, aspiring to the highest
ofhces in the State, may have found the posi-
tion of the protector of a man who was being
denounced all over the country as an infidel and
an atheist somewhat embarrassing. In fact, a pas-
sage in Priestley's " Autobiography " on the occa-
sion of the publication of his " Disquisitions relat-
ing to flatter and Spirit," which took place in 1777,
indicates pretty clearly the state of the case: —

"(126) It being probable that this publication would be
unpopular, and might be the means of bringing odium on
my patron, several attempts were made by his friends,

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 9

though none by himself, to dissuade me from persisting in
it. But being, as I thought, engaged in the cause of im-
portant truth, I proceeded witliout regard to any conse-
quences, assuring them that this publication should not be
injurious to his lordship."

It is not unreasonable to suppose that his
lordship, as a keen, practical man of the world,
did not derive much satisfaction from this assur-
ance. The " evident marks of dissatisfaction "
which Priestley says he first perceived in his
patron in 1778, may well have arisen from the
peer's not unnatural uneasiness as to what his
domesticated, but not tamed, philosopher might
write next, and what storm might thereby be
brought down on his own head; and it speaks
very highly for Lord Shelburne's delicacy that, in
the midst of such perplexities, he made not the
least attempt to interfere with Priestley's freedom
of action. In 1780, however, he intimated to Dr.
Price that he should be glad to establish Priestley
on his Irish estates: the sugegstion was interpreted,
as Lord Shelburne probably intended it should be,
and Priestley left him, the annuity of £150 a year,
which had been promised in view of such a con-
tingency, being punctually paid.

After leaving Calne, Priestley spent some little
time in London, and then, having settled in Bir-
mingham at the desire of his brother-in-law, he
was soon invited to become the minister of a large
congregation. This settlement Priestley consid-

10 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

ercd, at the time, to be " the liappiest event of
his life." And well he nii^rht tliink so; for it
gave him eomjietence and leisure; placed him
within reach of the best makers of apparatus of
the day; made him a member of that remarkable
" Lunar Society," at whose meetings he could
exchange thoughts with such men as Watt,
Wedgwood, Darwin, and Boulton; and threw
open to him the pleasant house of the Galtons of
Barr, where these men, and others of less note,
formed a society of exceptional charm and intelli-
gence.*

But these halcyon days were ended by a bitter
storm. The French Revolution broke out. An
electric shock ran through the nations; whatever
there was of corruj^t and retrograde, and, at the
same time, a great deal of what there was of best

* Soo The Life of ^fary Anne Schimmelpenniiich. Mrs.
Sphimmclponninok {nee Galton) roniembered Priestley very
well, and her dcsoription of him is worth quotntion : — " A
man of admirable sim{)licity. p:entleness and kindness of
heart, united with {jreat acuteness of intellect. I can never
forpet the impression produced on me by the serene ex-
pression of his c'o\intenanoe. Tie. indeed, seemed present
with God hy reoolleetion, and with man by cheerful n«'ss.
I remember that, in the assembly of these distincruished
men, amonpst whom IMr. Boulton, by his noble manner, his
fine countenance (which much resembled that of Jjouis
XIV.), and princely munificence, stood i)re-cminentlv as
the preat Meca^nas; even as a child, T used to feel, wlien
Dr. Priestley entered after him, that the plory of the ono
was terrestrial, that of the other celestial; and utterly far
as I am removod from a belief in the sufficiency of Dr.
Priestley's theoloi^ical creed. I cannot but here n>cord this
evidence of the eteiiial power of any portion of the truth
held in its vitalitv."

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY H

and noblest, in European society shuddered at
the outburst of long-pent-up social fires. Men's
feelings were excited in a way that we, in this
generation, can hardly comprehend. Party wrath
and virulence were expressed in a manner un-
paralleled, and it is to be hoped impossible, in our
times; and Priestley and his friends were held up
to public scorn, even in Parliament, as fomenters
of sedition. A ** Church-and-King " cry was
raised against the Liberal Dissenters; and, in
Birmingham, it was intensified and specially
directed towards Priestley by a local controversy,
in which he had engaged with his usual vigour.
In 1791, the celebration of the second anniversary
of the taking of the Bastile by a public dinner,
with which Priestley had nothing whatever to do,
gave the signal to the loyal and pious mob, who,
unchecked, and indeed to some extent encouraged,
by those who were responsible for order, had the
town at their mercy for three days. The chapels
and houses of tlie leading Dissenters were
wrecked, and Priestley and his family had to fly
for their lives, leaving library, apparatus, papers,
and all their possessions, a prey to the fiames.

Priestley never returned to Birmingham. He
bore the outrages and losses inflicted upon him
with extreme patience and sweetness,* and betook

* Even Mrs. Priestley, who might be forgiven for re-
pnrding the destroyers of her household gods with some
asperity, contents herself, in writing to IMrs. Barhauld. with
the sarcasm that the Birmingham people " will scarcely find

12 JOSEPH TRIESTLEY I

himself to London. But even his scientific col-
leagues gave him a cold shoulder; and though he
was elected minister of a congregation at Hackney,
he felt his position to be insecure, and finally de-
termined on emigrating to the United States. He
landed in x\merica in 179-i; lived quietly with his
sons at Northumberland, in Pennsylvania, where
his posterity still flourish; and, clear-headed and
busy to the last, died on the 6th of February,
1804.

Such were the conditions under which Joseph
Priestley did the work which lay before him, and
then, as the Norse Sagas say, went out of the
story. The work itself was of the most varied
kind. No human interest was without its attrac-
tion for Priestley, and few men have ever had so
many irons in the fire at once; but, though he
may have burned his fingers a little, very few
who have tried that operation have burned their
fingers so little. He made admirable discoveries
in science; his philosophical treatises are still
well worth reading; his political works are full of
insight and replete with the spirit of freedom; and
while all these sparks flew oft* from his anvil, the
controversial hammer rained a hail of blows on
orthodox priest and bishop. While thus engaged,
the kindly, cheerful doctor felt no more wrath or

so many respectable characters, a second time, to make a
bonfire of."

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 13

•uncharitableness towards his opponents than a
smith does towards his iron. But if the iron
could only speak! — and the priests and bishops
took the point of view of the iron.

No doubt what Priestley's friends repeatedly
urged upon him — that he would have escaped the
heavier trials of his life and one more for the
advancement of knowledge, if he had confined
himself to his scientific pursuits and let his fellow-
men go their way — was true. But it seems to have
been Priestley's feeling that he was a man and
a citizen before he was a philosopher, and thaf
the duties of the two former positions are at
least as imperative as those of the latter. More-
over, there are men (and I think Priestley was
one of them) to whom the satisfaction of throwing
down a triumphant fallacy is as great as that
which attends the discovery of a new truth; who
feel better satisfied with the government of the
world, when they have been helping Providence
by knocking an imposture on the head; and who
care even more for freedom of thought than for
mere advance of knowledge. These men are the
Carnots who organise victory for truth, and they
are, at least, as important as the generals who
visibly fight her battles in the field.

Priestley's reputation as a man of science rests
upon his numerous and important contributions to
the chemistry of gaseous bodies; and to form a

14 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

just estimate of the value of his work — of the
extent to whieli it advanced the knowledge of
fact and the development of sound theoretical
views — we must reflect what chemistry was in the
first half of the eighteenth century.

The vast science which now passes under that
name had no existence. Air, water, and fire were
still counted among the elemental bodies; and
though Van Ilelmont, a century before, had dis-
tinguished different kinds of air as gas ventosum
and gas syhestre, and Boyle and Hales had ex-
perimentally defined the physical properties of air,
and discriminated some of the various kinds of
aeriform bodies, no one suspected the existence
of the numerous totally distinct gaseous elements
which are now known, or dreamed that the air
we breathe and the water we drink are compounds
of gaseous elements.

But, in 175-i, a young Scotch physician,
Dr. Black, made the first clearing in this tangled
backwood of knowledge. And it gives one a
wonderful impression of the juvenility of scientific
chemistry to think that Lord Brougham, whom
so many of us recollect, attended Black's lectures
when he was a student in Edinburgh. Black's
researches gave the world the novel and startling
conception of a gas that was a permanently elastic
fluid like air, but that diftercd from common air
in being much heavier, very poisonous, and in
having the properties of an acid, capable of neutral-

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 15

ising the strongest alkalies; and it took the world
some time to become accustomed to the notion.

A dozen years later, one of the most sagacious
and accurate investigators who has adorned this,
or any other, country, Henry Cavendish, published
a memoir in the " Philosophical Transactions,
in which he deals not only with the " fixed air
(now called carbonic acid or carbonic anhydride)
of Black, but with " inflammable air,^' or what we
now term hydrogen.

By the rigorous application of weight and
measure to all his processes, Cavendish implied the
belief subsequently formulated by Lavoisier, that,
in chemical processes, matter is neither created
nor destroyed, and indicated the path along which
all future explorers must travel. Nor did he him-
self halt until this path led him, in 1784, to the
brilliant and fundamental discovery that water is
composed of two gases united in fixed and con-
stant proportions.

It is a trying ordeal for any man to be com-
pared with Black and Cavendish, and Priestley
cannot be said to stand on their level. Neverthe-
less his achievements are not only great in them-
selves, but truly wonderful, if we consider the dis-
advantages under which he^ laboured. Without
the careful scientific training of Black, without the
leisure and appliances secured by the wealth of
Cavendish, he scaled the walls of science as so
many Englishmen have done before and since his

IG JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

day; and trusting to mother wit to supply the place
of training, and to ingenuity to create apparatus
out of washing tubs, he discovered more new gases
than all his predecessors put together had done.
He laid the foundations of gas analysis; he dis-
covered the complementary actions of animal and
vegetable life upon the constituents of the atmos-
phere; and, finally, he crowned his work, this day
one hundred years ago, by the discovery of that
" pure dephlogisticated air " to which the French
chemists subsequently gave the name of oxygen.
Its importance, as the constituent of the atmos-
phere which disappears in the processes of respira-
tion and combustion, and is restored by green
plants growing in sunshine, was proved somewhat
later. For these brilliant discoveries, the Koyal
Society elected Priestley a fellow and gave him
their medal, while the Academies of Paris and St.
Petersburg conferred their membership upon him.
Edinburgh had made him an honorary doctor of
laws at an early period of his career; but, I need
hardly add, that a man of Priestley's opinions re-
ceived no recognition from the universities of his
own country.

That Priestley's contributions to the knowledge
of chemical fact were of the greatest importance,
and that they richly deserve all tlie praise that has
been awarded to them, is unquestionable; but it
must, at the same time, be admitted that he had
no comprehension of the deeper significance of his

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 17

work; and, so far from contributing anything to
the theory of the facts which he discovered, or
assisting in their rational explanation, his influence
to the end of his life was warmly exerted in favour
of error. From first to last, he was a stiff adherent
of the phlogiston doctrine which was prevalent
when his studies commenced; and, by a curious
irony of fate, the man who by the discovery of
what he called " dephlogisticated air " furnished
the essential datum for the true theory of com-
bustion, of respiration, and of the composition of
water, to the end of his days fought against the
inevitable corollaries from his own labours. His
last scientific work, published in 1800, bears the
title, " The Doctrine of Phlogiston established, and
that of the Composition of Water refuted."

When Priestley commenced his studies, the cur-
rent belief was, that atmospheric air, freed from
accidental impurities, is a simple elementary sub-
stance, indestructible and unalterable, as water was
supposed to be. When a combustible burned, or
when an animal breathed in air, it was supposed
that a substance, " phlogiston," the matter of heat
and light, passed from the burning or breathing
body into it, and destroyed its powers of supporting
life and combustion. Thus, air contained in a
vessel in which a lighted candle had gone out, or a
living animal had breathed until it could breathe
no longer, was called " phlogisticated." The same
result was supposed to be brought about by the

18 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

addition of what Priestley called " nitrous gas " to
common air.

In the course of his researches, Priestley found
that the quantity of common air which can thus
become " iihlogisticated," amounts to about one-
fifth the volume of the whole quantity submitted
to experiment. Hence it appeared that common
air consists, to the extent of four-fifths of its vol-
ume, of air which is already " phlogisticated ";
while the other fifth is free from phlogiston, or
^' dephlogisticated." On the other hand, Priestley
found that air " phlogisticated " by combustion or
respiration could be " dephlogisticated/' or have
the properties of pure common air restored to it, by
the action of green plants in sunshine. The ques-
tion, therefore, would naturally arise — as common
air can be wholly phlogisticated by combustion,
and converted into a substance which will no
longer support combustion, is it possible to get air
that shall be less phlogisticated than common air,
and consequently support combustion better than
common air does?

Xow, Priestley says that, in 1774, the possi-
bility of obtaining air less phlogisticated than
common air had not occurred to him.* But in
pursuing his experiments on tlie evolution of air
from various bodies by means of heat, it happened
that on the 1st of August, 1774, he threw the heat

* ErpprimPTifs and Observations on Different Kinds of
Air, vol. ii. p. 31.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 19

of the sun, by means of a large burning glass
which he had recently obtained, upon a substance
which was then called mercurius calcinatus per se,
and which is commonly known as red precipitate.

" I presently found that, by means of this lens, air was
expelled from it very readily. Having got about three or
four times as much as the bulk of my materials, I admitted
water to it, and found that it was not imbibed by it. But
what surprised me more than I can well express, was that a
candle burned in this air with a remarkably vigorous flame,
very much like that enlarged flame with which a candle
burns in nitrous air, exposed to iron or lime of sulphur ;
but as I had got nothing like this remarkable appearance
from any kind of air besides this particular modification of
nitrous air, and I knew no nitrous acid was used in the
preparation of mercurius calcinatus, I was utterly at a loss
how to account for it.

" In this case also, though I did not give sufficient atten-
tion to the circumstance at that time, the flame of the can-
dle, besides being larger, burned with more splendour and
heat than in that species of nitrous air; and a piece of red-
hot wood sparkled in it, exactly like paper dipped in a solu-
tion of nitre, and it consumed very fast — an experiment
which I had never thought of trying with nitrous air." *

Priestley obtained the same sort of air from red
lead, but, as he says himself, he remained in
ignorance of the properties of this new kind of air
for seven months, or until March 1775, when he
found that the new air behaved with " nitrous
gas " in the same way as the dephlogisticated part
of common air does; f but that, instead of being

* Expprimenfs and Ohservations on Different Kinds of
Air, vol. ii. pp. 34, 35, f Ihid. vol. 1. p. 40.

20 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

diminished to four-fifths, it almost completely
vanished, and, therefore, showed itself to be " be-
tween five and six times as good as the best
common air I have ever met with." * As this new
air thus appeared to be completely free from
phlogiston, Priestley called it " dephlogisticated
air."

What was the nature of this air? Priestley
found that the same kind of air was to be obtained
by moistening with the spirit of nitre (which he
terms nitrous acid) any kind of earth that is free
from phlogiston, and applying heat; and con-
sequently he says: " There remained no doubt
on my mind but that the atmospherical air, or
the thing that we breathe, consists of the nitrous
acid and earth, with so much phlogiston as is
necessary to its elasticity, and likewise so much
more as is required to bring it from its state of
perfect purity to the mean condition in which we
find it." t

Priestley's view, in fact, is that atmospheric air
is a kind of saltpetre, in which the potash is re-
placed by some unknown earth. And in speculat-
ing on the manner in which saltpetre is formed, he
enunciates the hypothesis, " that nitre is formed
l)y a real decomposition of the air itself, the hases
that are presented to it having, in such circum-

♦ Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of
Air, vol. ii. p. 48. f Ihid. p. 55.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 21

stances, a nearer affinity with the spirit of nitre
than that kind of eartli with which it is united in
the atmosphere." *

It would have been hard for the most ingenious
person to have wandered farther from the truth
than Priestley does in this hypothesis; and, though
Lavoisier undoubtedly treated Priestley very ill,
and pretended to have discovered dephlogisticated
air, or oxygen, as he called it, independently, we
can almost forgive him when we reflect how
different were the ideas which the great French
chemist attached to the body which Priestley dis-
covered.

They are like two navigators of whom the first
sees a new country, but takes clouds for moun-
tains and mirage for lowlands; while the second
determines its length and breadth, and lays down
on a chart its exact place, so that, thenceforth, it
serves as a guide to his successors, and becomes
a secure outpost whence new explorations may be
pushed.

^NTevertheless, as Priestley himself somewhere
remarks, the first object of physical science is to
ascertain facts, and the service which he rendered
to chemistry by the definite establishment of a
large number of new and fundamentally important
facts, is such as to entitle him to a very high place
among the fathers of chemical science.

* Ihid. p. 60. The italics are Priestley's own.

22 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

It is difTicult to say whether Priestley's philo-
sophical, i)olitical, or theological views were
most responsil)le for the bitter hatred which
was borne to him by a large body of his country-
men,* and which found its expression in the
malignant insinuations in whicli l^)urko, to his
everlasting shame, indulged in the House of
Commons.

Without containing much that will be new to
the readers of Ilobbs, Spinoza, Collins, Hume, and
Hartley, and, indeed, while making no pretensions
to originality, Priestley's " Disquisitions relating
to Matter and Spirit," and his " Doctrine of Philo-
sophical Necessity Illustrated," are among the
most powerful, clear, and unflinching expositions
of materialism and necessarianism which exist in
the English language, and are still well worth
reading.

Priestley denied the freedom of the will in the
sense of its sclf-dctormination; he denied tlie ex-

* " In all the newspapors and most of the periodiVal
publications I was represented as an unbeliever in Revela-
tion, and no better than an athiest." — Antnhingrnphy, Rutt,
vol. i. p. 124. "On the walls of houses, ete., and especially
where T usually went, were to be seen, in larsre chnraoters,
' Madax for ever: Damx Pritcstlev ; no Preshytertan-
ISM : Damn tffe Presbyterian's,' etc., etc. ; and. at one
time, I was followed by a numl)cr of boys, who left their
play, repoatincf what they had seen on the walls, and shout-
ing out, ' Damn Pripf^thy ; damn him, damn him, for ever,
for pvpr,'' etc., vfo. This was no doubt a lesson which thev
iiail IxMMi tauirht bytlicir parents, and what thev. 1 fear, had
learned from their superiors." — Appeal to the Public on the
Subject of the Riots at Birmingham.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 23

istence of a soul distinct from the body; and as
a' natural consequence, he denied the natural im-
mortality of man.

In relation to these matters English opinion, a
century ago, was very much what it is now.

A man may be a necessarian without incurring
graver reproach than that implied in being called
a gloomy fanatic, necessarianism, though very
shocking, having a note of Calvinistic orthodoxy;
but, if a man is a materialist; or, if good authori-
ties say he is and must be so, in spite of his
assertion to the contrary; or, if he acknowledge
himself unable to see good reasons for believing in
the natural immortality of man, respectable folks
look upon him as an unsafe neighbour of a cash-
box, as an actual or potential sensualist, the more
virtuous in outward seeming, the more certainly
loaded with secret " grave personal sins."

Nevertheless, it is as certain as anything can be,
that Joseph Priestley was no gloomy fanatic, but
as cheerful and kindly a soul as ever breathed, the
idol of children; a man who was hated only by
those who did not know him, and who charmed
away the bitterest prejudices in personal inter-
course; a man who never lost a friend, and the
best testimony to whose worth Is the generous and
tender warmth with which his many friends vied
with one another in rendering him substantial
help, in all the crises of his career.

The unspotted purity of Priestley's life, the
02

24: JOSEPH nilESTLEY i

strictness of his performance of every duty, his
transparent sincerity, the unostentatious and deep-
seated piety wliich breathes through all his corre-
spondence, are in themselves a sufhcient refutation
of the hypothesis, invented by bigots to cover
uncharitableness, that such opinions as his must
arise from moral defects. And his statue will do
as good service as the brazen image that was set
upon a pole before the Israelites, if those who
have been bitten by the fiery serpents of sectarian
hatred, which still haunt this wilderness of a
world, are made whole by looking upon the image
of a heretic who was yet a saint.

Though Priestley did not believe in the natural
immortality of man, he held with an almost naive
realism that man would be raised from the dead
by a direct exertion of the power of God, and
thenceforward be immortal. And it may be as
well for those who may be shocked by this doc-
trine to know that views, substantially identical
with Priestley's, have been advocated, since his
time, by two prelates of the xYnglican Church: by
Dr. Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, in his well-
known " Essays "; * and by Dr. Courtenay, Bishop
of Kingston in Jamaica, the first edition of whose
remarkable book '^ On the Future States,'' dedi-
cated to Archbishop Whately, was published

* First Sorios. On Some of the Ppnilinrifies of the
Christian Religion. Essay I. " Revelation of a Future
State."

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 25

in 1843 and the second in 1857. According to
Bishop Courtenay,

" The death of the body will cause a cessation of all the
activity of the mind by way of natural consequence; to
continue for ever unless the Creator should interfere."

And again: —

" The natural end of human existence is the' first death,'
the dreamless slumber of the grave, wherein man lies spell-
bound, soul and body, under the dominion of sin and death
— that whatever modes of conscious existence, whatever fu-
ture state of ' life 'or of ' torment ' beyond Hades are re-
served for man, are results of our blessed Lord's victory
over sin and death ; that the resurrection of the dead must
be preliminary to their entrance into either of the future
states, and that the nature and even existence of these
states, and even the mere fact that there is a futurity of
consciousness, can be known only through God's revela-
tion of Himself in the Person and the Gospel of His Son."
—P. 389.

And now hear Priestley: —

" Man, according to this system (of materialism), is no
more than we now see of him. His being commences at
the time of his conception, or perhaps at an earlier period.
The corporeal and mental faculties, in being in the same
substance, grow, ripen, and decay together ; and whenever
the system is dissolved, it continues in a state of dissolu-
tion till it shall please that Almighty Being who called it
into existence to restore it to life-- again." — "Matter and
Spirit," p. 49.

And again: —

"The doctrine of the Scripture is, that God made man
of the dust of the ground, and by simply animating this

2G JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

orc:anized matter, mmle man that living percipient and in-
telligent being that he is. According to Revelation, death
is a state of rest and insensibility, and our only though sure
hope of a future life is founded on the doctrine of the resur-
rection of the whole man at some distant period ; this as-
surance being sufficiently confirmed to us both by the evi-
dent tokens of a Divine commission attending the persons
who delivered the doctrine, and especially by the actual
resurrection of Jesus Christ, which is more authentically
attested than any other fact in history." — Ibid., p. 247.

We all know that " a saint in crape is twice a
saint in lawn; '' but it is not yet admitted that the
views which are consistent with such saintliness in
hiwn, become diabolical when held by a mere dis-
senter.*

I am not here either to defend or to attack
Priestley's philosophical views, and I cannot say
that I am personally disposed to attach much
value to episcopal authority' in philosophical ques-
tions; but it seems right to call attention to the
fact, tliat those of Priestley's opinions which have
brought most odium upon him have been openly

* Not only is Priestlov at one with Bishop Courtenay in
this matter, but with fTnrtloy and Bonnet, both of thcin
stout champions of Christianity. Moreover. Archbishop
Whately's essay is little better than an expansion of the
first paragraph of Hume's famous essay on the Immortnlity
of the Soul: — *' By the mere light of reason it seems diffi-
cult to prove the immortiility of the soul ; the arguments
for it are commonly derived either from metaphysical
topics, or niornl. or physicil. But it is in reality the Gos-
pel, and the (lo'^pel alone, that has brought life ni\d iynmnr-
tnlitij to ligJit.'"' It is impossible to imagine that a man of
Whately's tastes and acquirements had not read Hume or
Hartley, though he refers to neither.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 27

promulgated, without challenge, by persons occu-
l^ying the highest positions in the State Church.

I must confess that what interests me most
about Priestley's materialism, is the evidence that
he saw dimly the seed of destruction which such
materialism carries within its own bosom. In the
course of his reading for his " History of Dis-
coveries relating to Vision, Light, and Colours,"
he had come upon the speculations of Boscovich
and Michell, and had been led to admit the suffi-
ciently obvious truth that our knowledge of matter
is a knowledge of its properties; and that of its
substance — if it have a substance — we know noth-
ing. And this led to the further admission that,
so far as we can know, there may be no difference
between the substance of matter and the substance
of spirit C' Disquisitions," p. 16). A step farther
would have shown Priestley that his material-
ism was, essentially, very little different from the
Idealism of his contemporary, the Bishop of Cloyne.

As Priestley's philosophy is mainly a clear state-
ment of the views of the deeper thinkers of his day,
so are his political conceptions based upon those of
Locke. Locke's aphorism that "the end of gov-
ernment is the good of mankind," is thus expanded
by Priestley: —

" It must necessarily be understood, therefore, whether it
be expressed or not, that all people live in society for their
mutual advantage ; so that the good and happiness of the

28 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY I

members, that is, of the majority of the members, of any
state, is the great standard by which everything rekting to
that state must finally be determined."*

The little sentence here interpolated, " that is,
of the majority of the members of any state," ap-
pears to be that passage which suggested to
Bentham, according to his own acknowledgment,
the famous " greatest happiness " formula, which
by substituting " happiness " for " good," has con-
verted a noble into an ignoble principle. But I do
not call to mind that there is any utterance in
Locke quite so outspoken as the following passage
in the " Essay on the First Principles of Govern-
ment." After laying down as " a fundamental
maxim in nil Governments," the proposition that
"kings, senators, and nobles" are "the servants
of the public," Priestley goes on to say: —

" But in the largest states, if the abuses of the govern-
ment should at any time be great and manifest ; if the ser-
vants of the people, forgetting their masters and their mas-
ters' interest, should pursue a separate one of their own ; if,
instead of considering that they are made for the people,
they should consider the people as made for them ; if the
oppressions and violation of right should be great, flagrant,
and universally resented ; if the tyrannical governors should
have no friends but a few sycophants, who had long preyed
upon the vitals of their fellow-citizens, and who might bo
expected to desert a government whenever their interests
should be detached from it : if, in consequence of these cir-
cumstances, it should become manifest that the risk which
would be run in attempting a revolution would be trifling,

* Esftny on the First Prijiciples of Government. Second
edition, 1771. p. 13.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 29

and the evils which might be apprehended from it were far
less than those which were actually suffered and which were
daily increasing; in the name of God, I ask, what principles
are those which ought to restrain an injured and insulted
people from assertmg their natural rights, and from chang-
ing or even punishing their governors — that is, their ser-
vants— who had abused their trust, or from altering the
whole form of their government, if it appeared to be of a
structure so liable to abuse ? "

As a Dissenter, subject to the operation of the
Corporation and Test Acts, and as a Unitarian
excluded from the benefit of tlie Toleration Act,
it is not surprising to find that Priestley had very
definite opinions about Ecclesiastical Establish-
ments; the only wonder is that these opinions
were so moderate as the following passages show
them to have been: —

" Ecclesiastical authority may have been necessary in
the infant state of society, and, for the same reason, it may
perhaps continue to be, in some degree, necessary as long as
society is imperfect; and therefore may not be entirely
abolished till civil governments have arrived at a much
greater degree of perfection. If, therefore, I were asked
whether I should approve of the immediate dissolution of
all the ecclesiastical establishments in Europe, I should an-
swer. No. . . . Let experiment be first made of alterations^
or, which is the same thing, of hetter establishments than
the present. Let them be reformed in many essential arti-
cles, and then not thrown aside entirely till it be found by
experience that no good can be made of them."

Priestley goes on to suggest four such reforms

of a capital nature: —

" 1. Let the Articles of Faith to be subscribed by candi-
dates for the ministry be greatly reduced. In the formu-

30 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

lary of the Church of Eiighiiul, might not thirty-eight out
of the thirty-nine be very well s{)ared 1 It is a reproach to
any Christian establishment if every man cannot claim the
benefit of it who can say that he believes in the religion of
Jesus Christ as it is set forth in the New Testament. You
say the terms are so general that even Deists would quibble
and insinuate themselves. 1 answer that all the articles
which are subscribed at present by no means exclude Deists
who will prevaricate ; and upon this scheme you would at
least exclude fewer honest men." *

Tlie second reform suggested is the equalisa-
tion, in proportion to work done, of the stipends
of the clergy; the third, the exclusion of the
Bishops from Parliament; and the fourth, com-
])lete toleration, so that every man may enjoy the
rights of a citizen, and be qualified to serve his
country, whether he belong to the Established
Church or not.

0})inions such as those I have quoted, respect-
ing the duties and the responsibilities of governors,
are the commonplaces of modern Liberalism;
and Priestley's views on Ecclesiastical Establish-
ments would, I fear, meet with but a cool re-
ception, as altogether too conservative, from a
large proportion of the lineal descendants of the
people who taught their children to cry " Damn
Priestley; " and with that love for the practical
application of science which is the source of the
greatness of Birmingham, tried to set fire to the
doctor's house with sparks from his own electrical

* "Utility of Establishments." in Essay on First Prin-
ciples of Governmtnt, p. 198, 1771.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY — 31

machine; thereby giving the man they called an
incendiary and raiser of sedition against Church
and King, an appropriately experimental illustra-
tion of the nature of arson and riot.

If I have succeeded in putting before you the
main features of Priestley's work, its value will
become apparent when we compare the condition
of the English nation, as he knew it, with its
present state.

The fact that France has been for eighty-five
years trying, without much success, to right
herself after the great storm of the Eevolution,
is not unfrequently cited among us as an indi-
cation of some inherent incapacity for self-
government among the French people. 1 think,
however, that Englishmen who argue thus, forget
that, from the meeting of the Long Parliament in
1G40, to the last Stuart rebellion in 1745, is a
hundred and five years, and that, in the middle of
the last century, we had but just safely freed our-
selves from our Bourbons and all that they repre-
sented. The corruption of our state was as bad
as that of the Second Empire. Bribery was the
instrument of government, and peculation its re-
ward. Four-fifths of the seats in the House of
Commons were more or less openly dealt with
as property. A minister had to consider the
state of the vote market, and the sovereign
secured a sufficiency of " king's friends " by

32 '^ JOSEPH PRIESTLEY i

payments allotted with retail, rather than royal,
sagacity.

Barefaced and brutal immorality and intem-
perance pervaded the land, from the highest to
the lowest classes of society. The Established
Cliurch was torpid, as far as it was not a scandal;
but those who dissented from it came within the
meshes of the Act of Uniformity, the Test Act,
and the Corporation Act. By law, such a man as
Priestley, being a Unitarian, could neither teach
nor preach, and was liable to ruinous fines and
long imprisonment.* In those days the guns
that were pointed by the Church against the Dis-
senters were shotted. The law was a cesspool of
iniquity and cruelty. Adam Smitli was a new
prophet whom few regarded, and commerce was
ham})ered by idiotic impediments, and ruined
by still more absurd help, on the part of
government.

Birmingham, though already the centre of a
considerable industry, was a mere village as
com]>ared with its present extent. People who
travelled went about armed, by reason of the
abundance of highwaymen and the paucity and
inetliciency of the police. Stage coaches had not
reached Birmingham, and it took three days to get
to London. Even canals were a recent and much
opposed invention.

♦ In 1732 Doddridfre was cited for teaching without tho
Bishop's leave, at Northampton.

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 33

Newton had laid the foundation of a mechani-
cal conception of the physical universe: Hartley,
putting a modern face upon ancient materialism,
had extended that mechanical conception to psy-
chology; Linn^us and Haller were beginning to
introduce method and order into the chaotic
accumulation of biological facts. But those
parts of physical science which deal with heat,
electricity, and magnetism, and above all,
chemistry, in the modern sense, can hardly
be said to have had an existence. ISTo one
knew that two of the old elemental bodies, air
and water, are compounds, and that a third, fire,
is not a substance but a motion. The great
industries that have grown out of the applica-
tions of modern scientific discoveries had no
existence, and the man who should have foretold
their coming into being in the days of his son,
would have been regarded as a mad enthusiast.

In common with many other excellent persons,
Priestley believed that man is capable of reaching,
and will eventually attain, perfection. If the
temperature of space presented no obstacle, I
should be glad to entertain the same idea; but
judging from the past progress of our species, I
am afraid that the globe will have cooled down
so far, before the advent of this natural millen-
nium, that we shall be, at best, perfected Esqui-
maux. For all practical purposes, however, it is
enough that man may visibly improve his condi-

34 JOSEPH nilESTLEY i

tion in the course of a century or so. And, if the
picture of the state of things in Priestley's time,
which I have just drawn, have any pretence to
accuracy, I think it must be admitted that there
has been a considerable change for the better.

I need not advert to the well-worn topic of
material advancement, in a place in which the
very stones testify to that progress — in the town
of AVatt and of Boulton. I will only remark, in
passing, that material advancement has its share
in moral and intellectual progress. Becky Sharp's
acute remark that it is not difficult to be virtuous
on ten thousand a year, has its application to
nations; and it is futile to expect a hungry and
squalid population to be anything but violent and
gross. But as regards other than material wel-
fare, although perfection is not yet in sight — even
from the mast-head — it is surely true that things
are much better than thev were.

Take the upper and middle classes as a whole,
and it may be said that open immorality and
gross intemperance have vanished. Four and six
bottle men are as extinct as the dodo. Women
of good repute do not gamble, and talk modelled
upon Dean Swift's " Art of Polite Conversation "
would be tolerated in no decent kitchen.

Members of the Iciiislature are not to be
bought; and constituents are awakening to the
fact that votes must not be sold — even for such
trifles as rabbits and tea and cake. Political

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 35

power lias passed into the hands of the masses of
the people. Those whom Priestley calls their
servants have recognized their position, and have
requested the master to be so good as to go to
school and fit himself for the administration of his
property. In ordinary life, no civil disability
attaches to any one on theological grounds, and
high offices of the state are open to Papist, Jew,
and Secularist.

Whatever men^s opinions as to the policy of
Establishment, no one can hesitate to admit that
the clergy of the Church are men of pure life
and conversation, zealous in the discharge of their
duties; and at present, apparently, more bent on
prosecuting one another than on meddling with
Dissenters. Theology itself has broadened so
much, that Anglican divines put forward doctrines
more liberal than those of Priestley; and, in our
state-supported churches, one listener may hear a
sermon to which Bossuet might have given his
approbation, while another may hear a discourse
in which Socrates would find nothing new.

But great as these changes may be, they sink
into insignificance beside the progress of physical
science, whether we consider the improvement of
methods of investigation, or the increase in bulk
of solid knowledge. Consider that the labours of
Laplace, of Young, of Davy, and of Faraday; of
Cuvier, of Lamarck, and of Robert Brown; of
Yon Baer, and of Schwann; of Smith and of

36 JOSEPU PRIESTLEY i

Hutton, have all been carried on since Priestley
discovered oxygen; and consider that they are
now things of the past, concealed by the industry
of those who have built upon them, as the first
founders of a coral reef are hidden beneath the
life's work of their successors; consider that the
methods of physical science are slowly spreading
into all investigations, and that proofs as valid as
those required by her canons of investigation are
being demanded of all doctrines which ask for
men's assent; and you will have a faint image of
the astounding difference in this respect between
the nineteenth century and the eighteenth.

If we ask what is the deeper meaning of all
these vast changes, I think there can be but one
reply. They mean that reason has asserted and
exercised her primacy over all provinces of human
activity; that ecclesiastical authority has been
relegated to its proper place; that the good of the
governed has been finally recognized as the end of
government, and the complete responsibility of
governors to the people as its means; and that
the dependence of natural phenomena in general
on the laws of action of what we call matter has
become an axiom.

But it was to bring these things about, and to
enforce the recognition of these truths, that
Josei^h Priestley laboured. If the nineteenth
century is other and better tlian the eighteenth,
it is, in great measure, to him, and to such men as

I JOSEPH PRIESTLEY 37

he, that we owe the change. If the twentieth
century is to be better than the nineteenth, it will
be because there are among us men who walk in
Priestley's footsteps.

Such men are not those whom their own gen-
eration delights to honour; such men, in fact,
rarely trouble themselves about honour, but ask,
in another spirit than Falstaff's, " What is honour?
Who hath it? He that died 0' Wednesday." But
whether Priestley's lot be theirs, and a future
generation, in justice and in gratitude, set up
their statues; or whether their names and fame
are blotted out from remembrance, their work will
live as long as time endures. To all eternity, the
sum of truth and right will have been increased
by their means; to all eternit}^ falsehood and
injustice will be the weaker because they have
lived.

II

ON TTTE EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF THE
NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES

[1851]

The subject to which I have to beg your atten-
tion (luring the ensuing hour is " The Relation of
Physiological Science to other branches of Knowl-
edge."

Had circumstances permitted of the delivery,
in their strict logical order, of that series of dis-
courses of which the present lecture is a member,
I should have preceded my friend and colleague
Mr. llonfrey, who addressed you on ^londay last;
but while, for the sake of that order, I must beg
you to suppose that this discussion of the Educa-
tional bearings of Biology in general does precede
that of Special Zoology and Botany, I am rejoiced
to be able to take advantage of the light thus
already thrown u)ion the tendency and methods of
Phvsioloirical Science.

Regarding IMiysiological Science, then, in its

II VALUE OF NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES. 39

widest sense — as the equivalent of Biology — the
Science of Individual Life — we have to consider
in succession:

1. Its position and scope as a branch of knowl-
edge.

2. Its value as a means of mental discipline.

3. Its worth as practical information.
And lastly,

4. At what period it may best be made a
branch of Education.

Our conclusions on the first of these heads
must depend, of course, upon the nature of the
subject-matter of Biology; and I think a few pre-
liminary considerations will place before you in
a clear light the vast difference which exists
between the living bodies with which Physio-
logical science is concerned, and the remainder
of the universe; — between the pha3nomena of
Number and Space, of Physical and of Chemical
force, on the one hand, and those of Life on the
other.

The mathematician, the physicist, and the
chemist contemplate things in a condition of rest;
they look upon a state of equilibrium as that to
which all bodies normally tend.

The mathematician does not suppose that a
quantity will alter, or that a given point in space
will change its direction with regard to another
point, spontaneously. And it is the same with
the physicist. When Newton saw the api)le fall,
C3

40 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE n

he concluded at once that the dct of falling was
not the result of any power inherent in the apple,
but that it was the result of the action of some-
thing else on the apple. In a similar manner, all
physical force is regarded as the disturbance of an
equilibrium to which things tended before its
exertion, — to which they will tend again after its
cessation.

The chemist equally regards chemical change
in a body as the effect of the action of something
external to the body changed. A chemical com-
pound once formed would persist for ever, if no
alteration took place in surrounding conditions.

But to the student of Life the aspect of Nature
is reversed. Here, incessant, and, so far as we
know, spontaneous change is the rule, rest the
exception — the anomaly to be accounted for.
Living things have no inertia, and tend to no
equilibrium.

Permit me, however, to give more force and
clearness to these somewhat abstract considerations
by an illustration or two.

Imagine a vessel full of water, at the ordinary
temperature, in an atmosphere saturated with
vapour. The q^innlihj and the /i(jure of that
water will not change, so far as we know, for
ever.

Suppose a lump of gold be thrown into the ves-
sel— motion and disturbance of figure exactly pro-
portional to the momentum of the gold will take

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 41

place. But after a time the effects of this disturb-
ance will subside — equilibrium will be restored,
and the water will return to its passive state.

Expose the water to cold — it will solidify — and
in so doing its particles will arrange themselves
in definite crystalline shapes. But once formed,
these crystals change no further.

Again, substitute for the lump of gold some
substance capable of entering into chemical rela-
tions with the water: — say, a mass of that sub-
stance which is called " protein " — the substance
of flesh: — a very considerable disturbance of equi-
librium will take place — all sorts of chemical com-
positions and decompositions will occur; but in
the end, as before, the result will be the resump-
tion of a condition of rest.

Instead of such a mass of dead protein, how-
ever, take a particle of living protein — one of those
minute microscopic living things which throng
our pools, and are known as Infusoria — such a
creature, for instance, as an Euglena, and place it
in our vessel of water. It is a round mass pro-
vided with a long filament, and except in this pe-
culiarity of shape, presents no appreciable physical
or chemical difference whereby it might be distin-
guished from the particle of dead protein.

But the difference in the phaenomena to which
it will give rise is immense: in the first place it
will develop a vast quantity of ph3'sical force —
cleaving the water in all directions with consider-

42 OX THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

able rapidity by means of the vibrations of the
long filament of cilium.

Nor is the amount of chemical energy which
the little creature possesses less striking. It is a
perfect laboratory in itself, and it will act and re-
act upon the water and the matters contained
therein; converting them into new compounds re-
sembling its own substance, and at the same time
giving up portions of its own substance which have
become effete.

Furthermore, the Euglena will increase in size;
but this increase is by no means unlimited, as the
increase of a crystal might be. After it has grown
to a certain extent it divides, and each portion
assumes the form of the original, and proceeds to
repeat the process of growth and division.

Nor is this all. For after a series of such divi-
sions and subdivisions, these minute points assume
a totally new form, lose their long tails — round
tliemselves, and secrete a sort of envelope or box,
in which they remain shut up for a time, eventu-
ally to resume, directly or indirectly, their primi-
tive mode of existence.

Now, so far as we know, there is no natural
limit to the existence of the Euglena, or of any
other living germ. A living species once launched
into existence tends to live for ever.

Consider how widely different this living par-
ticle is from the dead atoms with which the physi-
cist and chemist have to do!

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 43

The particle of gold falls to the bottom and
rests — the particle of dead protein decomposes and
disappears — it also rests: but the living protein
mass neither tends to exhaustion of its forces nor
to any permanency of form, but is essentially dis-
tinguished as a disturber of equilibrium so far as
force is concerned, — as undergoing continual meta-
morphosis and change, in point of form.

Tendency to equilibrium of force and to per-
manency of form, then, are the characters of that
portion of the universe which does not live — the
domain of the chemist and physicist.

Tendency to disturb existing equilibrium — to
take on forms which succeed one another in defi-
nite cycles — is the character of the living world.

AVhat is the cause of this wonderful difference
between the dead particle and the living particle
of matter appearing in other respects identical?
that difference to which we give the name of
Life?

I, for one, cannot tell you. It may be that, by
and by, philosophers will discover some higher
laws of which the facts of life are particular cases
— very possibly they will find out some bond be-
tween physico-chemical phgenomena on the one
hand, and vital phaenomena^ on the other. At
present, however, we assuredly know of none;
and I think we shall exercise a wise humility in
confessing that, for us at least, this successive
assumption of different states — (external condi-

44: ON TUE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

tions remaining the same) — this spontaneity of ac-
tion— if I may use the term which impHes more
than I would be answerable for — which constitutes
so vast and plain a practical distinction between
living bodies and those which do not live, is an ul-
timate fact; indicating as such, the existence of a
broad line of demarcation between the subject-
matter of Biological and that of all other
sciences.

For I would have it understood that this sim-
ple Euglena is the type of all living things, so far
as the distinction betw^een these and inert matter
is concerned. That cycle of changes, which is
constituted by perhaps not more than two or three
steps in the Euglena, is as clearly manifested in
the multitudinous stages through which the germ
of an oak or of a man passes. Whatever forms
the Living Being may take on, whether simple or
complex, yroduction, growth, reproduction, are the
pha?nomena which distinguish it from that which
does not live.

If this be true, it is clear that the student, in
passing from the physico-chemical to the physio-
logical sciences, enters upon a totally new order of
facts; and it \\\\\ next be for us to consider how
far these new facts involve new methods, or require
a modification of those with which he is already
acquainted. ISTow a great deal is said about the
peculiarity of the scientific method in general, and
of the different methods which are pursued in the

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 45

different sciences. The Mathematics are said to
have one special method; Physics another, Biology
a third, and so forth. For ni}^ own part, I must
confess that I do not understand this phraseology.
N So far as I can arrive at any clear comprehen-
sion of the matter. Science is not, as many would
seem to suppose, a modification of the black art,
suited to the tastes of the nineteenth century, and
flourishing mainly in consequence of the decay of
the Inquisition.

Science is, I believe, nothing but trained and
organised common sense, differing from the latter
only as a veteran may differ from a raw recruit:
and its methods differ from those of common sense
only so far as the guardsman's cut and thrust
differ from the manner in which a savage wields
his club. The primary power is the same in each
case, and perhaps the untutored savage has the
more brawny arm of the two. The real advantage
lies in the point and polish of the swordsman's
weapon; in the trained eye quick to spy out the
weakness of the adversary; in the ready hand
prompt to follow it on the instant. But, after all,
the sword exercise is only the hewing and poking
of the clubman developed and perfected.

So, the vast results obtained bv Science are
won by no mystical faculties, by no mental pro-
cesses, other than those which are practised by
every one of us, in the humblest and meanest
affairs of life. A detective policeman discovers a

46 OX THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

burglar from the marks made b}' his shoe, by a
mental process identical with that by which Cuvier
restored the extinct animals of Montmartre from
fragments of their bones. Nor does that process
of induction and deduction by which a lady, find-
ing a stain of a peculiar kind upon her dress, con-
cludes that somebody has upset the inkstand there-
on, differ in any way, in kind, from that by which
Adams and Leverrier discovered a new planet.

The man of science, in fact, simply uses with
scrupulous exactness the methods which we all,
habitually and at every moment, use carelessly;
and the man of business must as much avail him-
self of the scientific method — must be as truly a
man of science — as the veriest bookworm of us
all; thoudi I have no doubt that the man of busi-
ness will find himself out to be a philosopher with
as much surprise as M. Jourdain exhibited when
he discovered that he had been all his life talking
prose. If, however, there be no real difference be-
tween the methods of science and those of common
life, it would seem, on the face of the matter,
highly improbable that there should be any
difference between the methods of the dilferent
sciences; nevertheless, it is constantly taken for
granted that there is a very wide difference be-
tween the Physiological and other sciences in
point of method.

In the first place it is said — and I take this
point first, because the imputation is too frequent-

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 47

ly admitted by Physiologists themselves — that Bi-
ology differs from the Physico-chemical and Math-
ematical sciences in being " inexact."

Now, this phrase " inexact " must refer either
to the methods or to the results of Phvsiolooical
science.

It cannot be correct to apply it to the methods;
for, as I hope to show you by and by, these are
identical in all sciences, and whatever is true of
Physiological method is true of Physical and
Mathematical method.

Is it then the results of Biological science which
are " inexact " ? I think not. If I say that respi-
ration is performed by the lungs; that digestion is
effected in the stomach; that the eye is the organ
of sight; that the jaws of a vertebrated animal
never open sideways, but always up and down;
Avliile those of an annulose animal always open
sideways, and never up and down — I am enumer-
ating propositions which are as exact as anything
in Euclid. IIow then has this notion of the in-
exactness of Biological science come about? I
believe from two causes: first, because in conse-
quence of the great complexity of the science and
the multitude of interfering conditions, we are
very often only enabled to predict approximately
what will occur under given circumstances; and
secondly, because, on account of the comparative
youth of the Physiological sciences, a great many
of their laws are still imperfectly worked out.

48 ON TEE EDUCATIONAL VALUE n

But, in an educational point of view, it is most
important to distinguish between the essence of a
science and the accidents which surround it; and
essentially, the methods and results of Phj'siology
are as exact as those of Physics or Mathematics.

It is said that the Physiological method is es-
pecially comparative * ; and this dictum also finds
favour in the eyes of many. I should be sorry to
suggest that the speculators on scientific classifica-
tion have been misled by the accident of the name
of one leading branch of Biology — Comparative
Anatomy; but I would ask whether comparison,
and that classification which is the result of com-
parison, are not the essence of every science
•whatsoever? How is it possible to discover a re-
lation of cause and effect of any kind without com-
paring a series of cases together in which the sup-
posed cause and effect occur singly, or combined?

* " In the third place, we have to review the method of
Comparison, which is so specially adapted to the study of
living bodies, and by which, above all others, that study
must be advanced. In Astronomy, this method is neces-
sarily inapplicable ; and it is not till we arrive at Chemistry
that this third moans of investipition can be used; and
then only in subordination to the two others. It is in the
study, both statical and dynamical, of living bodies that it
first acquires its full development ; and its use elsewhere
can be only through its apjjjication here." — Comtk's Posi-
tive Philosopfiy, translated by Miss Martineau. Vol. i. j).
372.

By what method does M. Comte suppose that the equal-
ity or inequality of forces and quantities and the dissimi-
larity or similarity of forms — i)oints of some slight impor-
tance not only in Astronomy and Physics, but even in
Mathematics — are ascertained, if not by Comparison f

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 49

So far from comparison being in any way peculiar
to Biological science, it is, I think, the essence of
every science.

A speculative philosopher again tells us that
the Biological sciences are distinguished by being
sciences of observation and not of experiment! *

Of all the strange assertions into which specu-
lation without practical acquaintance with a sub-
ject may lead even an able man, I think this is
the very strangest. Physiology not an experimen-
tal science? Why, there is not a function of a
single organ in the body which has not been de-
termined wholly and solely by experiment? How
did Harvey determine the nature of the circula-
tion, except by experiment? How did Sir Charles
Bell determine the functions of the roots of the
spinal nerve, save by experiment? How do we
know the use of a nerve at all, except by experi-
ment? Nay, how do we know even that your
eye is your seeing apparatus, unless you make the
experiment of shutting it or that your ear is your

* " Proceedini^ to the second class of means, — Experi-
ment cannot but be less and less decisive, in proportion to
the complexity of the ph-Tnoraena to be explored ; and
therefore we saw this resource to be less effectual in chem-
istry than in physics: and we now find that it is eminently
useful in chemistry in comparison with physiology. In
fact, the nature of the phmnomena see?ns to offer almost in-
surmonnfable impediments to any extensive and prolific ap-
plication of such a procedure in biology,''^ — Comte, vol. i.
p. 367.

M. Comte, as his manner is, contradicts himself two
pa^es further on, but that will hardly relieve him from the
responsibility of such a paragraph as the above.

50 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

hearing apparatus, unless you close it up and
thereby discover that you become deaf?

It would really be much more true to say that
Phj^siology is the experimental science par excel-
lence of all sciences; that in which there is least
to be learnt by mere observation, and that which
affords the greatest field for the exercise of those
faculties which characterise the experimental phi-
losopher. I confess, if any one were to ask me
for a model application of the logic of experiment,
I should know no better work to put into his
liands than Bernard's late Researches on the
Functions of the Liver.*

Xot to give this lecture a too controversial
tone, however, I must only advert to one more
doctrine, held by a thinker of our own age and
country, whose opinions are worthy of all respect.
It is, that the Biological sciences ditfer from all
others, inasmuch as in i]ic?n classification takes
place by type and not by definition.!

It is said, in short, that a natural-history class
is not capable of being defined — that the class

* NouvplJe Fonrfion (hi Foie cnvaidere rnmme orgnne
prodncfeur de mntiere sucree chez Vllomme et les Animaux,
par IM. riandc Bernard.

]'■'■ Natural Groii])S cjiveii hy Typo, nnt ht/ Definiitnn.
.... The class is steadily fixed, thoucrh not precisely
limited; it is given, though not circumscribed; it is deter-
mined, not by a boundary-line without, but by a central
point within ; not by what it strictly excludes, but what it
eminently includes; by an example, not by a precept; in
short, instead of Definition we have a Tjipo for our director.
A type is an example of any class, for instance, a species of

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 51

Eosaceas, for instance, or tlie class of Fishes, is not
accurately and absolutely definable, inasmuch as
its members will present exceptions to every pos-
sible definition and that the members of the
class are united together only by the circumstance
that they are all more like some imaginary aver-
age rose or average fish, than they resemble any-
thing else.

But here, as before, I think the distinction has
arisen entirely from confusing a transitory imper-
fection with an essential character. So long as
our information concerning them is imperfect, we
class all objects together according to resemblances
which we feel, but cannot define; we group them
round types, in short. Thus if you ask an ordi-
nary person what kinds of animals there are, he
will probably say, beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes, in-
sects, &c. Ask him to define a beast from a rep-
tile, and he cannot do it; but he sa3^s, things like
a cow or a horse are beasts, and things like a frog
or a lizard are reptiles. You see he does class by
type, and not by definition. But how does this
classification differ from that of a scientific Zoolo-
gist? How does the meaning of the scientific class-
name of " Mammalia " differ from the unscientific
of "Beasts"?

a genus, which is considered as eminently possessing the
characters of the class. All the species which have a greater
affinity with this type-species than with any others, form
the genus, and are ranged about it, deviating from it in va-
« rious directions and different degrees." — Whewell, The
Philosopluj of the Indudice Sciences, vol. i. pp. 476, 477.

52 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

Why, exactly because tlie former depends on
a definition, the latter on a type. The class
Mammalia is scientifically defined as " all animals
which have a vertebrated skeleton and suckle their
young." Here is no reference to type, but a defi-
nition rigorous enough for a geometrician. And
such is the character which every scientilic natu-
ralist recognises as that to which his classes must
aspire — knowing, as he does, that classification by
type is simply an acknowledgment of ignorance
and a temporary device.

So much in the way of negative argument as
against the reputed differences between Biological
and other methods. No such differences, I believe,
rally exist. The subject-matter of Biological sci-
ence is different from that of other sciences, but
the methods of all are identical; and these
methods are —

1. Observation of facts — including under this
head that artificial observation which is called cx-
periincnt.

2. That process of tying up similar facts into
bundles ticketed and ready for use, which is called
Comparison and Classification ,—;-i\\e results of the
process, the tcketed bundles, being named General
propositions.

3. Deduction, which takes us from the general
proposition to facts again — teaches us, if 1 may so
say, to anticipate from the ticket what is inside
the bundle. And finally —

II OF THE NATURAL HISTOHY SCIENCES 53

4. Verification^ which is the process of ascer-
taining whether, in point of fact, our anticipation
is a correct one.

Such are the methods of all science whatso-
ever; but perhaps you will permit me to give you
an illustration of their employment in the science
of Life; and I will take as a special case the
establishment of the doctrine of the Circulation of
the Blood.

In this case, simple observation yields us a
knowledge of the existence of the blood from some
accidental haemorrhage, we will say; we ma}'^ even
grant that it informs us of the localisation of this
blood in particular vessels, the heart, &c., from
some accidental cut or the like. It teaches also
the existence of a pulse in various parts of the
body, and acquaints us with the structure of the
heart and vessels.

Here, however, simple observation stops, and we
must have recourse to experiment.

You tie a vein, and you find that the blood
accumulates on the side of the ligature opposite
the heart. You tie an artery, and you find that
the blood accumulates on the side near the heart.
Open the chest, and you see the heart contracting
with great force. Make openings into its prin-
cipal cavities, and you will find that all the blood
flows out, and no more pressure is exerted on either
side of the arterial or venous ligature.

Now all these facts, taken together, constitute

54 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

the evidence that the blood is propeHed hy the
heart tliroiioh the arteries, and returns hy tlie
veins — that, in short, the blood circulates.

Suppose our experiments and observations have
been made on horses, then we group and ticket
them into a general proposition, thus: — all horses
have a circulation of their blood.

Henceforward a horse is a sort of indication or
label, telling us where we shall find a peculiar
series of pha^nomena called the circulation of the
blood.

Here is our general proposition, then.

How, and when, are we justified in making our
next step — a deduction from it?

Suppose our physiologist, whose experience is
limited to horses, meets* with a zebra for the first
time, — will he suppose that this generalisation
holds good for zebras also?

That depends very much on his turn of mind.
But we will suppose him to be a bold man. He
will say, " The zebra is certainly not a horse, but
it is very like one, — so like, that it must be the
'ticket' or mark of a blood-circulation also; and
I conclude that the zebra has a circulation."

That is a deduction, a very fair deduction, hut
by no means to be considered scientifically secure.
This last quality in fact can only be given by
verification — that is, by making a zebra the subject
of all the experiments performed on the horse. Of
course, in the present case, the deduction would be

n OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 55

confirmed by this process of verification, and the
result would be, not merely a positive widening of
knowledge, but a fair increase of confidence in the
truth of one's generalisations in other cases.

Thus, having settled the point in the zebra and
horse, our philosopher would have great confidence
in the existence of a circulation in the ass. Nay,
I fancy most persons would excuse him, if in this
case he did not take the trouble to go through the
process of verification at all; and it would not be
without a parallel in the history of the human
mind, if our imaginary physiologist now main-
tained that he was acquainted with asinine circula-
tion a 'priori.

However, if I might impress any caution upon
your minds, it is, the utterly conditional nature of
all our knowledge, — the danger of neglecting the
process of verification under any circumstances;
and the film upon which we rest, the moment our
deductions carry us beyond the reach of this great
process of verification. There is no better instance
of this than is afl^orded by the history of our
knowledge of the circulation of the blood in the
animal kingdom until the year 1824. In every
animal possessing a circulation at all, which had
been observed up to that time"; the current of the
blood was known to take one definite and invari-
able direction. iSTow, there is a class of animals
called Ascidians, which possess a heart and a cir-
culation, and up to the period of which I speak,
04

5G ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

no one would have dreamt of questioning the
propriety of tlie deduction, tliat these creatures
have a circulation in one direction; nor would any
one have thought it worth while to verify the
point. But, in that year, ^L von Ilasselt, happen-
ing to examine a transj)arent animal of this class,
found, to his infinite surprise, that after the heart
had beat a certain number of times, it stopped,
and then began beating the opposite way — so as
to reverse the course of the current, which returned
by and by to its original direction.

I have myself timed the heart of these little
animals. I found it as regular as possible in its
periods of reversal: and I know no spectacle in
the animal kingdom more wonderful than that
which it presents — all the more wonderful that to
this day it remains an unique fact, peculiar to this
class auiong the whole animated world. At the
same time I know of no more striking case of the
necessity of the verification of even those deduc-
tions which seem founded on the widest and
safest inductions.

Such are the methods of Biology — methods
which are obviously identical with those of all
other sciences, and therefore wholly incompetent
to form the ground of any distinction between it
and them.*

* S.avc for the pleasure of doinp so, 1 need hardly point
out my obligations to ^Ir. J. JS. Mill's System uf Loyic, in
this view of scientific method.

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 57

But I shall be asked at once, Do you mean to
say that there is no difference between the habit
of mind of a mathematician and that of a natural-
ist? Uo you imagine that Laplace might have
been put into the Jardin des Plantes, and Cuvier
into the Observatory, with equal advantage to the
progress of the sciences they professed?

To which I would reply, that nothing could be
further from my thoughts. But different habits
and various special tendencies of two sciences do
not imply different methods. The mountaineer
and the man of the plains have very different
habits of progression, and each would be at a loss
in the other's place; but the method of progression,
by putting one leg before the other, is the same in
each case. Every step of each is a combination of
a lift and a push; but the mountaineer lifts more
and the lowlander pushes more. And I think the
case of two sciences resembles this.

I do not question for a moment, that while the
Mathematician is busy with deductions from
general propositions, the Biologist is more espe-
cially occupied with observation, comparison, and
those processes which lead to general propositions.
All I wish to insist upon is, that this difference
depends not on any fundamental distinction in
the sciences themselves, but on the accidents of
their subject-matter, of their relative complexity,
and consequent relative perfection.

The Mathematician deals with two properties of

58 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

objects only, number antl extension, and all the
inductions he wants have been formed and finished
ages ago. lie is occui)ied now with nothing but
deduction and verification.

The Biologist deals with a vast number of
properties of objects, and his inductions will not be
completed, I fear, for ages to come; but when they
are, his science will be as deductive and as exact
as the Mathematics themselves.

Such is the relation of Biology to those sciences
which deal with objects having fewer properties
than itself. But as the student, in reaching
Biology, looks back upon sciences of a less complex
and therefore more perfect nature; so, on the other
hand, does he look forward to other more complex
and less perfect branches of knowledge. Biology
deals only with living beings as isolated things —
treats only of the life of the individual: but there
is a higher division of science still, which considers
living beings as aggregates — which deals with the
relation of living beings one to another — the sci-
ence wliich observes men — whose experimenis are
made by nations one upon another, in battle-fields
— whose general prnposifinvs are em1)odied in his-
tory, morality, and religion — whose defhirtinns
lead to our happiness or our misery — and whose
verifications so often come too late, and serve only

"To point a moral, or adorn a tale" —
I mean the science of Society or Sociology.

II OF THE NATURAI. HISTORY SCIENCES 59

I think it is one of the grandest features of
Biology, that it occupies this central position in
human knowledge. There is no side of the human
mind which physiological study leaves unculti-
vated. Connected by innumerable ties with ab-
stract science, Physiology is yet in the most inti-
mate relation with humanity; and by teaching us
that law and order, and a definite scheme of devel-
opment, regulate even the strangest and wildest
manifestations of individual life, she prepares the
student to look for a goal even amidst the erratic
wanderings of mankind, and to believe that history
offers something more than an entertaining chaos
— a journal of a toilsome, tragi-comic march no-
whither.

The preceding considerations have, I hope,
served to indicate the replies which befit the first
two of the questions which I set before you at
starting, viz. AVhat is the range and position of
Physiological Science as a branch of knowledge,
and what is its value as a means of mental dis-
cipline?

Its subject-matter is a large moiety of the uni-
verse— its position is midway between the physico-
chemical and the social sciences. Its value as a
branch of discipline is partly that which it has in
common with all sciences — the training and
strengthening of common sense; partly that
which is more peculiar to itself — the great exercise
which it affords to the faculties of observation and

60 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE n

comparison; and, I may add, the exactness of
knowledge wliicli it requires on the part ol' those
anions: its votaries who desire to extend its bound-
aries.

If what has been said as to the position and
scoi)e of Biology he correct, our third question —
AVhat is the practical value of physiological in-
struction?— might, one would think, be left to
answer itself.

On other grounds even, were mankind deserv-
ing of the title " rational," which they arrogate to
themselves, there can be no question that they
would consider, as the most necessary of all
branches of instruction for themselves and for
their children, that which professes to acquaint
them with the conditions of the existence they
prize so highly — which teaches them how to avoid
disease and to cherish health, in themselves and
those who are dear to them.

I am addressing, I imagine, an audience of
educated persons; and yet I dare venture to assert
that, witli the exception of those of my hearers
who may chance to have received a medical edu-
cation, there is not one who could t(^ll me what is
the meaning and use of an act which he performs
a score of times every minute, and whose suspen-
sion would involve his immediate death; — I mean
the act of breathing — or who could state in precise
terms why it is tliat a confined atmosphere is
injurious to health.

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 61

The practical value of Physiological knowledge!
Why is it that educated men can be found to main-
tain that a slaughter-house in the midst .of a great
city is rather a good thing than otherwise? — that
mothers persist in exposing the largest possible
amount of surface of their children to the cold, by
the absurd style of dress they adopt, and then
marvel at the peculiar dispensation of Providence,
which removes their infants by bronchitis and
gastric fever? Why is it that quackery rides ram-
pant over the land; and that not long ago, one
of the largest public rooms in this great city could
be filled by an audience gravely listening to the
reverend expositor of the doctrine — that the simple
physiological phasnomena known as spirit-rapping,
table-turning, phreno-magnetism, and I know not
what other absurd and inappropriate names, are
due to the direct and personal agency of Satan?

Why is all this, except from the utter ignorance
as to the simplest laws of their own animal life,
which prevails among even the most highly edu-
cated persons in this country?

But there are other branches of Biological Sci-
ence, besides Physiology proper, whose practical
influence, though less obvious, is not, as I believe,
less certain. I have heard educated men speak
wdth an ill-disguised contempt of the studies of the
naturalist, and ask, not without a shrug, " What is
the use of knowing all about these miserable ani-
mals— what bearing has it on human life? "

62 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

I will endeavour to answer that question. I
take it that all will admit there is definite Govern-
ment of this universe — that its pleasures and pains
are not scattered at random, but are distributed
in accordance with orderly and fixed laws, and that
it is only in accordance with all we know of the rest
of the world, that there should be an a<>reement
between one portion of the sensitive creation and
another in these matters.

Surely then it interests us to know the lot of
other animal creatures — however far below us, they
are still the sole created thinii^s which share with
us the capability of pleasure and the susceptibility
to ])ain.

I cannot but think that he who finds a certain
proportion of pain and evil inseparably woven up
in the life of the very worms, will bear his own
share with more courage and submission; and will,
at any rate, view with suspicion those weakly
amiable theories of the Divine government, which
would have us believe pain to be an oversight and
a mistake, — to be corrected by and by. On the
other hand, the predominance of happiness among
livinfj thinjTS — their lavish beauty — the secret and
wonderful harmony which pervades them all, from
the highest to the lowest, are equally striking
refutations of that modern ^Lnnichean doctrine,
which exhibits the world as a slave-mill, worked
with many tears, for mere utilitarian ends.

There is yet another way in which natural his-

n OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 63

•

tory may, I am convinced, take a profound hold
upon practical life, — and that is, by its influence
over our finer feelings, as the greatest of all sources
of that pleasure which is derivable from beauty.
I do not pretend that natural-history knowledge, as
such, can increase our sense of the beautiful in
natural objects. I do not suppose that the dead
soul of Peter Bell, of whom the great poet of na-
ture savs, —

A primrose by the river's brim,
A yellow primrose was to him, —
And it was nothing more, —

would have been a whit roused from its apathy by
the information tliat the primrose is a Dicotyle-
donous Exogen, with a monopetalous corolla and
central placentation. But I advocate natural-
history knowledge from this point of view, because
it would lead us to seeh the beauties of natural
objects, instead of trusting to chance to force them
on our attention. To a person uninstructed in
natural history, his country or sea-side stroll is a
walk through a gallery fdled with wonderful works
of art, nine-tenths of which have their faces turned
to the wall. Teach him something of natural
history, and you place in his hands a catalogue of
those which are worth turninsj round. Surelv our
innocent pleasures are not so abundant in this life,
that we can afford to despise this or any other
source of them. AYe should fear being banished
for our neglect to that limbo, where the great

64 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE ii

Florentine tells us are those who, during this life,
" wept when they might be joyful."

But I shall be trespassing unwarrantably on
your kindness, if I do not proceed at once to my
last point — the time at which Physiological
Science should first form a part of the Curriculum
of Education.

The distinction between the teaching of the
facts of a science as instruction, and the teaching
it systematically as knowledge, has already been
placed before you in a previous lecture: and it
appears to me that, as with other sciences, the
common fads of Biology — the uses of parts of the
body — the names and habits of the living creatures
which surround us — may be taught with advantage
to the youngest child. Indeed, the avidity of
children for this kind of knowledge, and the com-
parative ease with which they retain it, is some-
thing quite marvellous. I doubt whether any toy
would be so acceptable to young children as a
vivarium of the same kind as, but of course on a
smaller scale than, those admirable devices in the
Zoological Gardens.

On the other hand, systematic teaching in
Biology cannot be attempted with success until
the student has attained to a certain knowledge
of physics and chemistry: for though the pha?-
nomena of life are dependent neither on physical
nor on chemical, but on vital forces, yet they
result in all sorts of physical and chemical

II OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES 65

changes, which can only be -judged by their own
laws.

And now to sum up in a few words the con-
clusions to which I hope you see reason to fol-
low me.

Biology needs no apologist when she demands
a place — and a prominent place — in any scheme
of education worthy of the name. Leave out the
Physiological sciences from your curriculum, and
you launch the student into the world, undisci-
plined in that science whose subject-matter would
best develop his powers of observation; ignorant
of facts of the deepest importance for his own and
others' welfare; blind to the richest sources of
beauty in God's creation; and unprovided with
that belief in a living law, and an order manifest-
ing itself in and through endless change and
variety, which might serve to check and moderate
that phase of despair through which, if he take
an earnest interest in social problems, he will
assuredly sooner or later pass.

Finally, one word for myself. I have not hesi-
tated to speak strongly where I have felt strongly;
and I am but too conscious that the indicative and
imperative moods have too often taken the place of
the more becoming subjunctive and conditional. I
feel, therefore, how necessary it is to beg you to
forget the personality of him who has thus ven-
tured to address you, and to consider only the truth
or error in what has been said.

Ill

EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE

[1805]

Quashie's plaintive inquiry, " Am I not a man
and a brother? " seems at last to have received
its final reply — the recent decision of the fierce
trial by battle on the other side of the Atlantic
fully concurring with that long since delivered
here in a more peaceful way.

The question is settled; but even those who

are most thoroughly convinced that the doom is

just, must see good grounds for repudiating half

the arguments which have been employed by the

winning side; and for doubting whether its

ultimate results will embody the hopes of the

victors, though they may more than realise the

fears of the vanquished. It may be quite true

that some negroes are better than some white

men; but no rational man, cognisant of the facts,

believes that the average negro is the equal, still
66

in EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE 67

less the superior, of the average white man. And,
if this be true, it is simply incredible that, when
all his disabilities are removed, and our prog-
nathous relative has a fair field and no favour, as
well as no oppressor, he will be able to compete
successfully with his bigger-brained and smaller-
jawed rival, in a contest which is to be carried on
by thoughts and not by bites. The highest places
in the hierarchy of civilisation will assuredly not
be within the reach of our dusky cousins, though it
is by no means necessary that they should be re-
stricted to the lowest. But whatever the position
of stable equilibrium into which the laws of social
gravitation may bring the negro, all responsibility
for the result will henceforward lie between
Nature and him. The white man may wash his
hands of it, and the Caucasian conscience be void
of reproach for evermore. And this, if we look to
the bottom of the matter, is the real justification
for the abolition policy.

The doctrine of equal natural rights may be an
illogical delusion; emancipation may convert the
slave from a well-fed animal into a pauperised
man; mankind may even have to do without cot-
ton shirts; but all these evils must be faced if
the moral law, that no human being can arbi-
trarily dominate over another without grievous
damage to his own nature, be, as many think, as
readily demonstrable by experiment as any
physical truth. If this be true, no slavery can

68 EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE iii

be abolished witliout a double emancipation, and
the master will benefit by freedom more than the
freed-man.

The like considerations apply to all the other
qnestions of emancipation which are at present
stirring the world — the multifarious demands that
classes of mankind shall be relieved from restric-
tions imposed by the artifice of man, and not by
the necessities of Xature. One of the most
important, if not the most important, of all these,
is that which daily threatens to become the
" irrepressible '' woman question. "What social
and political rights have women? AYhat ought
they to be allowed, or not allowed, to do, be, and
suffer? And, as involved in, and underlying all
these questions, how ought they to be educated?

There are philogynists as fanatical as any
" misogynists " who, reversing our antiquated
notions, bid the man look upon the woman as
the higher type of humanity; who ask us to re-
gard the female intellect as the clearer and the
quicker, if not the stronger; who desire us to
look up to the feminine moral sense as the purer
and the nobler; and bid man abdicate his usurped
sovereignty over Xature in favour of the female
line. On the other hand, there are persons not
to be outdone in all loyalty and just respect for
womankind, l)ut by nature hard of head and
haters of delusion, however charming, who
not only repudiate the new woman-worship

Ill EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE 69

which so many sentimentalists and some
philosophers are desirous of setting up, but,
carrying their audacity further, deny even the
natural equality of the sexes. They assert, on
the contrary, that in every excellent character,
whether mental or physical, the average woman
is inferior to the average man, in the sense of
having that character less in quantity and lower
in quality. Tell these persons of the rapid per-
ceptions and the instinctive intellectual insight of
women, and they reply that the feminine mental
peculiarities, which pass under these names, are
merely the outcome of a greater impressibility to
the superficial aspects of things, and of the
absence of that restraint upon expression which,
in men, is imposed by reflection and a sense of
responsibility. Talk of the passive endurance of
the weaker sex, and opponents of this kind remind
you that Job was a man, and that, until quite
recent times, patience and long-suffering were
not counted among the specially feminine virtues.
Claim passionate tenderness as especially feminine,
and the inquiry is made whether all the best
love-poetry in existence (except, perhaps, the
" Sonnets from the Portuguese ") has not been
written by men; whether the song which embodies
the ideal of pure and tender passion — " Adelaida "
— was written by jPmw#Beethoven ; whether it was
the Fornarina, or Eaphael, who painted the Sistine
Madonna. Nav, we have known one such heretic

70 EMANCIPATIOX— BLACK AND WHITE iii

go so far as to lay his liands upon the ark itself,
so to speak, and to defend the startling paradox
that, even in physical beauty, man is the superior.
He admitted, indeed, that tliere was a brief period
of early youth when it might be hard to say
whether the prize should be awarded to the grace-
ful undulations of the female figure, or the per-
fect balance and sup])le vigour of the male frame.
But while our new Paris might hesitate between
the youthful Bacchus and the Venus emerging
from the foam, he averred that, when Venus and
Bacchus had reached thirty, the point no longer
admitted of a doubt; the male form having then
attained its greatest nobility, while the female is
far gone in decadence; and that, at this epoch,
womanly beauty, so far as it is independent of
grace or expression, is a question of drapery and
accessories.

Supposing, however, that all these arguments
have a certain foundation; admitting, for a
moment, that they are comparable to those by
which the inferiority of the negro to the white
man may be demonstrated, are they of any value
as against woman-emancipation? Do they alTord
us the smallest ground for refusing to educate
women as \Ve\\ as men — to give women the same
civil and politicnl rights as men? No mistake is
so commonly made by clever people as that of
assuming a cause to be bad because the arguments
of its supporters are, to a great extent, non-

Ill EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE Yl

sensical. And we conceive that those who may
laugh at the arguments of the extreme philogy-
nists, may yet feel bound to work heart and soul
towards the attainment of their practical ends.

As regards education, for example. Granting
the alleged defects of women, is it not somewhat
absurd to sanction and maintain a system of edu-
cation which would seem to have been specially
contrived to exaggerate all these defects?

Naturally not so firmly strung, nor so well
balanced as boys, girls are in great measure
debarred from the sports and physical exercises
which are justly thought absolutely necessary for
the full development of the vigour of the more
favoured sex. Women are, by nature, more ex-
citable than men — prone to be swept by tides of
emotion, proceeding from hidden and inward, as
well as from obvious and external causes; and
female education does its best to weaken every
physical counterpoise to this nervous mobility —
tends in all ways to stimulate the emotional part
of the mind and stunt the rest. We find girls
naturally timid, inclined to dependence, born con-
servatives; and we teach them that independence
is unladylike; that blind faith is the right frame
of mind; and that whatever we may be permitted,
and indeed encouraged, to do to our brother, our
sister is to be left to the tyranny of authority
and tradition. With few insignificant exceptions,
girls have been educated either to be drudges,
65

72 EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE iii

or toys, beneath man; or a sort of angels above
him; the highest ideal aimed at oscillating be-
tween Clarchen and Beatrice. The possibility
that the ideal of womanhood lies neither in the
fair saint, nor in the fair sinner; that the female
type of character is neither better nor worse than
the male, but only weaker; that women are meant
neither to be men's guides nor their playthings,
but their comrades, their fellows, and their equals,
so far as Xature puts no bar to that equality,
does not seem to have entered into the minds of
those who have had the conduct of the education
of girls.

If the present system of female education
stands self-condemned, as inherently absurd; and
if that which we have just indicated is the true
position of woman, what is the first step towards
a better state of things? We reply, emancipate
girls. Recognise the fact that they share the
senses, perceptions, feelings, reasoning powers,
emotions of boys, and that the mind of the
average girl is less different from that of the aver-
age boy, than the mind of one boy is from that
of another: so that whatever argument justifies
a given education for all boj's, justifies its ap])li-
cation to girls as well. So far from imjiosing
artificial restrictions upon the acquirement of
knowledge by women, throw every faciUty in their
way. Let our Faustinas, if they will, toil tlirough
the whole round of

Ill EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE Y3

*' Juristerei und Medizin,
Und leider ! auch Philosophie."

Let US have " sweet girl graduates " by all means.
They will be none the less sweet for a little wis-
dom; and the " golden hair ^' will not curl less
gracefully outside the head by reason of there
being brains within. Nay, if obvious practical
difhculties can be overcome, let those women who
feel inclined to do so descend into the gladiatorial
arena of life, not merely in the guise of retiarice,
as heretofore, but as bold sicarice, breasting the
open fray. Let them, if they so please, become
merchants, barristers, politicians. Let them have
a fair field, but let them understand, as the neces-
sary correlative, that they are to have no favour.
Let Nature alone sit high above the lists, " rain
influence and judge the prize."

And the result? For our parts, though loth
to prophesy, we believe it will be that of other
emancipations. Women will find their place, and
it will neither be that in which they have been
held, nor that to which some of them aspire.
Nature's old salique law will not be repealed, and
no change of dynasty will be effected. The big
chests, the massive brains, the vigorous muscles
and stout frames of the best men will carry the
day, whenever it is worth their while to contest
the prizes of life with the best women. And the
hardship of it is that the very improvement of
the women will lessen their chances. Better

74 EMAXCIPATIOX— BLACK AND WHITE in

mothers will bring forth better sons, and the im-
petus gained by the one sex will be transmitted, in
the next generation, to the other. The most Dar-
winian of theorists will not venture to propound
the doctrine, that tlie physical disabilities under
which women have hitherto laboured in the strug-
gle for existence with men are likely to be re-
moved by even the most skilfully conducted pro-
cess of educational selection.

We are, indeed, fully prepared to believe that
the bearing of children may, and ought to, become
as free from danger and long disability to the
civilised woman as it is to the savage; nor is it
improbable that, as society advances towards its
right organisation, motherhood will occupy a less
space of woman's life than ,it has hitherto done.
But still, unless the human species is to come to
an end altoc^ether — a consummation which can
hardly be desired by even the most ardent advo-
cate of " women's rights " — somebody must be
good enough to take the trouble and responsibility
of annually adding to the world exactly as many
people as die out of it. In consequence of some
domestic difficulties, Svdnev Smith is said to have
suggested that it would have been good for the
human race had the model offered by the hive
been followed, and had all the working part of the
female community been neuters. Failing any
thorough-going reform of this kind, we see noth-
ing for it but the old division of humanity into

in EMANCIPATION— BLACK AND WHITE 75

men potentially, or actually;, fathers, and women
potentially, if not actually, mothers. And we fear
that so long as this potential motherhood is her
lot, woman will be found to be fearfully weighted
in the race of life.

The duty of man is to see that not a grain is
piled upon that load beyond what ISTature im-
poses; that injustice is not added to inequality.

IV

A LIBERAL EDUCATIOX; AND WHERE

TO FIND IT

[18G8]

The business which the Soutli London Work-
ing Men's College has undertaken is a great work;
indeed, I might say, that Education, with which
that college proposes to grapple, is the greatest
work of all those which lie ready to a man's hand
just at present.

And, at length, this fact is becoming generally
recognised. You cannot go anywhere without
hearing a buzz of more or less confused and con-
tradictory talk on this subject — nor can you fail
to notice that, in one point at any rate, there is
a very decided advance upon like discussions in
former davs. Nobodv outside the agricultural
interest now dares to say that education is a bad
thing. If any representative of the once large
and powerful party, which, in former days, pro-
claimed this opinion, still exists in the semi-fossil
76

IV A LIBERAL EDUCATION 77

state, he keeps his thoughts to himself. In fact,
there is a chorus of voices, ahnost distressing in
their harmony, raised in favour of tlie doctrine
that education is the great panacea for human
troubles, and that, if the country is not shortly to
go to the dogs, everybody must be educated.

The politicians tell us, " You must educate
the masses because they are going to be masters."
The clergy join in the cry for education, for they
affirm that the people are drifting away from
church and chapel into the broadest infidelity.
The manufacturers and the capitalists swell the
chorus lustily. They declare that ignorance
makes bad workmen; that England will soon be
unable to turn out cotton goods, or steam engines,
cheaper than other people; and then, Ichabod!
Ichabod! the glory will be departed from us. And
a few voices are lifted up in favour of the doctrine
that the masses should be educated because they
are men and women with unlimited capacities of
being, doing, and suffering, and that it is as true
now, as it ever was, that the people perish for lack
of knowledge.

These members of the minority, with whom I
confess I have a good deal of sympathy, are doubt-
ful whether any of the other reasons urged in
favour of the education of the people are of much
value — whether, indeed, some of them are based
upon either wise or noble grounds of action. They
question if it be wise to tell people that you will

78 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

do for them, out of fear of their power, what you
have left undone, so long as your only motive was
compassion for their weakness and their sorrows.
And, if ignorance of everything which it is need-
ful a ruler should know is likely to do so much
harm in the governing classes of the future, why
is it, they ask reasonably enough, that such igno-
rance in the governing classes of the past has not
been viewed with equal horror?

Compare the average artisan and the average
country squire, and it may be doubted if you will
find a pin to choose between the two in point of
ignorance, class feeling, or prejudice. It is true
that the ignorance is of a different sort — that the
class feeling is in favour of a different class — and
that the prejudice has a distinct savour of wrong-
headedness in each case — but it is questionable
if the one is either a bit better, or a bit worse,
than the other. The old protectionist theory is
the doctrine of trades unions as applied by the
squires, and the modern trades unionism is the
doctrine of the squires applied by the artisans.
Why should we be worse olf under one reyime than
under the other?

Again, this sceptical minority asks the clergy
to think wlu'ther it is really want of education
which keeps the masses away from their ministra-
tions— whether the most completely educated men
are not as opi^n to reproach un this score as the
workmen; and whether, perchance, this may not

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 79

indicate that it is not education wliicli lies at the
bottom of the matter?

Once more, these jDcople, whom there is no
pleasing, venture to doubt whether the glory which
rests upon being able to undersell all the rest of
the world, is a very safe kind of glory — whether
we may not purchase it too dear; especially if we
allow education, which ought to be directed to
the making of men, to be diverted into a process
of manufacturing human tools, wonderfully adroit
in the exercise of some technical industry, but
good for nothing else.

And, finally, these people inquire whether it is
the masses alone who need a reformed and im-
proved education. They ask whether the richest
of our public schools might not well be made to
supply knowledge, as well as gentlemanly habits,
a strong class feeling, and eminent i^roficiency in
cricket. They seem to think that the noble foun-
dations of our old universities are hardlv fulfillinsr
their functions in their present posture of half-
clerical seminaries, half racecourses, where men
are trained to win a senior wrangleship, or a dou-
ble-first, as horses are trained to win a cup, wiili
as little reference to the needs of after-life in the
case of a man as in that of the racer. And,
while as zealous for education as the rest, tliey
affirm that, if the education of the richer classes
were such as to fit them to be the leaders and the
governors of the poorer; and, if the education of

80 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

the poorer classes were such as to enable them to
appreciate really wise guidance and ^^^ood govern-
ance, the politicians need not fear mob-law, nor
the clergy lament their want of flocks, nor the
capitalists prognosticate the annihilation of the
prosperity of the country.

Such is the diversity of opinion upon the why
and the wherefore of education. And my hearers
will be prepared to expect that the practical recom-
mendations which are put forward are not less
discordant. There is a loud cry for compulsory
education. We English, in spite of constant ex-
perience to the contrary, preserve a touching faith
in the efficacy of acts of Parliament: and I believe
we should have compulsory education in the course
of next session, if there were the least probability
that half a dozen leading staiesmen of different
parties would agree what that education should be.

Some hold that education without theology is
worse than none. Others maintain, quite as
strongly, that education with theology is in the
same predicament. But this is certain, that those
Avho hold the first opinion can by no means agree
what theology should be taught; and that those
who maintain the second are in a small minority.

At any rate " make people learn to read, write,
and cipher," say a great many; and the advice is
undoubtedly sensible as far as it goes. But, as
has happened to me in former days, those who, in
despair of getting anything better, advocate this

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 81

measure^, are met with the objection that it is very
like making a child practise the use of a knife,
fork, and spoon, without giving it a particle of
meat. I really don^t know what reply is to be
made to such an objection.

But it would be unprofitable to spend more
time in disentangling, or rather in showing up
the knots in, the ravelled skeins of our neighbours.
Much more to the purpose is it to ask if we possess
any clue of our own which may guide us among
these entanglements. And by way of a beginning,
let us ask ourselves — What is education? Above
all things, what is our ideal of a thoroughly
liberal education? — of that education which, if we
could begin life again, we would give ourselves —
of that education which, if we could mould the
fates to our own will, we would give our children?
Well, I know not what may be your conceptions
upon this matter, but I will tell you mine, and I
hope I shall find that our views are not very dis-
crepant.

Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life
and fortune of every one of us would, one day or
other, depend upon his winning or losing a game
of chess. Don't you think that we should all
consider it to be a primary duty to learn at least
the names and the moves of the pieces; to have a
notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the
means of giving and getting out of check? Do

82 A LIBERAL p]DUCATION; iv

you not think that we should look with a disap-
probation amounting to scorn, upon the father
who allowed his son, or the state which allowed its
members, to grow up without knowing a pawn
from a knight?

Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth,
that the life, the fortune, and the happiness of
every one of us, and, more or less, of those who are
connected with us, do depend upon our knowing
something of the rules of a game infinitely more
difficult and complicated than chess. It is a game
which has been played for untold ages, every man
and woman of us being one of the two players in
a game of his or her own. The chess-board is
the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the
universe, the rules of the game are what we call
the laws of Nature. The player on the other side
is hidden from us. We know that his play is
always fair, just and patient. But also we know,
to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or
makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To
the man who plays well, the highest stakes are
paid, with that sort of overflowing generosity with
which the strong shows delight in strength. And
one who plays ill is checkmated — without haste,
but without remorse.

My metaphor will remind some of you of the
famous picture in which Retzsch has depicted
Satan playing at chess with man for his soul.
Substitute for the mocking fiend in that picture

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 83

a calm^ strong angel who is playing for love, as
we say, and would rather lose than win — and I
should accept it as an image of human life.

Well, what I mean by Education is learning
the rules of this mighty game. In other words,
education is the instruction of the intellect in the
laws of Nature, under which name I include not
merely things and their forces, but men and their
ways; and the fashioning of the affections and of
the will into an earnest and loving desire to move
in harmony with those laws. For me, education
means neither more nor less than this. Anything
which professes to call itself education must be
tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the
test, I will not call it education, whatever may be
the force of authority, or of numbers, upon the
other side.

It is important to remember that, in strictness,
there is no such thing as an uneducated man.
Take an extreme case. Suppose that an adult
man, in the full vigour of his faculties, could be
suddenly placed in the world, as Adam is said to
have been, and then left to do as he best might.
How long would he be left uneducated? Not five
minutes. Nature would begin to teach him,
through the eye, the ear, the touch, the properties
of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his
elbow telling him to do this and avoid that; and
by slow degrees the man would receive an educa-
tion which, if narrow, would be thorough, real.

84: A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

and adequate to his circumstances, though there
would be no extras and very few accomplish-
ments.

And if to this solitary man entered a second
Adam, or, better still, an Eve, a new and greater
world, that of social and moral phenomena, would
be revealed. Joys and woes, compared with which
all others might seem but faint shadows, would
spring from the new relations. Happiness and
sorrow would take the place of the coarser moni-
tors, pleasure and pain; but conduct would still
be shaped by the observation of the natural con-
sequences of actions; or, in other words, by the
laws of the nature of man.

To every one of us the world was once as fresh
and new as to Adam. And then, long before we
were susceptible of any other modes of instruction,
Xature took us in hand, and every minute of
waking life brought its educational influence,
shaping our actions into rough accordance with
Nature's laws, so that we might not be ended
untimely by too gross disobedience. Nor should I
speak of this process of education as past for any
one, be he as old as he may. For every man the
world is as fresh as it was at the first day, and as
full of untold novelties for him who has the eyes
to see them. And Xature is still continuing her
patient education of us in that great university,
the universe, of which we are all members — Na-
ture having no Test-Acts.

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 85

Those who take honours in Xature's imiversitv,
who learn the laws which govern men and things
and obey them, are the really great and successful
men in this world. The great mass of mankind
are the " Poll/' who pick up just enough to get
through without much discredit. Those who won't
learn at all are plucked; and then you can't come
up again. Nature's pluck means extermination.

Thus the question of compulsory education is
settled so far as Xature is concerned. Her bill on
that question was framed and passed long ago.
But, like all compulsory legislation, that of Nature
is harsh and wasteful in its operation. Ignorance
is visited as sharply as wilful disobedience — inca-
pacity meets with the same punishment as crime.
Nature's discipline is not even a word and a blow,
and the blow first; but the blow without the word.
It is left to you to find out wh}' your ears are
boxed.

The object of what we commonly call educa-
tion— that education in which man intervenes and
which I shall distinsiuish as artificial education — is
to make good these defects in Nature's methods;
to prepare the child to receive Nature's education,
neither incapably nor ignorantly, nor with wilful
disobedience; and to understand the preliminary
symptoms of her pleasure, without waiting for the
box on the ear. In short, all artificial education
ought to be an anticipation of natural education.
And a liberal education is an artificial education

86 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

which has not only prepared a man to escape the
great evils of disobedience to natural laws, but has
trained him to appreciate and to seize upon the re-
wards, which Nature scatters with as free a hand
as her penalties.

That man, 1 think, has had a liberal education
who has been so trained in youth that his body is
the ready servant of his will, and does with ease
and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it
is cai)able of: whose intellect is a clear, cold, logic
engine, with all its parts of equal strength, and in
smooth working order; ready, like a steam engine,
to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the
gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind;
whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the
great and fundamental truths of Nature and of
the laws of her operations; one who, no stunted
ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose passions
are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the
servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to
love all beauty, whether of Nature or of art, to
hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself.

Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had
a liberal education; for he is, as completely as a
man can be, in harmony with Nature. He will
make the best of her, and she of him. They will
get on together rarely; she as his ever benelicent
mother; he as her mouthpiece, her conscious self,
her minister and interpreter.

"Where is such an education as this to be had?

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 87

Wliere is there any approximation to it? Has any
one tried to found such an education? Look-
ing over the length and breadth of these islands,
I am afraid that all these questions must re-
ceive a negative answer. Consider our primary
schools and what is taught in them. A child
learns —

1. To read, write, and cipher, more or less
well; but in a very large proportion of cases not so
well as to take pleasure in reading, or to be able to
write the commonest letter properly.

2. A quantity of dogmatic theology, of which
the child, nine times out of ten, understands next
to nothing.

3. Mixed up witli this, so as to seem to stand
or fall with it, a few of the broadest and simplest
principles of morality. This, to my mind, is much
as if a man of science should make the story of the
fall of the apple in Newton's garden an integral
part of the doctrine of gravitation, and teach it
as of equal authority with the law of the inverse
squares.

4. A good deal of Jewish history and Syrian
geography, and perhaps a little something about
English history and the geograi^hy of the child's
own country. But I doubt if there is a primary
school in England in which hangs. a map of the
hundred in which the village lies, so that the chil-
dren may be practically taught by it what a map

means.

6G

88 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

5. A certain amount of regularity, attentive
obedience, respect for others: obtained by fear, if
the master be incompetent or foolisli; by love and
reverence, if he be wise.

So far as this school course embraces a training
in the theory and practice of obedience to the
moral laws of Xature, I gladly admit, not only
that it contains a valuable educational element,
but that, so far, it deals with the most valuable
and important ])art of all education. Yet, contrast
what is done in this direction with what might be
done; with the time given to matters of compara-
tively no importance; with the absence of any
attention to things of the highest moment; and
one is tempted to think of FalsafT's bill and " the
lialf penny worth of bread to all that quantity of
sack."

Let us consider what a child thus " educated "
knows, and what it does not know. Begin with
the most important topic of all — morality, as the
guide of conduct. The child knows well enough
that some acts meet with approbation and some
with disapprobation. But it has never heard that
there lies in the nature of things a reason for every
moral law, as cogent and as well defined as that
which underlies every physical law; that stealing
and lying are just as certain to be followed by evil
consequences, as putting your hand in the fire, or
jumping out of a garret window. Again, though
the scholar may have been made acquainted, in

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 89

dogmatic fashion, with the broad laws of morality,
he has had no training in 'the application of those
laws to the difficult problems w^hich result from the
complex conditions of modern civilisation. Would
it not be very hard to expect any one to solve a
problem in conic sections who had merely been
taught the axioms and definitions of mathematical
science ?

A workman has to bear hard labour, and per-
haps privation, while he sees others rolling in
wealth, and feeding their dogs with what would
keep his children from starvation. Would it not
be well to have helped that man to calm the natu-
ral promptings of discontent by showing him, in
his youth, the necessary connection of the moral
law which prohibits stealing with the stability of
society — by proving to him, once for all, that it is
better for his own people, better for himself, better
for future generations, that he should starve than
steal? If you have no foundation of knowledge,
or habit of thought, to work upon, what chance
have you of persuading a hungry man that a capi-
talist is not a thief "with a circumbendibus?"
And if he honestly believes that, of what avail is it
to quote the commandment against stealing, when
he proposes to make the capitalist disgorge?

Again, the child learns absolutely nothing of
the history or the political organisation of his own
country. His general impression is, that every-
thing of much importance happened a very long

90 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

wliilc ago; and tliat the Queen and the gentlefolks
govern the country niiu-h after the fashion of
King David and the elders and nobles of Israel —
his sole models. Will you give a man with this
mnch information a vote? In easv times he sells
it for a pot of beer. Why should he not? It is
of about as much use to him as a chignon, and he
knows as much what to do with it, for any other
puri)ose. In bad times, on the contrary, he ap-
plies his simple theory of government, and believes
that his rulers are the cause of his sufferings — a
belief which sometimes bears remarkable practical
fruits.

Least of all, does the child gather from this
primary " education " of ours a conception of the
laws of the physical world, or of the relations of
cause and elfect therein. And this is the more to
be lamented, as the poor are especially exposed to
physical evils, and are more interested in removing
them than any other class of the community. If
any one is concerned in knowing the ordinary laws
of mechanics one would think it is the hand-
labourer, whose dailv toil lies amon^ levers and
pulleys; or among the other implements of artisan
work. And if any one is interested in the laws of
health, it is the poor workman, whose strength is
wasted by ill-prepared food, whose health is sapped
by bad ventilation and bad drainage, and half
whose children are massacred by disorders which
might be prevented. Not only does our present

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 91

primary education carefully abstain from hinting
to the workman that some of his greatest evils
are traceable to mere physical agencies, which
could be removed by energy, patience, and frugal-
ity; but it does worse — it renders him, so far as
it can, deaf to those who could help him, and
tries to substitute an Oriental submission to what
is falsely declared to be the will of God, for
his natural tendency to strive after a better con-
dition.

What wonder, then, if very recently an appeal
has been made to statistics for the profoundly fool-
ish purpose of showing that education is of no
good — that it diminishes neither misery nor crime
among the masses of mankind? I reply, why
should the thing which has been called education
do either the one or the other? If I am a knave
or a fool, teaching me to read and write won't
make me less of either one or the other — unless
somebody shows me how to put my reading and
writing to wise and good purposes.

Suppose any one were to argue that medicine
is of no use, because it could be proved statistic-
ally, that the percentage of deaths was just the
same among people who had been taught how to
open a medicine chest, and among those who did
not so much as know the key by sight. The
argument is absurd; but it is not more prepos-
terous than that against which I am contending.
The only medicine for suffering, crime, and all

92 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

the other woes of mankind, is wisdom. Teach a
man to read and write, and you have put into his
liands the great keys of the wisdom box. But it
is quite another matter whether he ever opens the
box or not. And he is as likely to poison as to
cure himself, if, without guidance, he swallows the
first drug that comes to hand. In these times a
man may as well be purblind, as unable to read —
lame, as unable to write. But I protest that, if I
thouglit the alternative were a necessary one, I
would rather that the children of the poor should
grow up ignorant of both these mighty arts, than
that they should remain ignorant of that knowl-
ed^re to which these arts are means.

It may be said that all these animadversions
may apply to primary schools, but that the higher
schools, at any rate, must be allowed to give a
liberal education. In fact they professedly sacri-
fice everything else to this object.

Let us inquire into this matter. What do the
higher schools, those to which the great middle
class of the country sends its children, teacJi, over
and above the instruction given in the primary
schools? There is a little more reading and writ-
ing of English. But, for all that, every one knows
that it is a rare thing to find a boy of the middle
or upper classes who can read aloud decently, or
who can put his thoughts on paper in clear and
grammatical (to say nothing of good or elegant)

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 93

language. The " ciphering " of the lower schools
expands into elementary mathematics in the high-
er; into arithmetic, with a litle algebra, a little
Euclid. But I doubt if one boy in live hundred
has ever heard the explanation of a rule of arith-
metic, or knows his Euclid otherwise than by rote.

Of theology, the middle class schoolboy gets
rather less than poorer children, less absolutely
and less relatively, because there are so many
other claims upon his attention. I venture to say
that, in the great majority of cases, his ideas on
this subject when he leaves school are of the most
shadowy and vague description, and associated
with painful impressions of the weary hours spent
in learning collects and catechism by heart.

Modern geography, modern history, modern
literature; the English language as a language;
the whole circle of the sciences, physical, moral
and social, are even more completely ignored in
the higher than in the lower schools. Up till
within a few years back, a boy might have passed
through any one of the great public schools with
the greatest distinction and credit, and might
never so much as have heard of one of the subjects
I have just mentioned. He might never have
heard that the earth goes round the sun; that
England underwent a great revolution in 1688,
and France another in 1789; that there once lived
certain notable men called Chaucer, Shakespeare,
Milton, Voltaire, Goethe, Schiller. The first

94 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

might be a German and the last an Englishman
for anything he could tell you to the contrary.
And as for Science, the only idea the word would
suggest to his mind would be dexterity in box-
ing.

I have said that this was the state of things a
few years back, for the sake of the few righteous
who are to be found among the educational cities
of the plain. But I would not have you too
sanguine about the result, if you sound the minds
of the existing generation of public schoolboys, on
such topics as those I have mentioned.

Now let us pause to consider this wonderful
state of affairs; for the time will come when Eng-
lishmen will quote it as the stock example of the
stolid stupidity of their ancestors in the nine-
teenth centurv. The most thoroui^hlv commercial
people, the greatest voluntary wanderers and
colonists the world has ever seen, are precisely
the middle class of this country. If there be a
people which has been busy making history on the
great scale for the last three hundred years — and
the most profoundly interesting history — history
which, if it happened to be that of Greece or Home,
we should study with avidity — it is the English.
If there be a people which, during the same period,
has developed a remarkable literature, it is our
own. If there be a nation whose prosperity de-
pends absolutely and wliolly upon their mastery
over the forces of Nature, upon their intelligent

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 95

apprehension of, and obedience to the laws of the
creation and distribution of wealth, and of the
stable equilibrium of the forces of society, it is
precisely this nation. And yet this is what these
wonderful people tell their sons: — " xA.t the cost of
from one to two thousand pounds of our hard-
earned money, we devote twelve of the most pre-
cious years of your lives to school. There you
shall toil, or be supposed to toil; but there you
shall not learn one single thing of all those you
will most want to know directly you leave school
and enter upon the practical business of life. You
will in all probability go into business, but you
shall not know where, or how, any article of com-
merce is produced, or the difference between an
export or an import, or the meaning of the word
* capital.' You will very likely settle. in a colony,
but you shall not know whether Tasmania is part
of New South Wales, or vice versa.

" Very probably you may become a manufac-
turer, but you shall not be provided with the
means of understanding the working of one of
your own steam-engines, or the nature of the raw
products you employ; and, when you are asked to
buy a patent, you shall not have the slightest
means of judging whether the inventor is an im-
postor who is contravening the elementary prin-
ciples of science, or a man who will make you as
rich as Croesus.

" You will very likely get into the House of

96 A LIBEILVL EDUCATION; iv

Commons. You will have to take your share in
making laws which may prove a blessing or a
curse to millions of men. But you shall not hear
one word respecting the political organisation of
your country; the meaning of the controversy be-
tween free-traders and protectionists shall never
liave been mentioned to you; you shall not so
much as know that there are such things as eco-
nomical laws.

" The mental power which will be of most im-
portance in your daily life will be the power of
seeing things as they are without regard to au-
thority; and of drawing accurate general conclu-
sions from particular facts. But at school and at
college you shall know of no source of truth but
authority; nor exercise your reasoning faculty
upon anything but deduction from that which is
laid down by authority.

" You will have to weary your soul with work,
and numy a time eat your bread in sorrow and
in bitterness, and you shall not have learned to
take refuge in the great source of pleasure with-
out alloy, the serene resting-place for worn human
nature, — the world of art."

Said I not rightly that we arc a wonderful
people? I am quite prepared to allow, that edu-
cation entirely devoted to these omitted subjects
might not be a completely liberal education.
But is an education which ignores them all a
liberal education? Nay, is it too much to say

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 97

that the education which should embrace these
subjects and no others would be a real education,
though an incomplete one; while an education
which omits them is really not an education at
all, but a more or less useful course of intellectual
gymnastics ?

For what does the middle-class school put in
the place of all these things which are left out?
It substitutes what is usually comprised under
the compendious title of the " classics " — that is
to say, the languages, the literature, and the his-
tory of the ancient Greeks and Komans, and the
geography of so much of the world as was known
to these two great nations of antiquity. ISTow, do
not expect me to depreciate the earnest and en-
lightened pursuit of classical learning. I have not
the least desire to speak ill of such occupations,
nor any sympathy with them who run them down.
On the contrary, if my opportunities had lain in
that direction, there is no investigation into which
I could have thrown myself with greater delight
than that of antiquity.

What science can present greater attractions
than philology? How can a lover of literary ex-
cellence fail to rejoice in^ the ancient master-
pieces? And with what consistency could I, whose
business lies so much in the attempt to decipher
the past, and to build up intelligible forms out
of the scattered fragments of long-extinct beings,
fail to take a sympathetic, though an unlearned.

9S A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

interest in the labours of a Niebulir, a Gibbon, or
a Grote? Classical history is a great section of
the palaeontology of man; and I have the same
double respect for it as for other kinds of palaeon-
tology— that is to say, a respect for the facts which
it establishes as for all facts, and a still greater
respect for it as a preparation for the discovery of
a law of progress.

But if the classics were taught as they might
be taught — if boys and girls were instructed in
Greek and Latin, not merely as languages, but as
illustrations of philological science; if a vivid pic-
ture of life on the shores of the Mediterranean two
thousand years ago were imprinted on the minds
of scholars; if ancient history were taught, not as
a weary series of feuds and fights, but traced to its
causes in such men placed under such conditions;
if, lastl}^ the study of the classical books were
followed in such a manner as to impress boys with
their beauties, and with the grand simplicity of
their statement of the everlasting problems ol
human life, instead of with their verbal and gram-
matical peculiarities; I still think it as little proper
that they should form the basis of a liberal edu-
cation for our contemporaries, as I should think
it fitting to make that sort of palaeontology with
which I am familiar the back-bone of modern edu-
cation.

It is wonderful how close a parallel to classical
training could be made out of that palaeontology

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 99

to which I refer. In the first place I could get
up an osteological primer so arid^ so pedantic in
its terminology, so altogether distasteful to the
youthful mind, as to beat the recent famous pro-
duction of the head-masters out of the held in all
these excellences. Next, I could exercise my boys
upon easy fossils, and bring out all their powers of
memory and all their ingenuity in the application
of my osteo-grammatical rules to the interpreta-
tion, or construing, of those fragments. To those
who had reached the higher classes, I might sup-
ply odd bones to be built up into animals, giving
great honour and reward to him who succeeded in
fabricating monsters most entirely in accordance
with the rules. That would answer to verse-mak-
ing and essay-writing in the dead languages.

To be sure, if a great comparative anatomist
were to look at these fabrications he might shake
his head, or laugh. But what then? Would
such a catastrophe destroy the parallel? What,
think 3'Ou, would Cicero, or Horace, say to the
production of the best sixth form going? And
would not Terence stop his ears and run out if he
could be present at an English performance of his
own plays? Would Hamlet, in the mouths of a
set of French actors, who should insist on pro-
nouncing English after the fashion of their own
tongue, be more hideously ridiculous?

But it will be said that I am forgetting the
beauty, and the liuman interest, which appertain

100 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

to classical studies. To this I reply that it is only
a very strong man wlio can appreciate the charms
of a landscape as he is toiling up a steep hill,
alono: a bad road. ^A^hat with short-windedness,
stones, ruts, and a pervading sense of the wisdom
of rest and he thankful, most of us have little
enough sense of the beautiful under these circum-
stances. The ordinary schoolboy is precisely in
this case, lie finds Parnassus uncommonly steep,
and there is no chance of his having much time or
inclination to look about him till he gets to the
top. And nine times out of ten he does not get to
the top.

But if this be a fair picture of the results of
classical teaching at its best — and I gather from
those who have authority to speak on such matters
that it is so — what is to be said of classical teach-
ing at its worst, or in other words, of the classics
of our ordinary middle-class schools? * I will
tell you. It means getting up endless forms and
rules by heart. It means turning Latin and Greek
into English, for the mere sake of being able to do
it, and without the smallest regard to the worth,
or worthlessness, of the author read. It means
the learning of innumerable, not always decent,
fables in such a shape that the meaning they once
had is dried up into utter trash; and the only im-
pression left upon a boy's mind is, that the people

* For a justificntion of whnt is here said about thoso
schools, see that valuable book, Essays on a Liberal Edu-
ration, jxtssi'jn.

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT IQl

who believed such things must have been the
greatest idiots the world ever saw. And it means,
finally, that after a dozen years spent at this kind
of work, the sufferer shall be incompetent to in-
terpret a passage in an author he has not already
got up; that he shall loathe the sight of a Greek
or Latin book; and that he shall never open, or
think of, a classical writer again, until, wonderful
to relate, he insists upon submitting his sons to
the same process.

These be your gods, 0 Israel! For the sake
of this net result (and respectability) the British
father denies his children all the knowledge they
might turn to account in life, not merely for tlie
achievement of vulgar success, but for guidance in
the great crises of human existence. This is the
stone he offers to those whom he is bound by the
strongest and tenderest ties to feed with bread.

If primary and secondary education are in this
unsatisfactory state, what is to be said to the uni-
versities? This is an awful subject, and one I al-
most fear to touch with my unhallowed hands;
but I can tell you what those say who have au-
thority to speak.

The Eector of Lincoln College, in his lately
published valuable " Suggestions for Academical
Organisation with especial reference to Oxford,"
tells us (p. 127):—

"The colle2;es were, in their origin, endow-

102 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

merits, not for the elements of a general liberal
education, but for the prolonged study of special
and professional faculties by men of riper age.
The universities embraced both these objects.
The colleges, while they incidentally aided in ele-
mentary education, were specially devoted to the
highest learning . . .

" This was the theory of the middle-age uni-
versity and the design of collegiate foundations
in their origin. Time and circumstances have
brought about a total change. The colleges no
longer i)romote the researches of science, or direct
professional study. Here and there college walls
may shelter an occasional student, but not in
larger proportions than may be found in private
life. Elementary teaching of youths under twenty
is now the onlv function performed bv the univer-

^ J. ^

sity, and almost the only object of college endow-
ments. Colleges were homes for the life-study of
the highest and most abstruse parts of knowledge.
They have become boarding schools in which the
elements of the learned languages are taught to
youths."

If Mr. Pattison's high position, and his obvious
love and respect for his university, be insufficient
to convince the outside world that language so
severe is yet no more than just, the authority of
the Commissioners who reported on the University
of Oxford in 1850 is open to no challenge. Yet
thev write: —

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 103

e<

It is generally acknowledged that both Ox-
ford and the country at large suffer greatly from
the absence of a body of learned men devoting
their lives to the cultivation of science, and to the
direction of academical education.

" The fact that so few books of profound re-
search emanate from the University of Oxford,
materially impairs its character as a seat of
learning, and consequently its hold on the respect
of the nation."

Cambridge can claim no exemption from the
reproaches addressed to Oxford. And thus there
seems no escape from the admission that what we
fondly call our great seats of learning are simply
" boarding schools " for bigger boys; that learned
men are not more numerous in them than out of
them; that the advancement of knowledge is not
the object of fellows of colleges; that, in the
philosophic calm and meditative stillness of their
greenswarded courts, philosophy does not thrive,
and meditation bears few fruits.

It is my great good fortune to reckon amongst
my friends resident members of both universities,
^^'ho are men of learning and research, zealous
cultivators of science, keeping before their minds
a noble ideal of a university, and doing their best
to make that ideal a reality; and, to me, they
would necessarily typify the universities, did not
the authoritative statements I have quoted com-
pel me to believe that they are exceptional, and
67

104 A LIBERAL P:DUCATI0N ; iv

not representative men. Indeed, upon ealm eon-
sideration, several cireumstances lead me to think
that the licctor of Lincoln College and the Com-
niiirsioners cannot be far wrong.

I believe there can be no doubt that the
foreigner who sliould wish to become acquainted
with the scientific, or tlic literary, activity of
modern England, would simply lose his time and
his pains if he visited our universities with that
object.

And, as for works of profound research on any
subject, and, above all, in that classical lore for
whicli the universities profess to sacrifice almost
everything else, why, a third-rate, poverty-stricken
German university turns out more produce of that
kind in one year, than our vast and wealthy foun-
dations elal)orate in ten.

Ask tlie man who is investigating any question,
profoundly and thoroughly — be it historical, philo-
sophical, philological, physical, literary, or theo-
logical; ^\llo is trying to make himself master of
any abstract subject (except, perhaps, political
economy and geology, both of which are intensely
Anglican sciences), whether he is not compelled
to read half a dozen times as many German as
Knglish books? And whether, of these English
books, more than one in ten is the work of a
fellow of a college, or a professor of an English
university?

Is this from any lack of power in the English

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 105

as compared with the German mind? The
countrymen of Grote and of Mill, of Faraday, of
Eobert Brown, of Lyell, and of Darwin, to go no
further back than the contem2:)oraries of men of
middle age, can afford to smile at such a sugges-
tion. England can show now, as she has been
able to show in every generation since civilisation
spread over the West, individual men who hold
their own against the world, and keep alive the
old tradition of her intellectual eminence.

But, in the majority of cases, these men are
what they are in virtue of their native intellectual
force, and of a strength of character which will
not recognise impediments. They are not trained
in the courts of the Temple of Science, but storm
the walls of that edifice in all sorts of irregular
ways, and with much loss of time and power, in
order to obtain their legitimate positions.

Our universities not only do not encourage
such men; do not offer them positions, in which
it should be their highest duty to do, thoroughly,
that which they are most capable of doing; but,
as far as possible, university training sliuts out of
the minds of those among them, who are subjected
to it, the prospect that there^ is anything in the
world for which they are specially fitted. Imagine
the success of the attempt to still the intellectual
hunger of any of the men I have mentioned, by
putting before him, as the object of existence, the
successful mimicry of the measure of a Greek

106 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

song, or the roll of Ciceronian prose! Imagine
liow much success would be likely to attend the
attempt to persuade such men that the education
which leads to perfection in such elegances is alone
to be called culture; while the facts of history,
the process of thought, the conditions of moral and
social existence, and the laws of physical nature
are left to be dealt with as they may by outside
barbarians!

It is not thus that the German universities,
from being beneath notice a century ago, have
become what they are now — the most intensely
cultivated and the most productive intellectual
cori)orations the world has ever seen.

The student who repairs to them sees in the
list of classes and of professors a fair picture of
the world of knowledge. "Whatever he needs to
know there is some one ready to teach him, some
one comi)etent to discipline him in the way of
learning; wliatever his special bent, let him but
be able and diligent, and in due time he shall
find distinction and a career. Among his pro-
fessors, he sees men whose names are known and
revered throughout the civilised world; and their
living example infects him with a noble ambition,
and a love for the spirit of work.

The Germans dominate the intellectual world
by virtue of the same simple secret as that which
made Xa])oleon the master of old Europe. They
have declared la carriere ouvcrtc aux lalcnis, and

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 107

every Burscli marclies with a professor's gown in
his knapsack. Let him become a great scholar,
or man of science, and ministers will compete for
his services. In Germany, they do not leave the
chance of his holding the office he would render
illustrious to the tender mercies of a hot canvass,
and the final wisdom of a mob of country
parsons.

In short, in Germany, the universities are
exactly what the Eector of Lincoln and the
Commissioners tell us the English universities are
not; that is to say, corporations " of learned men
devoting their lives to the cultivation of science,
and the direction of academical education."
They are not " boarding schools for youths,'^ nor
clerical seminaries; but institutions for the higher
culture of men, in which the theological faculty is
of no more importance or prominence, than the
rest; and which are truly " universities," since
they strive to represent and embody the totality
of human knowledge, and to find room for all
forms of intellectual activity.

May zealous and clear-headed reformers like
Mr. Pattison succeed in their noble endeavours to
shape our universities toward^s some such ideal as
this, without losing what is valuable and distinc-
tive in their social tone! But until they have
succeeded, a liberal education will be no more
obtainable in our Oxford and Cambridge L'niver-
sities than in our public schools.

108 A LIBERAL EDUCATION; iv

If I am justified in my conception of the ideal
of a liberal education; and if what I liave said
about the existing educational institutions of the
country is also true, it is clear that tlie two liave
no sort of relation to one another; that the best of
our schools and the most complete of our uni-
versity ti'ainings give but a narrow, one-sided, and
essentially illiberal education — while the worst give
uhat is really next to no education at all. The
South Ijondon Working-Men's College could not
copy any of these institutions if it would; I am
bold enough to express the conviction that it ought
not if it could.

For what is wanted is the reality and not the
mere name of a liberal education; and this College
must steadily set before itself the ambition to be
able to give that education sooner or later. At
present we are but beginning, sharpening our
educational tools, as it were, and, except a
modicum of physical science, we are not able to
offer much more than is to be found in an ordinary
school.

floral and social science — one of the greatest
and most fruitful of our future classes, I hope — at
present lacks only one thing in our ])rogramme,
and that is a teacher. A considerable want, no
doubt; but it must be recollected that it is much
better to want a teacher than to want the desire to
learn.

Further, we need what, for want of a better

IV AND WHERE TO FIND IT 109

name, I must call Physical Geography. What I
mean is that which the Germans call '^ Erdkundc.^'
It is a description of the eartli, of its place and
relation to other bodies; of its general structure,
and of its great features — winds, tides, mountains,
plains: of the chief forms of the vegetable and
animal worlds, of the varieties of man. It is
the peg upon which the greatest quantity of useful
and entertaining scientific information can be sus-
pended.

Literature is not upon the College programme;
but I hope some day to see it there. For litera-
ture is the greatest of all sources of refined
pleasure, and one of the great uses of a liberal
education is to enable us to enjoy that pleasure.
There is scope enough for the purposes of liberal
education in the study of the rich treasures of our
own language alone. All that is needed is direc-
tion, and the cultivation of a refined taste by atten-
tion to sound criticism. But there is no reason
why French and German should not be mastered
sufficiently to read what is worth reading in those
languages with pleasure and with profit.

And finally, by and b}^, we must have History;
treated not as a succession of battles and
dynasties; not as a series of biographies; not as
evidence that Providence has always been on the
side of either Whigs or Tories; but as the develop-
ment of man in times past, and in other conditions
than our own.

110 A LIBERAL EDUCATION iv

But, as it is one of tlic principles of our College
to be self-supporting, the public must lead, and we
must follow, in these matters. If my hearers take
to heart what 1 have said about liljeral education,
they will desire these things, and 1 doubt not we
shall be able to sup})ly them. Jiut we must wait
till the demand is made.

V

SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: XOTES OF
AN AFTER-DIXXEH SPEECH

[1869]

[Mr. Thackeray, talking of after-dinner speeches, has
lamented that " one never can recollect the fine things
one thought of in the cab," in going to the place of en-
tertainment. I am not aware that there are any " fine
things " in the following pages, but such as there are
stand to a speech which really did get itself spoken, at
the hospitable table of the Liverpool Philomathic So-
ciety, more or less in the position of what " one thought
of in the cab."]

The introduction of scientific training into the
general education of the country is a topic upon
which I could not have spoken, without some more
or less apologetic introduction, a few years ago.
But upon this, as upon other matters, public
opinion has of late undergone a rapid modification.
Committees of both Houses of the Legislature have
agreed that something must be done in this direc-

111

112 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

tion, and have even thrown out timid and faltering
suggestions as to wliat should be done; while at
the ojjposite pole of society, committees of working
men ha\e expressed their conviction that scientific
training is tlio one tiling needful for their advance-
ment, whether as men, or as workmen. Only the
other (liiy, it was my duty to take jiart in the
reception of a deputation of London workingmen,
Avho desired to learn from Sir Roderick ^lurchison,
the Director of the Itoyal School of Minus, whether
the organisation of the institution in Jermyn Street
could be made available for the supply of that
Bcientilic instruction the need of which could not
have been ap|)rehended, or stated, more clearly
than it was by them.

The heads of colleges in our great universities
(who have not the reputation of being the most
mobile of persons) have, in several cases, thought
it well that, out of the great number of honours
and rewards at their dis])osal, a few should here-
after be given to the cultivators of the physical
sciences. Nay, 1 hear that some colleges have even
gone so far as to a])point one, or, maybe, two special
tutors for the ])ur])ose of putting the facts and
})rinciples of ])hysical science before the under-
graduate mind. vXnd I say it with gratitude and
great respect for those eminent ])ersons, that the
liead masters of our public schools, Kt(jn, Harrow,
AVinchester, have addressed themselves to the
])roblein of introducing instruction in ])hysical

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH II3

science among the studies of those great educa-
tional bodies, with much honesty of purpose and
enligiitenment of understanding; and 1 Hve in
hope that, before long, important changes in this
direction will be carried into elfect in those strong-
holds of ancient prescription. In fact, such
changes have already been made, and physical sci-
ence, even now, constitutes a recognised element of
the school curriculum in Harrow and Rugby, whilst
I understand that ample preparations for such
studies are being made at Eton and elsewhere.

Looking at these facts, I might perhaps spare
myself the trouble of giving any reasons for the
introduction of physical science into elementary
education; yet I cannot but think that it may be
well if I place before you some considerations
which, perhaps, have hardly received full atten-
tion.

At other times, and in other places, I have
endeavoured to state the higher and more abstract
arguments, by which the study of physical science
may be shown to be indispensable to the complete
training of the human mind; but I do not wish it
to be supposed that, because I happen to be
devoted to more or less abstract and " unpractical "
pursuits, I am insensible to the weight which ought
to be attached to that which has been said to
be the English conception of Paradise — namely,
" getting on." I look upon it, that " getting on "
is a very important matter indeed. I do not mean

114 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

merely for the sake of the coarse and tangible
results of success, but because humanity is so con-
stituted that a vast number of us would never be
impelled to those stretches of exertion which make
us wiser and more capaljle men, if it were not for
the absolute necessity of putting on our faculties
all the strain they will bear, for the purpose of
" getting on *' in the most practical sense.

Now the value of a knowledge of physical sci-
ence as a means of getting on is indubitable.
There are hardly any of our trades, except the
merely huckstering ones, in which some knowledge
of science may not be directly profitable to the pur-
suer of that occupation. As industry attains higher
stages of its development, as its processes become
more complicated and refined, and competition
more keen, the sciences are dragged in, one by one,
to take their share in the fray; and he who can
best avail himself of their help is the man who will
come out up])ermost in that struggle for existence,
Avhich goes on as fiercely beneath the smooth sur-
face of modern society, as among the wild inhab-
itants of the woods.

But in addition to the bearing of science on
ordinary practical life, let me direct your attention
to its immense influence on several of the profes-
sions. 1 ask any one who has adopted the calling
of an engineer, how much time he lost when he
left school, because he had to devote himself to
pursuits which were absolutely novel and strange,

V NOTES OF AN AFTEE-DINNER SPEECH 115

and of which he had not ohtained the remotest
conception from his instructors? He had to
familiarise himself with ideas of the course and
powers of Nature, to which his attention had never
been directed during his school-life, and to learn,
for the first time, what a world of facts lies outside
and beyond the world of words. I appeal to those
who know what engineering is, to say how far I am
right in respect to that profession; but with regard
to another, of no less importance, I shall venture
to speak of my own knowledge. There is no one
of us who may not at any moment be thrown,
bound hand and foot by physical incapacity, into
the hands of a medical practitioner. The chances
of life and death for all and each of us may, at any
moment, depend on the skill with which that prac-
titioner is able to make out what is wrong in our
bodily frames, and on his ability to apply the
proper remedy to the defect.

The necessities of modern life are such, and the
class from which the medical profession is chiefly
recruited is so situated, that few medical men can
hope to spend more than three or four, or it may
be five, years in the pursuit of those studies which
are immediately germane to physic. How is that
all too brief period spent at present? I speak as an
old examiner, having served some eleven or twelve
years in that capacity in the University of London,
and therefore having a practical acquaintance with
the subject; but I might fortify myself by the

116 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

authority of tlic President of the College of Sur-
geons, Mr. Quain, whom I heard the other day in
an adniiral^le address (the Huntorian Oration) deal
fully and wisely with this very topic.*

A young man commencing the study of medi-
cine is at once required to endeavour to make an
acquaintance with a number of sciences, such as
Physics, as Chemistry, as Botany, as Physiology,
which are absolutely and entirely strange to him,
however excellent his so-called education at school
may have been. Not only is he devoid of all ap-
prehension of scientific conceptions, not only does
he fail to attach any meaning to the words " mat-

* Mr. Quain's words {Medical Times and Gazette, Feb-
nmry 20) are : — " A few words as to our special Medical
course of instruction and the influence upon it of such
changes in the elementary schools as I have mentioned.
The student now enters at once upon several sciences —
physics, chemistry, anatomy, physiology, botany, pharmacy,
therapeutics — all these, the facts and the langiiage and the
laws of each, to be mastered in eighteen months. V\\ to
the beginning of the Medical course many have learned lit-
tle. We cannot claim anything better than the Exatniner
of the University of Ijondon and the Cambridge Lecturer
have reported for their I'niversities. Sup{)0sing that at
school young people had acquired some exact elementary
knowledge in physics, chemistry, and a branch of natural
history — say botany — with the physiology connected with
it, they would then have gained necessary knowledge, with
some practice in inductive reasoning. The whole studies
are processes of observation and induction — the best dis-
cipline of the mind for the purposes of life — for our pur-
poses not less than any. ' By such study (says Dr. Whewell)
of one or more departments of inductive science the mind
may escape from the thraldom of mere words.' By that
plan the burden of the early ^Medical course would b»; much
lightened, and more time devoted to practical studies, in-
cluding Sir Thomas Watson's 'final and supreme stage' of
the knowledge of Medicine."

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH II7

ter/' " force,-' or " law " in their scientific senses,
but, worse still, he has no notion of what it is to
come into contact with jSTature, or to lay his mind
alongside of a physical fact, and try to conquer it,
in the way our great naval hero told his captains to
master their enemies. His whole mind has been
given to books, and I am hardly exaggerating if I
say that they are more real to him than Nature.
He imagines that all knowledge can be got out of
books, and rests upon the authority of some master
or other: nor does he entertain anv miso-ivino^ that
the method of learning which led to proficiency
in the rules of grammar will suffice to lead him to
a mastery of the laws of Nature. The youngster,
thus unprepared for serious study, is turned loose
among his medical studies, with the result, in nine
cases out of ten, that the first year of his curricu-
lum is spent in learning how to learn. Indeed, he
is lucky if, at the end of the first year, by the
exertions of his teachers and his own industry, he
has acquired even that art of arts. After which
there remain not more than three, or perhaps four,
years for the profitable study of such vast sciences
as Anatomy, Physiology, Therapeutics, Medicine,
Surgery, Obstetrics, and the like, upon his knowl-
edge or ignorance of which it depends whether the
practitioner shall diminish, or increase, the bills of
mortality. Now what is it but the preposterous
condition of ordinary school education which pre-
vents a young man of seventeen, destined for the

118 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

practice of medicine, from being fully prepared for
the study of Nature; and from coming to the
medical school, equipped with that preliminary
knowledge of the principles of Physics, of Chem-
istry and of Biology, upon which he has now to
waste one of the precious years, every moment of
which ought to be given to those studies which
bear directly upon the knowledge of his profes-
sion ?

There is another profession, to the members of
which, I think, a certain preliminary knowledge of
physical science might be quite as valuable as to
the medical man. The practitioner of medicine
sets before himself the noble object of taking care
of man's bodily welfare; but the members of this
other profession undertake to " minister to minds
diseased," and, so far as may be, to diminish sin
and soften sorrow. Like the medical profession,
the clerical, of which I now speak, rests its power
to heal upon its knowledge of the order of the
universe — upon certain theories of man's relation
to that which lies outside him. It is not my
business to express any o])inion about these
theories. I merely wish to point out that, like all
other tlieories, they are professedly based upon
matters of fact. Thus the clerical profession has to
deal with the facts of Nature from a certain point
of view; and hence it comes into contact with that
of the man of science, who has to treat the same
facts from another point of view. You know how

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH HQ

often that contact is to be described as collision, or
violent friction; and how great the heat, how little
the light, which commonly results from it.

In the interests of fair play, to say nothing of
those of mankind, I ask, Why do not the clergy as
a body acquire, as a part of their preliminary
education, some such tincture of physical science
as will put them in a position to understand the
difficulties in the way of accepting their theories,
which are forced upon the mind of every thought-
ful and intelligent man, who has taken the trouble
to instruct himself in the elements of natural
knowledge ?

Some time ago I attended a large meeting of
the clergy, for the purpose of delivering an address
which I had been invited to give. I spoke of some
of the most elementary facts in physical science,
and of the manner in which they directly contra-
dict certain of the ordinary teachings of the clergy.
The result was, that, after I had finished, one
section of the assembled ecclesiastics attacked me
with all the intemperance of pious zeal, for stating
facts and conclusions which no competent judge
doul)ts; while, after the first speakers had subsided,
amidst the cheers of the great majority of their
colleagues, the more rational minority rose to tell
me that I had taken wholly superfluous pains, that
they already knew all about what I had told them,
and perfectly agreed with me. A hard-headed

friend of mine, who was present, put the not un-
G8

120 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: V

natural ([ucstion, '' Then wliy dun't you say so in
your pulpits? " to which inquiry I heard no
rei)ly.

In fact the clergy are at present divisihle into
three sections: an immense body who are ig-
norant and speak out; a small proportion who
know and are silent; and a minute minority who
know and speak according to their knowledge.
By the clergy, I mean especially the Protestant
clergy. Our great antagonist — I speak as a man
of science — the Roman Catholic Church, the one
great spiritual organisation which is able to resist,
and must, as a matter of life and death, resist, the
progress of science and modern civilisation, man-
ages her aiTairs much better.

It was my fortune some time ago to pay a visit
to one of the most important of the institutions
in which the clergy of the Roman Catholic
Church in these islands are trained; and it
seemed to me that the difference between these
men and the comfortable champions of Angli-
canism and of Dissent, was comparable to the
difference between our gallant Volunteers and the
trained veterans of Xapoleon's Old Guard.

The Catholic priest is trained to know his
business, and do it effectually. The professors of
the college in question, learned, zealous, and
determined men, permitted me to speak frankly
with them. We talked like outjiosts of opposed
armies during a truce — as friendly enemies; and

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNEIi SPEECH 121

when I ventured to point out the difficulties their
students would have to encounter from scientific
thought, they replied: " Our Church has lasted
many ages, and has passed safely through many
storms. The present is but a new gust of the
old tempest, and we do not turn out our young
men less fitted to weather it, than they have been,
in former times, to cope with the difficulties of
those times. The heresies of the day are explained
to them by their professors of philosophy and sci-
ence, and they are taught how those heresies are to
be met."

I heartily respect an organisation which faces
its enemies in this way; and I wish that all
ecclesiastical organisations were in as effective a
condition. I think it would be better, not only
for them, but for us. The army of liberal thought
is, at present, in very loose order;, and many a
spirited free-thinker makes use of his freedom
mainly to vent nonsense. We should be the better
for a vigorous and watchful enemy to hammer us
into cohesion and discipline; and I, for one,
lament that the bench of Bishops cannot show a
man of the calibre of Butler of the " Analogy,"
who, if he were alive, would make short work of
much of the current a priori " infidelity."

I hope you will consider that the argu-
ments I have now stated, even if there were no
better ones, constitute a sufficient apology for

122 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

iirijinfr tlic introduction of science into scliools.
The next question to which I have to address
myself is, "What sciences ought to be thus taught?
And this is one of the most important of ques-
tions, because my side (I am afraid I am a terribly
candid friend) sometimes spoils its cause by going
in for too much. There are other forms of culture
beside physical science; and I should be pro-
foundly sorry to see the fact forgotten, or even to
observe a tendency to starve, or cripple, literary,
or aesthetic, culture for the sake of science. Such
a narrow view of the nature of education has
nothing to do with my firm conviction that a
complete and thorough scientific culture ouglit to
be introduced into all schools. By this, however,
I do not mean that every schoolboy should be
taught everything in science. That would be a
very absurd thing to conceive, and a very mischie-
vous thing to attempt. What I mean is, that no
boy nor girl should leave school without possessing
a grasp of the general character of science, and
without liaving l)een discii)lined, more or less^ in
the metliods of all sciences; so that, when turned
into tlie world to make their own way, they shall
be prepared to face scientific problems, not by
knowing at once the conditions of every problem,
or by being able at once to solve it; but by being
familiar witli tlie general current of scientific
tliought, and by being able to apply the metliods
of science in the proper way, when they have

V NOTES OF AN AFTEH-DINNER SPEECH 123

acquainted themselves with the conditions of the
sjjecial problem.

That is what I understand by scientific educa-
tion. To furnish a boy with such an education,
it is by no means necessary that he should devote
his whole school existence to physical science: in
fact, no one would lament so one-sided a proceed-
ing more than I. Nay more, it is not necessary
for him to give up more than a moderate share of
his time to such studies, if they be properly
selected and arranged, and if he be trained in
them in a fitting manner.

I conceive the proper course to be somewhat as
follows. To begin with, let every child be
instructed in those general views of the pha3-
nomena of Nature for which we have no exact
English name. The nearest approximation to a
name for what I mean, which we possess, is
" physical geography.^^ The Germans have a
better, " Erdkunde '^ (earth knowledge " or
" geology '' in its etymological sense), that is to
say, a general knowledge of the earth, and what
is on it, in it, and about it. If any one who has
had experience of the ways of young children will
call to mind their questions, he will find that so
far as they can be jout into any scientific category,
they come under this head of " Erdkunde." The
cliild asks, " What is the moon, and why does it
shine?" "What is this water, and wliere does it
run?" "What is the wind?" "What makes

124 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

this wave in the sea?" "Where does this animal
live, and what is the use of that plant?" And
if not snubbed and stunted by being told not to
ask foolish questions, there is no limit to the
intellectual craving of a young child; nor any
bounds to the slow, but solid, accretion of knowl-
edge and development of the thinking faculty in
this way. To all such questions, answers which
are necessarily incomplete, though true as far as
they go, may be given by any teacher whose ideas
represent real knowledge and not mere book
learning; and a panoramic view of Nature,
accompanied by a strong infusion of the scientific
habit of mind, may thus be placed within the
reach of every child of nine or ten.

After this preliminary opening of the eyes to
the great spectacle of the daily progress of
Nature, as the reasoning faculties of the child
grow, and he becomes familiar with the use of the
tools of knowledge — reading, writing, and ele-
mentary mathematics — he should pass on to what
is, in tlie more strict sense, physical science. Now
there are two kinds of physical science: the one
regards form and the relation of forms to one
another; the other deals with causes and effects.
In many of what we term sciences, these two
kinds are mixed up together; but systematic l)ot-
any is a pure e,\am]ile of the former kind, and
physics of tlie latter kind, of science. Every
educational advantage which training in physical

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH 125

science can give is obtainable from the proper
study of these two; and I should be contented,
for the present, if they, added to our " Erdkunde,''
furnished the whole of the scientific curriculum
of school. Indeed, I conceive it would be one of
the greatest boons which could be conferred upon
England, if henceforward every child in the
country were instructed in the general knowledge
of the things about it, in the elements of physics,
and of botany. But I should be still better
pleased if there could be added somewhat of chem-
istry, and an elementary acquaintance with human
physiology.

So far as school education is concerned, I want
to go no further just now; and I believe that
such instruction would make an excellent introduc-
tion to that preparatory scientific training which,
as I have indicated, is so essential for the success-
ful pursuit of our most important professions.
But this modicum of instruction must be so given
as to ensure real knowledge and practical disci-
pline. If scientific education is to be dealt with
as mere bookwork, it will be better not to
attempt it, but to stick to the Latin Grammar
which makes no pretence to be anything but book-
work.

If the great benefits of scientific training are
sought, it is essential that such training should be
real: that is to say, that the mind of the scholar
should be brought into direct relation with fact,

120 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

that he should not merely be told a thing, but
made to see by the use of his own intellect and
ability that the thing is so and no otherwise.
The great i)cculiarity of scientific training, that in
virtue of which it cannot be replaced by any
other discipline whatsoever, is this bringing of the
mind directly into contact with fact, and practising
the intellect in the completest form of induction;
that is to say, in drawing conclusions from par-
ticular facts made known by immediate observa-
tion of Xature.

The other studies which enter into ordinary
education do not discipline the mind in this way.
Mathematical training is almost purely deductive.
The mathematician starts with a few simple propo-
sitions, the proof of which is so obvious that they
are called self-evident, and the rest of his work
consists of subtle deductions from them. The
teaching of languages, at any rate as ordinarily
practised, is of the same general nature, — author-
ity and tradition furnish the data, and the mental
operations of the scholar arc deductive.

Again: if history be the subject of study, the
facts are still taken u])on the evidence of tradition
and authority. You cannot make a boy see the
l)attle of Thermojiyla} for himself, or know, of his
own knowledge, that Cormwell once ruled Eng-
land. There is no getting into direct contact with
natural fact by this road; there is no dispensing
with authority, but rather a resting upon it.

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH 127

In all these respects, science differs from other
educational discipline, and prepares the scholar for
common life. What have we to do in every-day
life? Most of the business which demands our
attention is matter of act, which needs, in the first
place, to be accurately observed or apprehended;
in the second, to be interpreted by inductive and
deductive reasonings, which are altogether similar
in their nature to those employed in science. In
the one case, as in the other, whatever is taken for
granted is so taken at one's own peril; fact and
reason are the ultimate arbiters, and patience and
honesty are the great helpers out of difficulty.

But if scientific training is to yield its most
eminent results, it must, I repeat, be made practi-
cal. That is to say, in explaining to a child the
general phsenomena of Mature, you must, as far as
possible, give reality to your teaching by object-
lessons; in teaching him botany, he must handle
the plants and dissect the flowers for himself; in
teaching him physics and chemistry, you must not
be solicitous to fill him with information, but you
must be careful that what he learns he knows of
his own knowledge. Don't be satisfied with telling
him that a magnet attracts iron. Let him see
that it does; let liim feel the pull of the one upon
the other for himself. And, especially, tell him
that it is his duty to doubt until he is compelled,
by the absolute authority of Nature, to believe that
which is written in books. Pursue this discipline

128 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

carefully and conscientiously, and yon may make
sure that, however scanty may be the measure of
information which you have poured into the boy's
mind, you have created an intellectual habit of
priceless value in practical life.

One is constantly asked. When should this
scientific education be commenced? I should say
with the dawn of intelligence. As I have already
said, a child seeks for information about matters of
physical science as soon as it begins to talk. The
first teaching it wants is an object-lesson of one
sort or another; and as soon as it is fit for syste-
matic instruction of any kind, it is fit for a modi-
cum of science.

People talk of the difficulty of teaching young
children such matters, and in the same breath
insist upon their learning their Catechism, which
contains propositions far harder to comprehend
than anything in the educational course I have
proposed. Again: I am incessantly told that we,
who advocate the introduction of science in
schools, make no allowance for the stupidity of the
average boy or girl; but, in my belief, that stupid-
ity, in nine cases out of ten, " ^/, non nascitur,''
and is developed by a long process of parental and
pedagogic repression of the natural intellectual
appetites, accompanied by a persistent attempt to
create artificial ones for food which is not only
tasteless, but essentially indigestil)le.

Those who urge the difficulty of instructing

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH 129

young people in science are apt to forget another
very inij^ortant condition of success — important in
all kinds of teaching, hut most essential, I am dis-
posed to think, when the scholars are very young.
This condition is, that the teacher should himself
really and practically know his suhject. If he does,
he will be able to speak of it in the easy language,
and with the completeness of conviction, with
which he talks of any ordinary every-day matter.
If he does not, he will be afraid to wander beyond
the limits of the technical phraseology which he
has got up; and a dead dogmatism, which op-
j^resses, or raises opposition, will take the place of
the lively confidence, born of personal conviction,
which cheers and encourages the eminently sym-
pathetic mind of childhood.

I have already hinted that such scientific train-
ing as we seek for may be given without making
any extravagant claim upon the time now devoted
to education. AYe ask only for " a most favoured
nation " clause in our treaty with the schoolmas-
ter; we demand no more than that science shall
have as much time s^iven to it as anv other single
subject — say four hours a week in each class of an
ordinary school.

For the present, I think men of science would
be well content with such an arrangement as this;
but speaking for myself, I do not pretend to be-
lieve that such an arrangement can be, or will be,
permanent. In these times the educational tree

130 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: v

seems to me to have its roots in the air, its leaves
and llowers in Lhe ground; and, 1 coni'ess, I should
very much like to turn it upside down, so that its
roots might be solidly embedded among the facts
of Nature, and draw thence a sound nutriment for
the foliac^e and fruit of literature and of art. No
educational system can have a claim to perma-
nence, unless it recognises the truth that education
has two great ends to which everything else must
be subordinated. The one of these is to increase
knowledge; the other is to develop the love of
right and the hatred of wrong.

"With wisdom and uprightness a nation can
make its way worthily, and beauty will follow in
the footsteps of the two, even if she be not specially
invited; wliile there is perhaps no sight in the
whole world more saddening and revolting than is
offered by men sunk in ignorance of everything but
what other men have written; seemingly devoid of
moral belief or guidance; but with the sense of
beauty so keen, and the power of expression so
cultivated, that their sensual caterwauling may be
almost mistaken for the music of the s})heres.

At present, education is almost entirely devoted
to the cultivation of the power of expression, and
of the sense of literary beauty. The matter of
having anything to say, beyond a hash of other
people's opinions, or of possessing any criterion of
beauty, so that we may distinguish between the
Godlike and the devilish, is left aside as of no

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH 131

moment. I think I do not err in saying that if
science were made a foundation of education,
instead of being, at most, stuck on as cornice to
the edifice, this state of things could not exist.

In advocating the introduction of physical sci-
ence as a leading element in education, I by no
means refer only to the higher schools. On the
contrary, I believe that such a change is even more
imperatively called for in those primary schools,
in which the children of the poor are expected to
turn to the best account the little time they can de-
vote to the acquisition of knowledge. A great step
in this direction has already been made by the
establishment of science-classes under the Depart-
ment of Science and Art, — a measure which came
into existence unnoticed, but which will, I believe,
turn out to be of more importance to the w^elfare of
the people than many political changes over which
the noise of battle has rent the air.

Under the regulations to which I refer, a
schoolmaster can set up a class in one or more
branches of science; his pupils will be examined,
and the State will pay him, at a certain rate, for
all who succeed in passing. I have acted as an
examiner under this system^ from the beginning
of its establishment, and this year I expect to
have not fewer than a couple of thousand sets of
answers to questions in Physiology, mainly from
young people of the artisan class, who have been
taught in the schools which are now scattered

132 SCIENTIFIC EDLTCATION: v

all over Great Britain and Ireland. Some of my
colleagues, who have to deal with suhjeets snch as
Geometry, for wliich the present teaching power
is better organised, I understand are likely to
have three or four times as many pai)ers. So far
as my own suljjects are concerned, I can under-
take to say that a great deal of the teaching, the
results of which are before me in these examina-
tions, is very sound and good; and I think it is
in the power of the examiners, not only to keep
up the present standard, but to cause an almost
unlimited improvement. Now what does this
mean? It means that by holding out a very
moderate inducement, the masters of primary
schools in many parts of the country have been
led to convert them into little foci of scientific
instruction; and that they and their pupils have
contrived to find, or to make, time enough to carry
out this object with a very considerable degree of
efficiency. That eificiency will, I doubt not, be
very much increased as the system becomes known
and perfected, even with the very limited leisure
left to masters and teachers on week-days. And
this leads me to ask, Why should scientific teach-
ing be limited to week-days?

Ecclesiastically-minded persons are in the habit
of calling things they do not like by very hard
names, and I should not wonder if tlicy brand
the proposition I am about to make as blasj)ho-
mous, and worse. But, not minding this, I venture

V NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH I33

to ask/ Would there really be anything wrong in
using part of Sunday for the purpose of instructing
those who have no other leisure, in a knowledge
of the phgenomena of Nature, and of man's rela-
tion to Nature?

I should like to see a scientific Sunday-school
in every parish, not for the purpose of superseding
any existing means of teaching the people the
things that are for their good, but side by side with
them. I cannot but think that there is room for
all of us to w^ork in helping to bridge over the
great abyss of ignorance which lies at our feet.

And if any of the ecclesiastical persons to
Avhom I have referred object that they find it
derogatory to the honour of the God whom they
worship, to awaken the minds of the young to the
infinite wonder and majesty of the works which
they proclaim His, and to teach them those laws
which must needs be His laws, and therefore of
all things needful for man to know — I can only
recommend them to be let blood and put on low
diet. There must be something very wrong going
on in the instrument of logic if it turns out such
conclusions from such premises.

YI
SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

[1880]

Six years ago, as some of my present hearers
may remember, I had the privilege of addressing
a large assemblage of the inhabitants of this city,
■\vho had gathered together to do honour to the
memory of their famous townsman, Joseph
I'riestley; * and, if any satisfaction attaches to
posthumous glory, we may hope tliat tlie names
of the burnt-out philosopher were then linally
appeased.

No man, however, who is endowed with a fair
share of common sense, and not more than a fair
share of vanity, will identify either contemi^orary
or posthumous fame witli tlie highest good; and
Priestley's life leaves no doul^t that he, at any
rate, set a much higher value upon tlie advance-
ment of knowledge, and tlie promotion of that

* See the first essay in this volume.
134

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 135

freedom of thought which is at once the cause
and tlie consequence of intellectual progress.

Hence I am disposed to think that, if Priestley
could be amongst us to-day, the occasion of our
meeting would afford him even greater pleasure
than the proceedings which celebrated the cen-
tenary of his chief discovery. The kindly heart
would be moved, the high sense of social duty
would be satisfied, by the spectacle of well-earned
wealth neither squandered in tawdry luxury and
vainglorious show, nor scattered with the careless
charity which blesses neither him that gives nor
him that takes, but expended in the execution of
a well-considered plan for the aid of present and
future generations of those who are willing to help
themselves.

We shall all be of one mind thus far. But it
is needful to share Priestley's keen interest in
physical science; and to have learned, as he had
learned, the value of scientific training in fields
of inquiry apparently far remote from physical
science; in order to appreciate, as he would have
appreciated, the value of the noble gift which Sir
Josiah Mason has bestowed upon the inhabitants
of the Midland district.

For us children of the nineteenth century,
however, the establishment of a college under the
conditions of Sir Josiah Mason's Trust, has a
significance apart from any which it could have
possessed a hundred years ago. It appears to be
69

136 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

an indication that we are reaching the crisis of
the battle, or rather of the long series of battles,
which have been fought over education in a cam-
paign which began long before Priestley's time,
and will probably not be finished just yet.

In the last century, the combatants were the
champions of ancient literature on the one side,
and those of modern literature on the other; but,
some thirty years * ago, the contest became com-
plicated by the appearance of a third army, ranged
round the banner of Physical Science.

I am not aware that any one has authority to
speak in the name of this new host. For it must
be admitted to be somewhat of a guerilla force,
comj^oscd largely of irregulars, each of whom
figlits pretty much for his own hand. But the
impressions of a full private, who has seen a good
deal of service in the ranks, respecting the present
position of affairs and the conditions of a per-
manent peace, may not be devoid of interest; and
I do not know that I could make a better use of
the present opportunity than by laying them
before you.

From the time that the first suggestion to intro-
duce physical science into ordinary education was

* The advocacy of the introrluction of physical science into
general education In' Georpe Combe and others comincnced a
good deal earlier ; hnt the movement had acquired hardly any
practical force before the time to which I refer.

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 137

timidly whispered, until now, the advocates of
scientific education have met with opposition of
two kinds. On the one hand, they have heen
pooh-poohed by the men of business who pride
themselves on being the representatives of practi-
cality; while, on the other hand, they have been
excommunicated by the classical scholars, in their
capacity of Levites in charge of the ark of culture
and monopolists of liberal education.

The practical men believed that the idol whom
they worship — rule of thumb — has been the source
of the past prosperity, and will suffice for the
future welfare of the arts and manufactures.
They were of opinion that science is speculative
rubbish; that theory and practice have nothing
to do with one another; and that the scientific
habit of mind is an impediment, rather than an
aid, in the conduct of ordinary affairs.

I have used the past tense in speaking of the
practical men — for although they were very
formidable thirty years ago, I am not sure that
the pure species has not been extirpated. In fact,
so far as mere argument goes, they have been
subjected to such a feu d'etifer that it is a miracle
if any have escaped. But I have remarked that
your typical practical man has an unexpected
resemblance to one of Milton's angels. His
spiritual wounds, such as arc inflicted by logical
weapons, may be as deep as a well and as wide as
a church door, but lieyond shedding a few drops

138 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

of ichor, celestial or otherwise, he is no whit the
worse. So, if any of these opponents be left, I
will not waste time in vain repetition of the
demonstrative evidence of the practical value of
science; but knowing that a parable will sometimes
penetrate where syllogisms fail to effect an en-
trance, 1 will offer a story for their consideration.

Once upon a time, a boy, with nothing to de-
pend upon but his own vigorous nature, was
thrown into the thick of the struggle for existence
in the midst of a great manufacturing population.
He seems to have had a hard fight, inasmuch as,
by the time he was thirty years of age, his total
disposable funds amounted to twenty pounds.
Nevertheless, middle life found him giving proof
of his comprehension of the practical problems he
had been roughly called upon to solve, by a career
of remarkable prosperity.

Finally, having reached old age with its well-
earned surroundings of " honour, troops of
friends," the hero of my story bethought himself
of those who were making a like start in life, and
how he could stretch out a helping hand to them.

After long and anxious reflection this success-
ful practical man of business could devise nothing
better than to ])rovide them with the means of
obtaining " sound, extensive, and practical scien-
tific knowledge." And he devoted a large part
of his wealth and five years of incessant work to
this end.

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 139

I need not point the moral of a tale which, as
the solid and spacious fabric of the Scientific Col-
lege assures us, is no fable, nor can anything
which I could say intensify the force of this prac-
tical answer to practical objections.

We may take it for granted then, that, in the
opinion of those best qualified to judge, the
diffusion of thorough scientific education is an
absolutely essential condition of industrial pro-
gress; and that the College which has been
opened to-day will confer an inestimable boon
upon those whose livelihood is to be gained by
the practise of the arts and manufactures of the
district.

The only question worth discussion is, whether
the conditions, under which the work of the
College is to be carried out, are such as to give it
the best possible chance of achieving permanent
success.

Sir Josiah Mason, without doubt most wisely,
has left very large freedom of action to the
trustees, to whom he proposes ultimately to
commit the administration of the College, so that
they may be able to adjust its arrangements in
accordance with the changing conditions of the
future. But, with respect to three points, he has
laid most explicit injunctions upon both adminis-
trators and teachers.

Party politics are forbidden to enter into the

liO SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

minds of either, so far as the work of the College
is concerned; theology is as sternly banished from
its precincts; and finally, it is especially declared
that tlie College shall make no provision for
" mere literary instruction and education."

It does not concern me at present to dwell
upon the first two injunctions any longer than
may be needful to express my full conviction of
their wisdom. But the third prohibition brings
us face to face with those other opponents of
scientific education, who are by no means in the
moribund condition of the practical man, but
alive, alert, and formidable.

It is not impossible that we shall hear this
express exclusion of " literary instruction and
education " from a College which, nevertheless,
professes to give a high and efficient education,
shar])ly criticised. Certainly the time was that
the Levites of culture would have sounded their
trumpets against its walls as against an educa-
tional Jericho.

How often have we not been told that the
study of physical science is incompetent to confer
culture: that it touches none of the higher
problems of life; and, what is worse, that the
continual devotion to scientific studies tends to
generate a narrow and l)igoted belief in the
applicability of scientific methods to the search
after truth of all kinds? How frequently one has
reason to observe that no reply to a troublesome

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 14;^

argument tells so well as calling its author a
" mere scientific specialist." And, as I am afraid
it is not permissible to speak of this form of
opposition to scientific education in the past
tense; may we not expect to be told that this,
not only omission, but prohibition, of " mere
literary instruction and education " is a patent
example of scientific narrow-mindedness?

I am not acquainted with Sir Josiah Mason's
reasons for the action which he has taken; but if,
as I apprehend is the case, he refers to the
ordinary classical course of our schools and
universities by the name of " mere literary in-
struction and education,'' I venture to offer
sundry reasons of my own in support of that
action.

For I hold very strongly by two convictions —
The first is, that neither the discipline nor the
subject-matter of classical education is of such
direct value to the student of physical science as
to justify the expenditure of valuable time upon
either; and the second is, that for the purpose of
attaining real culture, an exclusively scientific
education is at least as effectual as an exclusively
literary education.

I need hardly point out to you that these
opinions, especially the latter, are diametrically
opposed to those of the great majority of educated
Englishmen, influenced as they are by school and
university traditions. In their belief, culture is

14:'^ SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

obtainable only by a liberal education; and a
liberal education is synonymous, not merely with
education and instruction in literature, but in one
particular form of literature, namely, that of
Greek and IJoman antiquity. They hold that
the man wlio has learned Latin and Greek,
however little, is educated; while he who is
versed in other branches of knowledge, however
deepl}', is a more or less respectable specialist, not
admissible into the cultured caste. The stamp of
the educated man, the University degree, is not
for him.

I am too well acquainted with the generous
catholicity of spirit, the true sympatliy with
scientific thought, which pervades the writings of
our chief apostle of culture to identify him
with these opinions; and yet one may cull from
one and another of those epistles to the Philistines,
which so much delight all who do not answer to
that name, sentences which lend them some
support.

]\Ir. Arnold tells us that the meanins: of culture
is "to know the l^est that has been thought and
said in the world." It is the criticism of life
contained in literature. That criticism regards
" Europe as being, for intellectual and spiritual
purposes, one great confederation, bound to a
joint action and working to a common result; and
whose members have, for their common outfit, a
knowledge of Greek, Eoman, and Eastern antiq-

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 143

uity, and of one another. Special, local, and tem-
porary advantages being put out of account, that
modern nation will in the intellectual and spir-
itual sphere make most progress, which most
thoroughly carries out this programme. And
what is that but saying that we too, all of us, as
individuals, the more thoroughly we carry it out,
shall make the more progress ? " *

AVe have here to deal with two distinct propo-
sitions. The first, that a criticism of life is the
essence of culture; the second, that literature con-
tains the materials which suffice for the construc-
tion of such criticism.

I think that we must all assent to the first
proposition. For culture certainly means some-
thing quite different from learning or technical
skill. It implies the possession of an ideal, and
the habit of critically estimating the value of
tilings by comparison with a theoretic standard.
Perfect culture should supply a complete theory
of life, based upon a clear knowledge alike of its
possibilities and of its limitations.

But we may agree to all this, and yet strongly
dissent from the assumption that literature alone
is competent to supply this knowledge. After
having learnt all that Greek, Eoman, and Eastern
antiquity have thought and said, and all that
modern literature have to tell us, it is not self-
evident that we have laid a sufficiently broad

* Essays in Criticism, p. 37.

144 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

and deep foundation for that criticism of life,
■which constitutes culture.

Indeed, to any one acquainted with the scope
of physical science, it is not at all evident. Con-
sidering progress only in the " intellectual and
spiritual sphere," I find myself wholly unable to
admit that either nations or individuals will really
advance, if their common outfit draws nothing from
the stores of physical science. I should say that
an army, without weapons of precision and with no
particular base of operations, might more hopefully
enter upon a campaign on the Ehine, than a man,
devoid of a knowledge of what physical science has
done in the last century, upon a criticism of life.

When a biolocrist meets with an anomalv, he
instinctively turns to the study of development to
clear it up. The rationale of contradictory opin-
ions may with equal confidence be sought in history.

It is, happil}^, no new tiling that Englishmen
should employ their wealth in building and en-
dowing institutions for educational purposes.
But, five or six hundred years ago, deeds of foun-
dation expressed or implied conditions as nearly
as possible contrary to those which have been
thought expedient by Sir Josiah Mason. That is
to say, physical science was practically ignored,
while a certain literary training was enjoined as
a means to the acquirement of knowledge which
was essentially theological.

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 145

The reason of this singular contradiction be-
tween the actions of men alike animated by a
strong and disinterested desire to promote the
welfare of their fellows, is easily discovered.

At that time, in fact, if any one desired knowl-
edge beyond such as could be obtained by his
own observation, or by common conversation, his
first necessity was to learn the Latin language, in-
asmuch as all the higher knowledge of the western
world was contained in works written in that
language. Hence, Latin grammar, with logic and
rhetoric, studied through Latin, were the funda-
mentals of education. With respect to the sub-
stance of the knowledge imparted through this
channel, the Jewish and Christian Scriptures, as
interpreted and supplemented by the Eomish
Church, were held to contain a complete and in-
fallibly true body of information.

Theological dicta were, to the thinkers of those
davs, that which the axioms and definitions of
Euclid are to the geometers of these. The
business of the philosophers of the middle ages
was to deduce from the data furnished by the
theologians, conclusions in accordance with
ecclesiastical decrees. They --were allowed the
high privilege of showing, by logical process,
how and why that which the Church said
was true, must be true. And if their demon-
strations fell short of or exceeded this limit, the
Church Avas maternally ready to check their

146 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

aberrations; if need were by the help of the secu-
lar arm.

Between the two, our ancestors were furnished
with a compact and complete criticism of life.
They were told how the world began and how it
would end; they learned that all material exist-
ence was but a base and insignificant blot upon
the fair face of the spiritual world, and that na-
ture was, to all intents and purposes, the play-
ground of the devil; they learned that the earth
is the centre of the visible universe, and that man
is the cynosure of things terrestrial, and more es-
pecially was it inculcated that the course of nature
had no fixed order, but that it could be, and con-
stantly was, altered by the agency of innumerable
spiritual beings, good and bad, according as they
were moved by the deeds and prayers of men.
The sum and substance of the whole doctrine was
to produce the conviction that the only thing re-
ally worth knowing in this world was how to
secure that place in a better which, under certain
conditions, the Church promised.

Our ancestors had a living belief in this theory
of life, and acted upon it in their dealings with
education, as in all other matters. Culture meant
saintlincss — after the fashion of the saints of those
days; the education that led to it was, of neces-
sity, theological; and the way to theology lay
throuirh Latin.

That the study of nature — further than was

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 147

requisite for the satisfaction of everyday wants —
should have any bearing on human life was far
from the thoughts of men thus trained. Indeed,
as nature had been cursed for man's sake, it was
an obvious conclusion that those who meddled
with nature were likely to come into pretty close
contact with Satan. And, if any born scientific
investigator followed his instincts, he might safely
reckon upon earning the reputation, and probably
upon suffering the fate, of a sorcerer.

Had the western world been left to itself in
Chinese isolation, there is no saying hovv^ long this
state of things might have endured. But, happily,
it was not left to itself. Even earlier than the
thirteenth century, the development of Moorish
civilisation in Spain and the great movement of
the Crusades had introduced the leaven which,
from that day to this, has never ceased to work.
At first, through the intermediation of Arabic
translations, afterwards by the study of the origi-
nals, the western nations of Europe became ac-
quainted with the writings of the ancient philoso-
phers and poets, and, in time, with the whole of
the vast literature of antiquity.

Whatever there was of high intellectual as-
piration or dominant capacity in Italy, France,
Germany, and England, spent itself for centuries
in taking possession of the rich inheritance left
by the dead civilisations of Greece and Rome.
jMarvellously aided by the invention of printing,

148 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

classical learning spread and flourished. Those
who possessed it prided themselves on having at-
tained the highest culture then within the reach
of mankind.

And justly. For, saving Dante on his solitary
pinnacle, there was no figure in modern literature
at the time of the Eenascence to compare with
the men of antiquity; there was no art to com-
pete witli their sculpture; there was no physical
science but that which Greece had created.
Above all, there was no other example of perfect
intellectual freedom — of the unhesitating accept-
ance of reason as the sole guide to truth and the
supreme arbiter of conduct.

The new learning necessarily soon exerted a
profound influence upon education. The language
of the monks and schoolmen seemed little better
than fi^ibberish to scholars fresh from Tir;>;il and
Cicero, and the study of Latin was placed upon a
new foundation. Moreover, Latin itself ceased to
afford the sole kev to knowledc^e. The student
who sought the highest thought of antiquity,
found only a second-hand reflection of it in Roman
literature, and turned his face to the full light
of the Greeks. And after a battle, not altogether
dissimilar to that which is at present being fought
over the teaching of physical science, the study
of Greek was recognised as an essential element
of all higher education.

Then the TTumanists, as they were called, won

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 14^9

the day; and the great reform which they effected
was of incalculable service to mankind. But
the Nemesis of all reformers is finality; and
the reformers of education, like those of religion,
fell into the profound, however common, error of
mistaking the beginning for the end of the work
of reformation.

The representatives of the Humanists, in the
nineteenth century, take their stand upon classical
education as the sole avenue to culture, as firmly
as if we were still in the age of Eenascence. Yet,
surely, the present intellectual relations of the
modern and the ancient worlds are profoundly
difi^erent from those which obtained three cen-
turies ago. Leaving aside the existence of a great
and characteristically modern literature, of mod-
ern painting, and, especially, of modern music,
there is one feature of the present state of the civ-
ilised world which separates it more widely from
the Renascence, than the Eenascence was sepa-
rated from the middle ages.

This distinctive character of our own times lies
in the vast and constantly increasing part which
is played by natural knowledge. Not only is our
daily life shaped by it, not only does the pros-
perity of millions of men depend upon it, but
our whole theory of life has long been influenced,
consciously or unconsciously, by the general con-
ceptions of the universe, which have been forced
upon us by physical science.

150 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

In fact, the most elementary acquaintance with
the results of scientific investigation shows us that
they oll'er a broad and striking contradiction to
the opinion so implicitly credited and taught in
the middle ages.

The notions of the beginning and the end of
the world entertained by our forefathers are no
longer credible. It is very certain that the earth
is not the chief body in the material universe,
and that the world is not subordinated to man's
use. It is even more certain that nature is the
expression of a definite order with which nothing
interferes, and that the chief business of mankind
is to learn that order and govern themselves ac-
cordingly. Moreover this scientific "criticism of
life " presents itself to us with different creden-
tials from any other. It appeals not to authority,
nor to what anvbodv mav have thouixht or said,
but to nature. It admits that all our interpreta-
tions of natural fact are more or less imperfect
and symbolic, and bids the learner seek for trutli
not among words but among things. It warns us
that the assertion which outstrips evidence is not
only a blunder but a crime.

The purely classical education advocated by
tlie representatives of the Humanists in our day,
gives no inkling of all this. A man may be a
better scholar than l'>asmus, and know no more
of the chief causes of the present intellectual
fermentation than Erasmus did. Scholarlv and

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 151

pious persons, worthy of all respect, favour us
with allocutions upon the sadness of the antago-
nism of science to their medisBval way of thinking,
which betray an ignorance of the first principles
of scientific investigation, an incapacity for under-
standing what a man of science means by veracity,
and an unconsciousness of the weight of estab-
lished scientific truths, which is almost comical.

Tliere is no great force in the tu quoque argu-
ment, or else the advocates of scientific education
might fairly enough retort upon the modern
Humanists that they may be learned specialists,
but that they possess no such sound foundation
for a criticism of life as deserves the name of
culture. And, indeed, if we were disposed to be
cruel, we might urge that the Humanists have
brought this reproach upon themselves^ not be-
cause they are too full of the spirit of the an-
cient Greek, but because they lack it.

The period of the Eenascence is commonly
called that of the '^ Eevival of Letters," as if tlie
infiuences then brought to bear upon the mind of
Western Europe had been wholly exhausted in
the field of literature. I think it is very
commonly forgotten that the .revival of science,
effected by the same agency, although less con-
spicuous, was not less momentous.

In fact, the few and scattered students of
nature of that day picked up the clue to her
secrets exactly as it fell from the hands of the
70

152 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

Greeks a thousand years before. The foundations
of mathematics were so well laid by them, that
our children learn their geometry from a book
written for the schools of Alexandria two thou-
sand years ago. ^Modern astronomy is the natural
continuation and development of the work of
Ilipparchus and of Ptolemy; modern physics of
that of Democritus and of Archimedes; it was
long before modern biological science outgrew
the knowledge bequeathed to us by Aristotle, by
Theophrastug, and by Galen.

"We cannot know all the best thonsjhts and
sayings of the Greeks unless we know what they
thought al)Out natural phamomena. We cannot
fully apprehend tlieir criticism of life unless we
understand the extent to which that criticism was
affected by scientific conceptions. We falsely pre-
tend to be the inheritors of their culture, unless
we are penetrated, as the best minds among them
were, with an unhesitating faith that the free em-
ployment of reason, in accordance with scientific
method, is the sole method of reaching truth.

Thus I venture to think that the pretensions of
our modern Humanists to the possession of the
monopoly of culture and to the exclusive inherit-
ance of the spirit of antiquity must be abated, if
not abandoned. But T should be very sorry tliat
anything I have said should be taken to im]ily a
desire on my part to depreciate the value of
classical education, as it might be and as it some-

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE I53

times is. The native capacities of mankind vary
no less than their opportunities; and while culture
is one, the road by which one man may l)est
reach it is widely different from that which is
most advantageous to another. Again, while
scientific education is yet inchoate and tentative,
classical education is thoroughly well organised
upon the practical experience of generations of
teachers. So that, given ample time for learning
and estimation for ordinary life, or for a literary
career, I do not think that a young Englishman
in search of culture can do better than follow the
course usually marked out for him, supplementing
its deficiencies by his own efforts.

But for those who mean to make science their
serious occupation; or who intend to follow the
profession of medicine; or who have to enter early
upon the business of life; for all these, in my
opinion, classical education is a mistake; and it is
for this reason that I am glad to see " mere
literary education and instruction " shut out from
the curriculum of Sir Josiah Mason's College,
seeing that its inclusion would probably lead to
the introduction of the ordinary smattering of
Latin and Greek.

Nevertheless, I am the last person to question
the importance of genuine literary education, or
to suppose that intellectual culture can be com-
plete without it. An exclusively scientific training
will bring about a mental twist as surely as an

154 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

exclusively literary training. The value of the
cargo does not compensate for a ship's being out
of trim; and I should be very sorry to think that
the Scientiiic College would turn out none but
lop-sided men.

There is no need, however, that such a catas-
trophe should happen. Instruction in English,
French, and German is provided, and thus the
three greatest literatures of the modern world are
made accessible to the student.

French and German, and especially the latter
language, are absolutely indispensable to those
who desire full knowledge in any department of
science. But even supposing that the knowledge
of these languages acquired is not more than
sufficient for purely scientific purposes, every
Englishman has, in his native tongue, an almost
perfect instrument of literary expression; and, in
his own literature, models of every kind of literary
excellence. If an Englishman cannot get literary
culture out of his Bible, his Sliakospeare, his
Milton, neither, in my belief, will the profoundest
study of Homer and Sophocles, Virgil and Horace,
give it to him.

Thus, since the constitution of the College
makes sufficient provision for literary as well as
for scientific education, and since artistic instruc-
tion is also contemplated, it seems to me that a
fairly complete culture is offered to all wlio are
willintr to take advantaixe of it.

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 155

But I am not sure that at this point the " prac-
tical " man, scotched but not slain, may ask what
all this talk about culture has to do with an
Institution, the object of which is defined to be
" to promote the prosperity of the manufactures
and the industry of the country.'^ He may sug-
gest that what is wanted for this end is not culture,
nor even a purely scientific discipline, but simply
a knowledge of applied science.

I often wish that this phrase, " applied sci-
ence,^^ had never been invented. For it suggests
that there is a sort of scientific knowledge of direct
practical use, which can be studied apart from
another sort of scientific knowledge, which is of
no practical utility, and which is termed " pure
science.^^ But there is no more complete fallacy
than this. What people call applied science is
nothing but the application of pure science to par-
ticular classes of problems. It consists of deduc-
tions from those general principles, established by
reasoning and observation, which constitute pure
science. No one can safely make these deductions
until he has a firm grasp of the principles; and he
can obtain that grasp only by personal experience
of the operations of observation and of reasoning
on which they are founded.

Almost all the processes employed in the arts
and manufactures fall within the ran2;e either of
physics or of chemistry. In order to improve
them, one must thoroughly understand them; and

156 SCIENCE AND CULTCJRE vi

no one has a chance of really understanding them,
unless he has obtained that mastery of principles
and that habit of dealing with facts, which is given
by long-continued and well-directed purely scien-
tific training in the physical and the chemical
laboratory. So that there really is no question as
to the necessity of purely scientific discijiline, even
if the work of the College were limited by the nar-
rowest interpretation of its stated aims.

And, as to the desirableness of a wider culture
than that yielded by science alone, it is to be recol-
lected that the improvement of manufacturing
processes is only one of the conditions which con-
tribute to the prosperity of industry. Industry is
a means and not an end; and mankind work only
to get something which they want. What that
something is depends partly on their innate, and
partly on their acquired, desires.

If the wealth resulting from prosperous indus-
try is to be spent upon the gratification of unwor-
thy desires, if tlie increasing perfection of manu-
facturing processes is to be accompanied by an in-
creasing debasement of those who carry them on, I
do not see the good of industry and prosperity.

Xow it is perfectly true that men's views of
what is desirable depend upon their characters;
and that the innate proclivities to which we give
that name are not touched by any amount of in-
struction. But it does not follow that even mere
intellectual education may not, to an indefinite

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 157

extent, modify the practical manifestation of the
characters of men in their actions, by supplying
them with motives unknown to the ignorant. A
pleasure-loving character will have pleasure of
some sort; but, if you give him the choice, he may
prefer pleasures which do not degrade him to those
which do. And this choice is offered to every man,
who possesses in literary or artistic culture a never-
failing source of pleasures, which are neither
withered by age, nor staled by custom, nor
embittered in the recollection by the pangs of
self-reproach.

If the Institution opened to-day fulfils the
intention of its founder, the picked intelligences
among all classes of the population of this district
will pass through it. No child born in Birming-
ham, henceforward, if he have the capacity to
profit by the opportunities offered to him, first in
the primary and other schools, and afterwards in
the Scientific CollegT?, need fail to obtain, not mere-
ly the instruction, but the culture most appropri-
ate to the conditions of his life.

Within these walls, the future employer and
the future artisan may sojourn together for a
while, and carry, through all their lives, the stamp
of the influences then brought to bear upon them.
Hence, it is not beside the mark to remind you,
that the prosperity of industry depends not merely
upon the improvement of manufacturing pro-
cesses, not merely upon the ennobling of the indi-

158 SCIENCE AND CULTURE vi

vidual cliaracter, but upon a third condition,
namely, a clear iinderstanding of the conditions of
social life, on the part of both the capitalist and
the operative, and their agreement upon common
principles of social action. They must learn that
social phcrnoniena are as much the expression of
natural laws as any others; that no social arrange-
ments can be permanent unless they harmonise
with the requirements of social statics and dynam-
ics; and that, in the nature of things, there is an
arbiter whose decisions execute themselves.

But this knowledge is only to be obtained by
the application of the methods of investigation
adopted in physical researches to the investigation
of the pha?nomena of society. Hence, I confess, I
should like to see one addition made to the excel-
lent scheme of education propounded for the Col-
lege, in the shape of provision for the teaching of
Sociology. For though we are all agreed that
party politics are to have no place in the instruc-
tion of the College; yet in this country, practically
governed as it is now by universal suffrage, every
man who does his duty must exercise political
functions. And, if the evils which are inseparable
from the good of political liberty are to be checked,
if the perpetual oscillation of nations between
anarchy and despotism is to be replaced by the
steady march of self-restraining freedom; it will
be because men will gradually bring thumselves to
deal with political, as they now deal with scientific

VI SCIENCE AND CULTURE 159

questions; to be as ashamed of undue haste and
partisan prejudice in the one case as in the other;
and to beheve that the machinery of society is at
least as delicate as that of a spinning- jenny, and as
little likely to be improved by the meddling of
those who have not taken the trouble to master the
principles of its action.

In conclusion, I am sure that I make myself the
mouthpiece of all present in offering to the vener-
able founder of the Institution, which now com-
mences its beneficent career, our congratulations
on the completion of his work; and in expressing
the conviction, that the remotest posterity will
point to it as a crucial instance of the wisdom
which natural piety leads all men to ascribe to
their ancestors.

VII

ON" SCIENCE AND ART IN RELATION
TO EDUCATION

[1882]

When a man is honoured by such a request" as

that which reached me from the authorities of

your institution some time ago, I think the first

thing that occurs to him is that which occurred to

those who were bidden to the feast in the Gospel

— to begin to make an excuse; and probably all

tlie excuses suggested on that famous occasion

crop up in his mind one after the other, including

his " having married a wife," as reasons for not

doing what he is asked to do. But, in my own

case, and on this particular occasion, there were

other difficulties of a sort peculiar to the time, and

more or less personal to myself; because I felt

that, if I came amongst you, I sliould be expected,

and, indeed, morally compelled, to speak upon the

subject of Scientific Education. And then there
160

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION IGl

arose in my mind the recollection of a fact, which
probably no one here but myself remembers;
namely, that some fourteen years ago I was the
guest of a citizen of yours, who bears the honoured
name of Eathbone, at a very charming and
pleasant dinner given by the Philomathic Society;
and I there and then, and in this very city, made
a speech upon the topic of Scientific Education.
Under these circumstances, you see, one runs two
dangers — the first, of repeating one's self, although
I may fairly hope that everybody has forgotten the
fact I have just now mentioned, except myself;
and the second, and even greater difficulty, is the
danger of saying something different from what
one said before, because then, however forgotten
your previous speech may be, somebody finds out
its existence, and there goes on that process so
hateful to members of Parliament, which may be
denoted by the term " Hansardisation." Under
these circumstances, I came to the conclusion that
the best thing I could do was to take the bull by
the horns, and to " Hansardise " myself, — to put
before you, in the briefest possible way, the three
or four propositions which I endeavoured to
support on the occasion of the speech to which I
have referred; and then to ask myself, supposing
you were asking me, whether I had anything to
retract, or to modify, in them, in virtue of the
increased experience, and, let us charitably hope,
the increased wisdom of an added fourteen years.

162 SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

Now, the points to whicli I directed particular
attention on that occasion were these: in the first
place, that instruction in physical science supplies
information of a character of especial value, both
in a practical and a speculative point of view —
information which cannot be obtained otherwise;
and, in the second place, that, as educational dis-
cipline, it supi)lics, in a better form than any other
study can supi)ly, exercise in a special form of
logic, and a peculiar method of testing the validity
of our processes of inquiry. I said further, that,
even at that time, a great and increasing attention
was being paid to physical science in our schools
and colleges, and that, most assuredly, such
attention must go on growing and increasing, un-
til education in these matters occupied a very much
larger share of the time which is given to teaching
and training, than had been the case heretofore.
And I threw all the strength of argumentation of
which I was possessed into the support of these
propositions. ]^)ut I venture to remind you, also,
of some other words I used at that time, and whicli
I ask permission to read to you. They were these:
" There are other forms of culture besides physi-
cal science, and I should be profoundly sorry to see
the fact forgotten, or even to observe a tendency
to starve or cripple literary or aesthetic culture for
the sake of science. Such a narrow view of the
nature of education has nothing to do with my
firm conclusion that a complete and thorough

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 1G3

scientific culture ought to be introduced into all
schools."

I say I desirC;, in commenting upon these vari-
ous points, and judging them as fairly as I can by
the light of increased experience, to particularly
emphasise this last, because I am told, although I
assuredly do not know it of my own knowledge
— though I think if the fact were so I ought to
know it, being tolerably well acquainted with that
which goes on in the scientific world, and which
has gone on there for the last thirty years — that
there is a kind of sect, or horde, of scientific Goths
and Vandals, who think it would be proper and
desirable to sweep away all other forms of culture
and instruction, except those in physical science,
and to make them the universal and exclusive, or,
at any rate, the dominant training of the human
mind of the future generation. This is not my
view — I do not believe that it is anybody's view,
— but it is attributed to those who, like myself,
advocate scientific education. I therefore dwell
strongly upon the point, and I beg you to believe
that the Avords I have just now read were by
no means intended by me as a sop to the Cerbe-
rus of culture. I have not been in the habit of
offering sops to any kind of Cerberus; but it
was an expression of profound conviction on
my own part — a conviction forced upon me
not only by my mental constitution, but by the
lessons of what is now becoming a some-

1G4: SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

•

what long experience of varied conditions of
life.

I am not about to trouble you with my auto-
biogra})liy; the omens are hardly favoural)le, at
present, for work of that kind. But I should like
if I may do so without appearing, what I earnestly
desire not to be, egotistical, — I should like to make
it clear to you, that sucli notions as these, which
are sometimes attributed to me, are, as I have said,
inconsistent with my mental constitution, and still
more inconsistent with the upshot of the teaching
of my experience. For I can certainly claim for
myself that sort of mental temperament which can
say that nothing human comes amiss to it. I
have never yet met with any branch of human
knowledge wliich I have found unattractive —
which it would not have been pleasant to me to
follow, so far as I could go; and I have yet to
meet with any form of art in which it has not
been possible for me to take as acute a pleasure
as, I believe, it is possible for men to take.

And with respect to the circumstances of life, it
so hap])ens that it has beerrmy fate to know many
lands and many climates, and to be familiar, by
personal experience, with almost every form of
society, from the uncivilised savage of Pajnia
and Australia and the civilised savages of the
slums and dens of the poverty-stricken parts of
great cities, to those who perhaps, are occasionally
the somewhat over-civilised members of our

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 1G5

upper ten tliousancl. And I have never fonnd, in
any of these conditions of life, a deficiency of
something which was attractive. Savagery has its
pleasures, I assure you, as well as civilisation,
and I may even venture to confess — if you will
not let a whisper of the matter get back to
London, where I am known — I am even fain to
confess, that sometimes in the din and throng of
what is called " a brilliant reception " the vision
crosses my mind of waking up from the soft plank
which had afforded me satisfactory sleep during
the hours of the night, in the bright dawn of a
tropical morning, when my comrades were yet
asleep, when every sound was hushed, except the
little lap-lap of the ripples against the sides of the
boat, and the distant twitter of the sea-bird on the
reef. And when that vision crosses my mind, I
am free to confess I desire to be back in the boat
again. So that, if 1 share with those strange
persons to whose asserted, but still hypothetical
existence I have referred, the want of appreciation
of forms of culture other than the pursuit of physi-
cal science, all I can say is, that it is, in spite of my
constitution, and in spite of my experience, that
such should be my fate.

But now let me turn to another point, or rather
to two other points, with which I propose to
occupy myself. How far does the experience of
the last fourteen years justify the estimate which
I ventured to put forward of the value of scientific

166 SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

culture, and of the share — the increasing share —
which it must take in ordinary education? Hap-
pily, in respect to that matter, you need not rely
upon my testimony. In the last half-dozen num-
bers of the " Journal of Education," vou will find
a series of very interesting and remarkable papers,
by gentlemen who are practically engaged in the
business of education in our great public and other
schools, telling us what is doing in these schools,
and what is their experience of the results of
scientific education there, so far as it has gone.
I am not going to trouble you with an abstract of
those papers which are well worth your study in
their fulness and completeness, but I have copied
out one remarkable passage, because it seems to me
so entirely to bear out what I have formerly
ventured to say about the value of science, both as
to its subject-matter and as to the discipline which
the learning of science involves. It is from a
paper by Mr. "Worthington — one of the masters at
Clifton, the reputation of which school you know
well, and at tlie head of which is an old friend of
mine, the Rev. i\lr. Wilson — to whom much credit
is due for being one of the first, as I can say from
my own knowledge, to take up this question and
work it into practical shape. What Mr. Worthing-
ton says is this: —

" It is not easy to exaG^.c:erate the importance of the informa-
tion imparted by certain branches of science ; it modifies tho
whole criticism of life made in maturer years. The study has

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 167

often, on a mass of boys, a certain influence which, I think, was
hardly anticipated, and to which a good deal of value must be
attached — an influence as much moral as intellectual, which is
shown in the increased and increasing respect for precision of
statement, and for that form of veracity which consists in the
acknowledgment of difficulties. It produces a real eff'ect to
find that Nature cannot be imposed upon, and the attention
given to experimental lectures, at first superficial and curi-
ous only, soon becomes minute, serious, and practical."

Ladies and gentlemen, I could not have chosen
better words to express — in fact, I have, in other
words, expressed the same conviction in former
days — what the influence of scientific teaching, if
properly carried out, must be.

But now comes the question of properly carry-
ing it out, because, when I hear the value of school
teaching in physical science disputed, my first im-
pulse is to ask the disputer, " What have you
known about it?" and he generally tells me some
lamentable case of failure. Then I ask, " What
are the circumstances of the case, and how was
the teaching carried out ? " I remember, some
few years ago, hearing of the head master of a
large school, who had expressed great dissatisfac-
tion with the adoption of the teaching of physical
science — and that after experiment. But the ex-
periment consisted in this — in asking one of the
junior masters in the school to get up science, in
order to teach it; and the young gentleman went
away for a year and got up science and taught it.
Well, I have no doubt that the result was as disnp-
71

168 SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

pointini:^ as tlic head-master said it was, and I liave
no doubt that it ouglit to have been as disappoint-
ing, and far more disappointing too; for, if this
kind of instruction is to be of any good at all, if it
is not to be less than no good, if it is to take the
place of that which is already of some good, then
there are several points which must be attended to.

And the first of these is the proper selection of
topics, the second is practical teaching, the third is
practical teachers, and the fourth is sufficiency of
time. If these four i)oints are not carefully at-
tended to by an3'body who undertakes the teaching
of physical science in schools, my advice to him is,
to let it alone. I will not dwell at any length
upon the first point, because there is a general
consensus of opinion as to the nature of the topics
which should be chosen. The second point —
practical teaching — is one of great importance,
because it requires more capital to set it agoing,
demands more time, and, last, but by no means
least, it requires much more personal exertion and
trouble on the part of those professing to teach,
than is the case with other kinds of instruction.

When I accepted the invitation to be here this
evening, your secretary was good enough to send
me the addresses which have been given by dis-
tinguished persons who have previously occupied
this chair. I don't know whether he had a
malicious desire to alarm me; but, however that
may be, I read the addresses, and derived the

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 169

greatest pleasure and profit from some of them,
and from none more than from the one given by
the great historian, Mr. Freeman, which dehghted
me most of all; and, if I had not been ashamed of
plagiarising, and if I had not been sure of being
found out, I should have been glad to have copied
very much of what Mr. Freeman said, simply
putting in the word science for history. There
w^as one notable passage, — " The difference be-
tween good and bad teaching mainly consists in
this, whether the words used are really clothed
with a meaning or not." And Mr. Freeman gives
a remarkable example of this. He says, when a
little girl was asked where Turkey was, she an-
swered that it was in the yard with the other
fowls, and that showed she had a definite idea
connected with the word Turkey, and was, so far,
worthy of praise. I quite agree with that com-
mendation; but what a curious thing it is that
one should now find it necessary to urge that this
is the be-all and end-all of scientific instruction —
the siiie qua non, the absolutely necessary condi-
tion,— and yet that it was insisted upon more than
two hundred years ago by one of the greatest
men science ever possessed in this country, William
Harvey. Harvey wrote, or at least published,
only two small books, one of which is the well-
known treatise on the circulation of the blood.
The other, the " Exercitationes de Generatione,"
is less known, but not less remarkable. And not

170 SCIENCE AND ART AXD EDUCATION vii

the least valuable part of it is the preface, in
which there occurs this passage: " Those who,
reading the words of authors, do not form sensible
images of the things referred to, obtain no true
ideas, but conceive false imaginations and inane
phantasms." You see, "William Harvey's words
are just the same in substance as those of Mr.
Freeman, only they happen to be rather more
than two centuries older. So that what 1 am now
saying has its application elsewhere than in sci-
ence; but assuredly in science the condition of
knowing, of your own knowledge, things which
you talk about, is absolutely imperative.

I remember, in my youth, there were detest-
able books which ought to have been burned ])y
the hands of the common hangman, for tliey con-
tained questions and answers to be learned by
heart, of this sort, " Wliat is a horse? The horse
is termed Eqinis cahalhis; belongs to the class
Mammalia; order, Pachydermata; family, Soli-
dungula." "Was any human being wiser for learn-
ing that magic formula? Was he not more fool-
ish, inasmuch as he was deluded into taking words
for knowledire? It is that kind of teachin^]^ that
one wants to get rid of, and banished out of sci-
ence. Make it as little as you like, but, unless tliat
which is taught is based on actual observation and
familiarity with facts, it is better left alone.

There are a great many people who imagine
that elementary teaching miglit be pr()])crly carried

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 171

out by teachers provided with only elementary
knowledge. Let me assure you that that is the
profoundest mistake in the world. There is noth-
ing so difhcult to do as to write a good elementary
book, and there is nobody so hard to teach proper-
ly and well as people who know nothing about a
subject, and I will tell you why. If I address an
audience of persons who are occupied in the same
line of work as myself, I can assume that they
know a vast deal, and that they can find out the
blunders I make. If they don't it is their fault
and not mine; but when I appear before a body of
people who knoAV nothing about the matter, who
take for gospel whatever I say, surely it becomes
needful that I consider what I say, make sure that
it will bear examination, and that I do not impose
upon the credulity of those who have faith in me.
In the second place, it involves that difficult pro-
cess of knowing what you know so well that you
can talk about it as you can talk about your ordi-
nary business. A man can always talk about his
own business. He can always make it plain; but, if
his knowledge is hearsay, he is afraid to go beyond
what he has recollected, and put it before those
that are ignorant in such a sliape that they shall
comprehend it. That is why, to be a good elemen-
tary teacher, to teach the elements of any subject,
requires most careful consideration, if you are a
master of the subject; and, if you are not a master
of it, it is needful vou should familiarise vourself

172 SCTEXCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

with so much as you are called upon to teach —
soak yourself in it, so to speak — until you know it
as part of your daily life and daily knowledge, and
then YOU will be able to teach anybody. That is
what I mean by practical teachers, and, altbough
the deficiency of such teachers is being remedied
to a large extent, I think it is one which has long
existed, and which has existed from no fault of
those who undertook to teach, but because, until
the last score of years, it absolutely was not possible
for any one in a great many branches of science,
whateyer his desire might be, to get instruction
which would enable him to be a good teacher of ele-
mentary things. All that is being rapidly altered,
and I hope it will soon become a thing of the past.
The last point I haye referred to is the ques-
tion of the sufficiency of time. And here comes
the rub. The teaching of science needs time, as
any other subject; but it needs more time propor-
tionally than other subjects, for the amount of
work obyiously done, if the teaching is to be, as I
haye said, practical. "Work done in a laboratory
involves a good deal of expenditure of time with-
out always an obvious result, because we do not
see anything of that quiet process of soaking the
facts into the mind, which takes place through the
organs of the senses. On this ground there must
be ample time given to science teaching. What
that amount of time should be is a point which I
need not discuss now; in fact, it is a point which

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 173

cannot be settled until one has made up one's
mind about various other questions.

All, then, that I have to ask for, on behalf of
the scientific j^eoiDle, if I may venture to speak
for more than myself, is that you should put
scientific teaching into what statesmen call the
condition of " the most favoured nation "; that is
to say, that it shall have as large a share of the
time given to education as any other principal
subject. You may say that that is a very vague
statement, because the value of the allotment of
time, under those circumstances, depends upon the
number of principal subjects. It is x the time,
and an unknown quantity of principal subjects
dividing that, and science taking shares with the
rest. That shows that we cannot deal with this
question fully until we have made up our minds
as to what the principal subjects- of education
ought to be.

I know quite well that launching myself into
this discussion is a very dangerous operation; that
it is a very large subject, and one which is difficult
to deal with, however much I may trespass upon
your patience in the time allotted to me. But the
discussion is so fundamental, it is so completely
impossible to make up one's mind on these mat-
ters until one has settled the question, that I
will even venture to make the experiment. A great
lawyer-statesman and philosopher of a former age
— I mean Francis Bacon — said that truth came out

17i SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION. vu

of error much more rapidly than it came out of
confusion. There is a wonderful truth in that say-
ing. Next to being right in this world, the best of
all things is to be clearly and definitely wrong, be-
cause you will come out somewhere. If you go
buzzing about between right and wrong, vibrating
and fiuctuating, you come out nowhere; but if you
are absolutely and thoroughly and persistently
wrong, you must, some of these days, have the ex-
treme good fortune of knocking your head against
a fact, and that sets you all straight again. So I
will not trouble myself as to whether I may be
right or wrong in what I am about to say, but at
any rate I hope to be clear and definite; and then
you will be able to judge for yourselves whether,
in following out the train of thought I have to in-
troduce, vou knock vour heads against facts or not.

I take it that the whole object of education is,
in the first place, to train the faculties of the young
in such a manner as to give their possessors the
best chance of being happy and useful in their
generation; and, in the second place, to furnish
them with the most important portions of that
immense capitalised experience of the human race
which we call knowledge of various kinds. I am
using the term knowledge in its widest possible
sense; and the question is, what subjects to select
by training and discipline, in which the object I
have just defined may be best attained.

I must call your attention further to this fact,

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION I75

that all the subjects of our thoughts — all feelings
and propositions (leaving aside our sensations as
the mere materials and occasions of thinking and
feeling), all our mental furniture — may be classi-
fied under one of two heads — as either within the
province of the intellect, something that can be
put into propositions and affirmed or denied; or
as within the province of feeling, or that which,
before the name was defiled, was called the
aesthetic side of our nature, and which can
neither be proved nor disproved, but only felt and
known.

According to the classification which I have
put before you, then, the subjects of all knowl-
edge are divisible into the two groups, matters of
science and matters of art; for all things with
which the reasoning faculty alone is occupied,
come under the province of science; and in tlie
broadest sense, and not in the narrow and tech-
nical sense in which we are now accustomed to
use the word art, all things feelable, all things
which stir our emotions, come under the term of
art, in the sense of the subject-matter of the oes-
thetic faculty. So that we are shut up to this
— that the business of education is, in the first
place, to provide the young with the means and
the habit of observation; and, secondly, to supply
the subject-matter of knowledge either in the
shape of science or of art, or of both combined.

Now, it is a very remarkable fact — but it is

176 SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

true of most things in this world — that there is
hardly anything one-sided, or of one nature; and
it is not immediately obvious what of the things
that interest us may he regarded as pure science,
and what may be regarded as pure art. It may
be that there are some peculiarly constituted per-
sons who, before thev have advanced far into the
depths of geometry, find artistic beauty about it;
but, taking the generality of mankind, I tliink
it may be said that, when they begin to learn
mathematics, their whole souls are absorbed in
tracing the connection between the premisses and
the conclusion, and that to them geometry is pure
science. So I think it may be said that mechanics
and osteology are pure science. On the other
hand, melody in music is pure art. You cannot
reason about it; there is no proposition involved
in it. So, again, in the pictorial art, an arabesque,
or a " harmony in grey," touches none but the
aesthetic faculty. But a great mathematician, and
even many persons who are not great mathema-
ticians, will tell vou that thev derive immense
pleasure from geometrical reasonings. Everybody
knows mathematicians speak of solutions and
problems as " elegant," and they tell you that a
certain mass of mystic symbols is "beautiful,
quite lovely." Well, you do not see it. They do
see it, because the intellectual process, the process
of comprehending the reasons symbolised by these
figures and these signs, confers upon them a sort

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 177

of pleasure, such as an artist has in visual
symmetry. Take a science of which I may speak
with more confidence, and which is the most at-
tractive of those I am concerned with. It is what
we call morphology, which consists in tracing out
the unity in variety of the infinitely diversified
structures of animals and plants. I cannot give
you any example of a thorough aesthetic pleasure
more intensely real than a pleasure of this
kind — the pleasure which arises in one's mind
when a whole mass of different structures run into
one harmony as the expression of a central law.
That is where the |)rovince of art overlays and
embraces the province of intellect. And, if I
may venture to express an opinion on such a sub-
ject, the great majority of forms of art are not
in the sense what I just now defined them to be
• — pure art; but they derive much of their quality
from simultaneous and even unconscious excite-
ment of the intellect.

When I was a boy, I was very fond of music,
and I am so now; and it so happened that I had
the opportunity of hearing much good music.
Among other things, I had abundant opportunities
of hearing that great okV master, Sebastian Bach.
I remember perfectly well — though I knew noth-
ing about music then, and, I may add, know noth-
ing whatever about it now — the intense satisfac-
tion and delight which I had in listening, by the
hour together, to Bach's fugues. It is a pleasure

178 SCIENCE AXD ART AND EDUCATION vii

which remains with mc, I am glad to think; hut,
of late years, 1 liave tried to find out the why
and wherefore, and it has often occurred to me
that the pleasure derived from musical compo-
sitions of this kind is essentially of the same na-
ture as that which is derived from pursuits which
are commonly regarded as purely intellectual. I
mean, that the source of pleasure is exactly the
same as in most of my problems in morphology
— that vou have the theme in one of the old mas-
ter's works followed out in all its endless varia-
tions, always appearing and always reminding you
of unity in variety. So in painting; what is
called " truth to nature " is the intellectual ele-
ment coming in, and truth to nature depends en-
tirely upon the intellectual culture of the person
to whom art is addressed. If you are in Aus-
tralia, you may get credit for being a good artist
— I mean among the natives — if you can draw a
kangaroo after a fashion. But, among men of
higher civilisation, the intellectual knowledge we
possess brings its criticism into our appreciation
of works of art, and we are obliged to satisfy it,
as well as the mere sense of beauty in colour and
in outline. And so, the higher the culture and
information of those whom art addresses, the more
exact and precise must be what we call its " truth
to nature."

If we turn to literature, the same thing is true,
and you find works of literature wliicli may be

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 179

said to be pure art. A litle song of Shakespeare
or of Goethe is pure art; it is exquisitely beautiful,
although its intellectual content may be nothing.
A series of pictures is made to pass before your
mind by the meaning of words, and the effect is a
melody of ideas. Nevertheless, the great mass of
the literature we esteem is valued, not merely be-
cause of having artistic form, but because of its
intellectual content; and the value is the higher
the more "precise, distinct, and true is that intel-
lectual content. And, if you will let me for a
moment speak of the very highest forms of lit-
erature, do we not regard them as highest simply
because the more we know the truer thev seem,
and the more competent we are to appreciate
beauty the more beautiful they are? No man ever
understands Shakespeare until he is old, though
the youngest may admire him, the reason being
that he satisfies the artistic instinct of the young-
est and harmonises with the ripest and richest ex-
perience of the oldest.

I have said this much to draw your attention
to what, in my mind, lies at the root of all this
matter, and at the understanding of one another
by the men of science on the one hand, and the
men of literature, and history, and art, on the
otlier. It is not a question whether one order of
study or another should predominate. It is a
question of what topics of education you shall
select which will combine all the needful elements

ISO SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

in such due proportion as to give the greatest
amount of food, support, and encouragement to
those faculties which enable us to appreciate truth,
and to profit by those sources of innocent hap-
piness which are open to us, and, at the same
time, to avoid that which is bad, and coarse, and
ugly, and keep clear of the multitude of pitfalls
and dangers which beset those who break through
the natural or moral laws.

I address myself, in this spirit, to the consider-
ation of the question of the value of purely liter-
ary education. Is it good and sufficient, or is it
insufficient and bad? "Well, here I venture to say
that there are literary educations and literary
educations. If I am to understand by that term
the education that was current in the great ma-
jority of middle-class schools, and upper schools
too, in this country when I was a boy, and which
consisted absolutely and almost entirely in keeping
boys for eight or ten years at learning the rules of
Latin and Greek grammar, construing certain
Latin and Greek authors, and possibly making
verses which, had they been English verses,
would have been condemned as abominable doj^-
gerel, — if that is what you mean by liberal edu-
cation, then I say it is scandalously insufficient
and almost worthless. My reason for saying so
is not from the point of view of science at all, but
from the point of view of literature. I say the
thing professes to be literary education that is

vn SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 181

not a literary education at all. It was not liter-
ature at all that was taught, but science in a
very bad form. It is quite obvious that grammar
is science and not literature. The analysis of a
text by the help of the rules of grammar is just as
much a scientific operation as the analysis of a
chemical compound by the help of the rules of
chemical analysis. There is nothing that appeals
to the aesthetic faculty in that operation; and I
ask multitudes of men of my own age, who went
through this process, whether they ever had a
conception of art or literature until they obtained
it for themselves after leaving school? Then you
may say, " If that is so, if the education was
scientific, why cannot you be satisfied with it ? ^'
I say, because although it is a scientific training, it
is of the most inadequate and inappropriate kind.
If there is anv ffood at all in scientific education
it is that men should be trained, as I said before,
to know thin2:s for themselves at first hand, and
that they should understand every step of the
reason of that which they do.

I desire to speak with the utmost respect of
that science — philology — of which grammar is a
part and parcel; yet everybody knows that gram-
mar, as it is usually learned^ at school, affords no
scientific training. It is taught just as you would
teach the rules of chess or draughts. On the
other hand, if I am to understand by a literary
education the study of the literatures of either

182 SCIENCE AND ^UlT AND EDUCATION vn

ancient or modern nations — but especially those of
antiquity, and especially that of ancient Greece;
if this literature is studied, not merely from the
point of view of philological science, and its prac-
tical application to the interpretation of texts,
but as an exemplification of and commentary
upon the principles of art; if you look upon the
literature of a ])eople as a chapter in the develop-
ment of the human mind, if vou work out this in
a broad spirit, and with such collateral references
to morals and politics, and physical geography,
and the like as are needful to make you compre-
hend what the meaning of ancient literature and
civilisation is, — then, assuredly, it affords a splen-
did and noble education. But I still think it is
susceptible of improvement, and that no man will
ever comprehend the real secret of the difference
between the ancient world and our present time,
unless he has learned to see. the difference which
the late development of physical science has made
between the thought of this day and the thought
of that, and he will never see that difference,
unless he has some practical insight into some
branches of physical science; and you must re-
member that a literary education such as that
which I have just referred to, is out of the reach
of those whose school life is cut short at sixteen or
seventeen.

But, you will say, all this is fault-finding; let
us hear wliat you liave in the way ol' ])ositive

VII 8CIEXCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 1S3

suggestion. Then I am bound to tell you that, if
I could make a clean sweep of everything — I am
very glad I cannot because I might, and
probably should, make mistakes, — but if I could
make a clean sweep of everything and start
afresh, I should, in the first place, secure that
training of the young in reading and writing, and
in the habit of attention and observation, both to
that which is told them, and that w^hich they see,
which everybody agrees to. But in addition to
that, I should make it absolutely necessary for
everybody, for a longer or shorter period, to learn
to draw. Xow, you may say, there are some
people who cannot draw, however much they may
be taught. I deny that in ioto, because I never yet
met with anybody who could not learn to write.
Writing is a form of drawing; therefore if you
give the same attention and trouble to drawing
as you do to writing, depend upon it, there is
nobody who cannot be made to draw, more or less
well. Do not misa])prohen(l me. I do not say for
one moment you would UKike an artistic draughts-
man. Artists are not made; they grow. You
may improve the natural faculty in that direction,
but you cannot make it; but you can teach simple
drawing, and you will find it an implement of
learning of extreme value. I do not think its
value can be exaggerated, because it gives you
the means of training the young in attention and
accuracy, which are the two things in whicli all

1S4 SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

mankind are more deficient than in any otlier
mental quality whatever. The whole of my lii'c
has been spent in trying to give my proper atten-
tion to things and to be accurate, and I have
not succeeded as well as I could wish; and other
people, I am afraid, are not much more fortu-
nate. You cannot begin this habit too early, and
I consider there is nothing of so great a value as
the habit of drawing, to secure those two desira-
ble ends.

Then we come to the subject-matter, whether
scientific or a}sthetic, of education, and I should
naturally have no question at all about teaching
the elements of physical science of the kind I
have sketched, in a practical manner; but among
scientific topics, using the word scientific in the
broadest sense, I would also include the elements
of tlie theory of morals and of that of political
and social life, which, strangely enough, it never
seems to occur to anybody to teach a child. I
would have the history of our own country, and
of all tlio influences which have been brought to
bear u])on it, with incidental geography, not as a
mere chronicle of reigns and battles, but as a
chapter in the development of the race, and the
history of civilisation.

Then with res])ect to aesthetic knowledge and
discii)line, we have happily in the English lan-
guage one of the most magnificent storehouses of
artistic beauty and of models of literary excellence

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 185

*

which exists in the world at the present time. I
have said before, and I repeat it here, that if a man
cannot get literary culture of the highest kind out
of his Bible, and Chaucer, and Shakespeare, and
Milton, and Hobbes, and Bishop Berkeley, to
mention only a few of our illustrious writers — I
say, if he cannot get it out of those writers, he
cannot get it out of anything; and I would
assuredly devote a very large portion of the time
of every English child to the careful study of the
models of English writing of such varied and
wonderful kind as we possess, and, what is still
more important and still more neglected, the habit
of using that language with precision, with force,
and with art. I fancy we are almost the only
nation in the world who seem to think that com-
position comes by nature. The French attend to
their own language, the Germans study theirs; but
Englishmen do not seem to think it is worth their
while. Nor would I fail to include, in the course
of study I am sketching, translations of all tlie
best works of antiquity, or of the modern world.
It is a very desirable thing to read Homer in
Greek; but if you don't happen to know Greek,
the next best thing we can do is to read as good
a translation of it as we have recently been
furnished with in prose. You won't get all you
would get from the original, but you may get a
great deal; and to refuse to know this great deal
because you cannot get all, seems to be as sensible

ISO SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

as for a hungry man to refuse bread because he
cannot get partridge. Finally, I would add in-
struction in either music or painting, or, if the
child should be so unhap})y, as sometimes happens,
as to have no faculty for either of those, and no
possibility of doing anything in any artistic sense
with them, then 1 would see what could be done
with literature alone; but I would provide, in the
fullest sense, for the development of the esthetic
side of the mind. In my judgment, those are all
the essentials of education for an English child.
AVith that outfit, such as it might be made in the
time given to education which is within the
reach of nine-tenths of the population — with that
outfit, an Englishman, within the limits of
English life, is fitted to go anywhere, to occupy
the highest positions, to fill the highest offices
of the State, and to become distinguished in prac-
tical pursuits, in science, or in art. For, if he have
the opportunity to learn all those things, and have
his mind disciplined in the various directions the
teaching of those topics would have necessitated,
then, assuredly, he will be able to pick up, on his
road through life, all the rest of the intellectual
baggage he wants.

If the educational time at our disposition were
sufficient there are one or two things I would add
to those I have just now called the essentials; and
perhaps you will be surprised to hear, though I
hope you will not, that I should add, not more

VII SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION 1S7

science, but one, or, if possible, two languages.
The knowledge of some other language than one's
own is, in fact, of singular intellectual value.
Many of the faults and mistakes of the ancient
philosophers are traceable to the fact that they
knew no language but their own, and were often
led into confusing the symbol with the thought
which it embodied. I think it is Locke who says
that one-half of the mistakes of philosophers have
arisen from questions about words; and one of the
safest ways of delivering yourself from the bondage
of words is, to know how ideas look in words to
which you are not accustomed. That is one reason
for the study of language; another reason is, that
it opens new fields in art and in science. Another
is the practical value of such knowledge; and yet
another is this, that if your languages are properly
chosen, from the time of learning the additional
languages you will know your own language better
than ever you did. So, I say, if the time given
to education permits, add Latin and German.
Latin, because it is the key to nearly one-half of
English and to all the Eomance languages; and
German, because it is the key to almost all the
remainder of English, and helps you to understand
a race from whom most of us have sprung, and
who have a character and a literature of a fateful
force in the history of the world, such as probably
has been allotted to those of no other people,
except the Jews, the Greeks, and ourselves.

ISS SCIENCE AND ART AND EDUCATION vii

Beyond these, the essential and* the eminently
desirable elements of all education, let each man
take up his special line — the historian devote him-
self to his history, the man of science to his sci-
ence, the man of letters to his culture of that
kind, and tlie artist to his special pursuit.

Bacon has prefaced some of his works witli no
more tlian this: Franciscns Bacon sic cogitavit;
let " sic cogitavi " be the epilogue to what I have
ventured to address to you to-night.

YIII
UOTVEESITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL

[1874]

Elected by the suffrages of your four Nations
Eector of the ancient University of which you are
scholars, I take the earliest opportunity which has
presented itself since my restoration to health, of
delivering the Address which, by long custom, is
expected of the holder of my office. <

My iirst duty in opening that Address, is to

offer you my most hearty thanks for the signal

honour you have conferred upon me — an honour

of which, as a man unconnected with you by

personal or by national ties, devoid of political

distinction, and a plebian who stands by his order,

I could not have dreamed. And it was the more

surprising to me, as the five-and-twenty years

which have passed over my head since I reached

intellectual manhood, have been largely spent in

no half-hearted advocacy of doctrines which have

189

190 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

not yet found favour in the eyes of Academic
respectability; so that, when the proposal to
nominate me for your Rector came, I was almost
as mucli astonished as was Hal o' the AVvud. " who
fought for his own haud/' by the iilack Douglas's
proffer of kuighthoud. Aud I fear tliat my
acceptance must be taken as evidence that, less
wise than the Armourer of Perth, I have not yet
done with soldiering.

In fact, if, for a moment, I imagined that your
intention was simply, in the kindness of your
hearts, to do me honour; and that the Rector of
your University, like that of some other Uni-
versities was one of those happy l)eings who sit
in glory for three years, with nothing to do for
it save the making of a speech, a conversation
with my distinguished ])redecessor soon dispelled
the dream. 1 found that, bv the constitution of
the University of Aberdeen, the incumbent of the
Rectorate is, if not a power, at any rate a potential
energy; and that, whatever may be his chances of
success or failure, it is his dutv to convert that
potential energy into a living force, directed
towards such ends as may seem to him conducive
to the welfare of the corporation of which he is
the theoretical head.

I need not tell you that your late Lord Rector
took this view of his position, and acted upon it
with the comprehensive, far-seeing insight into
the actual condition and tendencies, not merely

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 191

of his own, but of other countries, which is his
honourable characteristic among statesmen. I
have already done my best, and, as long as I hold
my office, 1 shall continue my endeavours, to fol-
low in the path which he trod; to do what in me
lies, to bring this University nearer to the ideal —
alas, that I should be obliged to say ideal — of all
Universities; which, as I conceive, should be places
in whicli thought is free from all fetters; and in
which all sources of knowledge, and all aids to
learning, should be accessible to all comers, with-
out distinction of creed or country, riches or
poverty.

Do not suppose, however, that I am sanguine
enough to expect much to come of any poor efforts
of mine. If your annals take any notice of my
incumbency, I shall probably go down to posterity
as the Rector who was always beaten. But if they
add, as I think they will, that my defeats became
victories in the hands of my successors, I shall be
well content.

Tlie scenes are shifting in the great theatre of
the world. The act which commenced with the
Protestant Reformation is nearly played out, and a
wider and deeper change than that effected three
centuries ago — a reformation, or rather a revolu-
tion of thought, the extremes of which are repre-
sented by the intellectual heirs of John of Leyden
and of Ignatius Loyola, rather than by those of

192 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vii

Lutlicr and of Leo — is Availing to come on, nay,
visible behind the scenes to those who have good
eyes. Men are beginning, once more, to awake to
the fact that matters of belief and of speculation
are of absolutely infinite practical importance; and
are drawing oil' from that sunny country " where it
is ah\ ays afternoon " — the sleepy hollow of broad
indiU'erentism — to range themselves under tlieir
natural banners. Change is in the air. It is
whirling feather-heads into all sorts of eccentric
orbits, and filling the steadiest with a sense of in-
security. It insists on reopening all questions and
asking all institutions, however venerable, by what
right they exist, and whether they are, or are not,
in harmony with the real or supposed wants of
mankind. And it is remarkable that these search-
ing inquiries are not so much forced on institu-
tions from without, as developed from within.
Consummate scholars question the value of learn-
ing; priests contemn dogma; and women turn
their backs upon man's ideal of perfect woman-
hood, and seek satisfaction in apocalyptic visions
of some, as yet, unrealised epicene reality.

If there be a type of stability in this world, one
would ])C inclined to look for it in the old Univer-
sities of England. But it has been my business
of late to hear a good deal about what is going on
in these famous corporations; and I have been
filled with astonishment by the evidences of inter-
nal fermentation which they exhibit. If Gibbon

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 193

could revisit the ancient seat of learning of which
he has written so cavalierly, assuredly he would
no longer speak of " the monks of Oxford sunk in
prejudice and port." There, as elsewhere, port
has gone out of fashion, and so has prejudice — at
least that particular fine, old, crusted sort of pre-
judice to which the great historian alludes.

Indeed, things are moving so fast in Oxford
and Camhridge, that, for my part, I rejoiced when
the Royal Commission, of which I am a member,
had finished and presented the Report which re-
lated to these Universities; for we should have
looked like mere plagiarists, if, in consequence of a
little longer delay in issuing it, all the measures of
reform we proposed had been anticipated by the
spontaneous action of the Universities them-
selves.

A month ago I should have gone on to say that
one might speedily expect changes of another
kind in Oxford and Cambridge. A Commission
has been inquiring into the revenues of the many
wealthy societies in more or less direct connection
with the Universities, resident in those towns. It
is said that the Commission has reported, and
that, for the first time in recorded history, the
nation, and perhaps the Colleges themselves, will
know what they are worth. And it was announced
that a statesman, who, whatever his other merits
or defects, has aims above the level of mere party
fighting, and a clear vision into the most complex

19:1: UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vin

practical problems, meant to dcjil with these
revenues.

But, Bos locutus est. That mysterious indepen-
dent variable of political calculation. Public
0})inion — which some whisper is, in the present
case, very much the same thing as publican's
opinion — has wiUed otherwise. The Heads may
return to their wonted slumbers — at any rate for
a space.

Is the spirit of change, which is working thus
vigorously in the South, likely to affect the
Northern Universities, and if so, to what extent?
The violence of fermentation depends, not so much
on the quantity of the yeast, as on the com-
position of the wort, and its richness in fer-
mentable material; and, as a preliminary to the
discussion of this question, I venture to call to
your minds the essential and fundamental dill'er-
ences between the Scottish and I lie English type
of University.

Do not charge me with anything worse than
official egotism, if I say that these ditferences
appear to be largely symbolised by my own
existence. There is no Rector in an Knglisli
University. Now, the organisation of the mem-
bers of a University into Nations, with their
elective Rector, is the last relic of the primitive
constitution of Universities. The Rectorate was
the most important of all offices in that University
of Paris, upon the model of which the University

VIII UNIVERSITIES; ACTUAL AND IDEAL 195

of Aberdeen was fashioned; and which was cer-
tainly a great and flourishing institution in the
twelfth century.

Enthusiasts for the antiquity of one of the two
acknowledged parents of all Universities, indeed,
do not hesitate to trace the origin of the " Studiuni
Parisiense " up to that wonderful king of the
Franks and Lombards, Karl, surnamed the Great,
whom we all called Charlemagne, and believed to
be a Frenchman, until a learned historian, by
beneficent iteration, taught us better. Karl is said
not to have been much of a scholar himself,
but he had the wisdom of which knowledge is
only the servitor. And that wisdom enabled him
to see that ignorance is one of the roots of all
evil.

In the Capitulary which enjoins the foundation
of monasterial and cathedral schools, he says:
"Eight action is better than knowledge; but in
order to do what is right, we must know what is
right." * An irrefragable truth, I fancy. Acting
upon it, the king took pretty full com]nilsory
powers, and carried into effect a really considerable
and effectual scheme of elementary education
through the length and breadth of his dominions.

No doubt the idolaters out by the Elbe, in what

* " Qnamvis enim melius sit bene facere quam nosse,
prius tamen est nosse quam facere." — "Karoli Ma^ni Repis
Constitutio de Scholis per singula Episcopia et Monasteria
institnendis," addi-cssed to the Abbot of Fnlda. Baluzius,
CapiUdaria Rcgum Francorum, T. i., p. 202.

19G UXIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

is now part of Prussia, objected to the Frankish.
king's measures; no doubt the priests, who had
never hesitated about sacrificing all unbelievers in
their fantastic deities and futile conjurations, were
the loudest in chanting the virtues of toleration;
no d(^ubt they denounced as a cruel persecutor
the man who would not allow them, however
sincere they might be, to go on spreading de-
lusions which debased the intellect, as much as
they deadened the moral sense, and undermined
the bonds of civil allegiance; no doubt, if they
had lived in these times, they would have been
able to show, with ease, that the king's proceed-
ings were totally contrary to the best liberal
princii)les. But it may be said, in justification of
the Teutonic ruler, first, that he was born before
those principles, and did not suspect that the best
way of getting disorder into order was to let it
alone; and, secondly, that his rough and question-
a])le proceedings did, more or less, bring about the
end he had in view. For, in a couple of centuries,
the schools he sowed broadcast produced their crop
of men, thirsting for knowledge and craving for
culture. Such men gravitating towards Paris, as
a light amid>st the darkness of evil days, from
CJermany, from Spain, from Britain, and from
Scandinavia, came together by natural afTinity.
By degrees they banded themselves into a society,
which, as its end was the knowledge of all things
knowable, called itself a ^' Studium Gcncralej"

VIII UXIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 197

and when it had grown into a recognised corpora-
tion, acquired the name of " Universitas Studii
Generalis^" which, mark you, means not a " Useful
Knowledge Society,^' but a " Knowledge-of -things-
in-general Society."

And thus the first " University," at any rate on
this side of the Alps, came into being. Originally
it had but one Faculty, that of Arts. Its aim was
to be a centre of knowledge and culture; not to
be, in any sense, a technical school.

The scholars seem to have studied Grammar,
Logic, and Ehetoric; Arithmetic and Geometry;
Astronomy; Theology; and Music. Thus, their
work, however imperfect and faulty, judged by
modern lights, it may have been, brought them
face to face with all the leading aspects of the
many-sided mind of man. For these studies did
really contain, at any rate in embryo— sometimes,
it may be, in caricature — what we now call
Philosophy, Mathematical and Physical Science,
and Art. And I doubt if the curriculum of any
modern University shows so clear and generous a
comprehension of what is meant by culture, as
this old Trivium and Quadrivium does.

The students who had passed through the Uni-
versity course, and had proved themselves com-
petent to teach, became masters and teachers of
their younger brethren. AVhence the distinction
of Masters and Eegents on the one hand, and
Scholars on the other.

198 UXIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

Rapid growth necessitated organisation. The
Masters and Scholars of various tongues and
countries grouped themselves into four Nations;
and the ^Nations, by their own votes at first, and
subsequently by those of their Procurators, or
representatives, elected their supreme head and
governor, the Eector — at that time the sole
representative of the University, and a very real
power, who could defy Provosts interfering from
without; or could inflict even corporal punishment
on disobedient members within the University.

Such was the primitive constitution of the Uni-
versity of Paris. It is in reference to this original
state of things that I have spoken of the Rectorate,
and all that appertains to it, as the sole relic of
that constitution.

But this original organisation did not last long.
Society was not then, any more than it is now,
patient of culture, as such. It says to everything,
"'■ Be useful to me, or away willi you." And to
the learned, the unlearned man said then, as he
does now, " What is the use of all your learning,
unless you can tell me what I want to know? I
am here blindly groping about, and constantly
damaging myself by collision with tlirec mighty
powers, the power of the invisible God, the power
of my fellow Man, and the power of brute Nature.
Let your learning be turned to the study of these
powers, that I may know how I am to com])ort
mvself witli reuard to them." In answer to this

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 190

demand, some of the Masters of the Faculty of
Arts devoted themselves to the study of Theology,
some to that of Law, and some to that of
Medicine; and they became Doctors — men learned
in those technical, or, as we now call them, pro-
fessional, branches of knowledge. Like cleaving
to like, the Doctors formed schools, or Faculties,
of Theology, Law, and Medicine, which sometimes
assumed airs of superiority over their parent, the
Faculty of Arts, though the latter always asserted
and maintained its fundamental supremacy.

The Faculties arose by process of natural dif-
ferentiation out of the primitive University.
Other constituents, foreign to its nature, were
speedily grafted upon it. One of these extraneous
elements were forced into it by the Roman Church,
which in those days asserted with effect, that
which it now asserts, happily without any effect
in these realms, its rights of censorship and con-
trol over all teaching. The local habitation of
the University lay partly in the lands attached
to the monastery of S. Genevieve, partly in the
diocese of the Bishop of Paris; and he who would
teach must have the license of the Abbot, or of
the Bishop, as the nearest representative of the
Pope, so to do, which license was granted by the
Chancellors of these Ecclesiastics.

Thus, if I am what archaeologists call a " sur-
vival " of the primitive head and ruler of the
University, your Chancellor stands in the same
73

200 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

relation to the Papacy; and, with all respect for
his Grace, I think I may say that we both look
terribly shrunken when compared with our great
originals.

Not so is it with the second foreign element,
which silently dropped into the soil of Univer-
sities, like the grain of mustard-seed in the para-
ble; and, like that grain, grew into a tree, in
whose branches a whole aviary of fowls took shel-
ter. That element is the element of Endowment.
It differed from the preceding, in its original de-
sign to serve as a prop to the young plant, not
to be a parasite upon it. The charitable and the
humane, blessed with wealth, were very early pene-
trated by the misery of the poor student. And
the wise saw that intellectual ability is not so
common or so unimportant a gift that it should
be allowed to run to waste upon mere handicrafts
and chares. The man who was a blessing to his
contemporaries, but who so often has been con-
verted into a curse, by the blind adherence of his
posterity to the letter, rather than to the spirit,
of his wishes — I mean the " pious founder " —
gave money and lands, that the student, who was
rich in brain and poor in all else, might be taken
from the plough or from the stithy, and enabled
to devote himself to the higher service of man-
kind; and built colleges and halls in which he
might be not only housed and fed, but taught.

The Colleges were very generally placed in

Tin UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 201

strict subordination to the University hj their
founders; but, in many cases, their endowment,
consisting of land, has undergone an " unearned
increment," which has given these societies a con-
tinually increasing weight and importance as
against the unendowed, or fixedly endowed. Uni-
versity. In Pharaoh's dream, the seven lean kine
eat up the seven fat ones. In the reality of his-
torical fact, the fat Colleges have eaten up the
lean Universities.

Even here in Aberdeen, though the causes at
work may have been somewhat difi^erent, the ef-
fects have been similar; and you see how much
more substantial an entity is the Very Eeverend
the Principal, analogue, if not homologue, of the
Principals of King's College, than the Rector,
lineal representative of the ancient monarchs of
the University, though now, little more than a
" king of shreds and patches."

Do not suppose that, in thus briefly tracing the
process of University metamorphosis, I have had
any intention of quarrelling with its results.
Practically, it seems to me that the broad changes
effected in 1858 have given the Scottish Univer-
sities a very liberal constitution, with as much real
approximation to the primitive state of things as
is at all desirable. If vour fat kine have eaten
the lean, they have not lain down to chew the cud
ever since. The Scottish Universities, like the
English, have diverged widely enough from their

202 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vin

primitive model; but I cannot help thinking that
the northern form has remained more faithful to
its original, not only in constitution, but, what is
more to the purpose, in view of the cry for change,
in the practical application of the endowments con-
nected with it.

In Aberdeen, these endowments are numerous,
but so small that, taken altogether, they are not
equal to the revenue of a single third-rate English
college. They are scholarships, not fellowships;
aids to do work — not rewards for such work as it
lies within the reach of an ordinary, or even an
extraordinary, young man to do. You do not
think that passing a respectable examination is a
fair equivalent for an income, such as many a
grey-headed veteran, or clergyman would envy;
and which is larger than the endowment of many
Eegius chairs. You do not care to make your
University a school of manners for the rich; of
sports for the athletic; or a liot-bed of high-fed,
hypercritical refinement, more destructive to vig-
our and originality than are starvation and op-
pression. No; your little Bursaries of ten and
twenty (T believe even fifty) pounds a year, en-
abled any boy who has shown ability in the course
of his education in those remarkable primary
schools, which have ma,de Scotland the power she
is, to obtain the highest culture the country can
give him; and when he is armed and equipped,
his Spartan Alma Mater tells him that, so far, he

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 203

has had his wages for his work, and that he may
go and earn the rest.

When I think of the host of pleasant, moneyed,
well-bred young gentlemen, who do a little learn-
ing and much boating by Cam and Isis, the vision
is a pleasant one; and, as a patriot, I rejoice that
the youth of the upper and richer classes of the
nation receive a wholesome and a manly training,
however small may be the -modicum of knowledge
they gather, in the intervals of this, their serious
business. I admit, to the full, the social and po-
litical value of that training. But, when I pro-
ceed to consider that these young men may be said
to represent the great bulk of what the Colleges
have to show for their enormous wealth, plus, at
least, a hundred and fifty pounds a year apiece
which each undergraduate costs his parents or
guardians, I feel inclined to ask, whether the rate-
in-aid of the education of the wealthy and pro-
fessional classes, thus levied on the resources of
the community, is not, after all, a little heavy?
And, still further, I am tempted to inquire what
has become of the indigent scholars, the sons of
the masses of the people whose daily labour just
suffices to meet their daily wants, for whose bene-
fit these rich foundations were largely, if not
mainly, instituted? It seems as if Pharaoh's
dream had been ri^^orouslv carried out, and that
even the fat scholar has eaten the lean one. And
when I turn from this picture to the no less real

204 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

vision of many a brave and frugal Scotch boy,
spending his summer in hard manual labour, that
he may have the privilege of wending his way in
autumn to this University, with a bag of oatmeal,
ten pounds in his pocket, and his own stout heart
to depend upon through the northern winter; not
bent on seeking

" The bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth,"

but determined to wring knowledge from the hard
hands of penury; when I see him win through all
such outward obstacles to positions of wide use-
fulness and well-earned fame; I cannot but think
that, in essence, Aberdeen has departed but little
from the primitive intention of the founders of
Universities, and that the si)irit of reform has so
much to do on the other side of the Border, that it
may be long before he has leisure to look this
way.

As compared with other actual Universities,
then, Aberdeen, may, perhaps, be well satisfied
with itself. But do not think me an impracti-
cable dreamer, if I ask you not to rest and be
thankful .in this state of satisfaction; if I ask you
to consider awhile, how this actual good stands
related to that ideal better, towards which both
men and institutions must progress, if they would
not retrograde.

In an ideal T'niversitv, as I conceive it, n inan
should be able to obtain instruction in all forms

nil UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 205

of knowledge, and discipline in the use of all the
methods by which knowledge is obtained. In
such a University, the force of living example
should fire the student with a noble ambition to
emulate the learning of learned men, and to follow
in the footsteps of the explorers of new fields of
knowledge. And the very air he breathes should
be charged with that enthusiasm for truth, that
fanaticism of veracity, which is a greater posses-
sion than much learning; a nobler gift than the
power of increasing knowledge; by so much
greater and nobler than these, as the moral nature
of man is greater than the intellectual; for ve-
racity is the heart of morality.

But the man who is all morality and intellect,
although he may be good and even great, is, after
all, only half a man. There is beauty in the
moral world and in the intellectual' world; but
there is also a beautv which is neither moral nor
intellectual — the beautv of the world of Art.
There are men who are devoid of the power of
seeing it, as there are men who are born deaf and
blind, and the loss of those, as of these, is simply
infinite. There are others in whom it is an over-
powering passion; happy men, born with the pro-
ductive, or at lowest, the appreciative, genius of
the Artist. But, in the mass of mankind, the
^Esthetic faculty, like the reasoning power and the
moral sense, needs to be roused, directed, and cul-
tivated; and I know not why the development of

206 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

that side of his nature, through wliich man has
access to a perennial spring of ennobling pleasure,
should be omitted from any comprehensive scheme
of University education.

All Universities recognise Literature in the
sense of the old Khetoric, which is art incarnate
in words. Some, to their credit, recognise Art in
its narrower sense, to a certain extent, and con-
fer degrees for proficiency in some of its branches.
If there are Doctors of Music, why should there
be no Masters of painting, of Sculpture, of Ar-
chitecture? I should like to see Professors of the
Fine Arts in every University; and instruction in
some branch of their work made a part of the
Arts curriculum.

I just now expressed the opinion that, in our
ideal University, a man should be able to obtain
instruction in all forms of knowledge. Xow, by
*' forms of knowledge " I mean the great classes
of things knowable; of which the first, in logical,
though not in natural, order is knowledge relating
to the scope and limits of the mental faculties of
man, a form of knowledge which, in its positive
aspect, answers pretty much to Logic and part of
Psychology, while, on its negative and critical
side, it corresponds with Metaphysics.

A second class comprehends all that knowledge
which relates to man's welfare, so far as it is deter-
mined by his own acts, or what we call his con-
duct. It answers to Moral and Religious philos-

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AXD IDEAL 207

ophy. Practically, it is the most directly valuable
of all forms of knowledge, but speculatively, it is
limited and criticised by that which precedes and
by that which follows it in my order of enumera-
tion.

A third class embraces knowledge of the
phsenomena of the Universe, as that which lies
about the individual man; and of the rules which
those phenomena are observed to follow in the
order of their occurrence, which we term the laws
of Xature.

That is what ought to be called Natural Sci-
ence, or Physiology, though those terms are hope-
lessly diverted from such a meaning; and it in-
cludes all exact knowledge of natural fact, whether
Mathematical, Physical, Biological, or Social.

Kant has said that the ultimate object of all
knowledge is to give replies to these three ques-
tions: What can I do? What ought I to do?
What may I hope for? The forms of knowledge
which I have enumerated, should furnish such re-
plies as are within human reach, to the first and
second of these questions. While to the third,
perhaps the wisest answer is, " Do what you can
to do what you ought, and leave hoping and fear-
ing alone."

If this be a just and an exhaustive classifica-
tion of the forms of knowledge, no question as to
tlieir relative importance, or as to their superiority
of one to the other, can be seriously raised.

208 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

On the face of the matter, it is absurd to ask
whether it is more important to know the limits of
one's powers; or the ends for which they ought to
be exerted; or tlie conditions under which they
must be exerted. One may as well inquire which
of the terms of a Kule of Three sum one ought to
know, in order to get a trustworthy result. Prac-
tical life is such a sum, in which your duty multi-
plies into your capacity, and divided by your cir-
cumstances, gives you the fourth term in the pro-
portion, which is your deserts, with great accuracy.
All agree, I take it, that men ought to have these
three kinds of knowledge. The so-called " con-
flict of studies '' turns upon the question of how
they may be best obtained.

The founders of Universities held the theory
that the Scriptures and Aristotle taken together,
the latter being limited by the former, contained
all knowledge worth having, and that the business
of philosoi)hy was to interpret and co-ordinate
these two. I imagine that in the twelfth century
this was a very fair conclusion from known facts.
Xowhere in the world, in those days, was there
such an encyclopaedia of knowledge of all three
classes, as is to be found in those writings. The
scholastic philosophy is a wonderful monument of
the patience and ingenuity with which the human
mind toiled to build up a logically consistent
theory of the Universe, out of such materials.
And that philosophy is by no means dead and

Yin UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 209

buried^ as many vainly suppose. On the contrar}^,
numbers of men of no mean learning and accom-
plishment, and sometimes of rare power and sub-
tlety of thought, hold by it as the best theory of
things which has yet been stated. And, what is
still more remarkable, men who speak the lan-
guage of modern philosophy, nevertheless think
the thoughts of the schoolmen. " The voice is
the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands
of Esau." Every day I hear " Cause," " Law,"
" Force," " Vitality," spoken of as entities, by peo-
ple who can enjoy Swift's joke about the meat-
roasting quality of the smoke-jack, and comfort
themselves with the reflection that they are not
even as those benighted schoolmen.

Well, this great system had its day, and then it
"was sapped and mined by two influences. The
first was the studv of classical literature, which
familiarised men with methods of philosophising;
with conceptions of the highest Good; with ideas
of the order of Nature; with notions of Literary
and Historical Criticism; and, above all, with
visions of Art, of a kind which not only would not
fit into the scholastic scheme, but showed them a
pre-Christian, and indeed altogether un-Christian
world, of such grandeur and beauty that they
ceased to think of any other. Tliey were as men
who had kissed the Fairy Queen, and wan-
dering with her in the dim loveliness of tlie
under-world, cared not to return to the familiar

210 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vin

wa3's of home and fatherland, though they
lay, at arm's length, overhead. Cardinals were
more familiar with Virgil than with Isaiah; and
ro})es laboured, with great success, to re-paganise
liome.

The second influence was the slow, but sure,
growth of the physical sciences. It was discov-
ered that some results of speculative thought, of
immense practical and theoretical importance, can
be verified bv observation; and are alwavs true,
however severely they may be tested. Here, at
any rate, was knowledge, to the certainty of which
no authority could add, or take away, one jot or
tittle, and to which the tradition of a thou-
sand years was as insignificant as the hearsay of
yesterday. To the scholastic system, the study
of classical literature might be inconvenient
and distracting, but it was possible to hope
that it could be kept within bounds. Physical
science, on the other hand, was an irreconcilable
enemy, to be excluded at all hazards. The
College of Cardinals has not distinguished it-
self in Physics or Physiology; and no Pope
has, as yet, set up public laboratories in the
Vatican.

People do not always formulate the beliefs on
which they act. The instinct of fear and dislike
is quicker than the reasoning process; and I sus-
pect that, taken in conjunction with some other
causes, such instinctive aversion is at the bottom

Yiii UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 211

of the long exclusion of any serious discipline in
the phj-sical sciences from the general curriculum
of Universities; while^ on the other hand, clas-
sical literature has been gradually made the back-
bone of the Arts course.

I am ashamed to repeat here what I have said
elsewhere, in season and out of season, respecting
the value of Science as knowledge and discipline.
But the other day I met with some passages in the
Address to another Scottish University, of a great
thinker, recently lost to us, which express so fully,
and yet so tersely, the truth in this matter that I
am fain to quote them: —

" To question all things; — never to turn away
from any difficulty; to accept no doctrine either
from ourselves or from other people without a
rimd scrutinv bv ne2:ative criticism; letting^ no
fallacv, or incoherence, or confusion of thouirht,
step by unperceived; above all, to insist upon hav-
ing the meaning of a word clearly understood be-
fore using it, and the meaning of a proposition
before assenting to it; — these are the lessons we
learn " from workers in Science. " With all this
vigorous management of the negative element,
they inspire no scepticism about the reality of
truth or indilTcrence to its pursuit. The noblest
enthusiasm, both for the search after truth and for
applying it to its highest uses, pervades those writ-
ers." " In cultivating, therefore," science as an
essential ingredient in education, " we are all the

212 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

while laying an admirable foundation for ethical
and philosoi)hical culture." *

The passages I have quoted were uttered by
John Stuart Mill; but you cannot hear inverted
commas, and it is therefore right that I should add,
without delay, that I have taken the liberty of
substituting]: '^ workers in science " for *' ancient
dialecticians," and " Science as an essential in-
gredient in education " for " the ancient languages
as our best literary education." ^lill did, in fact,
deliver a noble panegyric upon classical studies.
I do not doubt its justice, nor presume to question
its wisdom. But I venture to maintain that no
wise or just judge, who has a knowledge of the
facts, will hesitate to say that it implies with equal
force to scientific training.

But it is only fair to the Scottish Universities
to point out that they have long understood the
value of Science as a branch of general education.
I observe, with the greatest satisfaction, that can-
didates for the degree of ^Faster of Arts in this
University are required to have a knowledge, not
only of ]\[ental and Moral Philosophy, and of
;Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, but of Nat-
ural History, in addition to the ordinary Latin
and Greek course; and that a candidate may take
honours in these subjects and in Chemistry.

♦ Inaiicrnral A<l(1ros<; rlolivorod to tho rnivrrsity of Sf.
Andrew, Fehninry 1, 18G7, by J. S. Mill, Rector of the Uni-
versity (pp. 32, 33).

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 213

I do not know what the requirements of your
examiners may be, but I sincerely trust they are
not satisfied with a mere book knowledge of these
matters. For my own part I would not raise a
finger, if I could thereby introduce mere book
work in science into every Arts curriculum in the
country. Let those who want to study books de-
vote themselves to Literature, in which we have
the perfection of books, both as to substance and
as to form. If I may paraphrase Hobbes's well-
known aphorism, I would say that " books are the
money of Literature, but only the counters of Sci-
ence," Science (in the sense in which I now use the
term) being the knowledge of fact, of which every
verbal description is but an incomplete and sym-
bolic expression. And be assured that no teach-
ing of science is worth anything, as a mental dis-
cipline, which is not based upon direct perception
of the facts, and practical exercise of the observing
and logical faculties upon them. Even in such a
simple matter as the mere comprehension of form,
ask the most practised and widely informed anato-
mist what is the difi^erence between his knowledge
of a structure which he has read about, and his
knowledge of the same structure when he has seen
it for himself; and he wilLtell vou that the two
things are not comparable — the difference is in-
finite. Thus I am very strongly inclined to agree
with some learned schoolmasters who say that, in
their experience, the teaching of science is all

2U UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

waste time. As they teach it, I have no doubt it is.
But to teach it otherwise requires an amount of
personal labour and a development of means and
appliances, which must strike horror and dismay
into a man accustomed to mere book work; and
who has been in the habit of teaching a class of
fifty without much strain upon his energies. And
this is one of the real difficulties in the way of the
introduction of physical science into the ordinary
University course, to which I have alluded. It is
a difliculty which will not be overcome, until
years of patient study have organised scientific
teaching as well as, or I hope better than, classical
teaching has been organised hitherto.

A little while ago, I ventured to hint a doubt
as to the perfection of some of the arrangements
"in the ancient Universities of England; but, in
their provision for giving instruction in Science as
such, and without direct reference to anv of its
practical a]i])lications, they have set a brilliant ex-
ample. "Within the last twenty years, Oxford alone
has sunk more than a hundred and twenty thou-
sand pounds in building and furnishing Physical,
Chemical, and Physiological Laboratories, and a
magnificent Museum, arranged with an almost
luxurious regard for the needs of the student.
Cambridge, less rich, but aided by the munificence
of her Chancellor, is taking the same course; and
in a few vcars, it will be for no lack of the means
and appliances of sound teaching, if the mass of

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 215

English University men remain in their present
state of barbarous ignorance of even the rudiments
of scientific culture.

Yet another step needs to be made before Sci-
ence can be said to have taken its proper place in
the Universities. That is its recognition as a Fac-
ulty, or branch of study demanding recognition
and special organisation, on account of its bearing
on the wants of mankind. The Faculties of The-
ology, Law, and ]Medicine, are technical schools,
intended to equip men who have received general
culture, with the special knowledge which is
needed for the proper performance of the duties
of clergymen, lawyers, and medical practitioners.

When the material well-being of the country
depended upon rude pasture and agriculture, and
still ruder mining; in the days when all the in-
numerable applications of the principles of physi-
cal science to practical purposes were non-existent
even as dreams; days which men living may have
heard their fathers speak of; what little physical
science could be seen to bear directly upon hu-
man life, lay within the province of Medicine.
IMedicine was the foster-mother of Chemistry, be-
cause it has to do with the preparation of drugs
and the detection of poisons; of Botany, because
it enabled the physician to recognise medicinal
herbs; of Comparative Anatomy and Physiology,
because the man who studied. Human Anatomy
and Physiology for purely medical purposes was
74

216 UXIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

led to extend his studies to the rest of the animal
world.

Within my recollection, the only way in which
a student con hi obtain anything like a training in
Physical Science, was by attending the lectures of
the Professors of Physical and Natural Science
attached to the Medical Scliools. But, in the
course of the last thirty years, both foster-motlier
and child have grown so big, that they threaten
not only to crush one another, but to press the
very life out of the utihappy student who enters
the nursery; to the great detriment of all three.

I speak in the presence of those who know
practically what medical education is; for I may
assume that a large proportion of my hearers are
more or less advanced students of medicine. I
appeal to the most industrious and conscientious
among you, to those who are most deeply pene-
trated with a sense of the extremely serious re-
sponsibilities which attach to the calling of a med-
ical prnciitinner, when I ask whether, out of the
four years which you devote to your studies, you
ought to. spare even so much as an hour for any
work which does not tend directly to fit you for
your duties?

Consider what that work is. Its foundation is
a sound and practical acquaintance with the struc-
ture of the human organism, and with the modes
and conditions of its action in health. I say a
sound and practical acquaintance, to guard against

VIII UXIYEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL 217

the supposition that my intention is to suggest
that you ought all to be minute anatomists and
accomplished physiologists. The devotion of your
whole four years to Anatomy and Physiology
alone, would be totallv insufficient to attain that
end. What I mean is, the sort of practical, famil-
iar, finger-end knowledge which a watchmaker has
of a watch, and which you expect that craftsman,
as an honest man, to have, when you entrust a
watch that goes badly, to him. It is a kind of
knowledge which is to be acquired, not in the
lecture-room, nor in the library, but in the dis-
secting-room and the laboratory. It is to be had
not by sharing your attention between these and
sundry other subjects, but by concentrating your
minds, week after week, and month after month,
six or seven hours a day, upon all .the com-
plexities of organ and function, until each of the
greater truths of anatomy and physiology has be-
come an organic part of your minds — until you
would know them if you were roused and ques-
tioned in the middle of the night, as a man knows
the geography of his native place and the daily
life of his home. That is the sort of knowledge
which, once obtained, is a Jife-long possession.
Other occupations may fill your minds — it may
grow dim, and seem to be forgotten — but
there it is, like the inscription on a battered
and defaced coin, which comes out when you
warm it.

218 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL yiii

If I had the power to remodel Medieal Educa-
tion, the first two years of the medical curriculum
should be devoted to nothing but such thorough
study of Anatomy and Physiology, with Physio-
logical Chemistry and Physics; the student should
then pass a real, practical examination in these
subjects; and, having gone through that ordeal
satisfactorily, he should be troubled no more
with tlicm. His whole mind should then be given
with equal intentness to Therapeutics, in its
broadest sense, to Practical Medicine and to
Surgery, with instruction in Hygiene and in Med-
ical Jurisprudence; and of these subjects only
— surely there are enough of them — should he
be required to show a knowledge in his final ex-
amination.

I cannot claim any special property in this
theory of what the medical curriculum should be,
for I find that views, more or less closely approxi-
mating these, are held by all who have seriously
considered the very grave and pressing question of
Medical Eeform; and have, indeed, been carried
into i)ractice, to some extent, by the most en-
lightened Examining Boards. 1 have lieard but
two kinds of objections to them. There is first,
the objection of vested interests, which I will not
deal with here, because I want to make myself as
pleasant as I can, and no discussions are so un-
pleasant as those which turn on such points. And
there is, secondly, the much more respectable ob-

Tin UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 219

jcction, wliich takes the general form of the re-
proach that, in thus limiting the curriculum, we
are seeking to narrow it. We are told that the
medical man ought to be a person of good educa-
tion and general information, if his profession is
to hold its own among other professions; that he
ought to know Botany, or else, if he goes abroad,
he will not be able to tell poisonous fruits from
edible ones; that he ought to know drugs, as a
druggist knows them, or he will not be able to tell
sham bark and senna from the real articles; that
he ought to know Zoology, because — well, I really
have never been able to learn exactly why he is to
be expected to know zoology. There is, indeed,
a popular superstition, that doctors know all about
things that are queer or nasty to the general mind,
and may, therefore, be reasonably expected to
know the " barbarous binomials " applicable to
snakes, snails, and slugs; an amount of informa-
tion with which the general mind is usally com-
pletely satisfied. And there is a scientific super-
stition that Physiology is largely aided by Com-
parative Anatomy — a superstition which, like
most superstitions, once had a grain of truth at
bottom; but the grain has become homoeopathic,
since Physiology took its modern experimental de-
velopment, and became what it is now, the appli-
cation of the principles of Physics and Chemistry
to the elucidation of the phenomena of life.

I hold as strongly as any one can do, that the

220 UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

medical praclitiontT oii^lit to be a person of edu-
cation and good general culture; but I also hold
by the old theory of a Faculty, that a man should
have his general culture before he devotes himself
to the special studies of that Faculty; and 1 ven-
ture to maintain, that, if the general culture ob-
tained in the Faculty of Arts were what it ought
to be, the student would have quite as much
knowledge of the fundamental principles of Phys-
ics, of Chemistry, and of Biology, as he needs, be-
fore he commenced his special medical studies.

i\Ioreover, I would urge, that a thorough study
of Human Physiology is, in itself, an education
broader and more comprehensive than much that
passes under that name. There is no side of the
intellect which it does not call into play, no region
of human knowledge into which either its roots,
or its branches, do not extend; like the xVtlantic
between the Old and the New Worlds, its waves
wash the shores of the two worlds of matter and
of mind; its tributary streams flow from both;
throuirh its waters, as vet unfurrowed by the keel
of anv Cohunbus, lies the road, if such there be,
from the one to the other; far away from that
North-west Passage of mere speculation, in
M-hich so many brave souls have been hopelessly
frozen up.

But whether I am right or wrong about all
this, the patent fact of the limitation of time re-
mains. As the song runs: —

vm UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 221

" If a man could be sure
That his life would endure
For the space of a thousand long years "

he might do a numher of things not practicable
under present conditions. Methuselah might,
with much propriety, have taken half a century to
get his doctor's degree; and might, very fairly,
have been required to pass a practical examination
upon the contents of the British Museum, before
commencing practice as a promising young fel-
low of two hundred, or thereabouts. But you
have four years to do your work in, and are turned
loose, to save or sla}^ at two or three and twenty.

Now, I put it to you, whether you think that,
when you come down to the realities of life — when
you stand by the sick-bed, racking your brains for
the principles which shall furnish you with the
means of interpreting symptoms, and ' forming a
rational theory of the condition of your patient, it
will be satisfactor}'' for you to find that those
principles are not there — although, to use the ex-
amination slang which is unfortunately too famil-
iar to me, you can quite easily " give an ac-
count of the leading peculiarities of the Marsu-
pialia," or ^' enumerate the chief characters of the
Comjwsitce,^' or " state the class and order of the
animal from which Castoreum is obtained."

I really do not think that state of things will
be satisfactory to you; I am very sure it will not
be so to your patient. Indeed, I am so narrow-

222 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

minded myself, that if I had to choose between
two physicians — one who did not know whether a
whale is a fish or not, and could not tell gentian
from ginger, but did understand the applications
of the institutes of medicine to his art; while the
other, like Talleyrand's doctor, " knew everything,
even a little physic " — with all m^ love for
breadth of culture, I should assuredly consult the
former.

It is not pleasant to incur the suspicion of an
inclination to injure or depreciate particular
branches of knowledge, but the fact that one of
those which I should have no hesitation in ex-
cluding from the medical curriculum, is that to
which my own life has been specially devoted,
should, at any rate, defend me from the suspicion
of being urged to this course by any but the very
gravest considerations of the public welfare.

And I should like, further, to call your atten-
tion to the important circumstance that, in thus
proposing the exclusion of the study of such
branches of knowledge as Zoology and Botany,
from those compulsory upon the medical student,
I am not, for a moment, suggesting their exclusion
from the University. I think that sound and
])ractical instruction in the elementary facts and
broad principles of Biology should form part of
the Arts Curriculum: and here, happily, my the-
ory is in entire accordance with your practice.
Moreover, as I have already said, I have no sort of

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 223

doubt that, in view of the relation of Physical Sci-
ence to the practical life of the present day, it has
the same right as Theology, Law, and Medicine,
to a Faculty of its own in which men shall be
trained to be professional men of science. It may
be doubted whether L^niversities are the places for
technical schools of Engineering or applied Chem-
istry, or Agriculture. But there can surely be
little question, that instruction in the branches
of Science which lie at the foundation of these
Arts, of a far more advanced and special character
than could, with any propriety, be included in the
ordinary Arts Curriculum, ought to be obtainable
by means of a duly organised Faculty of Science in
every University.

The establishment of such a Faculty would
have the additional advantage of providing, in
some measure, for one of the greatest wants of our
time and country. I mean the proper support and
encouragement of original research.

The other day, an emphatic friend of mine
committed himself to the opinion that, in Eng-
land, it is better for a man's worldly prospects to
be a drunkard, than to be smitten with the divine
dipsomania of the original investigator. I am in-
clined to think he was not far wrong. And, be it
observed, that the question is not, whether such a
man shall be able to make as much out of his
abilities as his brother, of like ability, who goes
into Law, or Engineering, or Commerce; it is not

224: UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

a question of " maintaining a due number of sad-
dle horses," as George Eliot somewhere puts it —
it is a question of living or starving.

If a student of my own subject shows power
and originality, I dare not advise him to adopt
a scientific career; for, supposing he is able to
maintain himself until he has attained distinction,
I cannot give him the assurance that any amount
of proficiency in the Biological Sciences will be
convertible into, even the most modest, bread and
cheese. And I believe that the case is as bad, or
perhaps worse, with other branches of Science.
In this respect Britain, whose immense wealth
and prosperity hang upon the thread of Applied
Science, is far behind France, and infinitely be-
hind Germany.

And the worst of it is, that it is very difficult
to see one's wav to anv immediate remedv for this
state of affairs which shall be free from a tendency
to become worse than the disease.

Great schemes for the Endowment of Research
have been proposed. It has been suggested, that
Laboratories for all branches of Physical Science,
provided with every apparatus needed by the in-
vestigator, shall be established by the State: and
shall be accessible, under due conditions and regu-
lations, to all properly qualified persons. I see
no objection to the principle of such a proposal.
If it be legitimate to spend great sums of money
on public Libraries and public collections of Paint-

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 225

ing and Sculpture, in aid of the Man of Letters, or
the Artist, or for the mere sake of affording pleas-
ure to the general public. I apprehend that it can-
not be illegitimate to do as much for the promo-
tion of scientific investigation. To take the lowest
ground, as a mere investment of money, the latter
is likely to be much more immediately profitable.
To my mind, the difficulty in the way of such
schemes is not theoretical, but practical. Given
the laboratories, how are the investigators to be
maintained? What career is open to those who
have been thus encouraged to leave bread-winning
pursuits? If they are to be provided for by endow-
ment, we come back to the College Fellowship sys-
tem, the results of which, for Literature, have not
been so brilliant that one would wish to see it ex-
tended to Science; unless some much better secur-
ities than at present exist can be taken that it will
foster real work. You know that among the Bees,
it depends on the kind of cell in which the egg
is deposited, and the quantity and quality of food
which is supplied to the grub, whether it shall turn
out a busy little worker or a big idle queen. And,
in the human hive, the cells of the endowed larvae
are always tending to enlarge, and their food to
improve, until we get queens, beautiful to behold,
but which gather no honey and build no comb.

I do not say that these difficulties may not be
overcome, but their gravity is not to be lightly
estimated.

22G UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

In the mcanwliile, there is one step in the di-
rection of the endowment of research which is free
from such objections. It is possible to place the
scientific enquirer in a position in which he shall
have ample leisure and opportunity for original
work, and yet shall give a fair and tangible equiva-
lent for those privileges. The establishment of a
Faculty of Science in every University, imi)lies
that of a corresponding number of Professorial
chairs, the incumbents of which need not be so
burdened with teaching as to deprive them of am-
ple leisure for original work. I do not think that
it is any impediment to an original investigator to
have to devote a moderate portion of his time to
lecturing, or superintending practical instruction.
On the contrary, I think it may be, and often is, a
benefit to be obliged to take a comprehensive sur-
vey of your subject; or to bring your results to a
point, and give them, as it were, a tangible objec-
tive existence. The besetting sins of the investiga-
tor are two: the one is the desire to put aside a
subject, the general bearings of which he has mas-
tered himself, and pass on to something which has
the attraction of novelty; and the other, the desire
for too much perfection, which leads him to

"Add and alter many times,
Till all be ripe and rotten ;"

to spend the energies which should be reserved for
action in whitening the decks and polishing the
guns.

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 227

The obligation to produce results for the in-
struction of others, seems to me to be a more
effectual check on these tendencies than even the
love of usefulness or the ambition for fame.

But supposing the Professorial forces of our
University to be duly organised, there remains an
important question, relating to the teaching power,
to be considered. Is the Professorial system — the
system, I mean, of teaching in ,the lecture-room
alone, and leaving the student to find his own way
when he is outside the lecture-room — adequate to
the wants of learners? In answering this ques-
tion, I confine myself to my own province, and I
venture to reply for Physical Science, assuredly
and undoubtedly, No. As I have already inti-
mated, practical work in the Laboratory is absolute-
ly indispensable, and that practical work must be
guided and superintended by a sufficient staff of
Demonstrators, who are for Science what Tutors
are for other branches of study. And there must
be a good supply of such Demonstrators. I doubt
if the practical work of more than twenty students
can be properly superintended by one Demon-
strator. If we take the working day at six hours,
that is less than twenty minutes apiece — not a
very large allowance of time for helping a dull
man, for correcting an inaccurate one, or even for
makins: an intelligent student clearly apprehend
what he is about. And, no doubt, the supplying
of a proper amount of this tutorial, practical teach-

228 UNRrERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

ing, is a difficulty in the way of giving proper in-
struction in Physical Science in such Universities
as that of Aberdeen, which are devoid of endow-
ments; and, unlike the English Universities, have
no moral claim on the funds of richly endowed
bodies to su])ply their wants.

Examination — thorough, searching examina-
tion— is an indispensable accompaniment of teach-
ing; but 1 am almost inclined to commit myself to
the very heterodox proposition that it is a neces-
sary evil. I am a very old Examiner, having, for
some twenty years past, been occupied with exami-
nations on a considerable scale, of all sorts and
conditions of men, and women too, — from the
boys and girls of elementary schools to the candi-
dates for Honours and Fellowships in the Univer-
sities. I will not say that, in this case as in so
many others, the adage, that familiarity breeds
contempt, holds good; but my admiration for the
existing system of examination and its products,
does not wax warmer as I see more of it. Exami-
nation, like fire, is a good servant, but a bad mas-
ter; and there seems to me to be some danger of
its becoming our master. I by no means stand
alone in this opinion. Experienced friends of
mine do not hesitate to say that students whose
career they watch, appear to them to become de-
teriorated by the constant effort to pass this or that
examination, just as we hear of men's brains becom-
incT affected bv the dailv neccssitv of catchinfr a

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AXD IDEAL 929

train. They work to pass, not to know; and out-
raged Science takes her revenge. They do pass,
and they don't know. I have passed sundry ex-
aminations in my time, not without credit, and I
confess I am ashamed to think how very little real
knowledge underlay the torrent of stuff which I
was able to pour out on paper. In fact, that which
examination, as ordinarily conducted, tests, is sim-
ply a man's power of work under stimulus, and his
capacity for rapidly and clearly producing that
which, for the time, he has got into his mind.
Now, these faculties are by no means to be de-
spised. They are of great value in practical life,
and are the making of many an advocate, and of
many a so-called statesman. But in the pursuit
of truth, scientific or other, they count for very
little, unless they are supplemented by that long-
continued, patient " intending of the mind," as
Newton phrased it, which makes very little show
in Examinations. I imagine that an Examiner
Avho knows his students personally, must not un-
frequently have found himself in the position of
finding A's paper better than B's, though his own
judgment tells him, quite clearly, that B is the
man who has the larger share of genuine capacity.
Again, there is a fallacy about Examiners. It
is commonly supposed that any one who knows a
subject is competent to teach it; and no one seems
to doubt that any one who knows a subject is
competent to examine in it. I believe both these

230 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL viii

opinions to be serious mistakes: the latter, per-
haps, the more serious of the two. In the first
place, I do not believe that any one who is not,
or has not been, a teacher is really qualified to
examine advanced students. And in the second
place. Examination is an Art, and a diflicult one,
which has to be learned like all other arts.

Beginners always set too difficult questions —
partly because they are afraid of being suspected
of ignorance if they set easy ones, and partly
from not understanding their business. Suppose
that you want to test the relative physical
strength of a score of young men. You do not
put a hundredweight down before them, and tell
each to swincf it round. If vou do. half of them
won't be able to lift it at all, and only one or two
will be able to perform the task. You must give
them half a hundredweight, and see how they
manoeuvre that, if you want to form any estimate
of the muscular strength of each. So, a practised
Examiner will seek for information respecting the
mental vigour and training of candidates from
the way in wliich they deal with questions easy
enough to let reason, memory, and method have
free play.

No doubt, a great deal is to be done by the
careful selection of Examiners, and by the copious
introduction of practical work, to remove the evils
inseparable from examination; but, under the
best of circumstances, I believe that examination

VIII UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 231

will remain but an imperfect test of knowledge,
and a still more imperfect test of capacity, while
it tells next to nothing about a man's power as
an investigator.

There is much to be said in favour of restricting
the highest degrees in each Faculty, to those who
have shown evidence of such original power, by
prosecuting a research under the eye of the
Professor in whose province it lies; or, at any
rate, under conditions which shall afford satis-
factory proof that the work is theirs. The notion
may sound revolutionar}^, but it is really very
old; for, I take it, that it lies at the bottom of
that presentation of a thesis by the candidate for
a doctorate, which has now, too often, become
little better than a matter of form.

Thus far, I have endeavoured to lay before
you, in a too brief and imperfect manner, my
views respecting the teaching half — the Magistri
and Eegentes — of the University of the Future.
Now let me turn to the learning half — the
Scholares.

If the Universities are to be the sanctuaries of

the highest culture of the country, those who

would enter that sanctuary must not come with

unwashed hands. If the good seed is to yield its

hundredfold harvest, it must not be scattered

amidst the stones of ignorance, or the tares of

undisciplined indolence and wantonness. On the
75

232 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vm

contrary, the soil must have been carefully
prepared, and the Professor should find that the
operations of clod-crushing, draining, and weed-
ing, and even a good deal of planting, have been
done by the Schoolmaster.

That is exactly what the Professor does not
find in any University in the tliree Kingdoms
that I can hear of — the reason of which state of
things lies in the extremely faulty organisation of
the majority of secondary schools. Students
come to the Universities ill-prepared in classics
and mathematics, not at all prepared in anything
else; and half their time is spent in learning that
which they ought to have known when they
came.

I sometimes hear it said that the Scottish
Universities differ from the English, in being to
a much greater extent places of comparatively ele-
mentary education for a younger class of students.
But it would seem doubtful if any great dif-
ference of this kind really exists; for a high au-
thority, himself Head of an English College, has
solemnly affirmed that: "Elementary teaching
of youths under twenty is now the only func-
tion performed by the University; " and that
Colleges are " boarding schools in which the
elements of the learned languages are taught to
youths." *

* Sur/gesfiovs for Acndemirnl Orf/anisnfinn, tnth Espe-
cial Reference to Oxford. By the Rector of Lincoln.

vni UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL 233

This is not the first time that I have quoted
those remarkable assertions. I should like to en-
grave them in public view, for they have not been
refuted; and I am convinced that if their import
is once clearly apprehended, they will play no
mean part when the question of University re-
organisation, with a view to practical measures,
comes on for discussion. You are not responsible
for this anomalous state of affairs now; but, as
you pass into active life and acquire the political
influence to which your education and your
position should entitle you, you will become
responsible for it, unless each in his sphere does
his best to alter it, by insisting on the improve-
ment of secondary schools.

Your present responsibility is of another,
though not less serious, kind. Institutions do
not make men, any more than organisation makes
life; and even the ideal University we have been
dreaming about will be but a superior piece of
mechanism, unless each student strive after the
ideal of the Scholar. And that ideal, it seems to
me, has never been better embodied than by the
great Poet, who, though lapped in luxury, the
favourite of a Court, and the idol of his country-
men, remained through alU the length of his
honoured years a Scholar in Art, in Science, and
in Life.

""Wouklst shape a noble life? Then cast
No backward glances towards the past ;

23-i: UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL vm

And though somewhat be lost and gone,
Yet do thou act as one new-born.
What each day needs, that shalt thou ask ;
Each day will set its proper task.
Give others' work just share of praise ;
Not of thine own the merits raise.
Beware no fellow man thou hate :
And so in God's hand leave thy fate." *

* Goethe, Zahme Xenien, Vierte Ahtheilung. I should
be glad to take credit for the close and vigorous English
version ; but it is my wife's, and not mine.

IX

ADDEESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION *

[1876]

The actual work of the University founded in
this city by the well-considered munificence of
Johns Hopkins commenees to-morrow, and among
the many marks of confidence and good-will which
have been bestowed upon me in the United States,
there is none which I value more highly than that
conferred by the authorities of the University
when they invited me to deliver an address on such
an occasion.

For the event which has brought us together
is, in many respects, unique. A vast property is
handed over to an administrative body, hampered

* Delivered at the formal openinc: of the Johns Hopkins
University at Baltimore, U. S.. September 12. The total
amount bequeathed by Johns Hopkins is more than 7.000.-
000 dollars. The suni of 3,500.000 dollars is appropriated
to a university, a like sum to a hospital, and the rest to local
institutions of education and charity.

236 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

Ly no conditions save these: — That tlie principal
shall not be employed in building: that the funds
shall be appropriated, in equal proportions, to the
promotion of natural knowledge and to the
alleviation of the bodily sufferings of mankind;
and, finally, that neither political nor ecclesias-
tical sectarianism sliall be permitted to disturb
the impartial distribution of the testator's bene-
factions.

In my experience of life a truth which sounds
very much like a paradox has often asserted itself:
namely, that a man's worst difficulties begin when
he is able to do as he likes. So long as a man
is struggling with obstacles he has an excuse for
failure or shortcoming; but when fortune removes
them all and gives him the power of doing as
he thinks best, then comes the time of trial.
There is but one right, and the possibilities of
wrong are infinite. I doubt not that the trustees
of the Johns Hopkins University felt the full
force of til is truth when they entered on the
administration of their trust a year and a half
ago; and I can but admire the activity and
resolution which have enabled them, aided by the
able president whom they have selected, to lay
down the great outlines of their plan, and carry
it thus far into execution. It is impossible to
study that plan without perceiving that great care,
forethought, and sagacity, have been bestowed
upon it, and that it demands the most respect-

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 237

ful consideration. I have been endeavouring to
ascertain how far the principles which underlie
it are in accordance with those which have been
established in my own mind by much and long-
continued thought upon educational questions.
Permit me to place before you the result of my re-
flections.

Under one aspect a university is a particular
kind of educational institution, and the views
which we may take of the proper nature of a uni-
versity are corollaries from those which we hold
respecting education in general. I think it must
be admitted that the school should prepare for
the university, and that the university should
crown the edifice, the foundations of which are
laid in the school. University education should
not be something distinct from elementary edu-
cation, but should be the natural outgrowth and
development of the latter. Now I have a very
clear conviction as to what elementary education
ought to be; what it really may be, when properly
organised; and what I think it will be, before
many years have passed over our heads, in Eng-
land and in America. Such education should
enable an average boy of fifteen or sixteen to
read and write his own lanojua^e with ease and
accuracy, and with a sense of literary excellence
derived from the study of our classic writers:
to have a general acquaintance with the history
of his own country and with the great laws of

23S ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

social existence; to have acquired the nidiments
of the physical and psychological sciences, and
a fair knowledge of elementary arithmetic and
geometry. lie should have obtained an acquaint-
ance with logic rather by example than by precept;
while the acquirement of the elements of music
and drawing should have been pleasure rather
than work.

It may sound strange to many ears if I venture
to maintain the proposition that a young person,
educated thus far, has had a liberal, tliough per-
haps not a full, education. But it seems to me
that such training as that to which I have re-
ferred may be termed liberal, in both the senses in
whicli tliat word is employed, with perfect accu-
racy. In the first place, it is liberal in breadth. Itf
extends over the whole ground of things to be
known and of faculties to be trained, and it gives
equal importance to tlie two great sides of human
activity — art and science. In the second })lace,
it is liberal in the sense of being an education
fitted for free men; for men to whom every career
is open, and from whom their country may demand
that they should be fitted to perform the duties
of any career. I cannot too strongly impress
upon you the fact that, with such a primary edu-
cation as this, and with no more than is to be
obtained by building strictly upon its lines, a man
of ability may become a great writer or speaker,
a statesman, a lawyer, a man of science, painter.

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 239

sculptor, architect, or musician. That even de-
velopment of all a man's faculties, which is what
properly constitutes culture, may be effected by
such an education, while it opens the way for the
indefinite strengthening of any special capabilities
with which he may be gifted.

In a country like this, where most men have
to carve out their own fortunes and devote them-
selves early to the practical affairs of life, com-
paratively few can hope to pursue their studies
up to, still less beyond, the age of manhood. But
it is of vital importance to the welfare of the
community that those who are relieved from the
need of making a livelihood, and still more, those
who are stirred by the divine impulses of intellec-
tual thirst or artistic genius, should be enabled to
devote themselves to the higher service of their
kind, as centres of intelligence, interpreters of
Nature, or creators of new forms of beauty. And
it is the function of a university to furnish such
men with the means of becoming that which it is
their privilege and duty to be. To this end the
university need cover no ground foreign to that
occupied by the elementary school. Indeed it
cannot; for the elementary instruction which I
have referred to embraces all the kinds of real
knowledge and mental activity possible to man.
The university can add no new departments of
knowledge, can offer no new fields of mental
activity; but what it can do is to intensify and

2i0 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

specialise the instruction in each department.
Thus literature and jihilolngv, n-prcsented in the
elementary school by English alone, in the uni-
versity will extend over the ancient and modern
languages. History, which, like charity, best be-
gins at home, but, like charity, should not end
there, will ramify into anthropology, archaeology,
political history, and geography, with the history
of the growth of the human mind and of its pro-
ducts in the shape of philosophy, science, and art.
And the university will present to the student
libraries, museums of antiquities, collections of
coins, and the like, which will efficiently subserve
these studies. Instruction in the elements of
social economy, a most essential, but hitherto
sadly-neglected part of elementary education, will
develop in the university into political economy,
sociology, and law. Physical science will have
its great divisions of physical geography, with
geology and astronomy; physics; chemistry and
biology; represented not merely by professors and
their lectures, but by laboratories, in which the
students, under guidance of demonstrators, will
work out facts for themselves and come into that
direct contact with reality which constitutes the
fundamental distinction of scientific education.
Mathematics will soar into its highest regions;
while the high peaks of philosophy may be scaled
by those whose aptitude for abstract thought has
been awakened by elementary logic. Finally,

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 241

schools of pictorial and plastic art, of architecture,
and of music, will oit'er a thorough discipline
in the principles and practice of art to those in
whom lies nascent the rare faculty of aesthetic
representation, or the still rarer powers of creative
genius.

The primary school and the university are
the alpha and omega of education. AYhether
institutions intermediate between these (so-
called secondary schools) should exist, appears
to me to be a question of practical con-
venience. If such schools are established, the
important thing is that they should be true in-
termediaries between the primary school and the
university, keeping on the wide track of general
culture, and not sacrificing one branch of knowl-
edge for another.

Such apj)ear to me to be the broad outlines of
the relations which the university, regarded as a
place of education, ought to bear to the school, but
a number of points of detail require some consid-
eration, how^ever briefly and imperfectly I can deal
with them. In the first place, there is the impor-
tant question of the limitations which should be
fixed to the entrance into the university; or, what
qualifications should be required of those who pro-
pose to take advantage of the higher training
ofllered by the university. On the one hand, it
is obviously desirable that the time and oppor-
tunities of the university should not be wasted

2i2 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

in conferring such elementary instruction as can
be obtained elsewhere; while, on the other hand,
it is no less desirable that the higher instruction
of the university should be made accessible to
every one who can take advantage of it, although
he may not have been able to go through any
very extended course of education. My own feel-
ing is distinctly against any absolute and defined
preliminary examination, the passing of which
shall be an essential condition of admission to the
university. I would admit to the university any
one who could be reasonably expected to profit by
the instruction offered to him; and I should be in-
clined, on the whole, to test the fitness of the stu-
dent, not by examination before he enters the uni-
versity, but at the end of his first term of study.
If, on examination in the branches of knowledge to
which he has devoted himself, he show himself
deficient in industry or in capacity, it will be best
for the university and best for himself, to prevent
him from pursuing a vocation for which he is
obviously unfit. And I hardly know of any other
method than this by which his fitness or unfitness
can be safely ascertained, though no doubt a good
deal may be done, not by formal cut and dried
examination, but by judicious questioning, at the
outset of his career.

Another very important and difficult practical
question is, whetlier a definite course of study
shall be laid down for those who enter tlie

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 243

university; whether a curriculum shall be pre-
scribed; or whether the student shall be allowed
to range at will among the subjects which are
open to him. And this question is inseparably
connected with another, namely, the conferring of
degrees. It is obviously impossible that any
student should pass through the whole of the
series of courses of instruction offered by a uni-
versity. If a degree is to be conferred as a mark
of proficiency in knowledge, it must be given on
the ground that the candidate is proficient in a
certain fraction of those studies; and then will
arise the necessity of insuring an equivalency of^
degrees, so that the course by which a degree
is obtained shall mark approximately an equal
amount of labour and of acquirements, in all
cases. But this equivalency can hardly be secured
in any other way than by prescribing a series
of definite lines of study. This is a matter
which will require grave consideration. The im-
portant points to bear in mind, I think, are that
there should not be too many subjects in the
curriculum, and that the aim should be the
attainment of thorough and sound knowledge of
each.

One half of the Johns Hopkins bequest is
devoted to the establishment of a hospital, and
it was the desire of the testator tliat the uni-
versity and the hospital should co-operate in the
promotion of medical education. Tlie trustees

24i ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

will unquestionably take the best advice that is
to be had as to the construction and administra-
tion of the hospital. In respect to the former
point, they will doubtless remember that a
hospital may be so arranged as to kill more than
it cures; and, in regard to the latter, that a
hospital may spread the spirit of pauperism
among the well-to-do, as well as relieve the suf-
ferinsfs of the destitute. It is not for me to
speak on these topics — rather let me confine
myself to the one matter on which my experience
as a student of medicine, and an examiner of long
standing, who has taken a great interest in the
subject of medical education, may entitle me to
a hearing. I mean the nature of medical educa-
tion itself, and the co-operation of the university
in its promotion.

What is the object of medical education? It
is to enable the practitioner, on the one hand, to
prevent disease by his knowledge of hygiene; on
the other hand, to divine its nature, and to
alleviate or cure it, by his knowledge of pathology,
therapeutics, and practical medicine. That is his
business in life, and if he has not a thorough and
practical knowledge of the conditions of health,
of the causes which tend to the establishment
of disease, of the meaning of symptoms, and of
the uses of medicines and operative appliances,
he is incompetent, even if he were the best
anatomist, or physiologist, or chemist, that ever

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 2-15

took a gold medal or won a prize certificate. This
is one great truth respecting medical education.
Another is, that all practice in medicine is based
upon theory of some sort or other; and there-
fore, that it is desirable to have such theory
in the closest possible accordance with fact. The
veriest empiric who gives a drug in one case be-
cause he has seen it do good in another of
apparently the same sort, acts upon the theory
that similarity of superficial symptoms means
similarity of lesions; which, by the way, is per-
haps as wild an hypothesis as could be invented.
To understand the nature of disease we must
understand health, and the understanding of the
healthy body means the having a knowledge of
its structure and of the way in which its manifold
actions are performed, which is what is technically
termed human anatomy and human physiology.
The physiologist again must needs possess an
acquaintance with physics and chemistry, inas-
much as physiology is, to a great extent, applied
physics and chemistry. For ordinary purposes a
limited amount of such knowledge is all that is
needful; but for the pursuit of the higher
branches of physiology no knowledge of these
branches of science can be^ too extensive, or too
profound. Again, what we call therapeutics,
which has to do with the action of drugs and
medicines on the living organism, is, strictly
speaking, a branch of experimental physiology.

24:0 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

and is daily receiving a greater and greater ex-
perimental development.

The third great fact which is to be taken into
consideration in dealing with medical education,
is that the practical necessities of life do not, as
a rule, allow aspirants to medical practice to give
more than three, or it may be four years to their
studies. Let us put it at four years, and then
reflect that, in the course of this time, a young
man fresh from school has to acquaint himself
with medicine, surgery, obstetrics, tlicrapeutics,
pathology, hygiene, as well as with the anatomy
and the physiology of the human body; and that
his knowledge should be of such a character that
it can be relied upon in any emergency, and
always ready for practical application. Consider,
in addition, that the medical practitioner may be
called upon, at any moment, to give evidence in a
court of justice in a criminal case; and that it is
therefore well that he should know something of
the laws of evidence, and of what we call medical
jurisprudence. On a medical certificate, a man
may be taken from his home and from his busi-
ness and confined in a lunatic asylum; surely,
tlierefore, it is desirable that tlie medical practi-
tioner should liave some rational and clear con-
ceptions as to the nature and symptoms of mental
disease. Bearing in inind all these requirements
of medical education, you will admit that the
burden on tlie young aspirant for tlie medical

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 2i7

profession is somewhat of the heaviest, and that
it needs some care to prevent his intellectual back
from being broken.

Those who are acquainted with the existing
systems of medical education will observe that,
long as is the catalogue of studies which I have
enumerated, I have omitted to mention several
that enter into the usual medical curriculum of the
present day. I have said not a word about zoology,
comparative anatomy, botany, or materia medica.
Assuredly this is from no light estimate of the
value or importance of such studies in themselves.
It may be taken for granted that I should be the
last person in the world to object to the teaching
of zoology, or comparative anatomy, in themselves;
but I have the strongest feeling that, considering
the number and the gravity of those studies
through which a medical man must pass, if he is to
be competent to discharge the serious duties which
devolve upon him, subjects which lie so remote as
these do from his practical pursuits should be
rigorously excluded. The young man, who has
enough to do in order to acquire such familiarity
with the structure of the human body as will enable
him to perform the operations of surgery, ought
not, in my judgment, to be Occupied with investi-
gations into the anatomy of crabs and starfishes.
Undoubtedly the doctor should know the common
poisonous plants of his own country when he sees
them; but that knowledge may be obtained by a
76

24S ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

few hours devoted to the examination of specimens
of such plants, and the desirableness of such
knowledge is no justification, to my mind, for
spending three months over the study of systematic
botany. Again, materia medica, so far as it is a
knowledge of drugs, is the business of the druggist.
In all other callings the necessity of the division of
labour is fully recognised, and it is absurd to re-
quire of the medical man that he should not avail
himself of the special knowledge of those whose
business it is to deal in the druses which he uses.
It is all very well that the physician should know
that castor oil comes from a plant, and castoreum
from an animal, and how they are to be prepared;
but for all the practical purposes of his profession
that knowledge is not of one whit more value, has
no more relevancy, than the knowledge of how the
steel of his scalpel is made.

All knowledge is good. It is impossible to say
that any fragment of knowledge, however insignifi-
cant or remote from one's ordinary pursuits, may
not some day be turned to account. But in medical
education, above all things, it is to be recollected
that, in order to know a little well, one must be
content to be ignorant of a great deal.

Let it not be supposed that I am pro])osing to
narrow medical education, or, as the cry is, to lower
the standard of the profession. Depend upon it
there is only one way of really ennobling any call-
ing, and that is to make those who pursue it real

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 249

masters of their craft, men who can truly do that
which tliey profess to be able to do, and which they
are credited with being able to do by the public.
And there is no position so ignoble as that of
the so-called " liberally-educated practitioner/'
who may be able to read Galen in the original;
who knows all the plants, from the cedar of
Lebanon to the» hyssop upon the wall; but who
finds himself, with the issues of life and death
in his hands, ignorant, blundering, and be-
wildered, because of his ignorance of the essential
and fundamental truths upon which practice
must be based. Moreover, I venture to say, that
any man who has seriously studied all the
essential branches of medical knowledge; who
has the needful acquaintance with the elements
of physical science; who has been brought by
medical jurisprudence into contact with law;
Avhose study of insanity has taken him into the
fields of psychology; has ipso facto received a
liberal education.

Having lightened the medical curriculum by
culling out of it everything which is unessential,
we may next consider whether something may not
be done to aid the medical student toward the
acquirement of real knowledge by modifying the
system of examination. In England, within my
recollection, it was the practice to require of the
medical student attendance on lectures upon the
most diverse topics during three years; so that it

250 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

often happened that he would have to listen, in the
course of a day, to four or five lectures upon totally
different subjects, in addition to the hours given to
dissection and to hospital practice: and he was
required to keep all the knowledge he could pick
up, in this distracting fashion, at examination
point, until, at the end of three years, he was set
down to a table and questioned pc^l-mell upon all
the different matters with which he had been
striving to make acquaintance. A worse system
and one more calculated to obstruct the acquisition
of sound knowledge and to give full play to the
" crammer '' and the " grinder " could hardly have
been devised by human ingenuity. Of late years
great reforms have taken place. Examinations
have been divided so as to diminish the number of
subjects among which the attention has to be dis-
tributed. Practical examination has been largely
introduced; but there still remains, even under the
present system, too much of the old evil insepara-
ble from the contemporaneous pursuit of a multi-
plicity of diverse studies.

Proposals have recently been made to get rid
of general examinations altogether, to ])ermit the
student to be examined in each subject at the end
of his attendance on the class; and then, in case of
the result being satisfactory, to allow him to have
done with it; and I may say that this method lias
been pursued for many years in the Royal School
of Mines in London, and has been found to work

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 251

very well. It allows the student to concentrate
his mind upon what he is about for the time being,
and then to dismiss it. Those who are occupied
in intellectual work, will, I think, agree with me
that it is important, not so much to know a thing,
as to have known it, and known it thoroughly.
If you have once known a thing in this way it is
easy to renew your knowledge when you have
forgotten it; and when you begin to take the sub-
ject up again, it slides back upon the familiar
grooves with great facility.

Lastly comes the question as to how the uni-
versity may co-operate in advancing medical edu-
cation. A medical school is strictly a technical
school — a school in which a practical profession is
taught — while a university ought to be a place in
which knowledge is obtained without direct refer-
ence to professional purposes. It is clear, there-
fore, that a university and its antecedent, the
school, may best co-operate with the medical
school by making due provision for the study of
those branches of knowledge which lie at the
foundation of medicine.

At present, young men come to the medical
schools without a conception of even the elements
of physical science; they l^arn, for the first time,
that there are such sciences as physics, chemistry,
and physiology, and are introduced to anatomy as
a new thing. It may be safely said that, with a
large proportion of medical students, much of the

252 ADDRESS ON UXI\"ERSITY EDUCATION ix

first session is wasted iu learning how to learn
— in familiarising themselves with utterly strange
conceptions, and in awakening their dormant and
wholly untrained powers of observation and of
manipulation. It is dithcult to over-estimate the
magnitude of the obstacles which are thrown in
tlie way of scientific training by the existing
system of school education. Not only are men
trained in mere book-work, ignorant of wliat
observation means, but the habit of learning from
books alone begets a disgust of observation. The
book-learned student will rather trust to what he
sees in a book than to the witness of his own
eyes.

There is not the least reason why this should
be so, and, in fact, when elementary education
becomes that which I have assumed it ought to
be, this state of things will no longer exist.
There is not the slightest difficulty in giving
sound elementary instruction in physics, in chem-
istry, and in tlie elements of human physiology,
in ordinary schools. In other words, there is no
reason why the student should not come to the
medical school, provided with as much knowledge
of these several sciences as he ordinarily picks up
in the course of his first year of attendance at the
medical school.

I am not saying this without full practical
justification for the statement. For the last
eighteen years we have had in England a system

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 253

•
of elementary science teaching carried ont under

the auspices of the Science and Art Department,
"by which elementary scientific instruction is made
readily accessible to the scholars of all the ele-
mentary schools in the country. Commencing
with small beginnings, carefully developed and
improved, that system now brings up for examina-
tion as many as seven thousand scholars in the
subject of human physiology alone. I can say
that, out of that number, a large proportion have
acquired a fair amount of substantial knowledge;
and that no inconsiderable percentage show as
good an acquaintance with human physiology as
used to be exhibited by the average candidates
for medical degrees in the University of London,
when I was first an examiner there twenty years
ago; and quite as much knowledge as is possessed
by the ordinary student of medicine at the present
day. I am justified, therefore, in looking forward
to the time when the student who proposes to
devote himself to medicine will come, not abso-
lutely raw and inexperienced as he is at present,
but in a certain state of preparation for further
study; and I look to the university to help him
still further forward in that stage of preparation,
through the organisation of its biological depart-
ment. Here the student will find means of
acquainting himself with the phenomena of life
in their broadest acceptation. He will study not
botany and zoolog}^ which, as I have said, would

254 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

take him too far away from his ultimate goal;
but, by duly arraugud iustruction, combined with
work in the laboratory upon the leading types of
animal and vegetable life, he will lay a broad, and
at the same time solid, foundation of biological
knowledge; he will come to his medical studies
with a comprehension of the great truths of
morphology and of physiology, with his hands
trained to dissect and his eyes taught to see. I
have no hesitation in saying that such preparation
is worth a full year added on to the medical
curriculum. In other words, it will set free that
much time for attention to tliose studies which
bear directly upon the student's most grave and
serious duties as a medical practitioner.

Up to this point I have considered only the
teaching aspect of your great foundation, that
function of the university in virtue of which it
plays the part of a reservoir of ascertained truth,
so far as our symbols can ever interpret nature.
All can learn; all can drink of this lake. It is
given to few to add to the store of knowledge,
to strike new springs of thought, or to shape new
forms of beauty. But so sure as it is that men
live not by bread, but by ideas, so sure is it
that the future of the world lies in the hands of
those who are able to carry tlie interpretation
of nature a step further than their predecessors;
so certain is it that the highest function of a
university is to seek out those men, cherish them.

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 255

and give their ability to serve tlieir kind full
play.

I rejoice to observe that the encouragement of
research occupies so prominent a place in your
official documents, and in the wise and liberal in-
augural address of your president. This subject
of the encouragement, or, as it is sometimes called,
the endowment of research, has of late years
greatly exercised the minds of men in England.
It was one of the main topics of discussion by
the members of the Royal Commission of whom
I was one, and who not long since issued their
report, after five years' labour. Many seem to
think that this question is mainly one of money;
that you can go into the market and buy research,
and that supply will follow demand, as in the
ordinary course of commerce. This view does not
commend itself to my mind. I know of no more
difficult practical problem than the discovery of a
method of encouraging and supporting the origi-
nal investigator without opening the door to nepo-
tism and jobbery. My own conviction is admirably
summed up in the passage of your president's
address, " that the best investigators are usually
those who have also the responsibilities of instruc-
tion, gaining thus the incitement of colleagues,
the encouragement of pupils, and the observation
of the public."

At the commencement of this address I ven-
tured to assume that I might, if I thought fit, criti-

256 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

cise tlie arrangements whicli have been made by
the board of trustees, but I confess that 1 have
little to do but to applaud them. Most wise and
sagacious seems to me the determination not to
build for the })resent. It has been my fate to
see great educational funds fossilise into mere
bricks and mortar, in the ])etrifying springs of
arcliitecture, witli nothing left to work the institu-
tion they were intended to su])port. A great
warrior is said to liave made a desert and called
it peace. Administrators of educational funds
have sometimes made a palace and called it a
university. If I may venture to give advice in a
matter which lies out of my proper competency,
I would say that whenever you do build, get an
honest bricklayer, and make him build you just
sucli rooms as you really want, leaving ample
space for expansion. And a century hence, when
the Baltimore and Ohio shares are at one thousand
premium, and you have endowed all the professors
you need and built all the laboratories that are
wanted, and have the best museum and the
finest library that can be imagined; then, if you
have a few hundred thousand dollars you don't
know what to do with, send for an architect and
tell him to put up a fac^-ade. If American is
similar to English experience, any other course
will probably lead you into having some stately
structure, good for your architect's fame, but not
in the least what you want.

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 257

It appears to me that what I have ventured to
lay down as the principles which should govern
the relations of a university to education in
general, are entirely in accordance with the
measures you have adopted. You have set no
restrictions upon access to the instruction you pro-
pose to give; you have provided that such instruc-
tion, either as given by the university or by asso-
ciated institutions, should cover the field of human
intellectual activity. You have recognised the
importance of encouraging research. You pro-
pose to provide means by which young men,
Avho may be full of zeal for a literary or for
a scientific career, but who also may have mis-
taken aspiration for inspiration, may bring their
capacities to a test, and give their powers a fair
trial. If such a one fail, his endowment termi-
nates, and there is no harm done. If he succeed,
you may give power of flight to the genius of a
Davy or a Faraday, a Carljde or a Locke, whose in-
fluence on the future of his fellow-men shall be
absolutely incalculable.

You have enunciated the principle that " the
glory of the university should rest upon the
character of the teachers and scholars, and not
upon their numbers of buildings constructed for
their use." And I look upon it as an essential
and most important feature of your plan that
the income of the professors and teachers shall be
independent of the number of students whom

25S ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

they can attract. In this way yon provide against
the danger, patent elsewhere, of linding attempts
at improvement obstructed by vested interests;
and, in the department of medical education
especially, you are free of the temptation to set
loose upon the world men utterly incompetent to
perform the serious and responsible duties of their
profession.

It is a delicate matter for a stranger to the
practical working of your institutions, like myself,
to pretend to give an opinion as to the organisation
of your governing power. I can conceive nothing
better than that it should remain as it is, if you can
secure a succession of wise, liberal, honest, and con-
scientious men to fill the vacancies that occur
among you. I do not greatly believe in the efficacy
of any kind of machinery for securing such a
result; but I would venture to suggest that the
exclusive adoption of the method of co-optation for
filling the vacancies which must occur in your
body, appears to me to be somewhat like a tempt-
ing of Providence. Doubtless there are grave
practical objections to the appointment of persons
outside of your body and not directly interested
in the welfare of the university; but might it not
be well if there were an understanding that your
academic staff should be officially re])resented on
the board, perhaps even the heads of one or two
independent learned bodies, so that academic
opinion and the views of the outside world might

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 259

have a certain influence in that most important
matter, the appointment of your professors? I
throw out these suggestions, as I have said, in
ignorance of the practical difficulties that may lie
in the way of carrying them into effect, on the
general ground that personal and local influences
are very subtle, and often unconscious, while the
future greatness and efficiency of the noble institu-
tion which now commences its work must largely
depend upon its freedom from them.

I constantly hear Americans speak of the charm
which our old mother country has for them, of the
delight with which they wander through the
streets of ancient towns, or climb the battlements
of mediaeval strongholds, the names of which are
indissolubly associated with the great epochs of
that noble literature which is our common inherit-
ance; or with the blood-stained steps of that secu-
lar progress, by which the descendants of the sav-
age Britons and of the wild pirates of the IsTorth
Sea have become converted into warriors of order
and champions of peaceful freedom, exhausting
what still remains of the old Berserk spirit in sub-
duing nature, and turning the wilderness into a
garden. But anticipation has no less cliarm than
retrospect, and to an Englishman landing upon
your shores for tlie first time, travelling for hun-
dreds of miles through strings of great and well-
ordered cities, seeing your enormous actual, and

260 ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION ix

almost infinite potential, wealth in all commodities,
and in the energy and ability which turn wealth to
account, there is something sublime in the vista of
the future. Do not suppose that I am pandering
to what is commonly understood by national pride.
I cannot say that I am in the slightest degree im-
pressed by your bigness, or your material resources,
as such. Size is not grandeur, and territory does
not make a nation. The great issue, about which
han^s a true sublimity, and the terror of over-
hanging fate, is what are you going to do with all
these things? "What is to be the end to which
these are to be the means? You are making a
novel experiment in politics on the greatest scale
which the world has yet seen. Forty millions at
your first centenary, it is reasonably to be expected
that, at the second, these states will be occupied
by two hundred millions of English-speaking peo-
ple, spread over an area as large as that of Europe,
and with climates and interests as diverse as those
of Spain and Scandinavia, England and Russia.
You and your descendants have to ascertain
whether this great mass will hold together under
the forms of a republic, and the despotic reality of
universal suffrage; whether state rights will hold
out against centralisation, without separation,
whether centr^li^=ation will get the better, without
actual or disguised monarchy; whether shifting
corruption is better than a permanent bureauc-
racy; and as population thickens in your great

IX ADDRESS ON UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 261

cities, and the pressure of want is felt, the gaunt
spectre of pauperism will stalk among you, and
communism and socialism will claim to be heard.
Truly America has a great future before her; great
in toil, in care, and in responsibility; great in true
glory if she be guided in wisdom and righteous-
ness; great in shame if she fail. I cannot under-
stand why otlier nations should envy you, or be
blind to the fact that it is for the highest interest
of mankind that you should succeed; but the one
condition of success, your sole safeguard, is the
moral worth and intellectual clearness of the in-
dividual citizen. Education cannot give these, but
it may cherish them and bring them to the front
in whatever station of society they are to be found;
and the universities ought to be, and may be, the
fortresses of the higher life of the nation.

May the university which commences its practi-
cal activity to-morrow abundantly fulfil its high
purpose; may its renown as a seat of true learning,
a centre of free inquir}^, a focus of intellectual
light, increase year by year, until men wander
hither from all parts of the earth, as of old they
sought Bologna, or Paris, or Oxford.

And it is pleasant to me to fancy that, among
the English students who arc drawn to you at that
time, there may linger a dim tradition that a
countryman of theirs was permitted to address you
as he has done to-day, and to feel as if your hopes
were his hopes and your success his joy.

X

ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY
[1876]

It is my duty to-night to speak about the study
of Biology, and while it may be that there are
many of my audience who are quite familiar with
that study, yet as a lecturer of some standing, it
would, I know by exi)erience, be very bad policy
on my part to suppose such to be extensively the
case. On the contrary, I must imagine that there
are many of you who would like to know what
Biology is; that there are others who have that
amount of information, but would nevertheless
gladly hear wliy it should be worth their while to
study Biology; and yet others, again, to whom
these two points are clear, but who desire to learn
how tliey had best study it, and, finally, when they
had best study it.

I shall, tlierefore, address myself to the cn-
262

X 0^ THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 263

cleavour to give you some answer to these four
questions — what Biology is; why it should be
studied; how it should be studied; and when it
should be studied.

In the first place, in respect to what Biology
is, there are, I believe, some persons who imagine
that the term " Biology " is simply a new-fangled
denomination, a neologism in short, for what used
to be known under the title of " Natural His-
tory "; but I shall try to show you, on the con-
trary, that the word is the expression of the growth
of science during the last 200 years, and came into
existence half a century ago.

At the revival of learning, knowledge was di-
vided into two kinds — the knowledge of nature
and the knowledge of man; for it was the current
idea then (and a great deal of that ancient con-
ception still remains) that there was a sort of
essential antithesis, not to say antagonism, be-
tween nature and man; and tliat the two had not
very much to do with one another, except that the
one was oftentimes exceedingly troublesome to the
other. Though it is one of the salient merits of
our great philosophers of the seventeenth century,
that they recognised but one scientific method,
applicable alike to man arid to nature, we find
this notion of the existence of a broad distinction
between nature and man in the writings both of
Bacon and of Ilobbes of Malmesbury; and T have
brought with me that famous work which is now
77

264 OX THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

so little known, greatly as it deserves to be studied,
" The Leviathan," in order that I may put to you
in the wonderfully terse and clear language of
Thomas Ilobbcs, what was his view of the matter.
He says: —

" The ree^ister of knowledijje of fact is called
historv. AVliereof there be two sorts, one called
natural history; which is the history of such facts
or effects of nature as have no dependence on
man's will; such as are the histories of metals,
plants, animals, regions, and the like. The other
is civil history; which is the history of the volun-
tary actions of men in commonwealths."

So tliat all historv of fact was divided into
these two great groups of natural and of civil his-
tory. Tlie Royal Society was in course of founda-
tion about the time that Hobbcs was writing tliis
book, which was published in IGol; and that So-
ciety was termed a " Society for the Improvement
of Natural Knowledge," which was then nearly
the same thing as a " Society for the Improve-
ment of Xatural History." As time went on,
and the various branches of human knowledge
became more distinctly developed and separated
from one another, it was found that some were
much more susceptible of precise mathematical
treatment than others. The publication of the
" Principia " of Newton, which probably gave a
greater stimulus to ph3'sical science than any work
ever published before, or which is likely to be

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 265

published hereafter, showed that precise mathe-
matical methods were applicable to those branches
of science such as astronomy, and what we now
call physics, which occupy a very large portion of
the domain of what the older writers understood
by natural history. And inasmuch as the partly
deductive and partly experimental methods of
treatment to which Newton and others subjected
these branches of human knowledge, showed that
the phenomena of nature which belonged to them
were susceptible of explanation, and thereby came
within the reach of what was called " philosophy,"
in those days; so much of this kind of knowledge
as was not included under astronomy came to
be spoken of as '^ natural philosophy " — a term
which Bacon had employed in a much wider
sense. Time went on, and yet other branches of
science developed themselves. Chemistry took a
definite shape; and since all these sciences, such
as astronomy, natural philosophy, and chemistry,
were susceptible either of mathematical treatment
or of experimental treatment, or of both, a broad
distinction was drawn between the experimental
branches of what had previously been called natu-
ral history and the observational branches — those
in which experiment was (or appeared to be) of
doubtful use, and where, at that time, mathemat-
ical methods were inapplicable. Under these cir-
cumstances the old name of " Xatural History "
stuck by the residuum by those phenomena

2G6 OX TI]E STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

which were not, at that time, susceptible of mathe-
matical or experimental treatment; that is to sa}%
those phenomena of nature which come now under
the general heads of physical geography, geology,
mineralogy, the history of plants, and the his-
tory of animals. It was in this sense that the
term was understood by the great writers of the
middle of the last century — Buffon and Lin-
na?us — by Buffon in his great work, the '* Ilistoirc
Naturelle Generale," and by Linna?us in his splen-
did achievement, the " Systema Nature." The
subjects they deal with are spoken of as " Natural
History," and they called themselves and were
called " Naturalists." But you will observe that
this was not the original meaning of these terms;
but that they had, by this time, acquired a sig-
nification widely different from that which they
possessed primitively.

The sense in which " Natural History " was
used at the time I am now speaking of has, to a
certain extent, endured to the present day. There
are now in existence in some of our northern uni-
versities, chairs of " Civil and Natural History '' in
which " Natural History " is used to indicate ex-
actly what Hobbes and Bacon meant by that term.
Tlie unhappy incumbent of the chair of Natural
History is, or was, sui)posed to cover the whole
ground of geology, mineralogy, and zoology, per-
haps even botany, in his lectures.

But as science made the marvellous progress

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 267

which it did make at the latter end of the last
and the beginning of the present century, think-
ing men began to discern that nnder this title
of " Xatural History " there were included very
heterogeneous constituents — that, for example,
geology and mineralogy were, in many respects,
widely different from botany and zoology; that a
man might obtain an extensive knowledge 'of the
structure and functions of plants and animals
w^ithout having need to enter upon the study of
geology or mineralogy, and vice versa; and, fur-
ther as knowledge advanced, it became clearer that
there was a great analogy, a very close alliance,
between those two sciences, of botany and zoology
which deal with human beings, wdiile they are
much more widely separated from all other studies.
It is due to Buffon to remark that he clearly recog-
nised this great fact. He says: " Ces deux genres
d^etres organises [les animaux et les vegetaux] ont
beaucoup plus de proprietes communes que de
differences reelles." Therefore, it is not wonder-
ful that, at the beginning of the present centur}^,
in two different countries, and so far as I know,
without any intercommunication, two famous men
clearly conceived the notion of uniting the sci-
ences which deal with living matter into one
whole, and of dealing with them as one discipline.
In fact, I may say there were three men to
whom this idea occurred contemporaneously, al-
though there were but two who carried it into

268 ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

effect, and only one who worked it out completely.
The persons to whom 1 refer were the eminent
physiologist Bichat, and the great naturalist La-
marck, in France; and a distinguished German,
Treviranus. ]3ichat * assumed the existence of a
special group of '^ physiological " sciences. La-
marck, in a work published in 1801, f for the first
time made use of the name " Biologic," from the
two Greek words which signify a discourse upon
life and living things. About the same time it
occurred to Treviranus, that all those sciences
which deal with living matter are essentially and
fundamentally one, and ought to be treated as a
whole; and, in the year 1802, he published the
first volume of what he also called " Biologic."
Treviranus's great merit lies in this, that he
worked out his idea, and wrote the very remark-
able book to which I refer. It consists of six
volumes, and occupied its author for twenty years
—from 1802 to 1822.

That is the origin of the term " Biology ";
and that is how it has come about that all clear
thinkers and lovers of consistent nomenclature
have substituted for the old confusing name of
" Xatural History," which has conveyed so many
meanings, the term " Biology " which denotes the
whole of the sciences which deal witli living

* See tho distinction botwepn tho "soicnoe? physif)Uos"
and the " sciences phvsiologiqucs" in the Anaiomie G^)ierale,
1801.

f HydrogeoJogie, an. x. (1801).

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 2G9

things^, whether they be animals or whether they
be plants. Some little time ago — in the course of
this year, I think — I was favoured by a learned
classic. Dr. Field of Norwich, with a disquisition,
in which he endeavoured to prove that, from a
philological point of view, neither Treviranus nor
Lamarck had any right to coin this new word
" Biology " for their purpose; that, in fact, the
Greek word " Bios " had relation oniv to human
life and human affairs, and that a different word
was employed by the Greeks w^hen they wished to
speak of the life of animals and plants. So Dr,
Field tells us we are all wrong in using the term
biolog}", and that we ought to employ another;
only he is not sure about the propriety of that
which he proposes as a substitute. It is a some-
what hard one — '^ zootocology." I am sorry we
are wrong, because we are likely to continue so.
In these matters we must have some sort of
" Statute of Limitations." When a name has been
employed for half a century, persons of authority *
have been using it, and its sense has become well
understood, I am afraid people will go on using it,
Avhatever the weight of philological objection.

Now that we have arrived at the origin of this
word "Biology," the next point to consider is:

* " The term Biology, which means exactly what we wish
to express, the Science of Life, has often been used, and
has of late become not uncommon, among crood writers," —
Whewell, Pliilosophij of the Inductive Sciences, vol. i. p.
544 (edition of 1847).

270 ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

"What ground does it cover? I have said that in
its strict technical sense, it denotes all the phe-
nomena which are exhibited by living things, as
distinguished from those which are not living;
but \\liile that is all very well, so long as we
confine ourselves to the lower animals and to
plants, it lands us in considerable difficulties
when we reach the higher forms of living things.
For whatever view we may entertain about the
nature of man, one thing is perfectly certain, that
he is a living creature. Hence, if our definition
is to be interpreted strictly, we must include man
and all his wavs and works under the head of
Biology; in which case, we should find that psy-
chology, politics, and political economy would be
absorbed into the province of Biology. In fact,
civil history would be merged in natural his-
tory. In strict logic it may be hard to object to
this course, because no one can doubt that the
rudiments and outlines of our own mental phe-
nomena are traceable among the lower animals.
They have their economy and their polity, and if,
as is always admitted, the polity of bees and the
commonwealth of wolves fall within the purview
of the biologist proper, it becomes hard to say why
we should not include therein human alfairs,
which, in so many cases, resemble those of the bees
in zealous getting, and are not without a certain
parity in the proceedings of the wolves. The real
fact is that we biologists are a self-sacrificing peo-

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 271

pie; and inasmucli as, on a moderate estimate,
there are about a quarter of a million different
species of animals and plants to know about al-
ready, we feel that we have more than sufficient
territory. There has been a sort of practical con-
vention by which we give up to a different branch
of science what Bacon and Hobbes would have
called " Civil History." That branch of science
has constituted itself under the head of Sociology.
I may use phraseology which, at present, will be
well understood and say that we have allowed
that province of Biology to become autonomous;
but I should like you to recollect that that is a
sacrifice, and that you should not be surprised if
it occasionally happens that you see a biologist
apparently trespassing in the region of philosophy
or politics; or meddling with human education;
because, after all, that is a part of his kingdom
which he has only voluntarily forsaken.

Having now defined the meaning of the word
Biology, and having indicated the general scope of
Biological Science, I turn to my second question,
which is — Why should we study Biology. Pos-
sibly the time may come when that will seem a
very odd question. That we, living creatures,
should not feel a certain aniount of interest in
what it is that constitutes our life will eventually,
under altered ideas of the fittest objects of human
inquiry, appear to be a singular phenomenon; but
at present, judging by the practice of teachers and

272 ON 'J^IIl'^ STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

educators, Biology would seem to be a topic that
does not concern us at all. I propose to put
before you a few considerations with which I dare
say many will he familiar already, but which will
suffice to show — not fullv, because to demonstrate
this point fully would take a great many lectures
— that there are some very good and substantial
reasons why it may be advisable that we should
know something about this branch of human
learnini]:.

I myself entirely agree with another sentiment
of the philosopher of Malmesbury, " that the scope
of all speculation is the performance of some ac-
tion or thing to be done/' and I have not any very
great respect for, or interest in, mere knowing as
such. I judge of the value of human pursuits by
their bearing upon human interests; in other
words, by their utility; but I should like that we
should quite clearly understand what it is that
we mean by this word " utility." In an English-
man's mouth it fi^encrallv means that bv whicli we
get pudding or praise, or both. 1 have no doubt
that is one meaning of the word utility, but it ])y
no means includes all I moan by utility. I think
that knowledge of every kind is useful in propor-
tion as it tends to give people right ideas, which
are essential to the fcnmdation of right practice,
and to remove wrong ideas, which are the no less
essential foundations and fertile mothers of every
description of error in practice. And inasmuch

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 2T3

as, whatever practical people may say, this world
is, after all, absolutely governed by ideas, and very
often by the wildest and most hypothetical ideas.
It is a matter of the very greatest importance that
our theories of things, and even of things that
seem a long way apart from our daily lives, should
be as far as possible true, and as far as possible
removed from error. It is not only in the coarser,
practical sense of the word " utility," but in this
higher and broader sense, that I measure the
value of the study of biology by its utility; and I
shall try to point out to you that you will feel the
need of some knowledge of biology at a great
many turns of this present nineteenth century
life of ours. For example, most of us attach great
importance to the conception which we entertain
of the position of man in this universe and his
relation to the rest of nature. We have almost
all been told, and most of us hold by the tradition,
that man occupies an isolated and peculiar position
in nature; that though he is in the world he is
not of the world; that his relations to things
about him are of a remote character; that his
origin is recent, his duration likely to be short,
and that he is the great central figure round
which other things in this world revolve. But
this is not what the biologist tells us.

At the present moment you will be kind
enough to separate me from them, because it is in
no way essential to my present argument that I

274 ON THE STUDY OP BIOLOGY x

should advocate their views. Don't suppose that
I am saying this for the purpose of escaping the
responsibility of their beliefs; indeed, at other
times and in other places, I do not think that
point has been left doubtful; but I want clearly
to point out to you that for my present argument
they may all be wrong; and, nevertheless, my ar-
gument will hold good. The biologists tell us that
all this is an entire mistake. They turn to the
physical organisation of man. They examine his
whole structure, his bony frame and all that
clothes it. They resolve him into the finest par-
ticles into which the microscope will enable them
to break him up. They consider the performance
of his various functions and activities, and they
look at the manner in which he occurs on the
surface of the world. Then they turn to other
animals, and taking the first handy domestic ani-
mal— say a dog — they profess to be able to dem-
onstrate that the analysis of the dog leads them,
in gross, to precisely the same results as the analy-
sis of the man; that they find almost identically
the same bones, having the same relations; that
they can name the muscles of the dog by the
names of the muscles of the man, and the nerves
of the dog by those of the nerves of the man,
and that, such structures and organs of sense as
we find in the man such also we find in the dog;
they analyse the brain and spinal cord and they
find that the nomenclature which fits the one an-

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 275

swers for the other. They carr}' their microscopic
inquiries in the case of the dog as far as they
can, and they find that his body is resolvable into
the same elements as those of the man. More-
over, thev trace back the do2;'s and the man's devel-
opment, and they find that, at a certain stage
of their existence, the two creatures are not dis-
tinguishable the one from the other; they find
that the dog and his kind have a certain distri-
bution over the surface of the world, comparable
in its way to the distribution of the human species.
AYhat is true of the doo; thev tell us is true of
all the higher animals; and they assert that they
can lay down a common plan for the whole of
these creatures, and regard the man and the dog,
the horse and the ox as minor modifications of
one orpeat fundamental unitv. ^loreover, the in-
vestigations of the last three-quarters of .a century
have proved, they tell us, that similar incjuiries,
carried out through all the difl'erent kinds of ani-
mals which are met with in nature, will lead us,
not in one straight series, but by many roads, step
by step, gradation by gradation, from man, at the
summit, to specks of animated jelly at the bottom
of the series. So that the idea of Leibnitz, and
of Bonnet, that animals form a great scale of
being, in which there are a series of gradations
from the most complicated form to the lowest and
simplest; that idea, though not exactly in the
form in which it was propounded by those phi-

27G ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

losophcrs, turns out to be substantially correct.
More than this, when biologists pursue their in-
vestigations into the vegetable world, they find
that they can, in the same way, follow out the
structure of the plant, from the most gigantic and
complicated trees down through a similar series of
gradations, until they arrive at specks of animated
jelly, which they are puzzled to distinguish from
those specks which they reached by the animal
road.

Thus, biologists have arrived at the conclusion
that a fundamental uniformity of structure per-
vades the animal and vegetable worlds, and that
plants and animals differ from one another simply
as diverse modifications of the same great general
plan.

Again, they tell us the same story in regard to
the study of function. They admit the large and
important interval which, at the present time,
separates the manifestations of the mental facul-
ties observable in the higher forms of mankind,
and even in the lower forms, such as we know
them, from those exhibited by other animals; but,
at the same time, they tell us that the founda-
tions, or rudiments, of almost all the faculties of
man are to be met with in the lower animals;
that there is a unity of mental faculty as well as
of bodily structure, and that, here also, the differ-
ence is a difference of degree and not of kind. I
said " almost all," for a reason. Among the many

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOJ.OGY 277

distinctions which have been drawn between the
lower creatures and ourselves, there is one which
is hardly ever insisted on,* but which may be
very fitly spoken of in a place so largely devoted
to Art as that in which we are assembled. It is
this, that while, among various kinds of animals,
it is possible to discover traces of all the other
faculties of man, especially the faculty of mimicry,
yet that particular form of mimicry which shows
itself in the imitation of form either by modelling
or by drawing, is not to be met with. As far as I
know, there is no sculpture or modelling, and de-
cidedly no painting or drawing, of animal origin.
I mention the fact, in order that such comfort
may be derived therefrom as artists may feel in-
clined to take.

If what the biologists tell us is true, it will be
needful to get rid of our erroneous conceptions of
man, and of his place in nature, and to substitute
right ones for them. But it is impossible to form
any judgment as to whether the biologists are right
or wrong, unless we are able to appreciate the na-
ture of the arguments which they have to offer.

One would almost think this to be a self-evi-
dent proposition. I wonder what a scholar would
say to the man who should"" undertake to criti-
cise a difficult passage in a Greek play, but who
obviously had not acquainted himself with the

* I think that my friend, Professor Allman, was the first
to draw attention to it.

27S ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

rudiments of Greek grammar. And vet, before
giving positive opinions about these high ques-
tions of Biology, people not only do not seem
to think it necessary to be acquainted with the
grammar of the subject, but they have not even
mastered the alphabet. You find criticism and
denunciation showered about by persons who not
only have not attempted to go through the dis-
cipline necessary to enable them to be judges, but
M'ho have not even reached that stage of emer-
gence from ignorance in which the knowledge
that such a discipline is necessary dawns upon the
mind. I have had to watch with some atten-
tion— in fact I have been favoured with a good
deal of it myself — the sort of criticism with which
biologists and biological teachings are visited. I
am told every now and then that there is a " bril-
liant article " * in so-and-so, in which we are all
demolished. I used to read these things once, but
I am getting old now, and I have ceased to at-
tend very much to this cry of " wolf." A\'lien one
does read any of these productions, what one finds
generally, on the face of it is, that the brilliant
critic is devoid of even the elements of biolosx-
ical knowledge, and that his brilliancy is like

* Galileo was trouliled by a sort of people whom he
called " jja{)er philosophers,'' because they fancied that the
true reading of nature was to be detected by the collation
of texts. The race is not extinc t, but. as of old, brings forth
its "winds of doctrine" by rshich the weathercock heads
among us are much exercised.

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 279

the light given out by the crackling of thorns
under a pot of which Solomon speaks. So far as
I recollect, Solomon makes use of the image for
purposes of comparison; but I will not proceed
further into that matter.

Two things must be obvious: in the first place,
that every man who has the interests of truth at
heart must earnestly desire that every well-
founded and just criticism that can be made should
be made; but that, in the second place, it is essen-
tial to anybody's being able to benefit by criticism,
that the critic should know what he is talking
about, and be in a position to form a mental
image of the facts symbolised by the words he uses.
If not, it is as obvious in the case of a biological
argument, as it is in that of a historical or philo-
logical discussion, that such criticism is a mere
waste of time on the part of its author, and wholly
undeserving of attention on the part of those
who are criticised. Take it then as an illustration
of the importance of biological study, that there-
by alone are men able to form something like
a rational conception of what constitutes valuable
criticism of the teachings of biologists.*

* Some critics do not even take the trouble to read. I
have recently been adjured with much solemnity, to state
publicly why I have " chan,e:ed my opinion " as to the value
of the palajontological evidence of the occurrence of evo-
lution.

To this my reply is, Why should I, when that statement
was made seven years a.2:o'? An address delivered from tiie
Presidential Chair of the Geological Society, in 1870, may

78

2S0 ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

Xext, I may mention another bearing of bio-
logical knowledge — a more practical one in the
ordinary sense of the word. Consider the theory
of infectious disease. Surely that is of interest to
all of us. Now the theory of infectious disease is
rapidly being elucidated by biological study. It is
possible to produce, from among the lower animals,
examples of devastating diseases which spread in
the same manner as our infectious disorders, and
wliich are certainly and unmistakably caused Ijy
living organisms. This fact renders it possible, at
any rate, that that doctrine of the causation of in-
fectious disease which is known under the name of
" the germ theory " may be well-founded; and, if
so, it must needs lead to the most important
practical measures in dealing with those terrible
visitations. It may be well that the general, as
well as the professional, public should have a
sullicient knowledge of biological truths to be able

be said to be a public floonment. ina?murh as it not only
appparod in tho Journal of that learned body, but w;is re-
published, in 1873, in a volume of Critiques and Addrrssfs^
to which my name is attached. Therein will be found a
pretty full statement of my reasons for enunciating two
propositions: (1) that "when we turn to the hi^d)er Verfe-
hratn, the results of recent investigations, however we may
sift and criticise them, seem to me to leave a clear balance
in favour of the evolution of livinir forms one from an-
other;" and (2) that the case of the horse is one which
"will stand rigorous criticism."

Thus I do not see clearly in what way I can be said to
have changed my opiiiion, except in tho way of intensify-
inc: it. when in C(»nsef|uence of the accumulation of similar
evidence since 1870, I recently spoke of the denial of evolu-
tion as not worth serious consideration.

X ^N THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 281

to take a rational interest in the discussion of such
problems, and to see, what I think they may hope
to see, that, to those who possess a sufficient ele-
mentary knowledge of Biolog-y, they are not all
quite open questions.

Let me mention another important practical
illustration of the value of biological study. With-
in the last forty years the theory of agriculture has
been revolutionised. The researches of Liebig,
and those of our own Lawes and Gilbert, have
had a bearing upon that branch of industry the
importance of which cannot be over-estimated; but
the whole of these new views have grown out of
the better explanation of certain processes which
go on in plants; and which, of course, form a part
of the subject-matter of Biology.

I might go on multiplying these examples, but
I see that the clock won't wait for me, and I
must therefore pass to the third question to which
I referred: — Granted that Biology is something
worth studying, what is the best way of studying
it? Here I must point out that, since Biology is
a physical science, the method of studying it must
needs be analogous to that which is followed in
the other physical sciences. It has now long been
recognised that, if a man wishes to be a chemist,
it is not only necessary that he sliould read chemi-
cal books and attend chemical lectures, but that
lie should actually perform the fundamental ex-
periments in the laboratory for himself, and thus

2S2 ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

learn exactlv what the words which he finds in his
books and hears from his teachers, mean. If he
does not do so, he may read till the crack of doom,
but he will never know much about cliemistry.
That is what every chemist will tell you, and the
physicist will do the same for his branch of science.
The great changes and improvements in physical
and chemical scientific education, which have taken
place of late, have all resulted from the combina-
tion of practical teaching with the reading of books
and with the hearing of lectures. The same thing
is true in Biology. Xobody will ever know any-
thing about Biology except in a dilettante " paper-
philosopher " way, who contents himself with read-
ing books on botany, zoology, and the like; and
the reason of this is simple and easy to understand.
It is that all language is merely symbolical of the
things of which it treats; the more complicated
the things, the more bare is the symbol, and
the more its verbal definition requires to be sup-
plemented by the information derived directly
from the handling, and the seeing, and the touch-
ing of the thing symbolised: — that is really what
is at the bottom of the whole matter. It is plain
common sense, as all truth, in the long run, is only
common sense clarified. If you want a man to
be a tea merclumt, you don't tell him to read books
about China or about tea, but you put him into
a tea-merchant's office where he has the handling,
the smelling, and the tasting of tea. Without the

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 283

sort of knowledge wliich can be gained only in
this practical way, his exploits as a tea merchant
will soon come to a bankrupt termination. The
" paper-philosophers " are nnder the delusion that
physical science can be mastered as literary ac-
complishments are acquired, but unfortunately it
is not so. You may read any quantity of books,
and you may be almost as ignorant as you were
at starting if you don't haA^e, at the back of your
minds, the change for words in definite images
which can only be acquired through the operation
of your observing faculties on the phenomena of
nature.

It may be said: — " That is all very well, but
you told us just now that there are probably some-
thing like a quarter of a million different kinds
of living and extinct animals and plants, and a
human life could not suffice for the examination
of one-fiftieth part of all these.^' That is true,
but then comes the great convenience of the way
things are arranged; which is, that although there
are these immense numbers of different kinds of
living things in existence, yet they are built up,
after all, upon marvellously few plans.

There are certainly more than 100,000 species
of insects, and yet an3'body who knows one insect
— if a properly chosen one — will be able to have
a very fair conception of the structure of the
whole. I do not mean to say he will know
that structure thoroughly, or as well as it is desir-

2S4: ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

able he sliould know it; but he will have enough
real knowledge to enable him to understand what
he reads, to have genuine images in his mind of
those structures which become so variously modi-
fied in all the forms of insects he has not seen.
In fact, there are such things as types of form
among animals and vegetables, and for the pur-
pose of getting a definite knowledge of what con-
stitutes the leading modifications of animal and
plant life, it is not needful to examine more than
a comparatively small number of animals and
plants.

Let me tell you what we do in the biological
lal)oratory which is lodged in a building adjacent to
this. There 1 lecture to a class of students daily
for about four-and-a-half months, and my class
have, of course, their text-books; but the essential
part of the whole teaching, and that which I re-
gard as really the most important part of it, is a
laboratory for practical work, which is simply a
room with all the api)liances needed for ordinary
dissection. We have tables properly arranged in
regard to light, microscopes, and dissecting instru-
ments, and we work through the structure of a
certain number of animals and plants. As, for
example, among the plants, we take a yeast plant,
a Protococcus, a common mould, a Chara, a fern,
and some flowering plant; among animals we ex-
amine such things as an Amoeba, a Yorticella, and
a fresh-water polype. We dissect a star-fish, au

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 285

earth-worm, a snail, a squid, and a fresh-water
mussel. We examine a lobster and a cra^^-fish,
and a black beetle. We go on to a common skate,
a cod-fish, a frog, a tortoise, a pigeon, and a rabbit,
and that takes us about all the time we have to
give. The purpose of this course is not to make
skilled dissectors, but to give every student a clear
and definite conception, by means of sense-images,
of the characteristic structure of each of the lead-
ing modifications of the animal kingdom; and that
is perfectly possible, by going no further than
the length of that list of forms which I have
enumerated. If a man knows the structure of
the animals I have mentioned, he has a clear and
exact, however limited, apprehension of the essen-
tial features of the organisation of all those great
divisions of the animal and vegetable kingdoms
to which the forms I have mentioned severally be-
long. And it then becomes possible for him to
read with profit; because every time he meets
with the name of a structure, he has a definite
image in his mind of what the name means in
the particular creature he is reading about, and
therefore the reading is not mere reading. It is
not mere repetition of words; but every term
employed in the description, we will sa}^ of a horse,
or of an elephant, will call up the image of the
things he had seen in the rabbit, and he is able to
form a distinct conception of that which he has not
seen, as a modification of that which he has seen.

286 ^^ tup: stcdy of BioLuay x

I find this system to yield excellent results; and
I have no hesitation whatever in saying, that any
one who has gone tliroiigli such a course, atten-
tively, is in a better position to form a conception
of the great truths of Biology, especially of mor-
phology (which is what we chiefly deal with), than
if he had merely read all the books on that topic
put together.

The connection of this discourse with the Loan
Collection of Scientific A|)i)aratus arises out of the
exhibition in that collection of certain aids to our
laboratory work. Such of you as have visited that
very interesting collection may have noticed a series
of diagrams and of preparations illustrating the
structure of a frog. Those diagrams and prepara-
tions have been made for the use of the students
in the biological laboratory. Similar diagrams and
preparations illustrating the structure of all the
other forms of life we examine, are either made or
in course of preparation. Thus the student has
before him, first, a picture of the structure he ought
to see; secondly, the structure itself worked out;
and if with these aids, and such needful explana-
tions and practical hints as a demonstrator can
supply, he cannot make out the facts for himself
in the materials supplied to him, he had l^etter
take to some other pursuit than that of biological
science.

I should have been glad to have said a few
words about the use of museums in the study of

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 287

Biology, but I see that my time is becoming
short, and I have yet another question to answer.
Xevertheless, I must, at the risk of wearying you,
say a word or two upon the important subject of
museums. "Without doubt there are no helps to
the study of Biology, or rather to some branches
of it, which are, or may be, more important than
natural history museums; but, in order to take
this place in regard to Biology, they must be
museums of the future. The museums of the
present do not, by any means, do so much for us
as they might do. I do not wish to particularise,
but I dare say many of you, seeking knowledge, or
in the laudable desire to employ a holiday
usefully, have visited some great natural history
museum. You have walked through a quarter
of a mile of animals, more or less well stuffed,
with their long names written out underneath
them; and, unless your experience is very differ-
ent from that of most people, the upshot of it all
is that you leave that splendid pile with sore feet,
a bad headache, and a general idea that the
animal kingdom is a ^'' mighty maze without a
plan." I do not think that a museum which
brings about this result does all that may be
reasonably expected from such an institution.
What is needed in a collection of natural history
is that it should be made as accessible and as use-
ful as possible, on the one hand to the general
public, and on the other to scientific workers.

2S8 ^^ '^^^^ STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

That need is not met by constructing a sort of
happy hunting-ground of miles of glass cases;
and, under the pretence of exhibiting everything
putting the maximum amount of obstacle in the
way of those who wish properly to see anything.

What the public want is easy and unhindered
access to such a collection as they can understand
and api)reciate; and what the men of science want
is similar, access to the materials of science. To
this end the vast mass of objects of natural
history should be divided into two parts — one
open to the public, the other to men of science,
every day. The former division should exemplify
all the more important and interesting forms of
life. Explanatory tablets should be attached to
them, and catalogues containing clearly-written
l)opular expositions of the general significance of
the objects exhibited should be provided. The lat-
ter should contain, packed into a comparatively
small space, in rooms adapted for working pur-
poses, the objects of purely scientific interest. For
example, we will say I am an ornithologist. I go
to examine a collection of birds. It is a positive
nuisance to have them stuffed. It is not only
sheer waste, but I have to reckon with the ideas
of the bird-stuffcr, while, if I have the skin and
nobody has interfered with it, I can form my own
judgment as to what the bird was like. For
ornithological purposes, what is needed is not
glass cases full of stuffed birds on perches, but

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 289

convenient drawers into each of which a great
quantity of skins will go. They occupy no great
space and do not require any expenditure beyond
their original cost. But for the edification of the
public, who want to learn indeed, but do not
seek for minute and technical knowledge, the case
is different. What one of the general public walk-
ing into a collection of birds desires to see is not
all the birds that can be got together. He
does not want to compare a hundred species of
the sparrow tribe side by side; but he wishes to
know what a bird is, and what are the great
modifications of bird structure, and to be able to
get at that knowledge easily. What will best
serve his purpose is a comparatively small num-
ber of birds carefully selected, and artistically,
as well as accurately, set up; with their different
ages, their nests, their young, their eggs, and
their skeletons side by side; and in accordance
with the admirable plan which is pursued in this
museum, a tablet, telling the spectator in legible
characters what they are and what they mean.
For the instruction and recreation of the public
such a typical collection would be of far greater
value than any many-acred imitation of Noah's
ark.

Lastly comes the question as to when biological
study may best be pursued. I do not see any
valid reason why it should not be made, to a
certain extent, a part of ordinary school training.

290 ON THE STUDY UF BiOLOGY x

I have long advocated this view, and I am
perfectly certain that it can be carried out with
case, and not only with ease, but with very con-
siderable profit to those who are taught; but tlien
such instruction must be ada])ted to tlie minds
and needs of the scholars. Tliey used to have
a very odd way of teaching the classical languages
when I was a bov. The first task set vou was to
learn the rules of the Latin grammar in the
Latin language — that being the language you were
going to learn! I thought then that this was an
odd way of learning a language, but did not ven-
ture to rebel against the judgment of my supe-
riors. Xow, perhaps, I am not so modest as I was
then, and I allow mvsclf to think that it was
a very absurd fashion. But it would be no less
absurd, if we were to set about teaching Jji-
ology by putting it into the hands of boys a series
of definitions of the classes and orders of the
animal kingdom, and making them repeat thorn
by heart. Tluit is so very favourite a method of
teaching, that I sometimes fancy the spirit of the
old classical svstem lias entered into the new
scientific system, in which case I would much
rather tliat any pretence at scientific teaching
were al^olished altogether. Wliat really has to be
done is to eret into the vouno: mind some notion
of what animal and vegetable life is. In this
matter, you have to consider practical convenience
as well as other thin^js. There are difficulties in

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 201

the way of a lot of boys making messes with
slugs and snails; it might not work in practice.
But there is a very convenient and handy animal
which everybody has at hand, and that is himself;
and it is a very easy and simple matter to obtain
common plants. Hence the general truths of
anatomy and physiology can be taught to young
people in a very real fashion by dealing with the
broad facts of human structure. Such viscera as
they cannot very well examine in themselves,
such as hearts, lungs, and livers, may be obtained
from the nearest butcher's shop. In respect to
teaching something about the biology of plants,
there is no practical difficulty, because almost any
of the common plants will do, and plants do not
make a mess — at least they do not make an
unpleasant mess; so that, in my judgment, the
best form of Biology for teaching to very young
people is elementary human physiology on the
one hand, and the elements of botany on the other;
beyond that I do not think it will be feasible to
advance for some time to come. But then I
see no reason, why, in secondary schools, and in
the Science Classes which are under the control
of the Science and Art Department — and which
I may say, in passing, have^ in my judgment,
done so very much for the diffusion of a knowl-
ed^e of science over the countrv — we should not
hope to see instruction in the elements of Biolo-
gy carried out, not perhaps to the same extent,

292 ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY x

but still upon somewhat tlie same principle as
here. There is no dilliculty, when you have to
deal with students of the ages of fifteen or sixteen,
in practising a little dissection and in getting a
notion of, at any rate, the four or five great modi-
fications of the animal form; and the like is true
in regard to the higher anatomy of plants.

While, lastly, to all those who are studying
biological science with a view to their own edifi-
cation merely, or with the intention of becoming
zoologists or botanists; to all those who intend to
pursue physiology — and especially to those who
propose to employ the working years of their
lives in the practice of medicine — I say that
there is no training so fitted, or which may be of
such important service to them, as the discipline
in practical biological work which I have sketched
out as being pursued in the laboratory hard by.

I may add that, beyond all these different
classes of persons who may profit by the study of
Biology, there is yet one other. I remember, a
number of years ago, that a gentleman who was a
vehement opponent of Mr. Darwin's views and had
written some terrible articles against them, api)lied
to me to know what was the best way in which he
could acquaint himself with the strongest argu-
ments in favour of evolution. I wrote back, in all
good faith and simplicity, recommending him to
so throimh a course of comparative anatomy and

X ON THE STUDY OF BIOLOGY 293

physiology, and then to study deA^elopment. I am
sorry to say he was very much displeased, as people
often are with good advice. Notwithstanding this
discouraging result, I venture, as a parting word,
to repeat the suggestion, and to say to all the more
or less acute lay and clerical "■ paper-philoso-
phers '' * who venture into the regions of biologi-
cal controversy — Get a little sound, thorough, prac-
tical, elementary instruction in biology.

* Writers of this stamp are fond of talking about the
Baconian method. I beg them therefore to lay to heart
these two weighty sayings of the herald of Modern Sci-
ence : —

"Syllogismus ex propositionibus constat, propositiones
ex verbis, verba notionum tessera3 sunt. Itaque si notiones
ipStie {id quod basis rei est) confusiB sint et temere a rebus
abstract^e, nihil in lis qu;e superstruuntur est flrmitudinis."
— Novum Orgcmoji, ii. i4.

"Huic autem vanitati nonnulli ex modernis summa
levitate ita indulserunt, ut in primo capitulo Geneseos et in
libro Job et aliis scripturis sacris, philosophiam naturalem
fundare conhei sint ; inter vivos qucBrentes mortua." —
Jbid, 65.

XI

ox ELEMEXTARY IXSTRUCTIOX IX
PHYSIOLOGY

[18T7]

The chief ground upon which I venture to
recommend tliat the teaching of elementary
physiology should form an essential part- of any
organised course of instruction in matter pertaining
to domestic economy, is, that a knowledge of even
the elements of this subject supplies those con-
ceptions of the constitution and mode of action
of the living body, and of the nature of health
and disease, which prepare the mind to receive
instruction from sanitary science.

It is, I think, eminently desirable that the
hygienist and the physician should find something
in the public mind to which they can appeal; some
little stock of universally acknowledged truths,
which may serve as a foundation for their warn-
ings, and predispose towards an intelligent obedi-
ence to their recommendations.
294

XI INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY 205

Listening: to ordinary talk about health, clis-
ease, and death, one is often led to entertain a
doubt whether the speakers believe that the course
of natural causation runs as smoothly in the hu-
man bod}^ as elsewhere. Indications are too often
obvious of a strong, though perhaps an unavowed
and half unconscious, under-current of opinion
that the phenomena of life are not only widely
different, in their superficial characters and in
their practical importance, from other natural
events, but that they do not follow in that definite
order which characterises the succession of all
other occurrences, and the statement of which we
call a law of nature.

Hence, I think, arises the want of heartiness of
belief in the value of knowledge respecting the
laws of health and disease, and of the foresight
and care to which knowledge is the essential pre-
liminarv, which is so often noticeable; and a cor-
responding laxity and carelessness in practice, the
results of which are too frequently lamentable.

It is said that among the many religious sects
of Russia, there is one which holds that all disease
is brought alwut by the direct and special inter-
ference of the Deity, and which, therefore, looks
with repugnance upon both preventive and cura-
tive measures as alike blasphemous interferences
with the wdll of God. x\mong ourselves, the
" Peculiar People " are, I believe, the only persons
who hnld the like doctrine in its integrity, and

4 J

29G TXSTRUCTION IX PHYSIOLOGY xi

carry it out with logical rigour. But many of us
are old enough to recollect that the administration
of chloroform in assaugement of the pangs of
childbirth was, at its introduction, strenuously re-
sisted upon similar grounds.

I am not sure that the feeling, of which the
doctrine to which I have referred is the full ex-
pression, docs not lie at the bottom of the minds
of a great many people who yet would vigorously
object to give a verbal assent to the doctrine itself.
However this may be, the main point is that suifi-
cient knowledge has now been acquired of vital
phenomena, to justify the assertion, that the no-
tion, that there is anything exceptional about
these phenomena, receives not a particle of sup-
port from any known fact. On the contrary,
there is a vast and an increasing mass of evidence
that birth and death, health and disease, are as
much parts of the ordinary stream of events as tbe
rising and setting of the sun, or the changes of
tlie moon: and that the living body is a mechan-
ism, the proper working of which we term health;
its disturbance, disease; its stoppage, death. The
activity of this mechanism is dopoiiflcnt upon
many and complicated conditions, some of which
are hopelessly beyond our control, while others
are readily accessible, and are capable of being
indefinitelv modified bv our own actions. The
business of the hygienist and of the physician is
to know the range of these modifiable conditions,

XI INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY 297

and how to influence tliem towards the mainte-
nance of health and the prolongation of life; the
business of the general public is to give an intelli-
gent assent, and a ready obedience based upon
that assent, to the rules laid down for their guid-
ance by such experts. But an intelligent assent
is an assent based upon knowledge, and the knowl-
edge which is here in question means an acquaint-
ance with the elements of physiology.

It is not difficult to acquire such -knowledge.
What is true, to a certain extent, of all the phys-
ical sciences, is eminently characteristic of physi-
ology— the difficulty of the subject begins beyond
the stage of elementary knowledge, and increases
with every stage of progress. While the most
hif^hlv trained and the best furnished intellect
mav find all its resources insufficient, when it
strives to reach the heights and penetrate into the
depths of the problems of physiology, the elemen-
tary and fundamental truths can be made clear
to a child.

■ No one can have any difficulty in comprehend-
ing the mechanism of circulation or respiration;
or the general mode of operation of the organ of
vision; though the unravelling of all the minutise
of these processes, may, for the present, baffle the
conjoined attacks of the most accomplished ph3'Si-
cists, chemists, and mathematicians. To know the
anatomy of the human body, with even an ap-
proximation to thoroughness, is tlie work of a

29S INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY xi

life; but as much as is needed for a sound com-
prehension of elementary physiological truths, may
be learned in a week.

A knowledge of the elements of physiology is
not only easy of ac(|uirement, but it may be made
a real and practical acquaintance with the facts,
as far as it goes. The subject of study is always
at hand, in one's self. The principal constituents
of the skeleton, and the changes of form of con-
tracting muscles, may be felt through one's own
skin. The beating of one's heart, and its connec-
tion with the pulse, may be noted; the influence
of the valves of one's own veins may be shown;
the movements of respiration may be observed;
while tlie wonderful phenomena of sensation
afford an endless field for curious and interesting
self-study. The prick of a needle will yield, in a
drop of one's own blood, material for microscopic
observation of phenomena which he at the foun-
dation of all biological conceptions; and a cold,
with its concomitant coughing and sneezing, may
prove the sweet uses of adversity by helping one
to a clear conception of what is meant by " reflex
action."

Of course there is a limit to this physiological
self-examination. But there is so close a solidar-
ity between ourselves and our poor relations of
the animal world, that our inaccessible inward
parts may be supplemented by theirs. A com-
parative anat6mi^^t knows that a sheep's heart and

XI INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY 299

lungs^ or eye, must not be confounded with those
of a man; but, so far as the comprehension of the
elementary facts of the physiology of circulation,
of respiration, and of vision goes, the one fur-
nishes the needful anatomical data as well as the
other.

Thus, it is quite possible to give instruction in
elementary physiology in such a manner as, not
only to confer knowledge, which, for the reason I
have mentioned, is useful in itself; but to serve
the purposes of a training in accurate observation,
and in the methods of reasoning of physical sci-
ence. But that is an advantage w^hich I mention
only incidentally, as the present Conference does
not deal with education in the ordinary sense of
the word.

It will not be suspected that I wish to make
physiologists of all the world. It would be as
reasonable to accuse an advocate of the " three
li's " of a desire to make an orator, an author, and
a mathematician of everybody. A stumbling
reader, a pot-hook writer, and an arithmetician
who has not got beyond the rule of three, is not a
person of brilliant acquirements; but the differ-
ence between such a member of society and one
Avho can neither read, write, nor cipher is almost
inexpressible; and no one nowadays doubts the
value of instruction, even if it goes no farther.

The saying that a little knowledge is a danger-
ous thing is, to my mind, a very dangerous adage.

300 INSTKUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY xi

If knowledge is real and genuine, I do not believe
that it is other than a very valuable possession,
however infinitesimal its quantity may be. In-
deed, if a little knowledge is dangerous, where
is the man who has so much as to be out of
danger?

If William Harvey's life-long labours had re-
vealed to him a tenth part of that which may be
made sound and real knowledge to our boys and
girls, he would not only have been what he was,
the greatest physiologist of his age, but he would
have loomed upon the seventeenth century as a
sort of intellectual portent. Our " little knowl-
edge " would have been to him a great, astound-
ing, unlooked-for vision of scientific truth.

I reallv see no harm which can come of f2:ivin(T:
our children a little knowledge of physiology.
But then, as I have said, the instruction must be
real, based upon observation, eked out by good
explanatory diagrams and models, and conveyed
by a teacher whose own knowledge has been ac-
quired by a study of the facts; and not the mere
catechismal parrot-work which too often usurps
the place of elementary teaching.

It is, I hope, unnecessary for me to give a
formal contradiction to the silly fiction, which is
assiduously circulated by fanatics who not only
ought to know, but do know, that their assertions
are untrue, that I have advocated the introduction
of that experimental discipline which is absolutely

XI IXSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY 301

indispensable to the professed physiologist, into
elementary teaching.

But while I should object to any experimenta-
tion which can justly be called painful, for the
purpose of elementary instruction; and, while, as
a member of the late Roval Commission. I o^ladlv
did my best to prevent the infliction of needless
pain, for any purpose; I think it is my duty to
take this opportunity of expressing my regret at a
condition of the law which permits a boy to troll
for pike, or set lines with live-frog bait, for idle
amusement; and, at the same time, lays the
teacher of that boy open to the penalty of fine and
imprisonment, if he uses the same animal for the
purpose of exhibiting one of the most beautiful
and instructive of physiological spectacles, the cir-
culation in the web of the foot. No one could
undertake to affirm that a frosf is not inconven-
ienced by being wrapped up in a wet rag, and
having his toes tied out; and it cannot be denied
that inconvenience is a sort of pain. But 3'ou
must not inflict the least pain on a vertebrated
animal for scientific purposes (though you may
do a good deal in that way for gain or for sport)
without due licence of the Secretary of State for
the Home Department, granted under the author-
ity of the Vivisection Act.

So it comes about, that, in this present year of
grace 1877, two persons may be charged with
cruelty to animals. One has impaled a frog, and

302 INSTRUCTIOX IX PHYSIOLOGY xi

suffered the creature to writhe about in that con-
dition for hours; the other has pained the animal
no more than one of us would be pained by tyiui^
strings round his fingers, and keeping him in the
position of a hydropathic patient. The lirst of-
fender says " I did it because I find fishing very
amusing,'' and the magistrate bids him depart in
peace; nay, probably wishes him good sport. The
second pleads, " I wanted to impress a scientific
tnitli. witli a distinctness attainabk^ in no other
wav, on the minds of mv scholars," and the mag-
istrate fines him five pounds.

I cannot but think that this is an anomalous
and not wholly creditable state of things.

XII
ox MEDICAL EDUCATION"

[isro]

It has given me sincere pleasure to be here to-
Aaj, at the desire of your highly respected Presi-
dent and the Council of the College. In looking
back upon my own past, I am sorry to say that I
have found that it is a quarter of a century since
T took part in those hopes and in those fears by
which vou have all recentlv been ac^itated, and
wliich now are at an end. But, althouojh so lonj?
a time has elapsed since I was moved by the same
feelings, I beg leave to assure you that my sym-
pathy with both victors and vanquished remains
fresh — so fresh, indeed, that I could almost try
to persuade myself that, after all, it cannot be
so verv lono^ ao:o. Mv business durins; the last
hour, however, has been to show that sympathy
with one side only, and I assure you I have done

4

304 ON MEDICAL EDUCATION xii

my best to play my part heartily, and to rejoice
in the success of those who have succeeded. Still,
I should like to remind you at the end of it all,
that success on an occasion of this kind, valu-
able and inii)ortant as it is, is in reality only
putting the foot ui)on one rung of the ladder
which loads upwards; and that the rung of a lad-
der was never meant to rest upon, but only to
hold a man's foot long enough to enable him to
put the other somewhat higher. I trust that
you will all regard these successes as simi)ly re-
minders that your next business is, having en-
ioved the success of the dav, no lono;er to look at
that success, but to look forward to the next diffi-
culty that is to be conquered. And now, having
had so much to say to the successful candidates,
you must forgive me if I add that a sort of under-
current of sympathy has been going on in my
mind all the time for those who have not been
successful, for those valiant knights who have
been overthrown in vour tournev, and have not
made their ap])earance in public. I trust that,
in accordance with old custom, they, wounded and
bleeding, have been carried off to their tents, to
be carefully tended by the fairest of maidens;
and in these days, when the chances are that
every one of such maidens will be a qualified
practitioner, I have no doubt that all the splinters
will have been carefully extracted, and that they
are now physically healed. But there may re-

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 305

main some little fragment of moral or intellec-
tual discouragement, and therefore I will take
the liberty to remark that your chairman to-day,
if he occupied his proper place, would be among
them. Your chairman, in virtue of his position,
and for the brief hour that he occupies that po-
sition, is a person of importance; and it may be
some consolation to those who haye failed if I
say, that the quarter of a century which I haye
been speaking of, takes me back to the time when
I was up at the Uniyersity of London, a candidate
for honours in anatomy and physiology, and when
I was exceedingly well beaten by my excellent
friend. Dr. Eansom, of Xottingham. There is a
person here who recollects that circumstance yery
well. I refer to your venerated teacher and mine,
Dr. Sharpey. He was at that time one of the
examiners in anatomy and physiology, and you
may be quite sure that, as he was one of the
examiners, there remained not the smallest doubt
in my mind of the propriety of his judgment, and
I accepted my defeat with the most comfortable
assurance that I had thoroughly well earned it.
But, gentlemen, the competitor haying been a
worthy one, and the examination a fair one, I
cannot say that I found in that circumstance
anything very discouraging. I said to myself,
" Never mind; what's the next thing to be
done?" And I found that policy of "never
minding " and going on to the next thing to be

300 ON MEDICAL EDLX'ATION xii

done, to be the most important of all policies in
the conduct of practical life. It does not matter
how many tumbles you have in this life, so long
as you do not get dirty when you tumble; it is
only the people who have to stop to be washed
and made clean, who must necessarily lose the
race. And I can assure you that there is the
greatest practical benefit in making a few failures
early in life. You learn that which is of inesti-
mable importance — that tlierc are a great many
people in the world wlio are just as clever as you
are. You learn to put your trust, by and by, in
an economy and frugality of the exercise of your
powers, both moral and intellectual; and you very
soon find out, if you have not found it out before,
that patience and tenacity of purpose are worth
more than twice their weight of cleverness. In
fact, if I were to go on discoursing on this subject,
I should become almost eloquent in praise of non-
success; but, lest so doing should seem, in any
way, to wither well-earned laurels, I will turn
from that topic, and ask you to accompany me in
some considerations touching another subject
which has a very profound interest for me, and
which I think ought to have an equally profound
interest for vou.

I presume that the great majority of those
whom I address propose to devote themselves to
the profession of medicine; and I do not doubt,
from the evidences of abilitv which have been

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 307

given to-day, that I have before me a number of
men who will rise to eminence in that profession,
and who will exert a great and deserved influence
upon its future. That in which I am interested,
and about which I wish to speak, is the subject of
medical education, and I venture to speak about
it for the purpose, if I can, of influencing you,
who may have the power of influencing the med-
ical education of the future. You may ask, by
what authority do I venture, being a person not
concerned in the practice of medicine, to meddle
with that subject? I can only tell you it is a
fact, of wdiicli a number of you I dare say are
aware by experience (and I trust the experience
has no painful associations), that I have been for a
considerable number of years (twelve or thirteen
vears to the best of mv recollection) one of the
examiners in the University of London. You are
further aware that the men who come up to the
L'niversity of London are the picked men of the
medical schools of London, and therefore such
observations as I may have to make upon tlie
state of knowledge of these gentlemen, if they be
justified, in regard to any faults I may have to
find, cannot be held to indicate defects in the
capacity, or in the power of application of those
gentlemen, but must be laid, more or less, to the
account of the prevalent system of medical educa-
tion. I will tell you what has struck me — but in
speaking in this frank way, as one always docs

308 OX MEDICAL EDUCATION xii

about the defects of one's friends, I must beg you
to disabuse vour minds of the notion that I am
alluding to any particular school, or to any par-
ticular college, or to any particular person; and
to believe that if I am silent when I should be
glad to speak with high praise, it is because that
praise would come too close to this locality. What
has struck me, then, in this long experience of
the men best instructed in physiology from the
medical schools of London is (with the many and
brilliant exceptions to which I have referred),
taking it as a whole, and broadly, the singular
unreality of their knowledge of physiology. Xow,
I use that word "unreality" advisedly: I do not
say " scanty; " on the contrary, there is plenty of
it — a great deal too much of it — but it is the qual-
ity, the nature of the knowledge, which I quarrel
with. I know I used to have — I don't know
whether I have now, but I had once upon a time —
a had reputation among students for setting up a
very high standard of acquirement, and I dare say
you may think that the standard of this old exam-
iner, who happily is now very nearly an extinct
examiner, has been pitched too high. Xothing of
the kind, T assure you. The defects I have no-
ticed, and the faults I have to find, arise entirely
from the circumstance that my standard is pitched
too low. This is no paradox, gentlemen, but quite
simply the fact. The knowledge I have looked
for was a real, precise, thorough, and practical

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 309

knowledge of fundamentals; whereas that which
the best of the candidates, in a large proportion of
cases, have had to give me was a large, extensive,
and inaccurate knowledge of superstructure; and
that is what I mean by saying that my demands
went too low and not too high. What I have had
to complain of is, that a large proportion of the
gentlemen who come up for physiology to the
University of London do not know it as they know
their anatomy, and have not been taught it as they
have been taught their anatomy. Now, I should
not wonder at all if I heard a great many '^ No,
noes " here; but I am not talking about Univer-
sity College; as I have told you before, I am talk-
ing about the average education of medical schools.
What I have found, and found so much reason to
lament, is, that while anatomy has been taught as
a science ought to be taught, as a matter of au-
topsy, and observation, and strict discipline; in
a very large number of cases, physiology has been
taught as if it were a mere matter of books and of
hearsay. I declare to you, gentlemen, that I have
often expected to be told, when I have asked
a question about the circulation of the blood,
that Professor Breitkopf is of opinion that it cir-
culates, but that the whole thing is an open ques-
tion. I assure you that I am hardly exaggerat-
ing the state of mind on matters of fundamental
importance which I have found over and over
again to obtain among gentlemen coming up to

310 ON MEDICAL KDUCATION xu

that picked examination of the University of Lon-
don. Xow, 1 do not think that is a desirable
state of things. I cannot understand why physi-
ology should not be taught — in fact, you have
here abundant evidence that it can be taught —
with the same definiteness and the same precision
as anatomy is taught. And you may depend upon
this, that tlie only physiology which is to be of
any good whatever in medical practice, or in its
application to the study of medicine, is that physi-
ology which a man knows of his own knowledge;
just as the only anatomy which would be of any
good to the surgeon is the anatomy which he
knows of his own knowledge. Another peculiar-
ity I have found in the physiology which has
been current, and that is, that in the minds of
a great many gentlemen it has been supplanted
by histology. They have learnt a great deal of
histolocrv, and thev have fancied that histoloo-v
and physiology are the same things. I have asked
for some knowledge of the physics and the
mechanics and the chemistrv of the human bodv,
and I have been met by talk about cells. I de-
clare to you I believe it will take me two years,
at least, of absolute rest from the business of an
examiner to hear the word " cell," " germinal
matter," or " carmine," without a sort of inward
shudder.

Well, now, gentlemen, I am sure my colleagues
in tliis oxauiination will bear mc out in saying

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 311

til at I have not been exaggerating the evils and
defects which are current — have been current — in
a large quantity of the physiological teaching
the results of which come before examiners.
And it becomes a very interesting question to
know how all this comes about, and in what way
it can be remedied. How it comes about will be
perfectly obvious to any one who has considered
the growth of medicine. I suppose that medicine
and surgery first began by some savage more
intelligent than the rest, discovering that a certain
herb was good for a certain pain, and that a
certain pull, somehow or other, set a dislocated
joint right. I suppose all things had their
humble beginnings, and medicine and surgery
were in the same condition. People who wear
watches know nothing about watchmaking. A
watch goes wrong and it stops; you see the
owner giving it a sliake, or, if he is very bold, he
opens the case, and gives the balance-wheel a
push. Gentlemen, that is empirical practice, and
you know what are the results upon the watch.
I should think you can divine what are the results
of analogous operations upon the human body.
And because men of sense very soon found that
such were the effects of meddlfng with very com-
plicated machinery they did not understand, I
suppose the first thing, as being the easiest, was
to study the nature of the works of the human
watch, aufl tlie next thing was to study the way
80

312 ON MEDICAL EDUCATION xii

the parts worked together, and the way the watch
worked. Thus, by degrees, we have had growing
up our body of anatomists, or knowers of the con-
struction of the human watch, and our physiolo-
gists, who know how the machine works. And
just as any sensible man, who luis a valuable
watch, does not meddle with it himself, but goes
to some one who has studied watchmaking, and
understands what the effect of doing this or that
may be; so, I su])pose, the man who, having
charge of that valuable machine, his own body,
wants to have it kept in good order, comes to a
professor of the medical art for the purpose of
having it set right, believing that, by deduction
from the facts of structure and from the facts
of function, the physician will divine what may
be the matter with his bodily watch at that
particular time, and what may be the best means
of setting it right. If that may be taken as a
just representation of the relation of the theoreti-
cal branches of medicine — what wq may call the
institutes of medicine, to use an old term — to the
practical branches, I think it will be obvious to
you that they are of prime and fundamental
importance. Whatever tends to affect the teach-
ing of them injuriously must tend to destroy and
to disorganise the whole fal)ric of the medical art.
I think every sensible man has seen this long ago;
but the difficulties in the way of attaining good
teaching in the different branches of the theory,

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 3I3

or institutes, of medicine are very serious. It is a
comparatively easy matter — pray mark that I use
the word '^ comparatively '' — it is a comparatively
easy matter to learn anatomy and to teach it; it
is a very difficult matter to learn physiology and
to teach it. It is a very difficult matter to know
and to teach those branches of physics and those
branches of chemistry which bear directly upon
physiology; and hence it is that^ as a matter of
fact, the teaching of physiology, and the teaching
of the physics and the chemistry which bear upon
it, must necessarily be in a state of relative
imperfection; and there is nothing to be grumbled
at in the fact that this relative imperfection exists.
But is the relative imperfection which exists only
such as is necessary, or is it made worse by our
practical arrangements? I believe — and if I did
not so believe I should not have troubled you
with these observations — I believe it is made
infinitely worse by our practical arrangements,
or rather, I ought to say, our very unpractical
arrangements. Some very wise man long ago
afiirmed that every question, in the long run, was
a question of finance; and there is a good deal to
be said for that view. Most assuredly the question
of medical teaching is, in a very large and broad
sense, a question of finance. "What I mean is
this: that in London the arrangements of the
medical schools, and the number of them, are
such as to render it almost impossible that men

314 ON MEDICAL EDUCATION xn

Avlio confine themselves to the teaching of the
theoretical branches of the profession should be
able to make their bread by that operation; and,
you know, if a man cannot make his bread he
cannot teach — at least his teaching comes to a
speedy end. That is a matter of physiology.
Anatomy is fairly well taught, because it lies in
the direction of practice, and a man is all the
better surgeon for being a good anatomist. It
does not absolutely interfere with the pursuits of
a practical surgeon if he should hold a Chair of
Anatomy — though I do not for one moment say
that he would not be a better teacher if he did
not devote himself to practice. (Applause.) Yes,
I know exactly what that cheer means, but I am
keeping as carefully as possible from any sort
of allusion to Professor Ellis. But the fact is,
that even human anatomy has now grown to be
so large a matter, that it takes the whole devotion
of a man's life to put the great mass of knowledge
upon that subject into such a shape that it can
be teachable to the mind of the ordinary student.
"What the student wants in a professor is a man
who shall stand between him and the infinite
diversity and variety of human knowledge, and
who shall gather all that together, and extract
from it that which is capable of being assimilated
by the mind. That function is a vast and an
important one, and unless, in such subjects as
anatomy, a man is wholly free from other cares, it

XII ox MEDICAL EDUCATIOX 315

is almost impossible that he can perform it
thoroughly and well. But if it be hardly possible
for a man to pursue anatomy without actually
breaking with his profession, how is it possible for
him to pursue physiology?

I get every year those very elaborate reports of
Henle and Meissner — volumes of, I suppose, 400
pages altogether — and they consist merely of
abstracts of the memoirs and works which have
been written on Anatomy and Physiology — only
abstracts of them! How is a man to keep up his
acquaintance with all that is doing in the
physiological world — in a world advancing with
enormous strides every day and every hour — if
he has to be distracted with the cares of practice?
You know very well it must be impracticable to do
so. Our men of ability join our medical schools
with an eve to the future. Thev take the Chairs
of Anatomy or of Physiology; and by and by they
leave those Chairs for the more profitable pursuits
into which they have drifted by professional
success, and so they become clothed, and phys-
iology is bare. The result is, that in those
schools in which physiology is thus left to the
benevolence, so to speak, of those who have no
time to look to it, the effect of such teaching
comes out obviously, and is made manifest in
what I spoke of just now — the unreality, the
bookishness of the knowledge of the taught.
And if this is the case in physiology, still more

31G ON MEDICAL EDUCATION xir

must it be the case in those branches of physics
which are the foundation of physiology; although
it may be less the case in chemistry, because for
an able chemist a certain honourable and indcT
pendent career lies iu tlie direction of his work,
and he is able, like the anatomist, to look upon
what he may teach to the student as not abso-
lutely taking him away from his bread-winning
pursuits.

But it is of no use to grumble about this state
of things unless one is prepared to indicate some
sort of ])ractical remedy. And I believe — and 1
venture to make the statement because I am
wholly independent of all sorts of medical schools,
and may, therefore, say what I believe without
being supposed to be affected by any personal
interest — but I say I believe that the remedy for
this state of things, for that imperfection of our
theoretical knowledge which keeps down the
ability of England at the present time in medical
matters, is a mere affair of mechanical arrange-
ment; that so long as you have a dozen medical
schools scattered about in diff'erent parts of the
metropolis, and dividing the students among
them, so long, in all the smaller schools at any
rate, it is impossible that any other state of
things than that which I have been depicting
should obtain. Professors must live; to live they
must occupy themselves with practice, and if they
occupy themselves with practice, the pursuit of

XII ON MEDICAL EDbX'ATION 317

the abstract branches of science must go to the
wall. All this is a plain and obvious matter of
common-sense reasoning. I believe you will
never alter this state of things until, either by
consent or by force majeure — and I should be very
sorry to see the latter applied — but until there
is some new arrangement, and until all the
theoretical branches of the profession, the insti-
tutes of medicine, are taught in London in not
more than one or two, or at the outside three, cen-
tral institutions, no good will be effected. If that
large body of men, the medical students of
London, were obliged in the first place to get a
knowledge of the theoretical branches of their
profession in two or three central schools, there
would be abundant means for maintaining able
professors — not, indeed, for enriching them, as
they would be able to enrich themselves by
practice — but for enabling them to make that
choice which such men are so willing to make;
namely, the choice between wealth and a mod-
est competency, when that modest competency
is to be combined with a scientific career,
and the means of advancing knowledge. I do
not believe that all the talking about, and tin-
kering of, medical education will do the slight-
est good until the fact is clearly recognised,
that men must be thoroughly grounded in
the theoretical branches of their profession,
and that to this end the teaching of those theoret-

31S OX MEDICAL EDITATIOX xii

ical branches must be confined to two or three
centres.

Now let me add one other word, and that is,
that if I were a despot, I would cut down these
brandies to a very considerable extent. The next
thing to be done beyond that which I mentioned
just now, is to go back to primary education.
The great step towards a thorough medical educa-
tion is to insist upon the teaching of the elements
of the physical sciences in all schools, so that
medical students shall not go up to the medical
colleges utterly ignorant of that with which they
have to deal; to insist on the elements of chem-
istry, the elements of botany, and the elements of
physics being taught in our ordinary and common
schools, so that there shall be some preparation
for the discipline of medical colleges. And, if
this reform were once effected, you might coniinc
the " Institutes of Medicine " to ]ihysics as applied
to physiology — to chemistry as applied to physi-
ology— to physiology itself, and to anatomy.
Afterwards, the student, thoroughly grounded in
these matters, might go to any hospital he pleased
for the purpose of studying the practical branches
of his profession. The practical teaching might
be made as local as you like; and you might use
to advantage the opportunities afforded by all
these local institutions for acquiring a knowledge
of the practice of the profession. But you may say:
*' This is abolishing a great deal; you are getting

xiT ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 319

rid of botany and zoology to begin with." I have
not a doubt that they ought to be got rid of, as
branches of special medical education; they
ought to be put back to an earlier stage, and
made branches of general education. Let me say,
by way of self-denying ordinance, for which you
will, I am sure, give me credit, that I believe that
comparative anatomy ought to be absolutely
abolished. I sav so, not without a certain fear of
the Aace-Chancellor of the University of London
who sits upon my left. But I do not think the
charter gives him very much power over me;
moreover, I shall soon come to an end of my
examinership, and therefore I am not afraid, but
shall go on to say what I was going to say, and
that is, that in my belief it is a downright cruelty
— I have no other word for it — to require from
gentlemen who are engaged in medical studies,
tlie pretence — for it is nothing else, and can be
nothing else, than a pretence — of a knowledge of
comparative anatomy as part of their medical
curriculum. Make it part of their Arts teaching
if you like, make it part of their general education
if you like^ make it part of their qualification for
the scientific degree by all means — that is its
proper place; but to require that gentlemen whose
whole faculties should be bent upon the acquire-
ment of a real knowledge of human physiology
should worry themselves with getting up hearsay
about the alternation of generations in the Salpas

320 OX MEDICAL EDUCATION xii

is really monstrous. I cannot characterise it in
any other way. And having sacrificed my own
pursuit, I am sure 1 may sacrifice other people's;
and I make this remark with all the more willing-
ness because 1 discovered, on reading the names
of your ]*rofessors just now, that the Professor of
Materia ^ledica is not ])resent. I must confess, if
I had my way I should abolish Materia Medica *
altogether. J recollect, when I was first under
examination at the T'nivcrsitv of London, Dr.
Pereii'M \\;is the examiner, and you know tliat
]\'reira's "Materia Medica" was a book de onmi-
hus rebus. 1 recollect my struggles with that
book late at night and early in the morning (I
worked very hard in those days), and I do believe
that I got that book into my head somehow or
other, but then I will undertake to say that I for-
got it all a week afterwards. Not one trace of a
knowledge of drugs has remained in my memory
from that time to this; and really, as a matter
of common sense, I cannot understand the argu-
ments for obliging a medical man to know all about
drugs and where they come from. AVhy not make
him belong to the Iron and Steel Institute, and
learn something about cutlery, because he uses
knives?

But do not suppose that, after all these deduc-
tions, there would not be ample room for your

* It will, I liojio, ])o \inflorstood that 1 do not include
Therapeutics under tliis head.

XII ON MEDICAL EDUCATION 321

activity. Let us count up what we have left. I
suppose all the time for medical education that
can be hoped for is, at the outside, about four
years. Well, what have you to master in those
four years upon my supposition? Physics applied
to physiology; chemistry applied to physiology;
physiology; anatomy; surgery; medicine (includ-
ing therapeutics); obstetrics; hygiene; and medi-
cal jurisprudence — nine subjects for four years!
And when you consider what those subjects are,
and tliat the acquisition of anything beyond the
rudiments of any one of them may tax tlie en-
ergies of a lifetime, I think that even those ener-
gies which you young gentlemen have been dis-
playing for the last hour or two might be taxed to
keep you thoroughly up to what is wanted for
your medical career.

I entertain a verv strono; conviction that anv
one who adds to medical education one iota or
tittle beyond what is absolutely necessary, is guilty
of a very grave offence. Gentlemen, it will de-
pend U]Kjn the knowledge that you happen to
possess, — upon your means of applying it within
your own field of action, — whether the bills of
mortality in your district are increased or dimin-
ished; and that, gentlemen, is a very serious con-
sideration indeed. And, under those circum-
stances, the subjects with which you have to deal
being so difficult, their extent so enormous, and
the time at your disposal so limited, I could not

322 ON MEDICAL EDUCATION xii

feel my conscience easy if I did not, on such an
occasion as this, raise a protest against employing
your energies upon the acquisition of any knowl-
edge which may not be absolutely needed in your
future career.

XIII

THE STATE AND THE MEDICAL
PKOFESSION"

[1884]

At intervals during the last quarter of a cen-
tury committees of the Houses of the Legislature
and specially appointed commissions have occu-
pied themselves with the affairs of the medical
profession. Much evidence has been taken, much
wrangling has gone on over the reports of these
bodies; and sometimes much trouble has been
taken to get measures based upon all this work
through Parliament, but very little has been
achieved.

The Bill introduced last session was not more
fortunate than several predecessors. I suppose
that it is not right to rejoice in the misfortunes of
anything, even a Bill: but I confess that this
event afforded me lively satisfaction, for I was a
member of the Eoyal Commission on the report

323

324 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

of which the Bill was founded, and I did my best
to oppose and nullify that report.

That the question must be taken up again
and linally dealt with by the Legislature before
long cannot be doubted; but in the meanwhile
there is time for reflection, and 1 think that the
non-medical public would be wise if they paid a
lilile attention to a subject which is really of con-
siderable importance to them.

The first question which a plain man is dis-
posed to ask himself is, Why should the State in-
terfere with the profession of medicine any more
than it docs, say, with the profession of engineer-
ing? Anybody who pleases may cull himself an
engineer, and many practice as such. The State
confers no title upon engineers, and does not pro-
fess to tell the public that one man is a qualilicd
engineer and that another is not so.

The answers which are given to the question
are various, and most of them, I think, are bad.
A large number of persons seem to be of opinion
that the State is bound no less to take care of the
general public, than to see that it is protected
against incompetent persons, against quacks and
medical impostors in general. I do not take that
view of the case. I think it is very much whole-
somer for the public to take care of itself in this
as in all other matters; and although I am not
such a fanatic for the liberty of the subject as to
plead that interfering with the way in which a

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 325

man may choose to be killed is a violation of that-
liberty, yet I do think that it is far better to
let everybody do as he likes. Whether that be so
or not, I am perfectly certain that, as a matter of
practice, it is absolutely impossible to prohibit the
practice of medicine by people who have no spe-
cial qualification for it. Consider the terrible con-
sequences of attempting to prohibit practice by a
very large class of persons who are certainly not
technically qualified — ^^I am far from saying a word
as to whether they are otherwise qualified or not.
The number of Ladies Bountiful — grandmothers,
aunts, and mothers-in-law — whose chief delight
lies in the administration of their cherished pro-
vision of domestic medicine, is past computation,
and one shudders to think of what might happen
if their energies were turned from this innocuous,
if not beneficent channel, by the strong arm of the
law. But the thing is impracticable.

Another reason for intervention is propounded,
I am sorry to sa}', by some, though not many,
members of the medical profession, and is simply
an expression of that trades unionism which tends
to infest professions no less than trades.

The general practitioner trying to make both
ends meet on a poor practice, whose medical train-
ing has cost him a good deal of time and money,
finds that many potential patients, whose small
fees would be welcome as the little that helps,
prefer to go and get their shilling's worth of " doc-

326 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

tor's stuff " and advice from the chemist and drug-
gist round the corner, who has not paid sixpence
for his medical training, because he has never
had any.

The general practitioner thinks this is very
hard upon him and ought to be stopped. It is
perhaps natural that he should think so, though
it would be very difficult for him to justify his
opinion on any ground of public policy. But the
question is really not worth discussion, as it is ob-
vious that it would be utterly impracticable to
stop the practice " over the counter " even if it
were desirable.

Is a man who has a sudden attack of pain
in tooth or stomach not to be permitted to go to
the nearest druggist's shop and ask for something
that will relieve him? The notion is preposterous.
But if this is to be legal, the whole principle of the
permissibility of counter practice is granted.

In my judgment the intervention of the State
in the afl'airs of the medical profession can be jus-
tified not upon any ])retence of protecting the pub-
lic, and still less upon that of protecting tlie med-
ical profession, but simply and solely upon the fact
that the State employs medical men for certain
purposes, and, as employer, has a right to define
the conditions on which it will accept service. It
is for the interest of the community that no person
shall die without there being some official recogni-
tion of tlie cause of his death. It is a matter of

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 327

ihe highest importance to the community that, in
civil and criminal cases, the law shall be able to
have recourse to persons whose evidence may be
taken as that of experts; and it will not be
doubted that the State has a right to dictate the
conditions under which it will appoint persons
to the vast number of naval^ military, and civil
medical othces held directlv or indirectlv under
the Government. Here, and here only, it appears
to me, lies the justification for the intervention
of the State in medical affairs. It says, or, in
my judgment, should say, to the public, " Prac-
tice medicine if you like — go to be practised upon
by anybody; " and to the medical practitioner,
" Have a qualification, or do not have a cjualifica-
tion, if people don^t mind it; but if the State is to
receive your certificate of death, if the State is to
take your evidence as that of an expert, if the
State is to give you any kind of civil, or military,
or naval appointment, tlien we can call upon you
to comply witli our conditions, and to ])roduce
evidence that you are, in our sense of tlie word,
qualified. Without that we will not place you
in that position." As a matter of fact, that is the
relation of the State to the medical profession in
this country. For my part, I think it an extreme-
ly healthy relation; and it is one that I should be
very sorry to see altered, except in so far that it
would certainly be better if greater facilities were

given for the swift and sliarp punishment of those
81

32S STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

who profess to liavc the State qualification when,
in point of fact, they do not possess it. They are
simply cheats and swindlers, like otlier people who
profess to be wliat they are not, and should be pun-
ished as such.

But sup])osing we are agreed about the justi-
fication of State intervention in medical all'airs,
new questions arise as to the manner in which
that intervention should take place and the extent
to which it should go, on which the divergence of
opinion is even greater than it is on the general
question of intervention.

It is now. I am sorry to say, something over
forty years since I began my medical studies; and,
at that time, the state of affairs was extremely
singular. I should think it hardly possible that
it could have obtained an v where but in such a
country as England, which cherishes a fine old
crusted abuse as much as it does its port wine.
At that time there were twentv-one licensins^
bodies — that is to say, bodies whose certificate
was received bv the State as evidence that the
persons who possessed that certificate were medical
experts. How these bodies came to possess these
powers is a very curious chapter in history, in
which it would be out of place to enlarge. They
were partly universities, partly medical guilds and
corporations, partly the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Those were the three sources from which the
licence to practise came in that day. There was

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROGRESSION 329

no central authority^ there was nothing to pre-
vent any one of those Hcensing authorities from
granting a Kcence to any one npon any conditions
it thought fit. Tlie examination might he a sham,
the curricu]um might be a sham, the certificate
might be bought and sold like anything in a shop;
or, on the other hand, the examination might
be fairly good and the diploma correspondingly
valuable; but there was not the smallest guaran-
tee, except the personal character of the people
who composed the administration of each of these
licensing bodies, as to what might happen. It
was possible for a young man to come to London
and to spend two years and six months of the
time in his compulsory three years " walking the
hospitals " in idleness or .worse; he could then,
b}^ putting himself in the hands of a judicious
" grinder ^' for the remaining six months, pass tri-
umphantly through the ordeal of one hour's viva
voce examination, which was all that was abso-
lutelv necessarv, to enable him to be turned loose
upon the public, like death on the pale horse,
" conquering and to conquer," with the full sanc-
tion of the law, as a "" qualified practitioner."

It is difficult to imagine, at present, such a
state of things, still more difficult to depict the
consequences of it, because they would appear like
a gross and malignant caricature; but it may be
said that there was never a system, or want of
svstem, which was better calculated to ruin the

330 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

students who came under it, or to degrade the pro-
fession as a whole. My memory goes back to a
time when models from whom the Bob Sawyer of
the Pickwick Papers might have been drawn were
anything but rare.

Shortly before my student days, however, the
dawn of a better state of things in England began
to be visible, in consequence of the establishment
of the University of London, and the compara-
tively very high standard which it placed before
its medical uraduates.

I say comparatively high standard, for the re-
quirements of the University in those days, and
even during the twelve years at a later period,
when I was one of the examiners of the medical
facultv, were such as would not now be thou^^iit
more than respectable, and indeed were in many
respects very imperfect. But, relatively to the
means of learning, the standard was high, and
none but the more able and ambitious of the
students dreamed of passing the University.
Nevertheless, the fact that many men of this
stamp did succeed in obtaining their degrees, led
others to follow in their steps, and slowly but
surely reacted upon the standard of teaching in
the better medical schools. Then came the
Medical Act of 1858. That Act introduced two
immense improvements: one of tliem was the in-
stitution of what is called the Medical Register,
upon which the names of all jiersons recognised

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 331

b}' the State as medical j)ractitioners are entered;
and the other was the establishment of the
Medical Council, which is a kind of Medical
Parliament, composed of representatives of the
licensing bodies and of leading men in the medical
profession nominated by the Crown. The powers
given by the Legislature to the ]\Iedical Council
were found practically to be very limited, but I
think that no fair observer of the work will doubt
that this much attacked body has excited no small
influence in bringing about the great change for
the better, which has been effected in the train-
ing of men for the medical profession within my
recollection.

Another source of improvement must be recog-
nised in the Scottish Universities, and especially
in the medical facultv of the Universitv of Edin-
burgh. The medical education and examinations
of this body were for many years the best of their
kind in these islands, and I doubt if, at the pres-
ent moment, the three kingdoms can show a bet-
ter school of medicine than that of Edinburgh.
The vast number of medical students at that Uni-
versity is sufficient evidence of the opinion of
those most interested in this subject.

Owing to all these influences, and to the revo-
lution which has taken place in the course of the
last twenty years in our conceptions of the proper
method of teaching physical science, the training
of tlie medical student in a good school, and the

332 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

examination test applied by the great majority of
the present licensing bodies, reduced now to nine-
teen, in consequence of the retirement of the
Archbishop and the fusion of two of the other
licensing bodies, are totally different from what
thev were even twenty years a^fo.

I was perfectly astonished, upon one of my
sons commencing his medical career the other day,
when I contrasted the carefully- watched courses
of theoretical and practical instruction, which he
is expected to folloAv with regularity and industry,
and the number and nature of the examinations
which he will have to pass before he can receive
his licence, not only with the monstrous laxity of
mv own student days, but even with the state of
things which obtained when my term of office as
examiner in the University of London expired
some sixteen years a^ro.

I have no hesitation in expressing the opinion,
which is fully borne out by the evidence taken
before the late Eoyal Commission, that a large
proportion of the existing licensing bodies grant
their licence on conditions which ensure .quite as
high a standard as it is practicable or advisable to
exact under present circumstances, and that they
show every desire to keep pace with the improve-
ments of the times. And I think there can be
no doubt that the great majority have so much
improved their ways, that their standard is far
above that of the ordinary qualilication thirty

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 333

years ago, and I cannot see what excuse there
would be for meddling with them if it were not
for two other defects which have to be reme-
died.

Unfortunately there remain two or three black
sheep — licensing bodies which simply trade upon
their privilege, and sell the cheapest wares they
can for shame's sake supply to the bidder. An-
other defect in the existing system, even where
the examination has been so greatly improved as
to be good of its kind, is that there are certain
licensing bodies which give a qualification for an
acquaintance with either medicine or surgery
alone, and which more or less ignore obstetrics.
This is a revival of the archaic condition of the
profession when surgical operations were mostly
left to the barbers and obstetrics to the mid-
wives, and when the physicians thought them-
selves, and were considered by the world, the
" superior persons " of the profession. I remem-
ber a story was current in my young days of a
great court physician who was travelling with a
friend, like himself, bound on a visit to a country
house. The friend fell down in an apoplectic fit,
and the physician refused to bleed him because
it was contrary to professional etiquette for a
physician to perform that operation. Whether
the friend died or whether he got better because
he was not bled I do not remember, but the moral
of the storv is the same. On the other hand, a

3a4:^TATE AND THE MEDICAL rUUEESfelUN xiii

famous surgeon Avas asked wliether he meant to
bring up his son to his own calling, " Xo/' he
said, " he is sucli a fool, I mean to make a physi-
cian of him."

Nowadays, it is happily recognised that medi-
cine is one and indivisible, and that no one can
properly practise one branch who is not familiar
with at any rate the principles of all. Thus the
two great things that are wanted now are, in the
first place, some means of enforcing such a degree
of uniformity upon all the examining bodies that
none should present a disgracefully low minimum
or pass examination; and the second point is that
some body or other shall have the power of en-
forcing upon every candidate for the licence to
practise the study of the three branches, what
is called the tripartite qualification. All the mem-
bers of the late commission were agreed that these
were the main points to be attended to in any
proposals for the further improvement of medical
training and qualification.

But such being the ends in view, our notions
as to the best way of attaining them were singu-
larly divergent; so that it came about that eleven
commissioners made seven reports. There was
one main majority report and six minor reports,
which differed more or less from it, chiefly as to
the best method of attaining these two objects.

Tlie majority report recommended the adop-
tion of what is known as the conjoint scheme.

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 335

According to this plan the power of granting a
licence to practise is to be taken away from all
the existing bodies, whether they have done well
or ill, and to be placed in the hands of a body
of delegates (divisional boards), one for each of
the three kingdoms. The licence to practise is to
be conferred by passing the delegate examination.
The licensee may afterwards, if he pleases, go
before any of the existing bodies and indulge in
the luxury of another examination and the pay-
ment of another fee in order to obtain a title,
which does not legally place him in any better po-
sition than that which he would occupy without it.

Under these circumstances, of course, the only
motive for obtaining the degree of a University or
the licence of a medical corporation would be
the prestige of these bodies. Hence the " black
sheep " would certainly be deserted, while those
bodies which have acquired a reputation by doing
their duty would sutler less.

But, as the majority report proposes that the
existing bodies should be compensated for any loss
they might suffer out of the fees of the examiners
for the State licence, the curious result would be
brought about that the profession of the future
would be taxed, for all time, for the purpose of
handing over to wholly irresponsible bodies a sum,
the amount of which would be large for those
who had failed in their duty and small for those
who had done it.

336 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

The scheme in fact involved a perpetual en-
dowment of the " black sheep/' calculated on the
maximum of their ill-<j,aine(l profits.* I confess
that 1 found myself unable to consent to a plan
which, in addition to tlie rewardin^T the evil doors,
proposed to take away the privilofijes of a num-
ber of examining bodies which confessedly were
doing their duty well, for the sake of getting
rid of a few who had failed. It was too much
like the Chinaman's device of burning down his
house to obtain a poor dish of roast pig — uncer-
tain whether in the end he might not find a mere
mass of cinders. What we do know is that the
great majority of the existing licensing bodies
have marvellously improved in the course of the
last twenty years, and are improving. What we
do not know is that the complicated scheme of
the divisional boards will ever be got to work
at all.

^ly own belief is that every necessary reform
may be alt'ected, without any interference with
vested interests, without any unjust interference

witli the prestige of institutions which have been,

•

* The fees to be pniM by cnnrii<lates for n<ltnission to the
examinations of the Divisional Board should bo of such an
amount as will be siifTicipnt to cover the cost of the exami-
nations and the other expenses of the Divisional Board,
and (iIko to provide the aum required to roynpennnte the rned-
iral nufhorities, or aurh of fhem nft mny he entitled to cowpen-
ftatio7i. for <n\y per^iniarii losf^eft thej/ may hereafter sustain
hi/ reason of the abolition of their privilege of conferri}ig a
licence to practise. Report 50. p. xii.

xiii STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 337

and still are, extremely valuable, without any ques-
tion of compensation arising, and by an extremely
simple operation. It is only necessary in fact to
add a couple of clauses to the Medical Act to
this effect: (1) That from and after such a date
no person shall be placed upon the Medical Reg-
ister unless he possesses the threefold qualifica-
tion. (2) That from and after this date no ex-
amination shall be accepted as satisfactory from
any licensing body except such as has been carried
on in part by examiners appointed by the licens-
ing body, and in part by coadjutor-examiners of
equal authority appointed by the Medical Council
or other central authority, and acting under their
instructions.

In la3dng down a rule of this kind the State
confiscates nothing, and meddles with nobody,
but simply acts within its undoubted right of
laying down the conditions under which it will
confer certain privileges upon medical practi-
tioners. Xo one can say that the State has not
the right to do this; no one can say that the
Sate interferes with any private enterprise or
corporate interest unjustly, in laying down its
own conditions for its own service. The plan
would have the further advantage that all those
corporate bodies which have obtained (as many of
them have) a great and just prestige by the ad-
mirable wav in wliich thev have done their work,
would reap their just reward in the thronging

33S^TATE AND THE JVIEDICAL PltOFESSlUN xni

of students, thenceforward as formerly, to ob-
tain their qualifications; while those who have
neglected their duties, who have in some one or
two cases, 1 am sorrv to sav, absolutelv disgraced
themselves, would sink into oblivion, and come
to a happy and natural euthanasia, in which their
misdeeds and themselves would be entirely for-
gotten.

Two of my colleagues, Professor Turner and
Mr. Bryce, M. P., whose practical familiarity with
examinations gave their opinions a high value, ex-
pressed their substantial approval of this scheme,
and I am unable to see the weight of the objec-
tions urged against it. It is urged that the diffi-
culty and expense of adequately inspecting so
many examinations and of guaranteeing their effi-
ciency would be great, and the difficulty in the
way of a fair adjustment of the representation of
existing interests and of the representation of new
interests upon the general ^ledical Council would
be almost insuperable.

The latter objection is unintelligible to me. I
am not aware that any attempt at such adjustment
has been fairly discussed, and until that has been
done it may be well not to talk about insuperable
difficulties. As to the notion that there is any
difficulty in getting the coadjutor-examiners, or
that the expense will be overwhelming, we have
the experience of Scotland, in which every Uni-
versity does, at the present time, appoint its coad-

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 339

JLitor-examiners, who do their work just in the
way proposed.

Whether in the way I have proposed, or by
the Conjoint Scheme, however, this is perfectly
certain: the two things I refer to have to be
done: you must have the threefold qualification;
you must have the limitation of the minimum
qualification also; and any scheme for the im-
provement of the relations of the State to
medicine which does not profess to do these two
things thoroughly and well, has no chance of
finality.

But when these reforms are witnessed, w^hen
there is a Medical Council armed with a more
real authority than it at present possesses; when
a licence to practise cannot be obtained without
the threefold qualification; and when an even
minimum of qualification is exacted for every li-
cence, is there an3'thing else that remains that
any one seriously interested in the welfare of the
medical profession, as I may most conscientiously
declare myself to be, would like to see done? I
think there are three things.

In the first place, even now, when a four years'
curriculum is required, the time allotted for
medical education is too brief. ^ A young man of
eighteen beginning to study medicine is probably
absolutely ignorant of the existence of such a
thing as anatomy, or physiology, or indeed of any
branch of physical science. He comes into an

340 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

entirely new world: he addresses himself to a kind
of work of which he lias not the smallest ex-
perience. Up to that time his work has been
with books; he rushes suddenly into work with
things, which is as dill'erent from work with books
as anything can well be. I am quite sure that a
very considerable number of young men s})end a
very large portion of their first session in simply
learning how to learn subjects which are entirely
new to them. And yet recollect that in this
period of four years they have to acquire a
knowledge of all the branches of a great and re-
sponsible practical calling of medicine, surger\%
obstetrics, general pathology, medical jurispru-
dence, and so forth. Anybody who knows what
these things are, and who knows what is the kind
of work which is necessary to give a man the
confidence which will enable him to stand at the
bedside and say to the satisfaction of his own
conscience what shall be done, and what shall not
be done, must be aware that if a man has only
four years to do all that in he will not have much
time to spare. But that is not all. As I have
said, the young man comes up, probably ignorant
of the existence of science; he has never heard a
word of chcmistrv, he has never heard a word of
physics, he has not the smallest conception of the
outlines of biological science; and all these things
have to be learned as well and crammed into the
time which in itself is barely sufficient to acquire

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 34I

a fair amount of that knowledge which is requisite
for the satisfactory- discharge of liis professional
duties.

Therefore it is quite clear to me that, somehow
or other, the curriculum must be lightened. It
is not that any of the subjects which I have
mentioned need not to be studied, and may be
eliminated. The onlv alternative therefore is to
lengthen the time given to study. Everybody
will agree with me that the practical necessities
of life in this country are such that, for the aver-
age medical practitioner at any rate, it is hope-
less to think of extending the period of profes-
sional study beyond the age of twenty-two. So
that as the period of study cannot be extended for-
wards, the only thing to be done is to extend it
backwards.

The question is how this can be done. My
own belief is that if the Medical Council, instead
of insisting upon that examination in general edu-
cation which I am sorry to sa}' I believe to be
entirely futile, were to insist upon a knowledge of
elementary physics, and chemistry, and biology,
they would be taking one of the greatest steps
which at present can be made for the improvement
of medical education. And "^ the improvement
would be this. The great majority of the young
men who " are going into the profession have
practically completed their general education — or
they might very well have done so — by the age

342 STATE AND Till: MEDICAL PKOFESSION xiii

of sixteen or seventeen. If the interval between
this age and that at which they commence their
purely medical studies wore employed in obtaining
a practical acquaintance with elementary physics,
chemistry, and biology, in my judgment it would
be as good as two years added to the course of
medical study. And for two reasons: in the
first place, because the subject-matter of that
which they would learn is germane to their
future studies, and is so much gained; in the
second place, because you might clear out of the
course of their professional study a great deal
which at present occupies time and attention; and
last, but not least — probably most — they would
then come to their medical studies prepared for
that learning from Xature which is what they
have to do in the course of beconuno- skilful med-
ical men, and for which at present they are not
in the slightest degree prei)ared by their previous
education.

The second wish I have to express concerns
London especially, and I may speak of it briefly
as a more economical use of the teaching power
in the medical schools. At this present time
every great hos})ital in London — and there are
ten or eleven of them — has its complete medical
school, in which not only are the branches of
practical medicine taught, but also those studies
in general science, such as chemistry, elementary
physics, general anatomy, and a variety of other

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 343

topics which are what used to be called (and the
term was an extremely useful one) the institutes
of medicine. That was all very well half a cen-
tury ago; it is all very ill now, simply because
those general branches of science, such as anat-
omy, physiology, chemistry, physiological chemis-
try, physiological physics, and so forth, have now
become so large, and the mode of teaching them
is so completely altered, that it is absolutely im-
possible for any man to be a thoroughly com-
petent teacher of them, or for any student to be
effectually taught without the devotion of the
whole time of the person who is engaged in teach-
ing. I undertake to say that it is hopelessly im-
possible for any man at the present time to keep
abreast with the progress of physiology unless he
gives his whole mind to it; and the bigger the
mind is, the more scope he will find for its em-
ployment. Again, teaching has become, and must
become still more, practical, and that also involves
a large expenditure of time. But if a man is to
give his whole time to my business he must live
by it, and the resources of the schools do not per-
mit them to maintain ten or eleven physiological
specialists.

If the students in their first one or two years
were taught the institutes of medicine, in two or
three central institutions, it would be perfectly
easy to have those subjects taught thoroughly and

effectually by persons who gave their whole mind

'82

344: STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

and attention to the subject; while at the same
time the medical schools at the hospitals would
remain what they ought to be — great institutions
in which the largest possible opportunities are
laid open for acquiring practical acquaintance
with the phenomena of disease. So that the pre-
liminary or earlier half of medical education
would take place in the central institutions, and
the final half would be devoted altogether to prac-
tical studies in the hospitals.

I happen to know that this conception has
been entertained, not only by myself, but by a
great many of those persons who are most inter-
ested in the improvement of medical study for a
considerable number of years. I do not know
whether anything will come of it this half-century
or not; but the thing has to be done. It is not a
speculative notion; it lies patent to everybody who
is accustomed to teaching, and knows what the
necessities of teaching are; and I should very
much like to see the first step taken — people mak-
ing up their minds that it has to be done somehow
or other.

The last point to which I may advert is one
which concerns the action of the profession itself
more than anything else. "We have arrangements
for teaching, we have arrangements for the test-
ing of qualifications, we have marvellous aids and
appliances for the treatment of disease in all sorts
of ways; but I do not find in London at the pres-

XIII STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 345

ent time, in this little place of four or five million
inhabitants which supports so many things, any
organisation or any arrangement for advancing
the science of medicine, considered as a pure sci-
ence. I am c[uite aware that there are medical
societies of various kinds; I am not ignorant of
the lectureships at the College of Physicians and
the College of Surgeons; there is the Brown In-
stitute; and there is the Society for the Advance-
ment of Medicine by Research, but there is no
means, so far as I know, by which any person who
has the inborn gifts of the investigator and dis-
coverer of new truth, and who desires to apply
that to the improvement of medical science, can
carry out his intention. In Paris there is the Uni-
versity of Paris, which gives degrees; but there
are also the Sorbonne and the College de France,
places in which professoriates are established for
the express purpose of enabling men who have the
power of investigation, the power of advancing
knowledge and thereby reacting on practice, to do
that which it is their special mission to do. I do
not know of anything of the kind in London; and
if it should so happen that a Claude Bernard or
a Ludwig should turn up in London, I really have
not the slightest notion of what we could do with
him. We could not turn him to account, and I
think we should have to export him to Germany
or France. I doubt whether that is a good or a
wise condition of things. I do not think it is a

346 STATE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION xiii

condition of things which can exist for any great
length of time, now that people are every day be-
coming more and more awake to the importance
of scientific investigation and to the astounding
and unexpected manner in which it everywhere
reacts upon practical pursuits. I should look
upon the establishment of some institution of that
kind as a recognition on the part of the medical
profession in general, that if their great and be-
neficent work is to be carried on, they must, like
other people who have great and beneficent work
to do, contribute to the advancement of knowl-
edge in the only way in which experience shows
that it can be advanced.

XIY

THE CONNECTION OF THE BIOLOGICAL
SCIENCES WITH MEDICINE

[1881]

The great body of theoretical and practical
knowledge which has been accumulated by the
labours of some eighty generations, since the dawn
of scientific thought in Europe, has no collective
English name to which an objection may not be
raised; and I use the term " medicine " as that
which is least likely to be misunderstood; though,
as every one knows, the name is commonly ap-
"olied, in a narrower sense, to one of the cliief di-
visions of the totality of medical science.

Taken in this broad sense, " medicine " not
merely denotes a kind of knowledge, but it com-
prehends the various applications of that knowl-
edge to the alleviation of the sufferings, the repair

of the injuries; and the conservation of the health,

847

348 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

of living beings. In fact, the practical aspect of
medicine so far dominates over every other, that
the " Healing Art " is one of its most widely-re-
ceived synonyms. It is so difficult to think of
medicine otherwise than as somethinc: which is
necessarily connected with curative treatment, that
we are apt to forget that there nmst be, and is, such
a thing as a pure science of medicine — a " pathol-
ogy " which has no more necessary subservience
to practical ends than has zoology or botany.

The logical connection between this purely
scientific doctrine of disease, or pathology, and
ordinary biology, is easily traced. Living matter
is characterised by its innate tendency to exhibit a
definite series of the morphological and physio-
logical phenomena which constitute organisation
and life. Given a certain range of conditions, and
these phenomena remain the same, within narrow
limits, for each kind of living thing. They fur-
nish the normal and typical character of the spe-
cies, and, as such, they are the subject-matter of
ordinary biolo^jv.

Outside the range of these conditions, the nor-
mal course of the cycle of vital phenomena is dis-
turbed; abnormal structure makes its appearance,
or the proper character and mutual adjustment of
the functions cease to be preserved. The extent
and the importance of these deviations from the
typical life may vary indefinitely. They may have
no noticeable influence on the general well-being

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 349

of the economy, or they may favour it. On the
other hand, they may be of such a nature as to
impede the activities of the organism, or even to
involve its destruction.

In the first case, these perturbations are ranged
under the wide and somewhat vague category of
" variations "; in the second, they are called le-
sions, states of poisoning, or diseases; and, as mor-
bid states, they lie within the province of pathol-
ogy. No sharp line of demarcation can be drawn
between the two classes of phenomena. No one
can say where anatomical variations end and tu-
mours begin, nor where modification of function,
which may at first promote health, passes into dis-
ease. All that can be said is, that whatever change
of structure or function is hurtful belongs to pa-
thology. Hence it is obvious that pathology is a
branch of biology; it is the morphology,- the physi-
ology, the distribution, the aetiology of abnormal
life.'^

However obvious this conclusion may be now,
it was nowise apparent in the infancy of medicine.
For it is a peculiarity of the physical sciences that
they are independent in proportion as they are
imperfect; and it is only as they advance that the
bonds which really unite them all become appar-
ent. Astronomy had no manifest connection with
terrestrial physics before the publication of the
''' Principia "; that of chemistr}'- with physics is
of still more modern revelation; that of physics

350 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

and chemistry with i)hysiology, has been stoutly
denied within the recollection of most of us, and
perhaps still may be.

Or, to take a case which affords a closer paral-
lel with that of medicine. Agriculture has been
cultivated from the earliest times, and, from a re-
mote antiquity, men have attained consideraljlc
practical skill in the cultivation of the useful
plants, and have empirically established many sci-
entific truths concerning the conditions under
which they flourish. But, it is within the memory
of many of us, that chemistry on the one hand,
and vegetable physiology on the other, attained a
stage of development such that they were able to
furnish a sound basis for scientific agriculture.
Similarly, medicine took its rise in the practical
needs of mankind. At first, studied without ref-
erence to any other branch of knowledge, it long
maintained, indeed still to some extent maintains,
that independence. Historically, its connection
with the biological sciences has been slowly estab-
lished, and the full extent and intimacy of that
connection are only now beginning to be ajiparent.
I trust I have not been mistaken in supposing that
an attempt to give a brief sketch of the steps by
which a pliilosophical necessity has become an
historical realit}', may not be devoid of interest,
possibly of instruction, to the members of this
great Congress, profoundly interested as all are in
the scientific development of medicine.

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 351

The histor}'- of medicine is more complete and
fuller than that of any other science, except, per-
haps, astronomy; and, if we follow back the long
record as far as clear evidence lights ns, we find
ourselves taken to the early stages of the civilisa-
tion of Greece. The oldest hospitals were the
temples of iEsculapius; to these Asclepeia, al-
ways erected on healthy sites, hard by fresh springs
and surrounded by shady groves, the sick and the
maimed resorted to seek the aid of the god of
health. Votive tablets or inscriptions recorded
the symptoms, no less than the gratitude, of those
who were healed; and, from these primitive clin-
ical records, the half-priestly, half-philosophic
caste of the Asclepiads compiled the data upon
Avhich the earliest generalisations of medicine, as
an inductive science, were based.

In this state, pathology, like all the inductive
sciences at their origin, was merely natural
history; it registered the phenomena of disease,
classified them, and ventured upon a prognosis,
wherever the observation of constant co-existences
and sequences suggested a rational expectation
of the like recurrence under similar circum-
stances.

Further than this it hardly went. In fact, in
the then state of knowledge, and in the condition
of philosophical speculation at that time, neither
the causes of the morbid state, nor the rationale
of treatment, were likely to be sought for as we

352 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

seek for them now. The anger of a god was a
sufficient reason for the existence of a malady, and
a dream ample warranty for therapeutic measures;
that a physical phenomenon must needs have a
physical cause was not the implied or expressed
axiom that it is to us moderns.

The great man whose name is inseparably
connected with the foundation of medicine, Hip-
pocrates, certainly knew very little, indeed prac-
tically nothing, of anatomy or physiology; and he
would probably have been perplexed even to im-
agine the possibility of a connection between the
zoological studies of his contemporary Democritus
and medicine. Nevertheless, in so far as he, and
those who worked before and after him, in the
same spirit, ascertained, as matters of experi-
ence, that a wound, or a luxation, or a fever,
presented such and such symptoms, and that the
return of the patient to health was facilitated
by such and such measures, they established
laws of nature, and began the construction of
the science of pathology. All true science begins
with empiricism — though all true science is such
exactly, in so far as it strives to pass out of the
empirical stage into that of the deduction of em-
pirical from more general truths. Thus, it is not
wonderful, that the early physicians had little
or nothing to do with the development of bio-
logical science; and, on the other hand, that the
early biologists did not much concern themselves

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 353

with medicine. There is nothing to show that
the Asclepiads took any prominent share in the
work of founding anatomy, physiology, zoology,
and botany. Rather do these seem to have sprung
from the early philosophers, who were essentially
natural philosophers, animated by the character-
istically Greek thirst for knowledge as such.
Pythagoras, Alcmeon, Democritus, Diogenes of
ApoUonia, are all credited with anatomical and
physiological investigations; and, though Aristotle
is said to have belonged to an Asclepiad family,
and not improbably owed his taste for anatomical
and zoological inquiries to the teachings of his
father, the physician Nicomachus, the " Historia
Animalium," and the treatise " De Partibus
Animalium," are as free from any allusion to
medicine as if they had issued from a modern bio-
loo^ical laboratorv.

It may be added, that it is not easy to see in
what way it could have benefited a physician of
Alexander's time to know all that Aristotle knew
on these subjects. His human anatomy was too
rough to avail much in diagnosis; his physiology
was too erroneous to supply data for pathological
reasoning. But when the Alexandrian school,
with Erasistratus and Herophilus at their head,
turned to account the opportunities of studying
human structure, afforded to them by the
Ptolemies, the value of the large amount of ac-
curate knowledge thus obtained to the surgeon

354 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

for his operations, and to the physician for his
diagnosis of internal disorders, became obvious,
and a connection was established between anatomy
and medicine, which has ever become closer and
closer. Since the revival of learning, surgery,
medical diagnosis, and anatomy have gone hand
in hand. Morgagni called his great work, " De
sedibus et causis morborum per anatomen inda-
gatis," and not only showed the way to search out
the localities and the causes of disease by anatomy,
but himself travelled wonderfully far upon the
road. Bichat, discriminating the grosser constitu-
ents of the organs and parts of the body, one from
another, pointed out the direction which modern
research must take; until, at length, histology, a
science of yesterday, as it seems to many of us, has
carried the work of Morgagni as far as the micro-
scope can take us, and has extended the realm of
pathological anatomy to the limits of the invisible
world.

Thanks to the intimate alliance of morphology
with medicine, the natural history of disease has,
at the present day, attained a high degree of per-
fection. Accurate regional anatomy has rendered
practicable the exploration of the most hidden
parts of the organism, and the determination, dur-
ing life, of morbid changes in them; anatomical
and histological post-mortem investigations have
sup])lied physicians with a clear basis upon which
to rest the classification of diseases, and with un-

XI7 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 355

erring tests of the accuracy or inaccuracy of their
diagnoses.

If men could be satisfied with pure knowledge,
the extreme precision with which, in these days,
a sufferer may be told what is happening, and
what is likely to happen, even in the most recon-
dite parts of his bodily frame, should be as satis-
factory to the patient as it is to the scientific
pathologist who gives him the information. But
I am afraid it is not; and even the practising
physician, while nowise under-estimating the regu-
lative value of accurate diagnosis, must often la-
ment that so much of his knowledge rather pre-
vents him from doing wrong than helps him to
do right.

A scorner of physic once said that nature and
disease may be compared to two men fighting, the
doctor to a blind man with a club, who strikes
into the melee, sometimes hitting the disease, and
sometimes hitting nature. The matter is not
mended if you suppose the blind man's hearing
to be so acute that he can register every stage of
the struggle, and pretty clearly predict how it
will end. He had better not meddle at all, until
his eyes are opened, until he can see the exact po-
sition of the antagonists, and-^ make sure of the
effect of his blows. But that which it behooves
the physician to see, not, indeed, with his bodily
eye, but with clear, intellectual vision, is a process,
and the chain of causation involved in that process.

356 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

Disease, as we have seen, is a perturbation of the
normal activities of a living bod}', and it is, and
must remain, unintelligible, so long as we are
ignorant of the nature of these normal activities.
In other words, there could be no real science of
pathology until the science of physiology had
reached a degree of perfection unattained, and in-
deed unattainable, until quite recent times.

So far as medicine is concerned, I am not sure
that physiology, such as it was down to the time
of Harvey, might as well not have existed. Nay,
it is perhaps no exaggeration to say that, within
the memory of living men, justly renowned
practitioners of medicine and surgery knew less
physiology than is now to be learned from the
most elementary text-book; and, beyond a few
broad facts, regarded what they did know as of
extremely little practical importance. Nor am I
disposed to blame them for this conclusion;
physiology must be useless, or worse than useless,
to pathology, so long as its fundamental concep-
tions are erroneous.

Ilarvey is often said to be the founder of
modern physiology; and there can be no question
that the elucidations of the function of the
heart, of the nature of the pulse, and of the course
of the blood, put forth in the ever-memorable
little essay, " De motu cordis," directly worked a
revolution in men's views of tlie nature and of the
concatenation of some of the most important

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 357

physiological processes among the higher animals;
while, indirectly, their influence was perhaps even
more remarkable.

But, though Harvey made this signal and per-
ennially important contribution to the physiology
of the moderns, his general conception of vital pro-
cesses was essentially identical with that of the
ancients; and, in the " Exercitationes de genera-
tione," and notably in the singular chapter " De
calido innato," he shows himself a true son of
Galen and of Aristotle.

For Harvey, the blood possesses powers superior
to those of the elements; it is the seat of a soul
which is not only vegetative, but also sensitive
and motor. The blood maintains and fashions all
parts of the body, " idque summa cum providentia
et intellectu in finem certum agens, quasi ratiocinio
quodam uteretur.''

Here is the doctrine of the " pneuma," the pro-
duct of the philosophical mould into which the
animism of primitive men ran in Greece, in full
force. Nor did its strength abate for long after
Harvey's time. The same ingrained tendency of
the human mind to suppose that a process is ex-
plained when it is ascribed to a power of which
nothing is known except that it -is the hypothetical
agent of the process, gave rise, in the next century,
to the animism of Stahl; and, later, to the doctrine
of a vital principle, that " asylum ignorantiae " of
physiologists, which has so easily accounted for

358 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

everything and explained nothing, down to our
own times.

Now the essence of modern, as contrasted with
ancient, physiological science appears to me to
lie in its antagonism to animistic hy})otheses and
animistic phraseology. It oilers physical explana-
tions of vital phenomena, or frankly confesses that
it has none to offer. And, so far as I know, the
first person who gave expression to this modern
view of physiology, who was bold enough to
enunciate the proposition that vital phenomena,
like all the other phenomena of the physical
world, are, in ultimate analysis, resolvable into
matter and motion, was Rene Descartes.

The fifty-four years of life of this most original
and powerful thinker are widely overlapped, on
both sides, by the eighty of Ilarvey, who survived
his younger contemporary by seven years, and takes
pleasure in acknowledging the French philoso-
pher's appreciation of his great discovery.

In fact, Descartes accepted the doctrine of the
circulation as propounded by " Ilarvanis medecin
d'Angleterre," and gave a full account of it in his
first work, the famous " Discours de la Methode,"
which was published in 1G37, only nine years
after the exercitation " De motu cordis "; and,
though differing from Harvey on some important
points (in which it may be noted, in passing,
Descartes was wrong and ITnrvey right), he always
speaks of him with great respect. And so impor-

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 359

tant does the subject seem to Descartes, that he
returns to it in the " Traite des Passions," and in
the " Traite de rHomme/^

It is easy to see that Harvey's work must have
had a pecuHar significance for the subtle thinker,
to whom we owe both the spiritualistic and the
materialistic philosophies of modern times. It was
in the very year of its publication, 1628, that
Descartes withdrew into that life of solitary
investigation and meditation of which his phi-
losophy was the fruit. And, as the course of his
speculations led him to establish an absolute dis-
tinction of nature between the material and the
mental worlds, he was logically compelled to seek
for the explanation of the phenomena of the
material world within itself; and having allotted
the realm of thought to the soul, to see nothing
but extension and motion in the rest of nature.
Descartes uses " thought " as the equivalent of our
modern term " consciousness." Thought is the
function of the soul, and its only function. Our
natural heat and all the movements of the body,
says he, do not depend on the soul. Death does
not take place from any fault of the soul, but only
because some of the principal parts of the body
become corrupted. The body" of a living man
differs from that of a dead man in the same way
as a watch or other automaton (that is to say, a
machine which moves of itself) when it is wound

up and has, in itself, the physical principle of the
83

360 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

movements which the mechanism is adapted to
perform, differs from the same watch, or other
machine, when it is broken, and tlie physical
principle of its movement no longer exists. All
the actions which are common to us and the lower
animals depend only on the conformation of our
organs, and the course which the animal spirits
take in the brain, the nerves, and the muscles;
in the same way as the movement of a watch is
produced by nothing but the force of its spring
and the figure of its wheels and other parts.

Descartes' " Treatise on Man " is a sketch of
human physiology, in which a bold attempt is
made to explain all the phenomena of life, except
those of consciousness, by physical reasonings. To
a mind turned in this direction, Harvey's exposi-
tion of the heart and vessels as a hydraulic mechan-
ism must have been supremely welcome.

Descartes was not a mere philosophical theorist,
but a hardworking dissector and experimenter,
and he held the strongest opinion respecting the
practical value of the new conception which he
was introducing. He speaks of the importance of
preserving health, and of the dependence of the
mind on the body being so close that, perhaps, the
only way of making men wiser and better than
they are, is to be sought in medical science. " It
is true," says he, " that as medicine is now practised
it contains little that is very useful; but without
any desire to depreciate, I am sure that there is

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 361

no one, even among professional men, who will
not declare that all we know is very little as com-
pared with that which remains to be known; and
that we might escape an infinity of diseases of the
mind, no less than of the body, and even perhaps
from the weakness of old age, if we had sufficient
knowledge of their causes, and of all the remedies
with which nature has provided us." * So strongly
impressed was Descartes with this, that he resolved
to spend the rest of his life in trying to acquire
such a knowledge of nature as would lead to the
construction of a better medical doctrine, f The
anti-Cartesians found material for cheap ridicule
in these aspirations of the philosopher; and it is
almost needless to say that, in the thirteen years
which elapsed between the publication of the
" Discours " and the death of Descartes, he did not
contribute much to their realisation. But, for the
next century, all progress in physiology took place
along the lines which Descartes laid down.

The greatest physiological and pathological
work of the seventeenth century, Borelli^s treatise
" De Motu Animalium," is, to all intents and pur-
poses, a development of Descartes' fundamental
conception; and the same may be said of the physi-
ology and pathology of Boerhaave, whose authority
dominated in the medical world of the first half
of the eighteenth century.

* D^arourff fl" la Mpfhnde, 6" partie, Ed. Cousin, p. 193.
+ I hid. pp. 193 and 211.

3G2 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

With the origin of modern chemistry, and of
electrical science, in the latter half of the eight-
eenth century, aids in the analysis of the phenom-
ena of life, of which Descartes could not have
dreamed, were offered to the physiologist. And the
greater part of the gigantic progress which has
been made in the present century is a justification
of the prevision of Descartes. For it consists,
essentially, in a more and more complete resolution
of the grosser organs of the living body into physi-
co-chemical mechanisms.

"I shall try to explain our whole bodily machin-
ery in such a way, that it will be no more necessary
for us to supppose that the soul produces such
movements as are not voluntary, than it is to think
that there is in a clock a soul which causes it to
show the hours.^' * These words of Descartes
might be appropriately taken as a motto by the
author of any modern treatise on physiology.

But though, as I think, there is no doubt that
Descartes was the first to propound the funda-
mental conception of the living body as a physical
mechanism, which is the distinctive feature of
modern, as contrasted with ancient physiology, he
was misled by the natural temptation to carry
out, in all its details, a parallel l)etween the
machines with which he was familiar, such as
clocks and pieces of hydraulic apparatus, and the
living machine. In all such machines there is a

* De la Formation du Foetus.

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 363

central source of power, and the parts of the
machine are merely passive distributors of that
power. The Cartesian school conceived of the
living body as a machine of this kind; and herein
they might have learned from Galen, who, what-
ever ill use he may have made of the doctrine of
" natural faculties,^^ nevertheless had the great
merit of perceiving that local forces play a great
part in physiology.

The same truth was recognised by Glisson, but
it was first prominently brought forward in the
Hallerian doctrine of the " vis insita " of muscles.
If muscle can contract without nerve, there is an
end of the Cartesian mechanical explanation of
its contraction by the influx of animal spirits.

The discoveries of Trembley tended in the
same direction. In the freshwater Hydra, no
trace was to be found of that complicated
machinery upon which the performance of the
functions in the higher animals were supposed to
depend. And yet the hydra moved, fed, grew,
multiplied, and its fragments exhibited all the
powers of the whole. And, finally, the work of
Caspar F. Wolff,* by demonstrating the fact that
the growth and development of both plants and
animals take place antecedently to the existence
of their grosser organs, and are, in fact, the causes
and not the consequences of organization (as
then understood), sapped the foundations of the

* Theoria Generationis, 1759.

3Gi BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

Cartesian physiology as a complete expression of
vital plienoniena.

For Wolir, the physical basis of life is a fluid,
possessed of a " vis essentialis " and a " solidesci-
bilitas," in virtue of which it gives rise to
organisation; and, as he points out, this con-
clusion strikes at the root of the whole iatro-
niechanical system.

In this country, the great authority of John
Hunter exerted a similar influence; though it
must be admitted that the too sibylline utterances
whieli are the outcome of Hunter's struggles to
define his conceptions are often susceptible of
more than one interpretation. Nevertheless, on
Bome points Hunter is clear enough. For example,
he is of opinion that " Spirit is only a property
of matter '' (" Introduction to Natural History,"
p. 6), he is prepaied to renounce animism, (Z. c. p.
8), and his conception of life is so completely
physical that he thinks of it as something which
can exist in a state of combination in the food.
" The aliment we take in has in it, in a fixed
state, the real life; and this does not become
active until it has got into the lungs; for there it
is freed from its prison " (" Observations on Phy-
siology," p. 113). He also thinks tliat "It is
more in accord with the general principles of the
animal machine to suppose that none of its effects
are produced from any mechanical principle
whatever; and that every effect is produced from

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 365

an action in the part; which action is produced
by a stimulus upon the part which acts, or upon
some other part with which this part sympathises
so as to take up the whole action " (1. c. p. 152).

And Hunter is as clear as Wolff, with whose
work he was probably unacquainted, that " what-
ever life is, it most certainly does not depend upon
structure or organisation " (1. c. p. 114).

Of course it is impossible that Hunter could
have intended to deny the existence of purely
mechanical operations in the animal body. But
while, with Borelli and Boerhaave, he looked
upon absorption, nutrition, and secretion as
operations effected by means of the small vessels,
he differed from the mechanical physiologists,
who regarded these operations as the result of
the mechanical properties of the small vessels,
such as the size, form, and disposition of their
canals and apertures. Hunter, on the contrary,
considers them to be the effect of properties of
these vessels which are not mechanical but vital.
" The vessels," says he, " have more of the polypus
in them than any other part of the body," and he
talks of the " living and sensitive principles of the
arteries," and even of the " dispositions or feelings
of the arteries." " When the^ blood is good and
genuine the sensations of the arteries, or the
dispositions for sensation, are agreeable. ... It
is then they dispose of the blood to the best
advantage, increasing the growth of the whole^,

3G6 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

supplying any losses, keeping up a due succession,
etc." {I c. p. 133).

If we follow Hunter's conceptions to their
logical issue, the life of one of the higher animals
is essentially the sum of the lives of all the
vessels, each of which is a sort of physiological
unit, answering to a polype; and, as health is the
result of the normal " action of the vessels," so is
disease an effect of their abnormal action. Hunter
thus stands in thought, as in time, midway between
Borelli on the one hand, and Bichat on the other.

The acute founder of general anatomy, in fact,
outdoes Hunter in his desire to exclude physical
reasonings from the realm of life. Except in the
interpretation of the action of the sense organs,
he will not allow physics to have anything to do
with physiology.

" To apply the physical sciences to physiology
is to explain the phenomena of living bodies by
the laws of inert bodies. Now this is a false
principle, hence all its consequences are marked
with the same stamp. Let us leave to chemistry
its affinity; to physics, its elasticity and its gravity.
Let us invoke for physiology only sensibility and
contractility." *

Of all the unfortunate dicta of men of eminent
ability this seems one of the most unhappy, when
we think of what the application of the methods
and the data of physics and chemistry has done

* Anatomie generale, i. p. liv.

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 367

towards bringing physiology into its present state.
It is not too much to say that one-half of a modern
text-book of physiology consists of applied physics
and chemistry; and that it is exactly in the ex-
ploration of the phenomena of sensibility and con-
tractility that physics and chemistry have exerted
the most potent influence.

Nevertheless, Bichat rendered a solid service to
physiological progress by insisting upon the fact
that what we call life, in one of the higher animals,
is not an indivisible unitary archaus dominating,
from its central seat, the parts of the organism,
but a compound result of the synthesis of the
separate lives of those parts.

" All animals," says he, " are assemblages of
different organs, each of which performs its
function and concurs, after its fashion, in the
preservation of the whole. They are so many
special machines in the general machine which
constitutes the individual. But each of these
special machines is itself compounded of many
tissues of very different natures, which in truth
constitute the elements of those organs " {I. c.
Ixxix.). " The conception of a proper vitality is
applicable only to these simple tissues, and not to
the organs themselves " (Z. c. l^xxiv.).

And Bichat proceeds to make the obvious
application of this doctrine of synthetic life, if I
may so call it, to pathology. Since diseases are
only alterations of vital properties, and the

368 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

properties of each tissue are distinct from those of
the rest, it is evident that tlie diseases of each
tissue must be dilferent from those of the rest.
Therefore, in any organ composed of different
tissues, one may be diseased and the other remain
healthy; and this is what happens in most cases
(/. c. Ixxxv.).

In a spirit of true prophecy, Bichat says, " We
have arrived at an epoch in which pathological
anatomy should start afresh." For, as the analysis
of the organs had led him to the tissues as the
physiological units of the organism; so, in a
succeeding generation, the analysis of the tissues
led to the cell as the physiological element of the
tissues. The contemporaneous study of develop-
ment brought out the same result; and the
zoologists and botanists, exploring the simplest
and the lowest forms of animated beings, confirmed
the great induction of the cell theory. Thus the
apparently opposed views, which have been
battling with one another ever since the middle
of the last century, have proved to be each half
the truth.

The proposition of Descartes that the body of a
living man is a machine, the actions of which are
explicable by the known laws of matter and
motion, is unquestionably largely true. But it is
also true, that the living body is a synthesis of
innumerable physiological elements, each of which
may nearly be described, in Wolff's words, as a

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 369

fluid possessed of a " vis essentialis " and a
" solidescibilitas "; or, in modern phrase, as
protoplasm susceptible of structural metamorphosis
and functional metabolism: and that the only-
machinery, in the precise sense in which the
Cartesian school understood mechanism, is, that
which co-ordinates and regulates these physio-
logical units into an organic whole.

In fact, the body is a machine of the nature
of an army, not of that of a watch or of a
hydraulic apparatus. Of this army each cell is
a soldier, an organ a brigade, the central nervous
system headquarters and field telegraph, the ali-
mentary and circulatory system the commissariat.
Losses are made good by recruits born in camp,
and the life of the individual is a campaign,
conducted successfully for a number of years, but
with certain defeat in the long run.

The efficacy of an army, at any given moment,
depends on the health of the individual soldier,
and on the perfection of the machinery by which
he is led and brought into action at the proper
time; and, therefore, if the analogy holds good,
there can be only two kinds of diseases, the one
dependent on abnormal states of the physiologi-
cal units, the other on perturbations of their co-
ordinating and alimentative machinery.

Hence, the establishment of the cell theory, in
normal biology, was swiftly followed by a " cellular
pathology," as its logical counterpart. I need not
remind you how great an instrument of investiga-

370 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

tion this doctrine has proved in the hands of the
man of genius to whom its development is due,
and who would probably be the last to forget that
abnormal conditions of the co-ordinative and dis-
tributive machinery of the body are no less im-
portant factors of disease.

Henceforward, as it appears to me, the connec-
tion of medicine with the biological sciences is
clearly indicated. Pure pathology is that branch of
biology which defines the particular perturbation
of cell-life, or of the co-ordinating machinery, or of
both, on which the phenomena of disease depend.

Those who are conversant with the i)resent
state of biology will hardly hesitate to admit tliat
the conception of the life of one of the higher
animals as the summation of the lives of a cell
aggregate, brought into harmonious action by a
co-ordinative machinery formed by some of these
cells, constitutes a permanent acquisition of
physiological science. But the last form of the
battle between the animistic and the physical
views of life is seen in the contention whether the
physical analysis of vital phenomena can be carried
beyond this point or not.

There are some to whom living protoplasm is
a substance, even such as Harvey conceived the
blood to be, " summa cum providentia et intellectu
in finem certum agens, quasi ratiocinio quodam;"
and who look with as little favour as Bichat did,
upon any attempt to apply the principles and
the methods of physics and chemistry to the in-

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 3 71

vestigation of the vital processes of growth, me-
tabolism, and contractility. They stand upon the
ancient ways; only, in accordance with that prog-
ress towards democracy, which a great political
writer has declared to be the fatal characteristic
of modern times, they substitute a republic formed
by a few billion of " animulse " for the monarchy
of the all-pervading " anima."

Others, on the contrary, supported by a robust
faith in the universal applicability of the principles
laid down by Descartes, and seeing that the actions
called " vital " are, so far as we have any means of
knowing, nothing but changes of place of particles
of matter, look to molecular physics to achieve
the analysis of the living protoplasm itself into a
molecular mechanism. If there is any truth in
the received doctrines of physics, that contrast
between living and inert matter, on which Bichat
lays so much stress, does not exist. In nature,
nothing is at rest, nothing is amorphous; the
simplest particle of that which men in their
blindness are pleased to call " brute matter " is a
vast aggregate of molecular mechanisms perform-
ing complicated movements of immense rapidity,
and sensitively adjusting themselves to every
change in the surrounding world. Living matter
differs from other matter in degree and not in kind;
the microcosm repeats the macrocosm; and one
chain of causation connects the nebulous original
of suns and planetary systems with the protoplas-
mic foundation of life and organisation.

372 BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE xiv

From this point of view, pathology is the
analogue of the theory of perturbations in astron-
omy; and therapeutics resolves itself into the
discovery of the means by which a system of forces
competent to eliminate any given perturbation may
be introduced into the economy. And, as pathology
bases itself upon normal physiology, so therapeutics
rests upon pharmacology; which is, strictly speak-
ing, a part of the great biological topic of the influ-
ence of conditions on the living organism, and has
no scientific foundation apart from physiology.

It appears to me that there is no more hopeful
indication of the progress of medicine towards the
ideal of Descartes than is to be derived from a com-
parison of the state of pharmacology, at the present
day, with that which existed forty years ago. If
we consider the knowledge positively acquired, in
this short time, of the modus operandi of urari, of
atropia, of physostigmin, of veratria, of casca, of
strychnia, of bromide of potassium, of phosphorus,
there can surely be no ground for doubting that,
sooner or later, the pharmacologist will supply the
physician with the means of affecting, in any de-
sired sense, the functions of any physiological ele-
ment of the body. It will, in short, become pos-
sible to introduce into the economy a molecular
mechanism which, like a very cunningly-contrived
torpedo, shall find its way to some particular group
of living elements, and cause an explosion among
them, leaving the rest untouched.

XIV BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE 373

The search for the explanation of diseased
states in modified cell-life; the discovery of the im-
portant part played by parasitic organisms in the
aetiology of disease; the elucidation of the action of
medicaments by the methods and the data of ex-
perimental physiology; appear to me to be the
greatest steps which have ever been made towards
the establishment of medicine on a scientific basis.
I need hardly say they could not have been made
except for the advance of normal biology.

There can be no question, then, as to the na-
ture or the value of the connection between medi-
cine and the biological sciences. There can be no
doubt that the future of pathology and of thera-
peutics, and, therefore, that of practical medicine,
depends upon the extent to which those who oc-
cupy themselves with these subjects are trained in
the methods and impregnated with the funda-
mental truths of biology.

And, in conclusion, I venture to suggest that
the collective sagacity of this congress could occupy
itself with no more important question than with
this: How is medical education to be arranged, so
that, without entangling the student in those
details of the systematist which are valueless to
him, he may be enabled to obtain a firm grasp of
the great truths respecting animal and vegetable
life, without which, notwithstanding all the prog-
ress of scientific medicine, he will still find himself
an empiric?

XV

THE SCHOOL BOARDS: WHAT THEY CAN
DO, AND WHAT THEY MAY DO.

[1870]

An electioneering manifesto would be out of
place in the pages of this Review; but any suspicion
that may arise in the mind of the reader that tlie
following pages partake of that nature, will be dis-
pelled, if he reflect that they cannot be published *
until after the day on which the ratepayers of the
metropolis will have decided which candidates for
seats upon the Metropolitan School Board they
will take, and which they will leave.

As one of those candidates, I may be permitted
to say, that I feel much in the frame of mind of
the Irish bricklayer's labourer, who bet anotlier

* Notwithstanding Mr. Huxley's intentions, the Editor
took upon himself, in what seemed to him to be the public
interest, to send an extract from this article to the news-
papers— before the day of the election of the School Board.
— EdiioK of tile Coiittinpurary Jieciew.
374

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 375

that he could not carry him to the top of the
ladder in his hod. The challenged hodman won
his wager, but as the stakes were handed over, the
challenger Avistf ully remarked, " I'd great hopes
of falling at the third round from the top." And,
in view of the work and the worry which awaits
the members of the School Boards, I must confess
to an occasional ungrateful hope that the friends
who are toiling upwards with me in their hod,
may, when they reach " the third round from the
top," let me fall back into peace and quietness.

But whether fortune befriend me in this rough,
method, or not, I should like to submit to those
of whom I am potential, but of wdiom I may not
be an actual, colleague, and to others who may
be interested in this most important problem —
how to get the Education Act to work efficiently
— some considerations as to what are the duties of
the members of the School Boards, and what are
the limits of their power.

I suppose no one will be disposed to dispute the

proposition, that the prime duty of every member

of such a Board is to endeavour to administer the

Act honestly; or in accordance, not only with its

letter, but with its spirit. And if so, it would

seem that the first step towards this very desirable

end is, to obtain a clear notion of what that letter

signifies, and what that spirit implies; or, in other

words, what the clauses of the Act are intended

to enjoin and to forbid. So that it is really not
84

376 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

admissible, except for factions and abusive pur-
poses, to assume that any one who endeavours to
get at this clear meaning is desirous only of raising
quil)blcs and making diiliculties.

Eeading the Act with this desire to understand
it, I find that its provisions may be classified, as
might naturally be expected, under two heads:
the one set relating to the subject-matter of educa-
tion; the other to the establishment, mainten-
ance, and administration of the schools in which
that education is to be conducted.

Now it is a most important circumstance, that
all the sections of the Act, except four, belong to
the latter division; that is, they refer to mere
matters of administration. The four sections in
question are the seventh, the fourteenth, the
sixteenth, and the ninety-seventh. Of these, the
seventh, the fourteenth, and the ninety-seventh
deal with the subject-matter of education, while
the sixteenth defines the nature of the relations
which are to exist between the " Education De-
partment " (an eu]ihemism for the future ^linister
of Education) and the School Boards. It is the
sixteenth clause which is the most important, and,
in some respects, the most remarkable of all. It
runs thus: —

"If the School Board do, or permit, any act in contra-
vention of, or fail to comply with, the ref^iilations. accord-
m\z, to which a school provided by them is required by this
Act to be conducted, the Education Department may de-

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 377

clare the School Board to be, and such Board shall accord-
ingly be deemed to be, a Board in default, and the Educa-
tion Department may proceed accordingly ; and every act,
or omission, of any member of the School Board, or man-
ager appointed by them, or any person under the control of
the Board, shall be deemed to be permitted by the Board,
unless the contrary be proved.

" If any dispute arises as to whether the School Board
have done, or permitted, any act in contravention of, or
have failed to comply with, the said regulations, the matter
shall be referred to the Education Department, whose deci-
sion thereon shall he Jinal.^'

It will be observed that this clause gives the
Minister of Education absolute power over the do-
ings of the School Boards. He is not only the
administrator of the Act, but he is its interpreter.
I had imagined that on the occurrence of a dispute,
not as regards a question of pure administration,
but as to the meaning of a clause of the Act, a
case might be taken and referred to a ' court of
justice. But I am led to believe that the
Legislature has, in the present instance, deliber-
ately taken the power out of the hands of the
judges and lodged it in those of the Minister of
Education, who, in accordance with our method
of making Ministers, will necessarily be a political
partisan, and who may be a strong theological
sectary into the bargain. And I am informed by
members of Parliament who watched the progress
of the Act, that the responsibility for this unusual
state of thinsfs rests, not with the Government,
but with the Legislature, which exhibited a

37S THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

singular disposition to accumulate power in the
hands of the future ^linistcr of Education, and to
evade the more troublesome diliiculties of the edu-
cation question by leaving them to be settled be-
tween that Minister and the School Boards.

I express no opinion whether it is, or is not,
desirable that such powers of controlling all the
School Boards in the country should be possessed
by a person who may be, like Mr. Forster, eminent-
ly likely to use these powers justly and wisely, but
who also may be quite the reverse. I merely wish
to draw attention to the fact that such powers are
given to the Minister, whether he be fit or unfit.
The extent of these powers becomes apparent when
the other sections of the Act referred to are con-
sidered. The fourth clause of the seventh section
says:—

"The school shall be conducted in accordance with the
conditions required to be fulfilled by an elementary school
in order to obtain an annual Parliamentary grant."

"What these conditions are appears from the fol-
lowing clauses of the ninety-seventh section: —

"The conditions required to be fulfilled by an elemen-
tary school in order to obtain an annual Parliamentary
grant shall be those contained in the minutes of the Educa-
tif)n Department in force for the time being. . . . Provided
that no such minute of the Education Department, not in
force at the time of the passing of this Act, shall be deemed
to be in force until it has lain for not less than one month
on the table of both Houses of Parliament."

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 379

Let us consider how this will work in practice.
A school established by a School Board may receive
support from three sources — from the rates, the
school fees, and the Parliamentary grant. The
latter may be as great as the two former taken to-
gether; and as it may be assumed, without much
risk of error, that a constant pressure will be ex-
erted by the ratepayers on the members who repre-
sent them to get as much out of the Government,
and as little out of the rates, as possible, the School
Boards will have a very strong motive for shaping
the education they give, as nearly as may be, on
the model which the Education Minister offers for
their imitation, and for the copying of which he is
prepared to pay.

The Revised Code did not compel any school-
master to leave off teaching an3^thing; but, by the
very simple process of refusing to pay for many
kinds of teaching, it has practically put an end to
them. Mr. Forster is said to be engaged in
revising the Revised Code; a successor of his may
re-revise it — and there will be no sort of check
upon these revisions and counter revisions, except
the possibility of a Parliamentary debate, when
the revised, or added, minutes are laid upon the
table. What chance is there that any such debate
will take place on a matter of detail relating to
elementary education — a subject with which mem-
bers of the Legislature, having been, for the most
part, sent to our public schools thirty years ago,

380 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

have not the least practical acquaintance, and for
M'iiicli they care nothing, nnless it derives a
political value from its connection with sectarian
politics?

I cannot hut think, then, that the School
Boards will have the appearance, but not the
reality, of freedom of action, in regard to the
subject-matter of what is commonly called
" secular " education.

As respects what is commonly called " reli-
gious " education, the power of the Minister of
Education is even more despotic. An interest,
almost amounting to pathos, attaches itself, in my
mind, to the frantic exertions which are at present
going on in almost every school division, to elect
certain candidates whose names have never before
been heard of in connection with education, and
who are either sectarian partisans, or nothing. In
my own particular division, a body organised ad
hoc is moving heaven and earth to get the seven
seats filled by seven gentlemen, four of whom are
good Churchmen, and three no less good Dissent-
ers. But why should this seven times heated fiery
furnace of theological zeal be so desirous to shed
its genial warmth over the London School Board?
Can it be that these zealous sectaries mean to
evade the solemn pledge given in the Act?

"No religious catechism or religious formulary wliich is
distinctive of any particular denomination shall be taught
in the school."

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 381

I confess I should have tliought it my duty to
reject any such suggestion, as dishonouring to
a number of worthy persons, if it had not been for
a leading article and some correspondence which
appeared in the Oiiardian of November 9th,
1870.

The Guardian is, as everybody knows, one of
the best of the " religious " newspapers; and,
personally, I have every reason to speak highly of
the fairness, and indeed kindness, with which the
editor is good enough to deal with a writer who
must, in many ways, be so objectionable to him as
myself. I quote the following passages from a
leading article on a letter of mine, therefore, with
all respect, and with a genuine conviction that the
course of conduct advocated by the writer must
ap])car to him in a very different light from that
under which I see it: —

" The first of these points is the interpretation -which
Professor Huxley puts on the * Cowper-Temple clause.' It
is, in fact, that which we foretold some time ago as likely
to be forced upon it by those who think with him. The
clause itself was one of those compromises which it is very
difficult to define or to maintain logically. On the one side
was the simple freedom to School Boards to establish what
schools they pleased, which ]\[r. Forster originally gave, but
against which the Nonconformists^ lifted up their voices,
because they conceived it likely to give too much power to
the Church. On the other side there was the proposition to
make the schools secular — intelligible enough, but in the
consideration of public opinion simply impossible — and
there was the vague impracticable idea, which Mr. Glad-

3S2 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

stone thoroughly tore to pieces, of enacting that the teach-
ing of all school-masters in the new schools should be strict-
ly 'undenominational.' The Cowper-Temple clause was,
we repeat, proposed simply to tide over the difficulty. It
was to satisfy the Nonconformists and the ' unsectarian,' as
distinct from the secular party of the League, by forbidding
all distinctive 'catechisms and formularies,' which might
have the effect of openly assigning the schools to this or
that religious body. It refused, at the same time, to at-
tempt the impossible task of defining what was undenomi-
national ; and its author even contended, if we understood
him correctly, that it would in no way, even indirectly, in-
terfere with the substantial teacliing of any master in any
school. This assertion we always believed to be untenable;
we could not see how, in the face of this clause, a distinctly
denominational tone could be honestly given to schools
nominally general. But beyond this mere suggestion of an
attempt at a general tone of comprehensiveness in religious
teaching it was not intended to go, and only because such
was its limitation was it accepted by the Government and
by the House.

" But now we are told that it is to be construed as doing
precisely that which it refused to do. A ' formulary,' it
seems, is a collection of formulas, and formulas are simply
propositions of whatever kind touching religious faith. All
such propositions, if they cannot be accepted by all Christian
denominations, are to be proscribed ; and it is added signifi-
cantly that the Jews also are a denomination, and so that
any teaching distinctively Christian is perhaps to be ex-
cluded, lest it should interfere with their freedom and
rights. Are we then to fall back on the simple reading of
the letter of the Bible? No! this, it is granted, would be
an ' unworthy pretence.' The teacher is to give ' grammati-
cal, geographical, or historical explanations;' but he is to
keep clear of ' theology proper,' because, as Professor Hux-
ley takes great pains to prove, there is no theological teach-
ing which is not opposed by some sect or othor, from Ko-

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 383

man Catholicism on the one hand to Unitarianism on the
other. It was not, perhaps, hard to see that this difficulty
would be started ; and to those who, like Professor Huxley,
look at it theoretically, without much practical experience
of schools, it may appear serious or unanswerable. But
there is very little in it practically ; when it is faced deter-
minately and handled firmly, it will soon shrink into its
true dimensions. The class who are least frightened at it
are the school teachers, simply because they know most
about it. It is quite clear that the school managers must
be cautioned against allowing their schools to be made
places of proselytism ; but when this is done, the case is
simple enough. Leave the masters under this general un-
derstanding to teach freely ; if there is ground of com-
plaint, let it be made, but leave the uiius pruhandi on the
objectors. For extreme peculiarities of belief or unbelief
there is the Conscience Clause ; as to the mass of parents,
they will be more anxious to have religion taught than
afraid of its assuming this or that particular shade. They
will trust the school managers and teachers till they have
reason to distrust them, and experience has shown that they
may trust them safely enough. Any attempt to throw the
burden of making the teaching undenominational upon the
managers must be sternly resisted : it is simply evading the
intentions of the Act in an elaborate attempt to carry them
out. We thank Professor Huxley for the warning. To be
forwarned is to be forearmed."

A good deal of light seems to me to be thrown
on the practical significance of the opinions ex-
pressed in the foregoing extract by the following
interesting letter, which appeared in the same
paper: —

" Sir, — I venture to send to you the substance of a corre-
spondence with the Education Department upon the ques-
tion of the lawfulness of religious teaching in rate schools

3S4 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

under section 14 (2) of the Act. I asked whether the words
* which is distinctive,' etc., taken graininatically as limiting
the prohibition of any religious formulary, might be con-
strued as allowing (subject, however, to the other provisions
of the Act) any religious formulary common to any two
denominations anywhere in P]ngland to be taught in such
schools; and if practically the limit could not be so ex-
tended, but would have to be fixed according to the special
circumstances of each district, then what degree of general
acceptance in a district would exempt such a formulary
from the prohibition f The answer to this was as follows;
— ' It was understood, when clause 14 of the Education Act
was discussed in the House of Commons, that, according to
a well-known rule of interpreting Acts of Parliament, "de-
nomination" must be held to include "denominations."
When any dispute is referred to the Education Department,
under the last paragraph of section IG, it will be dealt with
according to the circumstances of the case.'

" Upon my asking further if I might hence infer that
the lawfulness of teaching any religious formulary in a rate
school would thus dei)end exclusively on local circumstances,
and would accordingly be so decided by the Education De-
partment in case of dispute, I was informed in explanation
that 'their lordships" letter was intended to convey to me
that no general rule, beyond that stated in the first para-
graph of their letter, could at present be laid down by
them ; and that their decision in each particular case must
depend on the special circumstances accompanying it.

" I think it would appear from this that it may yet be in
many cases both lawful and expedient to teach religious
formularies in rate schools. H. I.

" Steyning, Xovemher 5, 1870."

Of course I do not mean to suggest that the
editor of the Guardian is bound by the opinions
of his correspondent; but I cannot help tliinking

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 385

that I do not misrepresent him, when I say that he
also thinks " that it may yet be, in many cases, both
lawful and expedient to teach religions formularies
in rate schools under these circumstances."

It is not uncharitable, therefore, to assume that,
the express words of the Act of Parliament not-
withstanding, all the sectaries who are toiling so
hard for seats in the London School Board have
the lively hope of the gentleman from Steyning,
that it may be " both lawful and expedient to teach
religious formularies in rate schools; " and that
they mean to do their utmost to bring this happy
consummation about.*

iSTow the pathetic emotion to which I have
referred, as accompanying my contemplations of the
"violent struggles of so many excellent persons, is
caused by the circumstance that, so far as I can
judge, their labour is in vain.

Supposing that the London School Board con-

* A passage in an article on the " Workinc; of the Edu-
cation Act," in the Sahirday Review for Nov. 19, 1870,
completely justifies this anticipation of the line of action
which the sectaries mean to take. After commending the
Liverpool compromise, the writer goes on to say : —

"If this plan is fairly adopted in Liverpool, the four-
teenth clause of the Act will in effect be restored to its origi-
nal form, and the majority of the ratepayers in each dis-
trict be permitted to decide to what denomination the
school shall belong."

In a previous paragraph the writer speaks of a possible
"mistrust "of one another by the membei's of the Board,
and seems to anticipate "accusations of dishonesty." If
any of the members of the Board adopt his views, t think
it highly probable that hs may turn out to be a true
prophet.

3SG THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

tains, as it probably will do, a majority of sectaries;
and that they carry over the heads of a minority,
a resolution that certain theological formulas,
about which they all happen to agree, — say, for ex-
ample, the doctrine of the Trinity, — shall be
taught in the schools. Do they fondly imagine
that the minority will not at once dispute their in-
terpretation of the Act, and appeal to the Educa-
tion Department to settle that dispute? And if so,
do they suppose that any Minister of Education, who
wants to keep his place, will tighten boundaries
which the Legislature has left loose; and will give
a " final decision " which shall be offensive to every
Unitarian and to every Jew in the House of Com-
mons, besides creating a precedent which will after-
wards be used to the inujry of every Nonconform-
ist? The editor of the Guardian tells his friends
sternly to resist every attempt to throw the burden
of making the teaching undenominational on the
managers, and thanks me for the warning I have
given him. I return the thanks, with interest, for
his warning, as to the course the party he repre-
sents intends to pursue, and for enabling me thus
to draw public attention to a perfectly constitu-
tional and effectual mode of checkmating them.

And, in truth, it is wonderful to note the sur-
prising entanglement into which our able editor
gets himself in the struggle between his native
honesty and judgment and the necessities of his
party. " We could not see," says he, " in the face

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 387

of this clause how a distinct denominational tone
could be honestly given to schools nominally gen-
eral." There speaks the honest and clear-headed
man. " Any attempt to throw the burden of
making the teaching undenominational must be
sternly resisted." There speaks the advocate
holding a brief for his party. " Verily/' as Trin-
culo says, " the monster hath two mouths: " the
one, the forward mouth, tells us very justly that
the teaching cannot " honestly " be " distinctly de-
nominational; " but the other, the backward
mouth, asserts that it must by no manner of means
be " undenominational." Putting the two utter-
ances together, I can only interpret them to mean
that the teaching is to be " indistinctly denomina-
tional." If the editor of the Guardian had not
shown signs of anger at my use of the term " theo-
logical fog," I should have been tempted to suppose
it must have been what he had in his mind, under
the name of " indistinct denominationalism." But
this reading being plainly inadmissible, I can only
imagine that he inculcates the teaching of formu-
las common to a number of denominations.

But the Education Department has already told
the gentleman from Steyning that any such pro-
ceeding will be illegal. " According to a well-
known rule of interpreting Acts of Parliament,
' denomination ' would be held to include ' denomi-
nations.' " In other words, we must read the Act
thus: —

388 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

" Xo religious catechism or religious formulary
which is distinctive of any particular denomina-
tious shall he taught."

Thus we are really very much indebted to the
editor of the Guardian and his correspondent.
The one has shown us that the sectaries mean to
try to get as much denominational teaching as they
can agree upon among themselves, forced into the
elementary schools; while the other has obtained
a formal declaration from the Educational Depart-
ment that any such attempt will contravene the
Act of Parliament, and that, therefore, the unsec-
tarian, law-abiding members of the School Boards
may safely reckon upon bringing down upon their
opponents the heavy hand of the Minister of Edu-
cation.*

So much for the powers of the School Boards.
Limited as they seem to be, it by no means follows
that such Boards, if they are composed of intelli-
gent and practical men, really more in earnest
about education than about sectarian squabbles,
may not exert a very great amount of influence.
And, from many circumstances, this is especially

* SiiK'o this par.i.2:rnph was writton, '>rr. Forstor, in
speakinc: at tho Rirkbook Institution, lias rornoved all (]onl)ts
as to what his " final (leoision " will be in tho oaseof snr>h dis-
putes heinp: roforrod to him : — " T havo tho fnllost confidence
that in the readinc: and explaininc: of the Bible, what the
children will be tanerht will be the crreat truths of Christian
life and conduct, which all of us desire they should know,
and that no effort will be made to cram into tlioir poor little
minds, theoloprical dofjmas which their tender age prevents
them from understanding."

xr THE SCHOOL BOARDS 3S9

likely to be the case with the London School Board,
which, if it conducts itself wisely, may become a
true educational parliament, as subordinate in au-
thority to the Minister of Education, theoretically,
as the Legislature is to the Crown, and yet, like the
Legislature, possessed of great practical authority.
And I suppose that no Minister of Education
would be other than glad to have the aid of the de-
liberations of such a body, or fail to pay careful
attention to its recommendations.

What, then, ought to be the nature and scope
of the education which a School Board should en-
deavour to give to every child under its influence,
and for which it should try to obtain the aid of
the Parliamentary grants? In my judgment it
should include at least the following kinds of in-
struction and of discipline: —

1. Physical training and drill, as part of the
regular business of the school.

It is impossible to insist too much on the im-
portance of this part of education for the children
of the poor of great towns. All the conditions of
their lives are unfavourable to their physical well-
being. They are badly lodged, badly housed, badly
fed, and live from one year's end to another in bad
air, without chance of a change. They have no
play-grounds; they amuse themselves with marbles
and chuck-farthing, instead of cricket or hare-
and-hounds; and if it were not for the wonderful
instinct which leads all poor children of tender

390 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

years to run under the feet of cab-horses whenever
they can, I know not how they would learn to use
their limbs with agility.

Now there is no real difficulty about teaching
drill and the simpler kinds of gymnastics. It is
done admirably well, for example, in the North
Surrey Union schools; and a year or two ago
when I had an opportunity of inspecting these
schools, I was greatly struck with the effect of
such training upon the poor little waifs and strays
of humanity, mostly picked out of the gutter, who
are being made into cleanly, healthy, and useful
members of society in that excellent institution.

Whatever doubts people may entertain about
the efficacy of natural selection, there can be none
about artificial selection; and the breeder who
should attempt to make, or keep up, a fine stock
of pigs, or sheep, under the conditions to which
the children of the poor are exposed, would be the
laughing-stock even of the bucolic mind. Parlia-
ment has already done somctliing in this direction
by declining to be an accomplice in the aspliyxia-
tion of school children. It refuses to make any
grant to a scliool in which the cul)ical contents of
the school-room are inadequate to allow of proper
respiration. I should like to see it make another
step in the same direction, and either refuse to
give a grant to a school in which physical training
is not a part of the programme, or, at any rate,
offer to pay upon such training. If something of

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 391

the kind is not done, the English physique, which
has been, and is still, on the whole, a grand one,
will become as extinct as the dodo in the great
towns.

And then the moral and intellectual effect of
drill, as an introduction to, and aid of, all other
sorts of traininsr, must not be overlooked. If vou
want to break in a colt, surely the first thing to do is
to catch him and get him quietly to face his train-
er; to know his voice and bear his hand; to learn
that colts have something else to do with their
heels than to kick them up whenever they feel so
inclined; and to discover that the dreadful human
figure has no desire to devour, or even to beat
him, but that, in case of attention and obedience,
he may hope for patting and even a sieve of oats.

But, your " street Arabs,'' and other neglected
poor children, are rather worse and wilder than
colts; for the reason that the horse-colt has only
his animal instincts in him, and his mother, the
mare, has been always tender over him, and never
came home drunk and kicked him in her life; while
the man-colt is inspired by that very real devil, per-
verted manhood, and his mother may have done
all that and more. ' So, on the whole, it may
probably be even more expedient to begin your
attempt to get at the higher nature of the child,
than at that of the colt, from the physical side.

2. Xext in order to physical training T put the

instruction of children, and cspeciallv of girls, in
85

392 THE SCHOOL HOARDS xv

the elements of household work and of domestic
economy; in the first place for their own sakes,
and in the second for that of their future
employers.

Every one who knows anything of the life of
the English poor is aware of the misery and waste
caused by their want of knowledge of domestic
economy, and by their lack of habits of frugality
and method. I suppose it is no exaggeration to
say that a poor Frenchwoman would make the
money which the wife of a poor Englishman
spends in food go twice as far, and at the same
time turn out twice as palatable a dinner. AVhy
Englishmen, who are so notoriously fond of good
living, should be so helplessly incompetent in the
art of cookery, is one of the great mysteries of
nature; but from the varied abominations of the
railway refreshment-rooms to the monotonous
dinners of the poor, English feeding is either
wasteful or nasty, or both.

And as to domestic service, the groans of the
housewives of England ascend to heaven! In five
cases out of six the girl who takes a " place " has
to be trained by her mistress in the first rudiments
of decency and order; and it is a mercy if she does
not turn up her nose at anything like the mention
of an honest and proper economy. Thousands of
young girls are said to starve, or worse, yearly in.
London; and at the same time thousands of
mistresses of households are ready to pay high

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 393

wages for a decent housemaid, or cook, or a fair
workwoman; and can by no means get what they
want.

Surely, if the elementary schools are worth any-
thing, they may put an end to a state of things
which is demoralising the poor, while it is wasting
the lives of those better off in small worries and
annoyances.

3. But the boys and girls for whose education
the School Boards have to provide, have not
merely to discharge domestic duties, but each of
them is a member of a social and political organisa-
tion of great complexity, and has, in future life,
to fit himself into that organisation, or be crushed
by it. To this end it is surely needful, not only
that they should l)e made acquainted with the
elementary laws of conduct, but that their affec-
tions should be trained, so as to love with all their
hearts that conduct which tends to the attainment
of the highest good for themselves and their
fellow men, and to hate with all their hearts that
opposite course of action which is fraught with
evil.

So far as the laws of conduct are determined by
the intellect, I apprehend that they belong to
science, and to that part of science which is called
morality. But the engagement of the affections
in favour of that particular kind of conduct which
we call good, seems to me to be something quite
bevond mere science. And T cannot Imt think

304: THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

that it, together with the awe and reverence,
which have no kinship with hase fear, but arise
whenever one tries to pierce below tlie surface of
things, whether they be material or si)iritual, con-
stitutes all that has any unchangeable reality in
religion.

And just as 1 think it would be a mistake to
confound the science, morality, with the affection,
religion; so do I conceive it to be a most lament-
able and mischievous error, that the science,
theology, is so confounded in the minds of many —
indeed, I might say, of the majority of men.

I do not express any opinion as to whether
theology is a true science, or whether it does not
come under the apostolic definition of '' science
falsely so called; " though I may be permitted to
express the belief that if the Apostle to whom
that much misapplied phrase is due could make
the acquaintance of much of modern theology, he
would not hesitate a moment in declaring that it
is exactly what he meant the words to denote.

But it is at anv rate conceivable, that the
nature of the Deitv, and his relations to the
universe, and more especially to mankind, are
capable of being ascertained, either inductively or
deductively, or by both processes. And, if they
have been ascertained, then a body of science
has been formed which is very properly called
theology.

Further, there can be no doubt that affection

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 395

for the Being thus defined and described by
theologic science would be properly termed re-
ligion; but it would not be the whole of religion.
The affection for the ethical ideal defined by moral
science would claim, equal if not superior rights.
For suppose theology established the existence of
an evil deity — and some theologies, even Christian
ones, have come very near this, — is the religious
affection to be transferred from the ethical ideal
to any such omnipotent demon? I trow not. Bet-
ter a thousand times that the human race should
perish under his thunderbolts than it should say,
" Evil, be thou my good.'^

There is nothing new, that I know of, in this
statement of the relations of religion with the
science of morality on the one hand and that of
theology on the other. But I believe it to be
altogether true, and very needful, at this time, to
be clearly and emphatically recognised as such,
by those who have to deal with the education
question.

We are divided into two parties — the advocates
of so-called " religious " teaching on the one hand,
and those of so-called " secular " teaching on the
other. And both parties seem to me to be not
only hopelessly wrong, but in such a position that
if either succeeded completely, it would discover,
before many years were over, that it had made a
great mistake and done serious evil to the cause of
education.

396 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

For, leaving aside the more far-seeing minority
on each side, what the " religious " party is crying
for is mere theology, under the name of religion;
■while the " secularists " have unwisely and wrong-
fully admitted the assumption of their opponents,
and demand the abolition of all ^'religious" teach-
ing, wlien they only want to be free of theology —
Burning your ship to get rid of the cockroaches!

But my belief is, tliat no human being, and no
society composed of human beings, ever did, or
ever will, come to much, unless their conduct was
governed and guided by the love of some ethical
ideal. Undoubtedly, your gutter child may be
converted by mere intellectual drill into " the
subtlest of all the beasts of the field; " but we
know what has become of the original of that
description, and there is no need to increase the
number of those who imitate him successfully with-
out being aided by the rates. And if I were com-
pelled to choose for one of my own children, be-
tween a school in whicli real religious instruction
is given, and one without it, I should prefer the
former, even though the child might have to take
a good deal of theology with it. Nine-tenths of a
dose of bark is mere half-rotten wood; but one
swallows it for the sake of the particles of quinine,
the beneficial effect of whicli may be weakened,
but is not destroyed, by the wooden dilution,
unless in a few cases of exceptionally tender
stomachs.

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 397

Hence, when the great mass of the English
people declare that they want to have the children
in the elementary schools taught the Bible, and
when it is plain from the terms of the Act, the
dchates in and out of Parliament, and especially
the emphatic declarations of the Vice-President of
the Council, that it was intended that such Bible-
reading should be permitted, unless good cause
for prohibiting it could be shown, I do not see
what reason there is for opposing that wish.
Certainl}', I, individually, could with no shadow
of consistency oppose the teaching of the children
of other people to do that which my own children
are taught to do. And, even if the reading the
Bible were not, as I think it is, consonant with
political reason and justice, and with a desire to act
in the spirit of the education measure, I am dis-
posed to think it might still be well to read that
book in the elementary schools.

I have always been strongly in favour of secular
education, in the sense of education without
theology; but I must confess I have been no less
seriously perplexed to know by what practical
measures the religious feeling, which is the essen-
tial basis of conduct, was to be kept up, in the
present utterly chaotic state of opinion on these
matters, without the use of the Bible. The Pagan
moralists lack life and colour, and even the noble
Stoic, IMarcus Antonius, is too high and refined
for an ordinary child. Take the Bible as a whole;

398 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

make the severest deductions which fair criticism
can dictate for shortcomings and positive errors;
ehminate, as a sensible lay-teacher would do, if
left to himself, all tliat it is not desirable for
children to occupy themselves witli; and there
still remains in this old literature a vast residuum
of moral beauty and grandeur. And then consider
the great historical fact that, for three centuries,
this book has been woven into the life of all that
is best and noblest in English history; that it has
become the national epic of Britain, and is as
familiar to nol)le and simple, from Jolm-o'-Groat's
House to Land's End, as Dante and Tasso once
were to the Italians; that it is written in the
noblest and purest English, and abounds in ex-
quisite beauties of mere literary form; and, finally,
that it forbids the veriest hind who never left
his village to be ignorant of the existence of other
countries and other civilisations, and of a great
past, stretching back to the furthest limits of the
oldest nations in the world. By the study of what
other book could children be so much humanised
and made to feel that each figure in that vast his-
torical procession fills, like themselves, but a mo-
mentary space in the interval between two eter-
nities; and earns the blessings or the curses of all
time, according to its effort to do good and hate
evil, even as they also are earning their payment
for their work?

On the whole, then, I am in favour of reading

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 399

the Bible, with such grammatical, geographical,
and historical explanations by a lay-teacher as may
be needful, witii rigid exclusion of any further
theological teaching than that contained in the
Bible itself. And in stating what this is, the
teacher would do well not to go beyond the pre-
cise words of the Bible; for if he does, he will,
in the first place, undertake a task beyond his
strength, seeing that all the Jewish and Christian
sects have been at work upon that subject for
more than two thousand years, and have not yet
arrived, and are not in the least likely to arrive,
at an agreement; and, in the second place, he will
certainly begin to teach something distinctively
denominational, and thereby come into violent
collision with the Act of Parliament.

4. The intellectual training to be given in the
elementary schools must of course, in the first
place, consist in learning to use the means of
acquiring knowledge, or reading, writing, and
arithmetic; and it will be a great matter to teach
reading so completely that the act shall have be-
come easy and pleasant. If reading remains
" hard," that accomplishment will not be much re-
sorted to for instruction, and still less for amuse-
ment— which last is one of its most valuable uses
to hard-worked people. But along with a due
proficiency in the use of the means of learning,
a certain amount of knowledge, of intellectual
discipline, and of artistic training should be

400 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

conveyed in the elementary schools; and in
this direction — for reasons which I am afraid
to repeat, having urged them so often — I can
conceive no subject-matter of education so appro-
priate and so important as the rudiments of
physical science, with drawing, modelling, and
singing. Not only would such teaching atford the
best possible preparation for the technical schools
about which so much is now said, but tlie organi-
sation for carrying it into eifect already exists.
The Science and Art Department, the operations
of which have already attained considerable magni-
tude, not only offers to examine and pay the
results of such examination in elementarv science
and art, but it provides what is still more impor-
tant, viz. a means of giving children of high
natural ability, who are just as abundant among
the poor as among the rich, a helping hand. A
good old proverb tells us that " One sliould not take
a razor to cut a block: " the razor is soon spoiled,
and the block is not so well cut as it would be with
a hatchet. But it is worse economy to prevent a
possible Watt from being anything but a stoker,
or to give a possible Faraday no chance of doing
anything but to bind books. Indeed, the loss in
such cases of mistaken vocation has no measure;
it is absolutely infinite and irre])arable. And
among the arguments in favour of the interference
of the State in education, none seems to be
stronger than this — that it is the interest of every

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 401

one that ability should be neither wasted, nor
misapplied, by any one: and, therefore, that every
one's representative, the State, is necessarily
fulfilling the wishes of its constituents when
it is helping the capacities to reach their proper
places.

It may be said that the scheme of education
here sketched is too large to be affected in the
time during which the children will remain at
school; and, secondly, that even if this objection
did not exist, it would cost too much.

I attach no importance whatever to the first
objection until the experiment has been fairly
tried. Considering how much catechism, lists of
the kings of Israel, geography of Palestine, and the
like, children are made to swallow now, I cannot
believe there will be any difficulty in inducing
them to go through the physical training, which
is more than half play; or the instruction in
household work, or in those duties to one another
and to themselves, which have a daily and hourly
practical interest. That children take kindly to
elementary science and art no one can doubt who
has tried the experiment properly. And if Bible-
reading is not accompanied by constraint and so-
lemnity, as if it were a sacrarnental operation, I
do not believe there is anything in which children
take more pleasure. At least I know that some
of the pleasantest recollections of my childhood
are connected with the voluntary study of an an-

402 THE SCHOOL BOARDS xv

cient Bible whicli belonged to my grandmother.
There were splendid pictures in it, to be sure;
but I recollect little or nothing about them save
a portrait of the liigli priest in his vestments.
What come vividly back on my mind are remem-
brances of my delight in the histories of Joseph
and of David; and of my keen a])preciation of the
chivalrous kindness of Abraham in his dealing
with Lot. Like a sudden tlash there returns back
upon me, my utter scorn of the pettifogging mean-
ness of Jacob, and my sympathetic grief over the
heartbreaking lamentation of the cheated Esau,
" Hast thou not a blessing for me also, 0 my
father?" And I see, as in a cloud, pictures
of the grand phantasmagoria of the Book of Reve-
lation.

I enumerate, as they issue, the childish impres-
sions which come crowding out of tlie pigeon-holes
in my brain, in Mhieh they have lain almost un-
disturbed for forty years. I prize them as an
evidence that a child of five or six vears old, left
to his own devices, may be deeply interested in
the Bible, and draw sound moral sustenance from
it. And I rejoice that I was left to deal with the
Bible alone; for if I had had some theological
" explainer " at my side, he might have tried, as
such do, to lessen my indignation against Jacob,
and thereby have warped my moral sense for ever;
while the great apocalyptic spectacle of the ulti-
mate triumph of right and justice might have been

XV THE SCHOOL BOARDS 403

turned to the base purposes of a pious lampooner
of the Papacy.

And as to the second objection — costliness —
the reply is, first, that tlie rate and the Parlia-
mentary grant together ought to be enough, con-
sidering that science and art teaching is already
provided for; and, secondly, that if they are not,
it may be well for the educational parliament to
consider what has become of those endowments
which were originally intended to be devoted,
more or less largely, to the education of the
poor.

When the monasteries were spoiled, some of
their endowments were applied to the foundation
of cathedrals; and in all such cases it was ordered
that a certain portion of the endowment should be
applied to the purposes of education. How much is
so applied? Is that which may be so applied given
to help the poor, who cannot pay for education, or
does it virtualy subsidise the comparatively rich,
who can? How are Christ's Hospital and Alleyn's
foundation Securing their right purposes, or how
far are they perverted into contrivances for afford-
ing relief to the classes who can afford to pay for
education? How — But this paper is already
too long, and, if I begin, I may find it hard to stop
asking questions of this kind, which after all are
worthy only of the lowest of Kadicals.

XVI
TECIIXICAL EDUCATION"

[i8;r]

AxY candid observer of the phenomena of
modern society will readily admit that bores must
be classed among the enemies of the human race;
and a little consideration will probably lead him to
the further admission, that no species of that exten-
sive genus of noxious creatures is more objectionable
than the educational bore. Convinced as I am of
the truth of this great social generalisation, it is
not without a certain trepidation that I venture to
address you on an educational topic. For, in tlie
course of the last ten years, to go back no farther,
I am afraid to say how often I have ventured to
speak of education, from that given in the primary
schools to that which is to be had in the univer-
sities and medical colleges; indeed, the only part
of this wide region into which, as yet, I have not
adventured is that into which I propose to intrude
to-day.

Tims, T cannot but be aware that T am dan-
401

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 405

geroiisly near becoming the tiling which all men
fear and fly. But I have deliberately elected to run
the risk. For when you did me the honour to ask
me to address you, an unexpected circumstance had
led me to occupy myself seriously with the ques-
tion of technical education; and I had acquired the
conviction that there are few subjects respecting
which it is more important for all classes of the
community to have clear and just ideas than this;
while, certainly, there is none which is more deserv-
ing of attention by the Working Men's Club and
Institute Union.

It is not for me to express an opinion whether
the considerations, which I am about to submit to
you, will be proved by experience to be just or not,
but I will do my best to make them clear. Among
the many good things to be found in Lord Bacon's
works, none is more full of wisdom than the saying
that " truth more easily comes out of error than
out of confusion." Clear and consecutive wronff-
thinking is the next best thing to right-thinking;
so that, if I succeed in clearing your ideas on this
topic, I shall have wasted neither your time nor
my own.

" Technical education," in the sense in which
the term is ordinarily used, and 4n which I am now
employing it, means that sort of education which
is specially adapted to the needs of men whose
business in life it is to pursue some kind of handi-
craft; it is, in fact, a fine Greco-Latin equivalent

406 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

for what in good vernacular English would be
called '' the teaching of liandicrafts." And prol)-
ably, at this stage of our progress, it may occur to
many of you to think of the story of the cohhlcr
and his last, and to say to yourselves, though you
will be too polite to put the question openly to me,
AVhat does the speaker know practically about this
matter? What is his handicraft? I think the
question is a very proper one, and unless I were
prepared to answer it, I hope satisfactorily, I
should have chosen some other theme.

The fact is, I am, and have been, any time
these thirty years, a man who works with his hands
— a liandicraftsman. I do not say this in tlie
broadly metaphorical sense inwhich finegentlemen,
witli all the delicacy of Agag about them, trip to
the hustings about election time, and protest that
they too are working men. I really mean my words
to be taken in their direct, literal, and straightfor-
ward sense. In fact, if the most nimble-fingered
watchmaker among you will come to my worksho]),
he may set me to put a watch together, and I will
set him to dissect, say, a blackbcctle's nerves. I do
not wish to vaunt, but I am inclined to think that
I shall manage my job to his satisfaction sooner
than he will do his piece of work to mine.

In truth, anatomy, which is my handicraft, is
one of the most difficult kinds of meclianical la-
bour, involving, as it does, not only lightness and
dexterity of hand, but sharp eyes and endless pa-

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 407

tience. And you must not suppose that my par-
tic-ular branch of science is especially distinguished
for the demand it makes upon skill in manipula-
tion. A similar requirement is made upon all stu-
dents of physical science. The astronomer, the
electrician, the chemist, the mineralogist, the bot-
anist, are constantly called upon to perform manual
operations of exceeding delicacy. The progress of
all branches of physical science depends upon ob-
servation, or on that artificial observation which is
termed experiment, of one kind or another; and,
the farther we advance, the more practical difficul-
ties surround the investigation of the conditions of
the problems offered to us; so that mobile and yet
steady hands, guided by clear vision, are more and
more in request in the workshops of science.

Indeed, it has struck me that one of the
grounds of that sympathy between the handicrafts-
men of this country and the men of science, by
which it has so often been my good fortune to
profit, may, perhaps, lie here. You feel and we
feel that, among the so-called learned folks, we
alone are brou2:ht into contact with tamj-ible facts
in the way that you are. You know well enough
that it is one thing to write a history of chairs in
general, or to address a poem to a throne, or to
speculate about the occult powers of the chair of
St. Peter; and quite another thing to make with
your own hands a veritable chair, that will stand

fair and square, and alford a safe and satisfac-
8G

408 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

tory resting-place to a frame of sensitiveness and
solidity.

So it is with us, when we look out from our sci-
entific handicrafts upon the doings of our learned
brethren, whose work is untrammelled by anything
'' base and mechanical," as handicrafts used to be
called when the world was younger, and, in some
respects, less wise than now. We take the greatest
interest in their pursuits; we are edified by their
histories and are charmed with their poems, which
sometimes illustrate so remarkably the powers of
man's imagination; some of us admire and even
luimljly try to follow them in their high philo-
sophical excursions, though we know the risk of
being snubbed by the inquiry whether grovelling
dissectors of monkeys and blackbeetles can hope to
enter into the empyreal kingdom of speculation.
But still we feel that our business is different; hum-
bler if you will, tliough the diminution of dignity
is, perhaps, compensated by the increase of reality;
and that we, like you, have to get our work done in
a region where little avails, if the power of dealing
with practical tangible facts is wanting. You
know that clever talk touching joinery will not
make a chair; and I know that it is of about as
much value in the physical sciences. Mother Na-
ture is serenely obdurate to honeyed words; only
those who understand tlie ways of tilings, and can
silently and effectually handle them, get any good
out of her.

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 409

And now, having, as I hope, justified my as-
sumption of a place among handicraftsmen, and
put myself right with you as to my qualification,
from practical knowledge, to speak about technical
education, I will proceed to lay before you the
results of my experience as a teacher of a handi-
craft, and tell you what sort of education I should
think best adapted for a boy whom one wanted to
make a professional anatomist.

I should say, in the first pake, let him have a
good English elementary education. I do not
mean that he shall be able to pass in such and
such a standard — that may or may not be an
equivalent expression — but that his teaching shall
have been such as to have given him command of
the common implements of learning and to have
created a desire for the things of the under-
standing.

Further, I should like him to know the ele-
ments of physical science, and especially of physics
and chemistry, and I should take care that this
elementary knowledge was real. I should like my
aspirant to be able to read a scientific treatise in
Latin, French, or German, because an enormous
amount of anatomical knowledge is locked up in
those languages. And especially, I should require
some ability to draw — I do not mean artistically,
for that is a gift which may be cultivated but can-
not be learned, but with fair accuracy. I will not
say that everybody can learn even this; for the

410 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

negative development of the faculty of drawing in
some people is almost miraculous. Still every-
body, or almost everybody, can learn to write;
and, as writing is a kind of drawing, I suppose
that the majority of the people who say they can-
not draw, and give copious evidence of the accu-
racy of their assertion, could draw, after a fashion,
if they tried. And that " after a fashion " would
be better than nothing for my purposes.

Above all things, let my imaginary pupil have
preserved the freshness and vigour of youth in his
mind as well as his body. The educational
abomination of desolation of the present day is the
stimulation of young people to work at high
pressure by incessant competitive examinations.
Some wise man (who probably was not an early
riser) has said of early risers in general, that they
are conceited all the forenoon and stupid all the
afternoon. Xow whether this is true of early
risers in the common acceptation of the word or
not, I will not pretend to say; Init it is too often
true of the unhappy children who are forced to
rise too early in their classes. They are conceited
all the forenoon of life, and stupid all its afternoon.
The vigour and freshness, which should have been
stored up for the purposes of the hard struggle
for existence in practical life, have been washed
out of them by precocious mental debauchery —
by book gluttony and lesson bibbing. Their
facullies are worn out by the strain put upon their

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 411

callow brains, and they are demoralised by wortli-
less childish triumphs before the real work of life
begins. I have no compassion for sloth, but youth
has more need for intellectual rest than age; and
the cheerfulness, the tenacity of purpose, the power
of work which make many a successful man what
he is, must often be j^laced to the credit, not of
his hours of industry, but to that of his hours of
idleness, in boyhood. Even the hardest worker
of us all, if he has to deal with anything above
mere details, will do well, now and again, to let
his brain lie fallow for a space. The next crop of
thought will certainly be all the fuller in the ear
and the weeds fewer.

This is the sort of education which I should
like any one who was going to devote himself to
my handicraft to undergo. As to knowing any-
thing about anatomy itself, on the whole I would
rather he left that alone until he took it up
seriously in my laboratory. It is hard work
enough to teach, and I should not like to have
superadded to that the possible need of un-
teacliing.

Well, but, you will say, this is Hamlet with the
Prince of Denmark left out; your " technical
education '' is simply a gopd education, with
more attention to physical science, to draw-
ing, and to modern languages than is com-
mon, and there is nothing specially technical
about it.

412 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

Exactly so; that remark takes us straight to
the heart of what I have to say; which is, that,
in my judgment, the preparatory education of
the handicraftsman ought to have nothing of
what is ordinarily understood by " technical '*
about it.

The workshop is the only real school for a
handicraft. The education which precedes tliat
of the workshop should be entirely devoted to the
strengthening of the body, the elevation of the
moral faculties, and the cultivation of the intelli-
gence; and, especially, to the imbuing the mind
witli a broad and clear view of the laws of that
natural world with the components of which the
handicraftsman will have to deal. And, the earlier
the period of life at which the handicraftsman has
to enter into actual practice of his craft, the more
important is it that he should devote the precious
hours of preliminary education to things of the
mind, which have no direct and immediate bearing
on his branch of industry, though they lie at the
foundation of all realities.

Now let me apply the lessons I have learned
from my handicraft to yours. If any of you were
obliged to take an apprentice, I suppose you would
like to get a good healthy lad, ready and willing
to learn, handy, and with his fingers not all
thumbs, as the saying goes. You would like that
he should read, write, and cipher well; and, if

XVI TECHNTCAL EDUCATION 413

you were an intelligent master, and your trade
involved the application of scientific principles, as
so many trades do, you would like him to know
enough of the elementary principles of science to
understand what was going on. I suppose that,
in nine trades out of ten, it would be useful if he
could draw; and many of you must have lamented
your inability to find out for yourselves what for-
eigners are doing or have done. So that some
knowledge of French and German might, in many
cases, be very desirable.

So it appears to me that' what you want is pretty
much what I want; and the practical question is.
How you are to get what you need, under the
actual limitations and conditions of life of handi-
craftsmen in this country?

I think I shall have the assent both of the em-
ployers of labour and of the employed as to one of
these limitations; which is, that no scheme of
technical education is likely to be seriously enter-
tained which will delay the entrance of boys into
working life, or prevent them from contributing
towards their own support, as early as they do at
present. Not only do I believe that any such
scheme could not be carried out, but I doubt its
desirableness, even if it were practicable.

The period between childhood and manhood is
full of difficulties and dangers, under the most
favourable circumstances; and, even among the
well-to-do, who can afford to surround their chil-

414 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

dreu with the most favourable conditions, examples
of a career ruined, before it has well begun, are but
too frequent. Moreover, those who have to live by
labour must be shaped to labour early. The colt
that is left at grass too long makes but a sorry
drauglit-horse, though his way of life does not bring
him within the reach of artificial temptations. Per-
haps the most valuable result of all education is the
abilitv to make vourself do the thinoj vou have to
do, wiien it ought to be done, whether you like it or
not; it is the first lesson that ought to be learned;
and, however early a man's training begins, it is
probably the last lesson that he learns thoroughly.

There is another reason, to which I have already
adverted, and which I would reiterate, why any ex-
tension of the time devoted to ordinary school-
work is undesirable. In the newly-awakened zeal
for education, we run some risk of forgetting the
truth that while under instruction is a bad thing,
over-instruction may possibly be a worse.

Success in any kind of practical life is not de-
pendent solely, or indeed chiclly, upon knowledge.
Even in the learned professions, knowledge
alone, is of less consequence than people are apt
to suppose. And, if much expenditure of bodily
energy is involved in the day's work, mere knowl-
edge is of still less importance when weighed
against the probable cost of its acquirement. To do
a fair day's work with his hands, a man needs,
above all things, health, strength, and the patience

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 415

and cheerfulness which, if they do not always ac-
company these blessings, can hardly in the nature
of things exist without them; to which we must
add honesty of purpose and a pride in doing what
is done well.

A good handicraftsman can get on very well
without genius, but he will fare badly without a
reasonable share of that which is a more useful
possession for workaday life, namely, mother-wit;
and he will be all the better for a real knowledge,
however limited, of the ordinary laws of nature,
and especially of those which apply to his own
business.

Instruction carried so far as to help the scholar
to turn his store of mother-wit to account, to
acquire a fair amount of sound elementary knowl-
edge, and to use his liands and eyes; while leav-
ing him fresh, vigorous, and with a sense of the
dignity of his own calling, wliatever it may be, if
fairly and honestly pursued, cannot fail to be of
invaluable service to all tliose who come under its
influence.

But, on the other hand, if school instruction is
carried so far as to encourage bookishness; if the
ambition of the scholar is directed, not to the gain-
ing of knowledge, but to the being able to pass
examinations successfully; especially if encourage-
ment is given to the mischievous delusion that
brainwork is, in itself, and apart from its quality,
a nobler or more respectable thing than handiwork

416 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

— such education may be a deadly inischief to the
workman, and lead to the rapid ruin of the indus-
tries it is intended to serve.

I know that I am expressing the opinion of
some of the largest as well as the most enlightened
employers of labour, when 1 say that there is a real
danger that, from the extreme of no education, we
may run to the other extreme of over-education of
handicraftsmen. And I apprehend that what is
true for the ordinary hand-worker is true for the
foreman. Activity, probity, knowledge of men,
ready mother-wit, supplemented by a good knowl-
edge of the general principles involved in his
business, are the making of a good foreman. If he
possess these qualities, no amount of learning will
fit him better for his position; while the course of
life and the habit of mind required for the at-
tainment of such learning may, in various direct
and indirect ways, act as direct disqualifications
for it.

Keeping in mind, then, that the two things to
be avoided are, the delay of the entrance of boys
into practical life, and the substitution of ex-
hausted bookworms for shrewd, handy men, in our
works and factories, let us consider what may be
wisely and safely attempted in the way of improv-
ing the education of the handicraftsman.

First, I look to the elementary schools now
happily established all over the country. I am not
going to criticise or find fault with them; on the

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 417

contrary, their establishment seems to me to be the
most important and the most beneficial result of
the corporate action of the people in our day. A
great deal is said of British interests just now, but,
depend upon it, that no Eastern difficulty needs
our intervention as a nation so seriously, as the
putting down both the Bashi-Bazouks of ignorance
and the Cossacks of sectarianism at home. What
has already been achieved in these directions is a
great thing; you must have lived some time to
know how great. An education, better in its
processes, better in its substance, than that which
was accessible to the great majority of well-to-do
Britons a quarter of a century ago, is now obtain-
able by every child in the land. Let any man of
my age go into an ordinary elementary school, and
unless he was unusually fortunate in his youth, he
will tell you that the educational method, the in-
telligence, patience, and good temper on the
teacher^s part, which are now at the disposal of
the veriest waifs and wastrels of society, are things
of which he had no experience in those costly,
middle-class schools, which were so ingeniously
contrived as to combine all the evils and short-
comings of the great public schools with none of
their advantages. Many a man, whose so-called
education cost a good deal of valuable money and
occupied many a year of invaluable time, leaves the
inspection of a well-ordered elementary school
devoutly wishing that, in his young days, he had

41S TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

had the chance of being as well taught as these
bo3's and girls are.

But while in view of such an advance in general
education, I willingly obey the natural impulse to
be thankful, I am not willing altogether to rest.
I want to see instruction in elementary science
and in art more thoroughly incorporated in the
educational system. At present, it is being
administered by driblets, as if it were a potent
medicine, "^ a few drops to be taken occasionally in
a teaspoon." Every year I notice that that earnest
and untiring friend of yours and of mine. Sir
John Lubbock, stirs up the Government of the
day in the House of Commons on this subject;
and also that, every year, he, and the few mem-
bers of the House of Commons, such as Dr. Play-
fair, who sympathise with him, are met with ex-
pressions of warm admiration for science in
general, and reasons at large for doing nothing in
particular. But now that ^Ir. Forster, to whom
the education of the country owes so much, has
announced his conversion to tlie riglit faith, I
begin to hope that, sooner or later, things will
mend.

I have given what I believe to be a good
reason for the assumption, that the keeping at
school of boys, who are to be handicraftsmen,
beyond the age of thirteen or fourteen is neither
practicable nor desirable; and, as it is quite cer-
tain, that, with justice to other and no less impor-

XVI TEGHXICAL EDUCATION 419

tant branches of education, nothing more than the
rudiments of science and art teaching can be
introduced into elementary schools, we must seek
elsewhere for a supplementary training in these
subjects, and, if need be, in foreign languages,
which may go on after the workman's life has
begun.

The means of acquiring the scientific and artis-
tic part of this training already exists in full work-
ing order, in the first place, in the classes of
the Science and Art Department, which are, for
the most part, held in the evening, so as to be
accessible to all who choose to avail themselves of
them after working hours. The great advantage
of these classes is that they bring the means of
instruction to the doors of the factories and work-
shops; that they are no artificial creations, but by
their very existence prove the desire of the people
for them; and finally, that they admit of indefinite
development in proportion as they are wanted. I
have often expressed the opinion, and I repeat it
here, that, during the eighteen years they have
been in existence these classes have done incalcu-
lable good; and I can say, of my own knowledge,
that the Department spares no pains and trouble
in trying to increase their usefulness and ensure
the soundness of their work.

Xo one knows better tlian my friend Colonel
Donnelly, to whose clear views and great adminis-
trative abilities so much of the successful working

420 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

of the science classes is due, that there is much to
be done before the system can be said to be thor-
oughly satisfactory. The instruction given needs
to be made more systematic and especially more
practical; the teachers are of very unequal excel-
lence, and not a few stand much in need of instruc-
tion themselves, not only in the subject which
they teach, but in the objects for which they
teach. I dare say you liave heard of that pro-
ceeding, reproljated by all true sportsmen, which
is called " shooting for the pot." Well, there is
such a thing as " teaching for the pot " — leaching,
that is, not that your scholar may know, but
that he may count for payment among those who
pass the examination; and there are some teachers,
hapj)ily not many, who have yet to learn that the
examiners of the Department regard them as
poachers of the worst description.

Without presuming in any way to speak in the
name of the Department, I think I may say, as a
matter which has come under my own o])servation,
that it is doing its best to meet all these difficulties.
It systematically promotes practical instruction in
the classes; it affords facilities to teachers who de-
sire to learn their business thoroughly; and it is
always ready to aid in the suppression of pot-
teaching.

All this is, as you may imagine, highly satis-
factory to me. I see tliat spread of scientific
education, about which I have so often permitted

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 421

myself to worry the public, become, for all practical
purposes, an accomplished fact. Grateful as I am
for all that is now being done, in the same direc-
tion, in our higher schools and universities, I have
ceased to have any anxiety about the wealthier
classes. Scientific knowledge is spreading by
what the alchemists called a " distillatio per
ascensum; " and nothing now can prevent it from
continuing to distil upwards and permeate English
society, until, in the remote future, there shall be
no member of the legislature who does not know
as much of science as an elementary school-boy;
and even the heads of houses in our venerable
seats of learning shall acknowledge that natural
science is not merely a sort of University back-
door through which inferior men may get at their
degrees. Perhaps this apocalyptic vision is a little
wild; and I feel I ought to ask pardon for an
outbreak of enthusiasm, which, I assure you, is
not my commonest failing.

I have said that the Government is already do-
ing a great deal in aid of that kind of technical
education for handicraftsmen which, to my mind,
is alone worth seeking. Perhaps it is doing as much
as it ought to do, even in this direction. Certainly
there is another kind of help of the most important
character, for which we may look elsewhere than
to the Government. The great mass of mankind
have neither the liking, nor the aptitude, for
either literary, or scientific, or artistic pursuits; nor,

422 TECHNICAL EDUCATION svi

indeed, for excellence of any sort. Their ambition
is to go through life with moderate exertion and a
fair share of ease, doing common things in a com-
mon way. And a great blessing and comfort it is
that the majority of men are of this mind; for the
majority of things to be done are common things,
and are quite well enough done when commonly
done. The great end of life is not knowledge but
action. What men need is, as much knowledge as
they can assimilate and organise into a basis for
action; give them more and it may become
injurious. One knows people who are as heavy
and stupid from undigested learning as others are
from over-fulness of meat and drink. But a small
percentage of the population is born with that most
excellent quality, a desire for excellence, or with
special aptitudes of some sort or another; Mr.
Galton tells us that not more than one in four thou-
sand may be expected to attain distinction, and not
more than one in a million some share of that in-
tensity of instinctive aptitude, that burning thirst
for excellence, which is called genius.

Now, the most important object of all educa-
tional schemes is to catch these exceptional people,
and turn them to account for the good of society.
No man can say where they will crop up; like
their opposites, tlie fools and knaves, they appear
sometimes in the palace, and sometimes in the
hovel; but the great thing to be aimed at, I was
almost going to say tlie most important end of all

XVI TECHNICAL EDUCATION 423

social arrangements, is to keep these glorious sports
of Nature from being either corrupted by luxury
or starved by poverty, and to put them into the
position in which they can do the work for which
they are especially fitted.

Thus, if a lad in an elementary scliool showed
signs of special capacity, I would try to provide
him with the means of continuing his education
after his daily working life had begun; if in the
evening classes he developed special capabilities
in the direction of science or of drawing, I would
try to secure him an apprenticeship to some trade
in which those powers would have applicability.
Or, if he chose to become a teacher, he should have
the chance of so doing. Finally, to the lad of
genius, the one in a million, I would make accessi-
ble the highest and most complete training the
country could afford. "Whatever that might cost,
depend upon it the investment would be a good
one. I weigh my words when I say that if the
nation could purchase a potential Watt, or Davy,
or Faraday, at the cost of a hundred thousand
pounds down, he would be dirt-cheap at the money.
It is a mere commonplace and everyday piece of
knowledge, that what these three men did has
produced untold millions of wealth, in the narrow-
est economical sense of the word.

Therefore, as the sum and crown of wliat is to
be done for technical education, I look to the pro-
vision of a machinerv for winnowinu" out tlic cn])a-
87

424 TECHNICAL p:i)rCATION xvi

cities and giving them scope. AVhen I was a mem-
ber of the London School Board, I said, in the
course of a speech, that our business was to provide
a hidder, reaching from the gutter to the univer-
sity, along which every child in the three kingdoms
should have the chance of climbing as far as he
was fit to go. This phrase was so much bandied
about at the time, that, to say truth, I am rather
tired of it; but I know of no other which so fully
expresses my belief, not only about education in
general, but about technical education in par-
ticular.

The essential foundation of all the organisation
needed for the promotion of education among
handicraftsmen will, I believe, exist in this coun-
try, when every working lad can feel that society
has done as much as lies in its power to remove all
needless and artificial obstacles from his path;
that there is no barrier, except such as exists in
the nature of things, between himself and what-
ever place in the social organisation he is fitted to
fill; and, more than this, that, if he has capacity
and industry, a hand is held out to liel]) him
along any path which is wisely and honestly
chosen.

I have endeavoured to point out to you that a
great deal of such an organisation already exists;
and I am glad to be able to add that there is a
good prospect that what is wanting will, before
long, be supj^lemented.

XVI TECHXICAL EDUCATION 425

Those powerful and wealthy societies, the livery
companies of the City of London, remembering
that they are the heirs and representatives of the
trade guilds of the Middle Ages, are interesting
themselves in the question. So far back as 1872
the Society of Arts organised a system of instruc-
tion in the technology of arts and manufactures,
for persons actually employed in factories and
workshops, who desired to extend and improve
their knowledge of the theory and practice of their
particular avocations; * and a considerable subsidy,
in aid of the efforts of the Society, was liberally
granted by the Clothworkers' Company; We have
here the hopeful commencement of a rational or-
ganisation for the promotion of excellence among
handicraftsmen. Quite recently, other of the
livery companies have determined upon giving
their powerful, and, indeed, almost boundless, aid
to the improvement of the teaching of handicrafts.
They have already gone so far as to appoint a
committee to act for them; and I betray no confi-
dence in adding that, some time since, the com-
mittee sought the advice and assistance of several
persons, myself among the number.

Of course I cannot tell you what may be the
result of the deliberations of the committee; but
we may all fairly hope that, before long, steps
which will have a weighty and a lasting influence

* See the Programme for 1878, issued by the Society of
Arts, p. 14.

426 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvi

on the growth and spread of sound and thorough
teaching among the handicraftsmen * of this coun-
try will be taken by the livery companies of Lon-
don.

[This hope has been fully justified by the es-
tablishment of the Cowper Street Schools, and
that of the Central Institution of the City and
Guilds of London Institute, September, 1881.]

* It is perhaps advisable to remark that the important
question of the professional education of managers of in-
dustrial works is not touched in the foregoing remarks.

XVII

ADDRESS ON BEHALF OF THE NATIONAL
ASSOCIATION FOR THE PROMOTION
OF TECHNICAL EDUCATION

[1887]

Mr. Mayor axd Gentlemen, — It must be a
matter of sincere satisfaction to those who, like
myself, have for many years past been convinced
of the vital importance of technical education to
this country to see that that subject is now being
taken up by some of the most important of our
manufacturing towns. The evidence which is
afforded of the public interest in the matter by
such meetings as those at Liverpool and New-
castle, and, last but not least, by that at which I
have the honour to be present to-day, may con-
vince us all, I think, that the question has passed
out of the region of speculation into that of action.
I need hardly say to any one here that the task
w^hich our Association contemplates is not only

427

428 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvn

one of primary importance — I may say of vital im-
portance— to the welfare of the country; but that
it is one of great extent and of vast difficulty.
There is a well-worn adage that those who set
out upon a great enterprise would do well to count
the cost. 1 am not sure that this is always true.
I think that some of the veVy greatest enterprises
in this world have been carried out successfully
simply because the people who undertook them did
not count the cost; and I am much of opinion
that, in this very case, the most instructive con-
sideration for us is the cost of doing nothing. But
there is one thing that is perfectly certain, and it
is that, in undertaking all enterprises, one of
the most important conditions of success is to
have a perfectly clear comprehension of what you
want to do — to have that before your minds before
you set out, and from that point of view to consider
carefully the measures which are best adapted to
the end.

Mr. Acland has just given you an excellent
account of what is properly and strictly understood
by technical education; but I venture to think
that the purpose of this Association may be stated
in somewhat broader terms, and that the object we
have in view is the development of the industrial
productivity of the country to the uttermost limits
consistent with social welfare. And you will
observe that, in thus widening the definition of
our object, 1 have gone no further than the Mayor

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 429

in his speech, when he not obscurely hinted — and
most justly hinted — that in dealing with this ques-
tion there are other matters than technical educa-
tion, in the strict sense, to be considered.

It would be extreme presumption on my part if
I were to attempt to tell an audience of gentlemen
intimately acquainted with all branches of industry
and commerce, such as I see before me, in what
manner the practical details of the operations that
we propose are to be carried out. I am absolutely
ignorant both of trade and of commerce, and upon
such matters I cannot venture to say a solitary
word. But there is one direction in which I think
it possible I may be of service — not much perhaps,
but still of some, — because this matter, in the
first place, involves the consideration of methods of
education with which it has been my business to
occupy myself during the greater part of my life;
and, in the second place, it involves attention to
some of those broad facts and laws of nature with
which it has been my business to acquaint myself
to the best of my ability. And what I think may
be possible is this, that if I succeed in putting be-
fore you — as briefly as I can, but in clear and con-
nected shape — what strikes me as the programme
that we have eventually to carry out, and what
are the indispensable conditions of success, that
that proceeding, whether the conclusions at which
I arrive be such as you approve or as you disap-
prove, will nevertheless help to clear the course.

430 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvu

In this and in all complicated matters we must re-
member a saying of Bacon, which may be freely
translated thus: " Consistent error is very often
vastly more useful tlian muddle-headed truth."
At any rate, if there be any error in the conclusions
I shall put before you, I will do my best to make
the error perfectly clear and plain.

Now, looking at the question of what we want
to do in this broad and general way, it appears to
me that it is necessary for us, in the first place, to
amend and improve our system of primary educa-
tion in such a fashion as will make it a proper
preparation for the business of life. In the second
place, I think we have to consider what measures
may best be adopted for the development to its
uttermost of that which may be called technical
skill; and, in the third place, I think we have to
consider what other matters there are for us to at-
tend to, what other arrangements have to be kept
carefully in sight in order that, while pursuing
these ends, we do not forget that which is the end
of civil existence, I mean a stable social state
without which all other measures are merely
futile, and, in effect, modes of going faster to
ruin.

You are aware — no people should know the fact
better than Manchester people — that, within the
last seventeen years, a vast system of primary
education has been created and extended over the
whole country. I had some part in the original

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 43 1

organisation of this system in London, and I am
glad to think that, after all these years, I can look
back upon that period of my life as perhaps the
part of it least wasted.

Xo one can doubt that this system of primary
education has done wonders for our population;
but, from our point of view, I do not think any-
body can doubt that it still has very considerable
defects. It has the defect which is common to all
the educational svstems which we have inherited —
it is too bookish, too little practical. The child is
brought too little into contact with actual facts and
things, and as the system stands at present it con-
stitutes next to no education of those particular
faculties which are of the utmost importance to
industrial life — I mean the faculty of observation,
the faculty of working accurately, of dealing with
things instead of with words. I do not propose to
enlarge upon this topic, but I would venture to
suggest that there are one or two remedial mea-
sures which are imperatively needed; indeed, they
have already been alluded to by Mr. Acland.
Those which strike me as of the greatest impor-
tance are two, and the first of them is the teaching
of drawing. In my judgment, there is no mode
of exercising the faculty of observation and the
faculty of accurate reproduction of that which is
observed, no discipline which so readily tests error
in these matters, as drawing properly taught.
And by that I do not mean artistic drawing; I

432 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

mean figuring natural objects: malting plans and
sections, approaching geometrical rather than
artistic drawing. 1 do not wish to exaggerate,
but 1 declare to you that, in my judgment, the
child who has been taught to make an accurate
elevation, plan and section of a pint pot has had
an admirable training in accuracy of eye and hand.
I am not talking about artistic education. That is
not the question. Accuracy is the foundation of
everything else, and instruction in artistic drawing
is something which may be put off till a later
stage. Nothing has struck me more in the course
of my life than the loss which persons, who are
pursuing scientific knowledge of any kind, sustain
from the difficulties which arise because they never
have been taught elementary drawing; and I am
glad to say that in Eton, a school of whose govern-
ing body I have the honour of being a member, w^e
some years ago made drawing imperative on the
whole school.

Tlie other matter in which we want some
systematic and good teaching is what 1 have
hardly a name for, but which may best be ex-
plained as a sort of developed object lessons such
as Mr. Acland adverted to. Anybody who knows
his business in science can make anything sub-
servient to that purpose. You know it was said of
Dean Swift that he could write an admirable poem
upon a broomstick, and the man who has a real
knowledge of science can make the commonest ob-

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 433

ject in the world subservient to an introduction to
the principles and greater truths of natural knowl-
edge. It is in that way that your science must be
taught if it is to be of real service. Do not suppose
any amount of book work, any repetition by rote of
catechisms and other abominations of that kind
are of value for our object. That is mere wasting
of time. But take the commonest object and lead
the child from that foundation to such truths of a
higher order as may be within his grasp. With
regard to drawing, I do not think there is any
practical difficulty; but in respect to the scientific
object lessons you want teachers trained in a man-
ner different from that which now prevails.

If it is found practicable to add further training
of the hand and eye by instruction in modelling or
in simple carpentry, well and good. But I should
stop at this point. The elementary schools are
already charged with quite as much as they can
do properly; and I do not believe that any good
can come of burdening them with special tech-
nical instruction. Out of that, I think, harm would
come.

Now let me pass to my second point, which is
the development of technical skill. Everybody
here is aware that at this present moment there is
hardly a branch of trade or of commerce which
does not depend, more or less directly, upon some
department or other of physical science, wliich
does not involve, for its successful pursuit, reason-

434 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvn

iiig from scientific data. Our machinery, our
chemical processes or dyeworks, and a thousand
operations which it is not necessary to mention, are
all directly and innnediately connected with sci-
ence. You have to look among your workmen and
foremen for persons who shall intelligently grasp
the modifications, based upon science, which are
constantly being introduced into these industrial
processes, I do not mean that you want profes-
sional chemists, or physicists, or mathematicians,
or the like, but you want people sufficiently famil-
iar with the broad principles which underlie in-
dustrial operations to be able to adapt themselves to
new conditions. Such qualifications can only be
secured by a sort of scientific instruction which
occupies a midway place between those primary
notions given in the elementary schools and those
more advanced studies which would be carried out
in the technical schools.

You are aware that, at present, a very large
machinery is in operation for the purpose of giving
this instruction. I don't refer merely to such work
as is being done at Owens College here, for exam-
ple, or at other local colleges. I allude to the
larger operations of the Science and iVrt Depart-
ment, with whicli I have been connected for a great
many years. I constantly hear a great many ob-
jections raised to the work of the Science and
Art Department. If you will allow me to say so,
my connection with that department — which, I am

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 435

happy to say, remains, and which I am very proud
of — is purely honorary; and, if it appeared to me
to be right to criticise that department with mer-
ciless severity, the Lord President, if he were in-
clined to resent my proceedings, could do nothing
more than dismiss me. Therefore you may believe
that I speak with absolute impartiality. My im-
pression is this, not that it is faultless, nor that it
has not various defects, nor that there are not
sundry lacunce which want filling up; but that, if
we consider the conditions under which the Depart-
ment works, we shall see that certain defects are
inseparable from those conditions. People talk of
the want of flexibility of the Department, of its
being bound by strict rules. JNow, will any man
of common sense who has had anything to do with
the administration of public funds or knows the
humour of the House of Commons on these mat-
ters— will any man who is in the smallest degree
acquainted with the practical working of State
departments of any kind, imagine that such a
department could be other than bound by minutely
defined regulations? Can he imagine that the
work of the department should go on fairly and in
such a manner as to be free from just criticism,
unless it were bound by certain definite and fixed
rules? I cannot imagine it.

The next objection of importance that I have
heard commonly repeated is that the teaching is
too theoretical, that there is insufficient practical

436 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

teaching. I venture to say that there is no oi^
who has taken more pains to insist upon the com-
parative uselessness of scientific teaching without
practical work than I liave; I venture to say tliat
there are no persojis who are more cognisant of
these defects in the work of the Science and Art
Department than those who administer it. But
those who talk in this way should acquaint them-
selves with the fact that proper practical instruction
is a matter of no small dilFiculty in the present
scarcity of properly taught teachers, that it is very
costly, and that, in some branches of science, there
are other difficulties which I won't allude to. But
it is a matter of fact that, wherever it has been
possible, practical teaching has been introduced,
and has been made an essential element in exam-
ination; and no doubt if the House of Commons
would grant unlimited means, and if proper
teachers were to hand, as thick as blackberries,
there would not be much difficulty in organising a
complete system of practical instruction and exam-
ination ancillary to the present science classes.
Those who ([uarrel with the present state of affairs
would be better advised if, instead of groaning over
the shortcomings of the present system, they would
put before themselves these two questions — Is it
possible under the conditions to invent any better
system? Is it possible under the conditions to en-
large the work of practical teaching and practical
examination which is the one desire of tliose who

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 437

administer the department? That is all I have to
say upon that subject.

Supposing we have this teaching of what I may
call intermediate science, what we want next is
technical instruction, in the strict sense of the
word technical; I mean instruction in that kind
of knowledge which is essential to the successful
prosecution of the several branches of trade and
industry. Now, the best way of obtaining this end
is a matter about which the most experienced
persons entertain very diverse opinions. I do not
for one moment pretend to dogmatise about it; I
can only tell you what the opinion is that I have
formed from hearing the views of those who are
certainly best qualified to judge, from those who
have tested the various methods of conveying this
instruction. I think we have before us three
possibilities. We have, in the first place, trade
schools — I mean schools in which branches of trade
are taught. "We have, in the next place, schools
attached to factories for the purpose of instructing
young apprentices and others who go there, and
Avho aim at becoming intelligent workmen and
capable foremen. We have, lastly, the system of
day classes and evening classes. With regard to
the first there is this objection, that they can be
attended only by those who are not obliged to
earn their bread, and consequently that they will
reach only a very small fraction of the population.
Moreover, the expense of trade schools is enor-

438 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

nious, and those who are best able to judge assure
me that, inasmuch as the work which they do is
not done under conditions of pecuniary success or
failure, it is apt to be too amateurish and specula-
tive, and that it does not prepare the worker for
the real conditions under which he will have to
carry out his work. In any case, the fact that the
schools are very expensive, and the fact that they
are accessible only to a small portion of the popu-
lation, seem to me to constitute a very serious
objection to them. I suppose the best of all
possible oranisations is that of a school attached
to a factory, where the employer has an interest in
seeing that the instruction given is of a thoroughly
practical kind, and where the pupils pass gradually
by successive stages to the ])osition of actual
workmen. Schools of this kind exist in various
parts of the country, but it is obvious that they
are not likely to be reached by any large part of
the po])ulation; so that it ap])cars to me we are
shut up practically to schools accessible to those
who are earning tlieir bread, and in such cases they
must be essentially evening classes. I am strongly
of opinion that classes of this kind do an immense
amount of good; that they have this admirable
quality, that they involve voluntary attendance,
take no man out of his position, but enable any
who chooses, to make the best of the position he
happens to occupy.

Suppose that all these things arc desirable, what

svii TECHNICAL EDUCATION 439

is the best way of obtaining them? I must con-
fess that I have a strong prejudice in favour of
carrying out undertakings of this kind, which at
first, at any rate, must be to a great extent tenta-
tive and experimental, by private effort. I don't
believe that the man lives at this present time
who is competent to organise a final system of
technical education. I believe that all attempts
made in that direction must for many years to come
be experimental, and that we must get to success
through a series of blunders. Now that work is
far better performed by private enterprise than in
any other way. But there is another method
which I think is joermissible, and not only permis-
sible but highly recommendable in this case, and
that is the method of allowing the locality itself
in which any branch of industry is pursued to be
its own judge of its own wants, and to tax itself
under certain conditions for the purpose of carry-
ing out any scheme of technical education adapted
to its needs. I am aware that there are many ex-
treme theorists of the individualist school who hold
that all this is very wicked and very wrong, and
that by leaving things to themselves they will get
right. Well, my experience of the world is that
things left to themselves don't giet right. I believe
it to be sound doctrine that a municipality — and
the State itself for that matter — is a corpora-
tion existing for the benefit of its members, and

that here, as in all other cases, it is for the majority
88

440 TECHNICAL EDUCATION x^^I

to determine that which is for the good of the
whole, and to act upon that. That is the principle
which underlies the whole theory of government
in this country, and if it is wrong we shall have
to go back a long way. But you may ask me,
" This process of local taxation can only be carried
out under the authority of an Act of Parliament,
and do you propose to let any municipality or any
local authority have carte hlanche in these matters;
is the Legislature to allow it to tax the whole
body of its members to any extent it pleases and
for any purposes it pleases? " I should reply,
certainly not.

Let me point out to you that at this present
moment it passes the wit of man, so far as I know,
to give a legal definition of technical education.
If you expect to have an Act of Parliament with a
definition which shall include all that ought to be
included, and exclude all that ought to be excluded,
I think you will have to wait a very long time. I
imagine the whole matter is in a tentative state.
You don't know what you will be called upon to
do, and so you must try and you must blunder.
Under these circumstances it is obvious that there
are two alternatives. One of these is to give a free
hand to each locality. Well, it is within my knowl-
edge that there are a good many people with
wonderful, strange, and wild notions as to what
ought to be done in technical education, and it is
quite possible that in some places, and especially

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 441

in small places, where there are few persons who
take an interest in these things, you will have
very remarkable projects put forth, and in that
case the sole court of appeal for those taxpayers,
who did not approve of such projects, would be a
court of law. I suppose the judges would have to
settle what is technical education. That would not
be an edifying process, I think, and certainly it
would be a very costly one. The other alternative
is the principle adopted in the bill of last year now
abandoned. I don't say whether the bill was right
or wrong in detail. I am dealing now only with
the principle of the bill, which appears to me to
have been very often misunderstood. It has been
said that it gave the whole of technical education
into the hands of the Science and Art Department.
It appears to me nothing could be more unfound-
ed than that assertion. All I understand the Gov-
ernment proposed to do was to provide some au-
thority who should have power to say in case any
scheme was proposed, " "Well, this comes within the
four corners of the Act of Parliament, work it as
you like; " or if it was an obviously questionable
project, should take upon itself the responsibility
of saying, " No, that is not what the Legislature
intended; amend your scheme." There was no
initiative, no control; there was simply this power
of giving authority to decide upon the meaning of
the Act of Parliament to a particular department
of the State, whichever it might be; and it seems

442 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

to me that that is a very much simpler and better
process than relegating the whole question to the
law courts. I think that here, or anywhere else,
people must be extremely sanguine if they suppose
that the House of Commons and the House of
Lords will ever dream of giving any local authority
unlimited power to tax the inliabitants of a district
for any object it pleases. I should say that was
not in the range of practical politics. Well, I put
that before you as a matter for your considera-
tion.

Another very important point in this connec-
tion is the question of the supply of teachers. I
should say that is one of the greatest difficulties
wliich beset the whole problem before us. I do not
wish in the slightest degree to criticise the exist-
ing system of preparing teachers for ordinary
school work. I have nothing to say about it. But
what I do wish to say, and what I trust I may
impress on your minds firmly is this, that for
the purpose of obtaining persons competent to
teach science or to act as technical teachers, a
difterent system must be adopted. For this pur-
pose a man must know what he is about
thoroughly, and he able to deal with his subject a8
if it were the business of his ordinary life. For
this purpose, for the obtaining of teachers of
science and of technical classes, the system of
catching a boy or girl young, making a pupil
teacher of him, compelling the poor little mortal

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 443

to pour from his little bucket, into a still smaller
bucket, that which has just been poured into it out
of a big bucket; and passing him afterwards
through the training college, where his life is
devoted to filling the bucket from the pump from
morning till night, without time for thought or
reflection, is a system which should not continue.
Let me assure you that it will not do for us, that
you had better give the attempt up than try that
system. I remember somewhere reading of an in-
terview between the poet Southey and a good
Quaker. Southey was a man of marvellous powers
of work. He had a habit of dividing his time into
little parts each of which was filled up, and
he told the Quaker what he did in this hour and
that, and so on through the day until far into the
night. The Quaker listened, and at the close said,
" Well, but, friend Southey, when dost thee
think?" The system which I am now adverting
to is arranged and condemned by putting that
question to it. When does the unhapp}^ pupil
teacher, or over-drilled student of a training col-
lege, find any time to think? I am sure if I were
in their place I could not. I repeat, that kind of
thing will not do for science teachers. For science
teachers must have knowledge, and knowledge is
not to be acquired on these terms. The power of
repetition is, but that is not knowledge. The
knowledge which is absolutely requisite in dealing
with young children is the knowledge you possess.

4,4:4: TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvn

as you would know your own business, and which
you can just turn about as if you were explaining
to a boy a matter of everyday life.

So far as science teacliiug and technical educa-
tion are concerned, the most important of all
things is to provide the machinery for training
proper teachers. The Department of Science and
Art has been at that work for years and years, and
though unable under present conditions to do so
much as could be wished, it has, I believe, already
begun to leaven the lump to a very considerable
extent. If technical education is to be carried out
on the scale at present contemplated, this particu-
lar necessity must be specially and most seriously
provided for. And there is another difficulty,
namely, that when you have got your science or
technical teacher it may not be easy to keep him.
You have educated a man — a clever fellow very
likely — on the understanding that he is to be a
teacher. But the business of teaching is not a
very lucrative and not a very attractive one, and
an able man who has had a good training is under
extreme temptations to carry his knowledge and
his skill to a better market, in which case you
have had all your trouble for nothing. It has
often occurred to me that probably nothing would
be of more service in this matter than the creation
of a number of not very large bursaries or exhi-
bitions, to be gained by persons nominated by the
authorities of the various science colleges and

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 445

schools of the country — persons such as they
thought to be well qualified for the teaching
business — and to be held for a certain term of
years, during which the holders should be bound
to teach. I believe that some measure of this kind
would do more to secure a good supply of teachers
than anything else. Pray note that I do not sug-
gest that you should try to get hold of good
teachers by competitive examination. That is not
the best way of getting men of that special quali-
fication. An effectual method would be to ask
professors and teachers of any institution to rec-
ommend men who, to their own knowledge, are
worthy of such support, and are likely to turn it
to good account.

I trust I am not detaining you too long; but
there remains yet one other matter w^hich I think
is of profound importance, perhaps of more im-
portance than all the rest, on which I earnestly beg
to be permitted to say some few words. It is the
need, while doing all these things, of keeping an
eye, and an anxious eye, upon those measures which
are necessary for the preservation of that stable
and sound condition of the whole social organism
which is the essential condition of real progress,
and a chief end of all education. You will all recol-
lect that some time ago there^was a scandal and a
great outcry about certain cutlasses and bayonets
which had been supplied to our troops and sailors.
These warlike implements were polished as bright

446 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

as rubbing could make them; they were very well
sharpened; they looked lovely. But when they
were applied to the test of the work of war they
broke and were bent, and proved more likely to
hurt the hand of him that used them than to do
any harm to the enemy. Let me apply that
analogy to the effect of education, which is a
sharpening and polishing of the mind. You may
develop the intellectual side of people as far as
you like, and you may confer upon them all the
skill that training and instruction can give; but,
if there is not, underneath all that outside form
and superficial polish, the firm fibre of healthy
manhood and earnest desire to do well, your la-
bour is absolutely in vain.

Let me further call your attention to the fact
that the terrible battle of competition between the
different nations of the world is no transitory
phenomenon, and does not depend upon this or
that fluctuation of the market, or upon any condi-
tion that is likely to pass away. It is the inevitable
result of that which takes place throughout nature
and affects man's part of nature as much as any
other — namely, the struggle for existence, arising
out of the constant tendency of all creatures in the
animated world to multiply indefinitely. It is that,
if you look at it, which is at the bottom of all the
great movements of history. It is that inherent
tendency of the social organism to generate the
causes of its own destruction, never yet counter-

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 447

acted, which has been at the bottom of half the
catastrophes which have ruined States. We are
at present in the swim of one of those vast move-
ments in which, with a population far in excess of
that which we can feed, we are saved from a
catastrophe, through the impossibility of feeding
them, solely by our possession of a fair share of
the markets of the world. And in order that
that fair share may be retained, it is absolutely
necessary that we should be able to produce com-
modities which we can exchange with food-grow-
ing people, and which they will take, rather than
those of our rivals, on the ground of their
greater cheapness or of their greater excellence.
That is the whole story. And our course,
let me say, is not actuated by mere motives
of ambition or by mere motives of greed. Those
doubtless are visible enough on the surface of these
great movements, but the movements themselves
have far deeper sources. If there were no such
things as ambition and greed in this world, the
struggle for existence would arise from the same
causes.

Our sole chance of succeeding in a competition,
which must constantly become more and more
severe, is that our people shall not only have the
knowledge and the skill which are required, but
that they shall have the will and the energy and
the honesty, without wliich neither knowledge nor
skill can be of any permanent avail. This is what

448 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvii

I mean by a stable social condition, because an}^
other condition than this, any social condition in
"which the development of wealth involves the
misery, the physical weakness, and the degrada-
tion of the worker, is absolutely and infallibly
doomed to collapse. Your bayonets and cutlasses
will break under your hand, and there will go on
accumulating in society a mass of hopeless,
physically incompetent, and morally degraded
peple, who are, as it were, a sort of dynamite
which, sooner or later, when its accumulation be-
comes sufficient and its tension intolerable, will
burst the whole fabric.

I am quite aware that the problem which I have
put before you and which you know as much about
as I do, and a great deal more probably, is one
extremely difficult to solve. I am fully aware
that one great factor in industrial success is
reasonable cheapness of labour. That has been
pointed out over and over again, and is in itself an
axiomatic proposition. And it seems to me that
of all the social questions which face us at this
present time, the most serious is how to steer a
clear course between the two horns of an obvious
dilemma. One of these is the constant tendency
of competition to lower wages beyond a point at
which man can remain man — 1)l'1ow a point at
which decency and cleanliness and order and
habits of morality and justice can reasonably be
expected to exist. And the other horn of the

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 449

dilemma is the difficulty of maintaining wages
above this point consistently with success in in-
dustrial competition. I have not the remotest con-
ception how this problem will eventually work
itself out; but of this I am perfectly convinced,
that the sole course compatible with safety lies
between the two extremes; between the Scylla of
successful industrial j)roduction with a degraded
population, on the one side, and the Charybdis of
a population, maintained in a reasonable and
decent state, with failure in industrial competition,
on the other side. Having this strong conviction,
which, indeed, I imagine must be that of every
person who has ever thought seriously about these
great problems, I have ventured to put it before
you in this bare and almost cynical fashion because
it will justify the strong appeal, which I make to
all concerned in this work of promoting industrial
education, to have a care, at the same time, that
the conditions of industrial life remain those in
which the physical energies of the population may
be maintained at a proper level; in which their
moral state may be cared for; in which there may
be some rays of hope and pleasure in their lives;
and in which the sole prospect of a life of labour
may not be an old age of penury.

These are the chief suggestions I have to offer
to you, though I have omitted much that I should
like to have said, had time permitted. It may be
that some of you feel inclined to look upon them

450 TECHNICAL EDUCATION xvri

as the Utopian dreams of a student. If tlicre bo
such, let nie tell you that there are, to my
knowledge, manufacturing towns in this country,
not one-tenth the size, or boasting one-hundredth
part of the wealth, of Manchester, in which I do
not say that the programme that I have put before
you is completely carried out, but in which, at any
rate, a wise and intelligent effort had been made
to realise it, and in which the main parts of the
programme are in course of being worked out.
This is not the first time that I have had the
privilege and pleasure of addressing a Manchester
audience. I have often enough, before now, thrown
myself with entire confidence upon the hard-
headed intelligence and the very soft-hearted
kindness of Manchester people, when I have had
a difficult and complicated scientific argument to
put before them. If, after the considerations which
I have put before you — and which, pray be it
understood, I by no means claim particularly for
myself, for I presume they must be in the minds
of a large number of people who have thought
about this matter — if it be that these ideas com-
mend themselves to your mature reflection, then
I am perfectly certain that my appeal to you to
carry them into practice, witli that abundant
energy and will which have led you to take a fore-
most part in the great social movements of our
country many a time beforehand, will not be made
in vain. I therefore confidently appeal to you to

XVII TECHNICAL EDUCATION 45I

let those impulses once more have full sway, and
not to rest until you have done something better
and greater than has yet been done in this coun-
try in the direction in which we are now going.
I heartily thank you for the attention which you
have been kind enough to bestow upon me. The
practice of public speaking is one I must soon
think of leaving off, and I count it a special and
peculiar honour to have had the opportunity of
speaking to you on this subject to-day.

THE END OF VOL. Ill

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