CHAPTER VII.

LEARNING OF THE ATHENS.

----“As a dog that turns the spit

Bestirs himself, and plies his feet,

To climb the wheel, but all in vain,

His own weight brings him down again,

And still he’s in the self-same place,

Where, at his setting out, he was;

So, in the circle of the arts,

Do they advance their nat’ral parts,

Till falling back still, for retreat,

They fall to juggle, cant, and cheat.”

IF, in her metropolitan status as the seat of Caledonian law, the

Athens be fixed as the dog-star, as the seat of Caledonian learning,

she has been and must be, changeful as the moon. If the wealth of her

lawyers “swells like the Solway,” the renown of her philosophers “ebbs

like its tide.” The very same cause which raises the one,--which makes

all hearts envy, all eyes admire, all knees worship, and all tongues

speak the Babylonish dialect of special pleaders, comes cold and

curdling as December’s ice over every thing else; and though there

may be an occasional spring of the living water of the mind, which

has its source too deep, or its current too thoroughly imbued with

the immortal fire, for submitting to the cold congelation; yet such

glorious instances must be few and far between. Even in the law itself,

there may be green branches, just as there are green branches on the

Upas; but, like the Upas, the law, or indeed any thing else which is

so overpowering in its influence as the law is in the Athens, must in

itself monopolize all the greenness, and etiolate and wither every

thing that attempts to grow under its broad and gloomy shade. Whatever

promises the chief reward will, under any circumstances, always attract

the chief talent; and the state of the whole British dominions, and of

the Athens not less than any other portion of them, is at present such

as not to be exceedingly favourable to the pursuits of abstract and

recondite philosophy. Luxury has found out for all those who have money

to spend without working for it,--whether they have it as a legitimate

heritage from their natural parents, or as the adopted children of that

great nursery-mother of idlers, the state, abundant employment,--full

occupation from every hour that they can snatch from the pangs of

intemperance and the pillow of sleep, not only without profound

philosophy, but without thought of any description that reaches

beyond the enjoyment of the moment; and the number of these persons,

especially the latter division of them, is so very considerable, that,

of the remaining independent portion of the British people, none can

afford to be philosophic or learned upon any other terms than those

of being paid for it,--taking it up, and following it as a trade,

as much as other men do the boring of cannon, or the building of

bridges. That this is unquestionably true of the whole country, may

be established from the philosophical publications, whether regular

or periodical, which make their appearance at the present day. Of the

regular class, there has not, so far as I know, been published, within

the last thirty years, in any part of the British dominions, a single

original work, that will transmit the name of its author to posterity.

There have indeed been books, and books in which there have been the

details of new experiments, and occasionally scraps of theories; but,

like successive days in the kalendar, the one has usurped the place

and extinguished the remembrance of the other; and, at the present

moment, the most unmarketable article which an author could carry to a

bookseller would be a profound treatise on any of the sciences. With

regard to periodical learning again, (I use the word “learning” as

distinguished from and even opposed to literature,) the case is very

nearly the same. The philosophical journals, of all the periodicals,

have the most limited circulation, are the least read, and the least

worth the reading,--just because the proprietors of them cannot afford

to pay for the labour which it would require to make them better.

Now, if this be the case with the British dominions generally, and with

the British metropolis, where every species of talent has the means of

being stimulated to the greatest exertion, and where every exertion

meets with the most ample reward, much more must it be the case in

the Athens, where there is not only no adequate remuneration for the

labours of learning, but where there is a more honoured and rewarded

pursuit, constantly soliciting the choice, not only of the Athenian,

but of the Scottish talent generally, away from it. It cannot be

hoped, that when a man of very ordinary talents can get a comfortable

living and honourable distinction in society, by managing the estates

of Scotch lairds, or the causes of Scotch litigants, men of superior

ability will consent to starve in obscurity for the love of learning

or of science. Mankind have become to the full as mercenary in their

intellectual as in their civil marriages; and the Athenian muses, like

the Athenian maidens, pine in unwooed neglect, because they have no

dowry.

The Athenian University was long the boast of the Athens, not only as a

school of philosophy, and a school of medicine, but as a general school

of learning; and, with the exception, perhaps, of the latter, the

titles were, in the case of a few illustrious men, well earned. Those

times have, however, gone by, and the Athenian university, pressed

down by the general circumstances of the Athens, and yet more by the

peculiar circumstances of its own patronage, has sunk to rise no more.

Universities, indeed, have much of the general character of

stars,--they shine brightest when all else is dark, and fade, if

they do not disappear, when illumination becomes general. While the

people, generally speaking, are ignorant, they are lights in the path

of learning; but when the people become generally well informed, they

are not much better than lumber. This would be their fate in general

illumination, under any circumstances; but it is peculiarly so, in the

circumstances under which--or rather, in spite of which, knowledge is

at present spreading over the British dominions. The same cause which

renders abstract studies unprofitable, must render the systems of

universities unpopular, except in so far as the name of being there is

necessary for professional purposes; and where the name is all that men

actually need, they will not burden themselves with much of the thing

named. If it were not that there are such things as fellowships, fat

dinners, facilities for juvenile dissipation, church and other livings,

a key to certain offices, and a general nominal eclât, which in so far

serves as a substitute for real information, it is very possible that

several halls in Oxford and Cambridge would be abandoned to bats and

spiders,--that “the two eyes of England” would be left “for daws to

peck at;” and it was pretty plain to me, from the general tenour of the

Athenian feeling, as expressed in the Athenian speech, that, if the

attendance of certain classes of her university were not required for

those who plaster the consciences of Caledonian sinners, and who bring

down the tone of the Caledonian pulse, or the Caledonian purse, her

learned Thebans would be allowed to deliver their prelections to the

stones in the wall, and the beam of the timber. In as far, therefore,

as I could see and reason from circumstances, there is much, both in

the feeling of the people in the Athens, and in the causes by which

that feeling is produced, to render the decline of learning certain

on the one hand, while there is little or nothing of a counteracting

tendency on the other.

In addition to this, in as far as the university is concerned, there

is the infliction of perhaps the very worst patronage that could be

devised or even imagined. I have noticed already, what a precious

piece of work the corporations, or, as they are termed, “the councils”

of the royal burghs are in Scotland. In itself, there is nothing to

render that of the Athens better than any of the others; and, in close

juxtaposition with it, there is something which tends to make it worse.

The whole town-councils in Scotland are, their attention to their own

personal interests excepted, ignorant, unreasoning, and passive tools

in the hands of the ruling faction. If the actual leaders of that

faction have not their actual residence in the Athens, it is there that

they find the hands which do their work. Those hands belong to men, who

not only have a better education than the Athenian magistrates, but who

perform more important functions, and perform them in the face, and for

the weal or the woe of the whole of Scotland. To them, therefore, the

magistrates of the Athens are inferior; and this circumstance, taken in

conjunction with the inferiority which the whole system of the Scotch

burghs tends to stamp upon the magistrates, renders the said civic

rulers of the Athens the most unfit patrons of a school of philosophy,

or indeed of any thing learned or liberal, that human imagination

could devise. Not only this; but the superior talents, at least the

superior pretensions, of the other functionaries alluded to, will throw

the civic worthies into their train as followers; and thus, whatever

patronage they exercise, will have to sustain, in addition to their

own sheer dulness, the dead deadening weight of the party politics of

the country,--a combination of stupidity and slavery, under which that

system were either greater or less than human, which could flourish in

a rational and liberal manner.

When it is known that the provost, bailies, counsellors, and deacons

of the Athens,--seldom men of any education, and never men of any

genius,--_cum avisamento eorum ministrorum_, (which, being interpreted,

signifies “without benefit of clergy,”) have the sole power of electing

the greater number of professors in the Athenian university,--when it

is considered that the remaining ones are nominated by the crown, in

other words, by the leading faction in Scotland for the time,--and

when it is borne in mind that the said provosts, bailies, counsellors,

and deacons, are little else than a pair of bagpipes, upon which the

said faction discourses whatsoever music it chooses,--it will become

but too apparent, that the chances of having the professors’ chairs

filled by the very fittest men possible are about as small as can well

be estimated. That ignorant men should have the power of appointing

professors of learning is in itself a very great absurdity; and that

the ignorant men to whom such a power is delegated, should themselves

be tacked to the tail of a political faction for the purpose of

retaining places, contrary both to reason and their own abilities,

makes the matter, theoretically considered, a great deal worse. I have

no wish to accuse the civic archons of the Athens of wilful abuse in

the exercise of this patronage; but I have seen them, I have heard

them speak, and I have noticed the estimation in which they are held;

and, by a very charitable induction from all these circumstances, I

cannot help coming to the conclusion, that they are totally incapable,

of their own knowledge, of determining who is, or who is not, a fit

person for being porter to the Athenian college, far less professor of

the humblest art or science held forth upon within its walls, not even

excepting the professor of agriculture, or, as he is aptly termed, “the

doctor of dunghills.”

Accordingly, though in times past, and not very long past, there have

been found, in sundry chairs of the Athenian university, men who

would have done honour to any college in any country, I looked for a

continuation of men of the same talents and eminence; but though I

looked for them, I found them not. The time has not long gone by, when

the principal of that university was numbered, if not with the most

learned and profound, at least with the most elegant of historians;

but I should be glad to be informed of what person, or thing, or

circumstance, the being that I found holding the supreme sway in

the Athenian university, and in its metropolitan name, presenting

himself before the King, as a specimen and representative of all the

universities of Scotland, could write the history. It is true, that

the office of this person is not much else than a sinecure, as he

seldom comes before the public, except when his name stands rubric to

a diploma; but, if an image is found with a wooden head, people are

apt to turn away, without any very much examination of the limbs. It

is said, more wittily than wisely perhaps, among the fledglings at the

seats of science in the south, that “whatever may be the walls, the

heads of houses are most commonly of lead;” and the saying might be

carried to the Athens, if it were worth the trouble. I was told that,

if at some former point of Athenian history, this personage had not

been a bachelor, and the daughter of a quondam provost of the Athens

a damsel to be wooed, the college of the Athens might have gone all

unprincipaled for him; but the Athenians are so prone to drill holes in

the glory of each other, that one never knows how much of their story

to believe.

Still, if the nomination of the masters of Eton and Winchester, and the

doctors of Isis and Cam, were deputed to the corporation of London,

England would tremble for her learned fame; and yet no one can deny

that the court of aldermen, notwithstanding the mental and corporeal

obesity of which they are accused, are far more promising patrons for

such purposes, than the town-council of the Athens. Their own election

depends upon a greater number of persons, and before they can carry it,

they must have some superiority over the freemen of their ward,--the

means of flattering and bribing them, if nothing else; but, in the

Athens, there is not the smallest test of talent previous to a man’s

being chosen an elector of professors; and, therefore, no pledge that

he either will or can exercise that function in a proper manner.

The “_avisamentum eorum ministrorum_” has no tendency to amend the

matter; for the advice which these worthies are most likely to give,

is, that themselves are the fittest of all possible professors,--a

proposition, of which the theoretical doubts are great, and they are

not lessened by experience.

The ministers of the Edinburgh kirks, appointed by the same persons

as the professors, may be presumed to be appointed upon the same

principles; and thus, though they were conjoined with the others,

in the university nominations, it would be but an increase of the

evil,--the addition of the political son to that of the political

father; or, as Professor Leslie would express it, “a combination of

direct and retroflected dulness.”

In consequence of these circumstances, the _eorum ministrorum_ have

usurped every professor’s chair in the Athenian college which can be

by any sophistry twisted into a compatibility with the functions of

a minister of the Kirk. After the very Reverend personage who, as

aforesaid, groans under the load of the principality (not of Wales),

the chairs, not only of divinity, church history, and Hebrew, but of

logic and rhetoric, and the belles lettres, are in the hands of the

Athenian priests. Now, though a parson _in esse_ be the most likely

person to teach divinity and church history, because those who are

parsons _in posse_ are the only persons that are likely to dip deeply

into such studies; though, in a country where Jews do not thrive, it

be a matter of no great moment who shall teach Hebrew, and though

logic and rhetoric, as they are usually taught, be no weighty matters,

yet there are substantial reasons why no officiating clergyman in the

Athens should hold any chair whatever in the college.

In the first place, the Kirk of Scotland, at least according to her

book of discipline, recognises no clergyman who does not perform the

whole of his duties in his own person. She will have no “dumb dogs who

cannot bark,” and if they bark to the extent that she points out, they

will have no strength left even to hunt syllogisms in _Bar-ba-ra_,

or to nozzle up Hebrew roots. The minister of the Kirk is, by its

constitution, presumed not only to reside in his parish, and perform

divine service every Sunday, but to devote the whole of the week, that

is, as much of _every_ day of it, as other men of a similar rank in

life are supposed to devote to business, to visiting his people at

their houses, and receiving their visits at his own, instructing and

catechising the young, recommending the destitute to the charity of

the Kirk Session, praying by the bed-side of the dying, and performing

a number of other little offices of religion and charity, which

are supposed to be imperiously binding upon him in virtue of his

solemn vow of ordination. Ministers of the Kirk are furthermore not

understood to purchase their annual stock of “_Conciones Selectæ_” in

the booksellers’ shop, as is the case in some other places; and thus

every spare hour from the parochial duties of the week is presumed to

be taken up in preparing for the pulpit duties of the Sunday. Hence

a minister of the Scottish Kirk, who is in the possession of a cure,

cannot, in conscientious accordance with the oath that he takes when he

is inducted, or with the practical duties which he ought to perform,

accept of a professorship even of divinity or Hebrew. Either the

church-living should be such as to occupy by its duties and reward by

its emoluments, the whole of the incumbent’s time, or it should be so

altered as to bring it to this state.

With regard to the professorships, again, it is extremely doubtful

whether even such of them as divinity and church history can be

profitably placed in the hands of the parsons; at any rate, one would

very naturally think that the duties of a professor’s chair should

be sufficiently arduous for occupying the whole of a mind as large

as that which falls to the ordinary run of clerical persons; while,

in the case of those of logic and rhetoric, the arts required in the

Parliament-House, the grand theatre of logical wrangling and rhetorical

display, not only in the Athens, but for all Scotland, the clumsy

concatenation and leaden style which I heard, even in the Athenian

pulpits, are strong presumptive evidence against the propriety of

having them intrusted to clerical hands.

But it is not to those professorships alone that _eorum ministrorum_

aspire. Not many years have gone by since the whole Athens was

thrown into confusion, because one of the brethren was not permitted

to squelch his carcass into the chair of mathematics, and become

the successor of MacLaurin, and Stewart, and Playfair; and had he

succeeded, the Athenians would perhaps ere now have had a clerical

expounder of “Dirlton’s Doubts” in the chair of law, and a holder

forth in the Tron Kirk wielding the anatomical scalpel during the

week. The objections taken to the better-qualified candidate upon that

occasion, were such as to throw considerable light upon the feeling of

_eorum ministrorum_ toward the university, and to enable one to form a

pretty accurate guess at what will be its state if their unquenchable

longing for it shall ever be fully satisfied. The exception which they

took was a grave charge of infidelity, founded upon an allusion to

David Hume, contained in a note to a purely philosophic book, and a

book, too, which, both from its subject and its style, was never likely

to get into general circulation, and would be read by nobody, merely on

account of the note--the only part which was impugned as being contrary

to the canons of orthodoxy.

It must be allowed that, if its patronage were at all in decent hands,

the constitution of the Athenian university is not bad. The salaries

of the professors are all so small that if the livings are worth the

acceptance of men of talent, they must be chiefly made up of the small

annual fees payable by the students. This is a very wholesome plan, and

tends more to reward every one according to his real merits than that

which obtains at most other places. The patronage, however, with the

three elements of civil ignorance, political influence, and clerical

intrigue, arranged against the single and undefined good of the

institution, is more than enough to paralyze all the good which that

principle, properly supported, or even let alone, would be capable of

effecting.

Those evils have begun to pervade the whole system. As the Athens

is the grand seat of lawyers, there will always be students for the

law classes, increasing with the increase that there is for lawyers;

but in every thing else the poison of decay has been infused, and

the decay itself has become visible. With the exception of Leslie,

who has written some very flaming articles in the Edinburgh Review,

and some books in which the path to geometry is made a little more

thorny than ever; of Jamieson, who has been most learned on slate and

granite; and Wilson, who has indited some pretty lake poetry, and

some pitiful political prose, of which he is said to be now highly

ashamed,--I did not hear that any of the Athenian professors have put

in a single claim for immortality. Even in her anatomical school, that

upon which she rested her fame the longest and the most securely, the

recent falling off has been great; and of all those who now shine in

the lists of her _senatus_ there is none able to hold the book for

Gregory, or the scalpel for old Monro, or light the furnace for Black.

I understand that for the fragments of her medical school that remain,

the Athens is almost wholly dependant upon private lecturers; that

the students pay their fees and enter their names at the college, not

with any view of attending the classes there, but because the fees

and entries are necessary for the ceremony of graduation. But for the

celebrity of her professors, the Athens possesses no advantages as

the locality of a medical school. From the nature and pursuits of the

Athenian society, there is neither that variety of patients, nor that

variety of cases, which is found in cities even of equal population,

where a large portion of the people are engaged in manufactures. That

it is as good in this respect as Glasgow begins to be doubted, as a

considerable number of medical students now attend the Glasgow college

in preference; and that it is any way comparable to London, as a school

of surgery, no one can suppose. If the medical glory of the Athenian

college continue to decrease as it has done for some time, that college

will soon become, like the Athens herself, a pensionary upon the law

and the politics of Scotland.

But if there be those causes of mortality in the college, there is

not much hope of life in any of the other philosophic institutions of

the Athens. Royal societies are no where much better than coteries

of old wives; and, judging from their recent pursuits, that of the

Athens can form no exception to the general character. That a poet

and novelist should be the president of such an institution, is proof

that the number of Athenian philosophers cannot be great; and however

successful and deserving of success such a person may be in his other

and lighter capacity, he is not the most likely man to give soundness

and solidity to the speculations of philosophers. The fact is, that

with the exception of the teacher of a class, and the editor of an

Encyclopedia, (who are of course but very heavy and humdrum persons,)

and a wisdom-struck squire or two, who take to the amusement of the

small philosophy of mosses and muscle-shells rather than the small

carpentry of snuff-boxes and fiddles, and who would be quite eclipsed

in any other place, there is nothing in the Athens which can be called

an amateur philosopher, and of the professional ones I have already

spoken.

In their philosophical opinions, the Athenians are an absolute

pendulum; and when the history of their swingings this way and that

way is looked at, they seem to be a pendulum which has no continued

stimulus of motion, but of which the oscillations, though not fewer in

number, gradually become more and more insignificant in range. While

David Hume was lord of the ascendant, the Athenians doubted every thing

but their own wisdom and importance; under Adam Smith, they considered

“moral sentiments” as being valuable only in “theory,” and learned

“economy” in their “politics,” by bringing all their disposable votes

and vices to the best market. Under Robertson, they knew all history;

and with Blair, every sentence was taken from the storehouse of the

Belles Lettres, and measured by the gauge of Rhetoric. When Reid and

Dugald Stewart turned the tables upon the sceptics, the Athenians were

entirely composed of intellectual or of active powers, and they were

drawn and held by the sweetest cords of association. With Playfair,

they attempted to go quietly to the very depth of philosophic systems;

and anon, they started to the moon with Dr. Brewster. While Leslie was

new, they burned and sweated with him in all the ardour of radiant

caloric; and now they lie upon mossy banks, prepared for them by

Brewster, Jamieson, and Sir George, and listen to the tales of Sir

Walter, or to the ghost stories of Dr. Hibbert. Thus have opinions

changed, and importances have faded away; but the Athenians have in

their nature remained the same. So change the phases of the moon, now

beamy, anon blank; now pushing her horns eastward, now westward,--but

still the same dark globe, without light save that which it has at

second-hand from another.

The Modern Athens A dissection and demonstration of men and things in the Scotch Capital. · 第 8 / 12 章