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.
Moral and social science--one of the greatest and most fruitful of our
future classes, I hope--at present lacks only one thing in our
programme, 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 name, I must call Physical
Geography. What I mean is that which the Germans call "_Erdkunde_." It
is a description of the earth, 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
suspended.
Literature is not upon the College programme; but I hope some day to see
it there. For literature 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 direction, and the cultivation of a refined
taste by attention 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-by, 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 development of man in times past, and in other
conditions than our own.
But, as it is one of the 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 I have said about liberal
education, they will desire these things, and I doubt not we shall be
able to supply them. But we must wait till the demand is made.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] For a justification of what is here said about these schools, see
that valuable book, "Essays on a Liberal Education," _passim_.
IV.
SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH.
[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 entertainment. 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
Society, 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 direction, and have even thrown out
timid and faltering suggestions as to what should be done; while at the
opposite pole of society, committees of working-men have expressed their
conviction that scientific training is the one thing needful for their
advancement, whether as men, or as workmen. Only the other day, it was
my duty to take part in the reception of a deputation of London working
men, who desired to learn from Sir Roderick Murchison, the Director of
the Royal School of Mines, whether the organization of the Institution
in Jermyn Street could be made available for the supply of that
scientific instruction, the need of which could not have been
apprehended, 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 disposal, a few should hereafter be given to the cultivators of
the physical sciences. Nay, I hear that some colleges have even gone so
far as to appoint one, or, may be, two special tutors for the purpose of
putting the facts and principles of physical science before the
undergraduate mind. And I say it with gratitude and great respect for
those eminent persons, that the head masters of our public schools,
Eton, Harrow, Winchester, have addressed themselves to the problem of
introducing instruction in physical science among the studies of those
great educational bodies, with much honesty of purpose and enlightenment
of understanding; and I live in hope that, before long, important
changes in this direction will be carried into effect in those
strongholds of ancient prescription. In fact, such changes have already
been made, and physical science, 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 attention.
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 merely for the sake of the coarse and tangible
results of success, but because humanity is so constituted that a vast
number of us would never be impelled to those stretches of exertion
which make us wiser and more capable 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 science 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 pursuer 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 uppermost
in that struggle for existence which goes on as fiercely beneath the
smooth surface of modern society, as among the wild inhabitants 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
professions. I 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, and of
which he had not obtained the remotest conception from his instructors?
He had to familiarize 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, that 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 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
practitioner 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 authority of the
President of the College of Surgeons, Mr. Quain, whom I heard the other
day in an admirable address (the Hunterian Oration) deal fully and
wisely with this very topic[3].
A young man commencing the study of medicine 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 apprehension of
scientific conceptions, not only does he fail to attach any meaning to
the words "matter," "force," or "law" in their scientific senses, but,
worse still, he has no notion of what it is to come into contact with
nature, 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 any misgiving
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 curriculum 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
knowledge 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 prevents a
young man of seventeen, destined for the 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 Chemistry, 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
profession?
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 opinion about these theories. I merely wish to point out
that, like all other theories, they are professedly based upon matter 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 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
thoughtful 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 contradict 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
doubts; 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 unnatural
question, "Then why don't you say so in your pulpits?" to which inquiry
I heard no reply.
In fact the clergy are at present divisible into three sections: an
immense body who are ignorant 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 organization which is able to resist,
and must, as a matter of life and death, resist, the progress of science
and modern civilization, manages her affairs 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
Anglicanism and of Dissent, was comparable to the difference between our
gallant Volunteers and the trained veterans of Napoleon'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 outposts of opposed armies during a truce--as friendly
enemies; and 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 science, and they are taught how those heresies are to be
met."
I heartily respect an organization which faces its enemies in this way;
and I wish that all ecclesiastical organizations 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 _à priori_ "infidelity."
I hope you will consider that the arguments I have now stated, even if
there were no better ones, constitute a sufficient apology for urging
the introduction of science into schools. 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 questions, 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 profoundly sorry to see the fact forgotten, or
even to observe a tendency to starve, or cripple, literary, or æsthetic,
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 ought 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 mischievous 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 having been disciplined, more or less,
in the methods of all sciences; so that, when turned into the 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 with the general current of
scientific thought, and by being able to apply the methods of science in
the proper way, when they have acquainted themselves with the conditions
of the special problem.
That is what I understand by scientific education. 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 proceeding 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 phenomena 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 put into
any scientific category, they come under this head of "Erdkunde." The
child asks, "What is the moon, and why does it shine?" "What is this
water, and where does it run?" "What is the wind?" "What makes the waves
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 knowledge 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 elementary mathematics--he should pass on to what is, in
the 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 our sciences, these two kinds are mixed up together; but systematic
botany is a pure example of the former kind, and physics of the latter
kind, of science. Every educational advantage which training in
physical 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 schools.
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 chemistry, 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
introduction to that preparatory scientific training which, as I have
indicated, is so essential for the successful pursuit of our most
important professions. But this modicum of instruction must be so given
as to ensure real knowledge and practical discipline. 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 bookwork.
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, 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
peculiarity 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 particular facts made known by immediate observation of Nature.
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 propositions, 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,--authority and tradition furnish the data, and the mental
operations of the scholar are deductive.
Again: if history be the subject of study, the facts are still taken
upon the evidence of tradition and authority. You cannot make a boy see
the battle of Thermopylæ for himself, or know, of his own knowledge,
that Cromwell once ruled England. 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.