_Inaugural Address as Rector of the Frederick William University of
Berlin. Delivered October 15, 1877._
In entering upon the honourable office to which the confidence of my
colleagues has called me, my first duty is once more openly to express
my thanks to those who have thus honoured me by their confidence. I
have the more reason to appreciate it highly, as it was conferred upon
me, notwithstanding that I have been but few years among you, and
notwithstanding that I belong to a branch of natural science which
has come within the circle of University instruction in some sense
as a foreign element; which has necessitated many changes in the old
order of University teaching, and which will, perhaps, necessitate
other changes. It is indeed just in that branch (Physics) which I
represent, and which forms the theoretical basis of all other branches
of Natural Science, that the particular characteristics of their
methods are most definitely pronounced. I have already been several
times in the position of having to propose alterations in the previous
regulations of the University, and I have always had the pleasure of
meeting with the ready assistance of my colleagues in the faculty,
and of the Senate. That you have made me the Director of the business
of this University for this year, is a proof that you regard me as no
thoughtless innovator. For, in fact, however the objects, the methods,
the more immediate aims of investigations in the natural sciences
may differ externally from those of the mental sciences, and however
foreign their results and however remote their interest may often
appear, to those who are accustomed only to the direct manifestations
and products of mental activity, there is in reality, as I have
endeavoured to show in my discourse as Rector at Heidelberg, the
closest connection in the essentials of scientific methods, as well as
in the ultimate aims of both classes of the sciences. Even if most of
the objects of investigation of the natural sciences are not directly
connected with the interests of the mind, it cannot, on the other
hand, be forgotten that the power of true scientific method stands out
in the natural sciences far more prominently--that the real is far
more sharply separated from the unreal, by the incorruptible criticism
of facts, than is the case with the more complex problems of mental
science.
And not merely the development of this new side of scientific activity,
which was almost unknown to antiquity, but also the influence of
many political, social, and even international relationships make
themselves felt, and require to be taken into account. The circle of
our students has had to be increased; a changed national life makes
other demands upon those who are leaving; the sciences become more and
more specialised and divided; exclusive of the libraries, larger and
more varied appliances for study are required. We can scarcely foresee
what fresh demands and what new problems we may have to meet in the
more immediate future.
On the other hand, the German Universities have conquered a position
of honour not confined to their fatherland; the eyes of the civilised
world are upon them. Scholars speaking the most different languages
crowd towards them, even from the farthest parts of the earth. Such a
position would be easily lost by a false step, but would be difficult
to regain.
Under these circumstances it is our duty to get a clear understanding
of the reason for the previous prosperity of our Universities; we must
try to find what is the feature in their arrangements which we must
seek to retain as a precious jewel, and where, on the contrary, we
may give way when changes are required. I consider myself by no means
entitled to give a final opinion on this matter. The point of view of
any single individual is restricted; representatives of other sciences
will be able to contribute something. But I think that a final result
can only be arrived at when each one becomes clear as to the state of
things as seen from his point of view.
The European Universities of the Middle Age had their origin as free
private unions of their students, who came together under the influence
of celebrated teachers, and themselves arranged their own affairs. In
recognition of the public advantage of these unions they soon obtained
from the State, privileges and honourable rights, especially that
of an independent jurisdiction, and the right of granting academic
degrees. The students of that time were mostly men of mature years, who
frequented the University more immediately for their own instruction
and without any direct practical object; but younger men soon began to
be sent, who, for the most part, were placed under the superintendence
of the older members. The separate Universities split again into closer
economic unions, under the name of ‘Nations,’ ‘Bursaries,’ ‘Colleges,’
whose older members, the seniors, governed the common affairs of each
such union, and also met together for regulating the common affairs
of the University. In the courtyard of the University of Bologna are
still to be seen the coats-of-arms, and lists of members and seniors,
of many such Nations in ancient times. The older graduated members were
regarded as permanent life members of such Unions, and they retained
the right of voting, as is still the case in the College of Doctors
in the University of Vienna, and in the Colleges of Oxford and of
Cambridge, or was until recently.
Such a free confederation of independent men, in which teachers as well
as taught were brought together by no other interest than that of love
of science; some by the desire of discovering the treasure of mental
culture which antiquity had bequeathed, others endeavouring to kindle
in a new generation the ideal enthusiasm which had animated their
lives. Such was the origin of Universities, based, in the conception,
and in the plan of their organisation, upon the most perfect freedom.
But we must not think here of freedom of teaching in the modern sense.
The majority was usually very intolerant of divergent opinions. Not
unfrequently the adherents of the minority were compelled to quit
the University in a body. This was not restricted to those cases in
which the Church intermeddled, and where political or metaphysical
propositions were in question. Even the medical faculties--that of
Paris, the most celebrated of all at the head--allowed no divergence
from that which they regarded as the teaching of Hippocrates. Anyone
who used the medicines of the Arabians or who believed in the
circulation of the blood was expelled.
The change, in the Universities, to their present constitution, was
caused mainly by the fact that the State granted to them material help,
but required, on the other hand, the right of co-operating in their
management. The course of this development was different in different
European countries, partly owing to divergent political conditions and
partly to that of national character.
Until lately, it might have been said that the least change has
taken place in the old English Universities, Oxford and Cambridge.
Their great endowments, the political feeling of the English for the
retention of existing rights, had excluded almost all change, even in
directions in which such change was urgently required. Until of late
both Universities had in great measure retained their character as
schools for the clergy, formerly of the Roman and now of the Anglican
Church, whose instruction laymen might also share in so far as it could
serve the general education of the mind; they were subjected to such
a control and mode of life, as was formerly considered to be good for
young priests. They lived, as they still live, in colleges, under the
superintendence of a number of older graduate members (Fellows) of the
College; in other respects in the style and habits of the well-to-do
classes in England.
The range and the method of the instruction is a more highly developed
gymnasial instruction; though in its limitation to what is afterwards
required in the examination, and in the minute study of the contents of
prescribed text-books, it is more like the Repetitoria which are here
and there held in our Universities. The acquirements of the students
are controlled by searching examinations for academical degrees, in
which very special knowledge is required, though only for limited
regions. By such examinations the academical degrees are acquired.
While the English Universities give but little for the endowment of
the positions of approved scientific teachers, and do not logically
apply even that little for this object, they have another arrangement
which is apparently of great promise for scientific study, but which
has hitherto not effected much; that is the institution of Fellowships.
Those who have passed the best examinations are elected as Fellows
of their college, where they have a home, and along with this, a
respectable income, so that they can devote the whole of their leisure
to scientific pursuits. Both Oxford and Cambridge have each more than
500 such fellowships. The Fellows _may_, but _need not_ act as tutors
for the students. They need not even live in the University Town, but
may spend their stipends where they like, and in many cases may retain
the fellowships for an indefinite period. With some exceptions, they
only lose it in case they marry, or are elected to certain offices.
They are the real successors of the old corporation of students, by and
for which the University was founded and endowed. But however beautiful
this plan may seem, and notwithstanding the enormous sums devoted to
it, in the opinion of all unprejudiced Englishmen it does but little
for science; manifestly because most of these young men, although they
are the pick of the students, and in the most favourable conditions
possible for scientific work, have in their student-career not come
sufficiently in contact with the living spirit of inquiry, to work on
afterwards on their own account, and with their own enthusiasm.
In certain respects the English Universities do a great deal. They
bring up their students as cultivated men, who are expected not to
break through the restrictions of their political and ecclesiastical
party, and, in fact, do not thus break through. In two respects we
might well endeavour to imitate them. In the first place, together
with a lively feeling for the beauty and youthful freshness of
antiquity, they develop in a high degree a sense for delicacy and
precision in writing which shows itself in the way in which they
handle their mother tongue. I fear that one of the weakest sides in
the instruction of German youth is in this direction. In the second
place the English Universities, like their schools, take greater care
of the bodily health of their students. They live and work in airy,
spacious buildings, surrounded by lawns and groves of trees; they find
much of their pleasure in games which excite a passionate rivalry in
the development of bodily energy and skill, and which in this respect
are far more efficacious than our gymnastic and fencing exercises. It
must not be forgotten that the more young men are cut off from fresh
air and from the opportunity of vigorous exercise, the more induced
will they be to seek an apparent refreshment in the misuse of tobacco
and of intoxicating drinks. It must also be admitted that the English
Universities accustom their students to energetic and accurate work,
and keep them up to the habits of educated society. The _moral_ effect
of the more rigorous control is said to be rather illusory.
The Scotch Universities and some smaller English foundations of more
recent origin--University College and King’s College in London, and
Owens College in Manchester--are constituted more on the German and
Dutch model.
The development of French Universities has been quite different, and
indeed almost in the opposite direction. In accordance with the
tendency of the French to throw overboard everything of historic
development to suit some rationalistic theory, their faculties have
logically become purely institutes for instruction--special schools,
with definite regulations for the course of instruction, developed
and quite distinct from those institutions which are to further the
progress of science, such as the _Collège de France_, the _Jardin des
Plantes_, and the _École des Études Supérieures_. The faculties are
entirely separated from one another, even when they are in the same
town. The course of study is definitely prescribed, and is controlled
by frequent examinations. French teaching is confined to that which
is clearly established, and transmits this in a well-arranged, well
worked-out manner, which is easily intelligible, and does not excite
doubt nor the necessity for deeper inquiry. The teachers need only
possess good receptive talents. Thus in France it is looked upon as a
false step when a young man of promising talent takes a professorship
in a faculty in the provinces. The method of instruction in France is
well adapted to give pupils, of even moderate capacity, sufficient
knowledge for the routine of their calling. They have no choice between
different teachers, and they swear _in verba magistri_; this gives a
happy self-satisfaction and freedom from doubts. If the teacher has
been well chosen, this is sufficient in ordinary cases, in which the
pupil does what he has seen his teacher do. It is only unusual cases
that test how much actual insight and judgment the pupil has acquired.
The French people are moreover gifted, vivacious, and ambitious, and
this corrects many defects in their system of teaching.
A special feature in the organisation of French Universities
consists in the fact that the position of the teacher is quite
independent of the favour of his hearers; the pupils who belong to
his faculty are generally compelled to attend his lectures, and the
far from inconsiderable fees which they pay flow into the chest of
the Minister of Education; the regular salaries of the University
professors are defrayed from this source; the State gives but an
insignificant contribution towards the maintenance of the University.
When, therefore, the teacher has no real pleasure in teaching, or
is not ambitious of having a number of pupils, he very soon becomes
indifferent to the success of his teaching, and is inclined to take
things easily.
Outside the lecture-rooms, the French students live without control,
and associate with young men of other callings, without any special
_esprit de corps_ or common feeling.
The development of the German Universities differs characteristically
from these two extremes. Too poor in their own possessions not to be
compelled, with increasing demands for the means of instruction,
eagerly to accept the help of the State, and too weak to resist
encroachments upon their ancient rights in times in which modern
States attempt to consolidate themselves, the German Universities
have had to submit themselves to the controlling influence of the
State. Owing to this latter circumstance the decision in all important
University matters has in principle been transferred to the State,
and in times of religious or political excitement this supreme power
has occasionally been unscrupulously exerted. But in most cases the
States which were working out their own independence were favourably
disposed towards the Universities; they required intelligent officials,
and the fame of their country’s University conferred a certain lustre
upon the Government. The ruling officials were, moreover, for the most
part students of the University; they remained attached to it. It is
very remarkable how among wars and political changes in the States
fighting with the decaying Empire for the consolidation of their young
sovereignties, while almost all other privileged orders were destroyed,
the Universities of Germany saved a far greater nucleus of their
internal freedom and of the most valuable side of this freedom, than in
conscientious Conservative England, and than in France with its wild
chase after freedom.
We have retained the old conception of students, as that of young men
responsible to themselves, striving after science of their own free
will, and to whom it is left to arrange their own plan of studies as
they think best. If attendance on particular lectures was enjoined
for certain callings--what are called ‘compulsory lectures’--these
regulations were not made by the University, but by the State, which
was afterwards to admit candidates to these callings. At the same time
the students had, and still have, perfect freedom to migrate from one
German University to another, from Dorpat to Zurich, from Vienna to
Gratz; and in each University they had free choice among the teachers
of the same subject, without reference to their position as ordinary or
extraordinary professors or as private docents. The students are, in
fact, free to acquire any part of their instruction from books; it is
highly desirable that the works of great men of past times should form
an essential part of study.
Outside the University there is no control over the proceedings of the
students, so long as they do not come in collision with the guardians
of public order. Beyond these cases the only control to which they are
subject is that of their colleagues, which prevents them from doing
anything which is repugnant to the feeling of honour of their own body.
The Universities of the Middle Ages formed definite close corporations,
with their own jurisdiction, which extended to the right over life
and death of their own members. As they lived for the most part on
foreign soil, it was necessary to have their own jurisdiction, partly
to protect the members from the caprices of foreign judges, partly to
keep up that degree of respect and order, within the society, which
was necessary to secure the continuation of the rights of hospitality
on a foreign soil; and partly, again, to settle disputes among the
members. In modern times the remains of this academic jurisdiction
have by degrees been completely transferred to the ordinary courts,
or will be so transferred; but it is still necessary to maintain
certain restrictions on a union of strong and spirited young men,
which guarantee the peace of their fellow-students and that of the
citizens. In cases of collision this is the object of the disciplinary
power of the University authorities. This object, however, must be
mainly attained by the sense of honour of the students; and it must be
considered fortunate that German students have retained a vivid sense
of corporate union, and of what is intimately connected therewith,
a requirement of honourable behaviour in the individual. I am by no
means prepared to defend every individual regulation in the Codex of
Students’ Honour; there are many Middle Age remains among them which
were better swept away; but that can only be done by the students
themselves.
For most foreigners the uncontrolled freedom of German students is a
subject of astonishment; the more so as it is usually some obvious
excrescences of this freedom which first meet their eyes; they are
unable to understand how young men can be so left to themselves without
the greatest detriment. The German looks back to his student life as to
his golden age; our literature and our poetry are full of expressions
of this feeling. Nothing of this kind is but even faintly suggested
in the literature of other European peoples. The German student alone
has this perfect joy in the time, in which, in the first delight in
youthful responsibility, and freed more immediately from having to work
for extraneous interests, he can devote himself to the task of striving
after the best and noblest which the human race has hitherto been able
to attain in knowledge and in speculation, closely joined in friendly
rivalry with a large body of associates of similar aspirations, and in
daily mental intercourse with teachers from whom he learns something of
the workings of the thoughts of independent minds.
When I think of my own student life, and of the impression which a man
like Johannes Müller, the physiologist, made upon us, I must place a
very high value upon this latter point. Anyone who has once come in
contact with one or more men of the first rank must have had his whole
mental standard altered for the rest of his life. Such intercourse is,
moreover, the most interesting that life can offer.
You, my younger friends, have received in this freedom of the German
students a costly and valuable inheritance of preceding generations.
Keep it--and hand it on to coming races, purified and ennobled if
possible. You have to maintain it, by each, in his place, taking care
that the body of German students is worthy of the confidence which has
hitherto accorded such a measure of freedom. But freedom necessarily
implies responsibility. It is as injurious a present for weak, as it is
valuable for strong characters. Do not wonder if parents and statesmen
sometimes urge that a more rigid system of supervision and control,
like that of the English, shall be introduced even among us. There
is no doubt that, by such a system, many a one would be saved who is
ruined by freedom. But the State and the Nation is best served by those
who can bear freedom, and have shown that they know how to work and to
struggle, from their own force and insight and from their own interest
in science.
My having previously dwelt on the influence of mental intercourse with
distinguished men, leads me to discuss another point in which German
Universities are distinguished from the English and French ones. It is
that we start with the object of having instruction given, if possible,
only by teachers who have proved their own power of advancing science.
This also is a point in respect to which the English and French often
express their surprise. They lay more weight than the Germans on what
is called the ‘talent for teaching’--that is, the power of explaining
the subjects of instruction in a well-arranged and clear manner, and,
if possible, with eloquence, and so as to entertain and to fix the
attention. Lectures of eloquent orators at the Collège de France,
Jardin des Plantes, as well as in Oxford and Cambridge, are often the
centres of the elegant and the educated world. In Germany we are not
only indifferent to, but even distrustful of, oratorical ornament,
and often enough are more negligent than we should be of the outer
forms of the lecture. There can be no doubt that a good lecture can
be followed with far less exertion than a bad one; that the matter
of the first can be more certainly and completely apprehended; that
a well-arranged explanation, which develops the salient points and
the divisions of the subject, and which brings it, as it were, almost
intuitively before us, can impart more information in the same time
than one which has the opposite qualities. I am by no means prepared
to defend what is, frequently, our too great contempt for form in
speech and in writing. It cannot also be doubted that many original
men, who have done considerable scientific work, have often an uncouth,
heavy, and hesitating delivery. Yet I have not infrequently seen that
such teachers had crowded lecture-rooms, while empty-headed orators
excited astonishment in the first lecture, fatigue in the second, and
were deserted in the third. Anyone who desires to give his hearers a
perfect conviction of the truth of his principles must, first of all,
know from his own experience how conviction is acquired and how not.
He must have known how to acquire conviction where no predecessor had
been before him--that is, he must have worked at the confines of human
knowledge, and have conquered for it new regions. A teacher who retails
convictions which are foreign to him, is sufficient for those pupils
who depend upon authority as the source of their knowledge, but not for
such as require bases for their conviction which extend to the very
bottom.
You will see that this is an honourable confidence which the nation
reposes in you. Definite courses and specified teachers are not
prescribed to you. You are regarded as men whose unfettered conviction
is to be gained; who know how to distinguish what is essential from
what is only apparent; who can no longer be appeased by an appeal to
any authority, and who no longer let themselves be so appeased. Care is
also always taken that you yourselves should penetrate to the sources
of knowledge in so far as these consist in books and monuments, or in
experiments, and in the observation of natural objects and processes.
Even the smaller German Universities have their own libraries,
collections of casts, and the like. And in the establishment of
laboratories for chemistry, microscopy, physiology, and physics,
Germany has preceded all other European countries, who are now
beginning to emulate her. In our own University we may in the next few
weeks expect the opening of two new institutions devoted to instruction
in natural science.
The free conviction of the student can only be acquired when freedom of
expression is guaranteed to the teacher’s own conviction--the _liberty
of teaching_. This has not always been ensured, either in Germany or
in the adjacent countries. In times of political and ecclesiastical
struggle the ruling parties have often enough allowed themselves to
encroach; this has always been regarded by the German nation as an
attack upon their sanctuary. The advanced political freedom of the
new German Empire has brought a cure for this. At this moment, the
most extreme consequences of materialistic metaphysics, the boldest
speculations upon the basis of Darwin’s theory of evolution, may be
taught in German Universities with as little restraint as the most
extreme deification of Papal Infallibility. As in the tribune of
European Parliaments it is forbidden to suspect motives or indulge
in abuse of the personal qualities of our opponents, so also is any
incitement to such acts as are legally forbidden. But there is no
obstacle to the discussion of a scientific question in a scientific
spirit. In English and French Universities there is less idea of
liberty of teaching in this sense. Even in the Collège de France the
lectures of a man of Renan’s scientific importance and earnestness are
forbidden.
I have to speak of another aspect of our liberty of teaching. That is,
the extended sense in which German Universities have admitted teachers.
In the original meaning of the word, a doctor is a ‘teacher,’ or one
whose capacity as teacher is recognised. In the Universities of the
Middle Ages any doctor who found pupils could set up as teacher. In
course of time the practical signification of the title was changed.
Most of those who sought the title did not intend to act as teachers,
but only needed it as an official recognition of their scientific
training. Only in Germany are there any remains of this ancient right.
In accordance with the altered meaning of the title of doctor, and
the minuter specialisation of the subjects of instruction, a special
proof of more profound scientific proficiency, in the particular branch
in which they wish to habilitate, is required from those doctors who
desire to exercise the right of teaching. In most German Universities,
moreover, the legal status of these habilitated doctors as teachers is
exactly the same as that of the ordinary professors. In a few places
they are subject to some slight restrictions which, however, have
scarcely any practical effect. The senior teachers of the University,
especially the ordinary professors, have this amount of favour, that,
on the one hand, in those branches in which special apparatus is needed
for instruction, they can more freely dispose of the means belonging to
the State; while on the other it falls to them to hold the examinations
in the faculty, and, as a matter of fact, often also the State
examination. This naturally exerts a certain pressure on the weaker
minds among the students. The influence of examinations is, however,
often exaggerated. In the frequent migrations of our students, a great
number of examinations are held in which the candidates have never
attended the lectures of the examiners.
On no feature of our University arrangements do foreigners express
their astonishment so much as about the position of private docents.
They are surprised, and even envious, that we have such a number of
young men who, without salary, for the most part with insignificant
incomes from fees, and with very uncertain prospects for the future,
devote themselves to strenuous scientific work. And, judging us from
the point of view of basely practical interests, they are equally
surprised that the faculties so readily admit young men who at any
moment may change from assistants to competitors; and further, that
only in the most exceptional cases is anything ever heard of unworthy
means of competition in what is a matter of some delicacy.
The appointment to vacant professorships, like the admission of
private docents, rests, though not unconditionally, and not in the
last resort, with the faculty, that is with the body of ordinary
professors. These form, in German Universities, that residuum of
former colleges of doctors to which the rights of the old corporations
have been transferred. They form as it were a select committee of the
graduates of a former epoch, but established with the co-operation
of the Government. The usual form for the nomination of new ordinary
professors is that the faculty proposes three candidates to Government
for its choice; where the Government, however, does not consider itself
restricted to the candidates proposed. Excepting in times of heated
party conflict it is very unusual for the proposals of the faculty to
be passed over. If there is not a very obvious reason for hesitation it
is always a serious personal responsibility for the executive officials
to elect, in opposition to the proposals of competent judges, a teacher
who has publicly to prove his capacity before large circles.
The professors have, however, the strongest motives for securing
to the faculty the best teachers. The most essential condition for
being able to work with pleasure at the preparation of lectures is
the consciousness of having not too small a number of intelligent
listeners; moreover, a considerable fraction of the income of many
teachers depends upon the number of their hearers. Each one must
wish that his faculty, as a whole, shall attract as numerous and as
intelligent a body of students as possible. That, however, can only
be attained by choosing as many able teachers, whether professors or
docents, as possible. On the other hand, a professor’s attempt to
stimulate his hearers to vigorous and independent research can only
be successful when it is supported by his colleagues; besides this,
working with distinguished colleagues makes life in University circles
interesting, instructive, and stimulating. A faculty must have greatly
sunk, it must not only have lost its sense of dignity, but also even
the most ordinary worldly prudence, if other motives could preponderate
over these; and such a faculty would soon ruin itself.
With regard to the spectre of rivalry among University teachers with
which it is sometimes attempted to frighten public opinion, there
can be none such if the students and their teachers are of the right
kind. In the first place, it is only in large Universities that there
are two to teach one and the same branch; and even if there is no
difference in the official definition of the subject, there will be a
difference in the scientific tendencies of the teachers; they will be
able to divide the work in such a manner that each has that side which
he most completely masters. Two distinguished teachers who are thus
complementary to each other, form then so strong a centre of attraction
for the students that both suffer no loss of hearers, though they may
have to share among themselves a number of the less zealous ones.
The disagreeable effects of rivalry will be feared by a teacher who
does not feel quite certain in his scientific position. This can have
no considerable influence on the official decisions of the faculty when
it is only a question of one, or of a small number, of the voters.
The predominance of a distinct scientific school in a faculty may
become more injurious than such personal interests. When the school
has scientifically out-lived itself, students will probably migrate by
degrees to other Universities. This may extend over a long period, and
the faculty in question will suffer during that time.
We see best how strenuously the Universities under this system have
sought to attract the scientific ability of Germany when we consider
how many pioneers have remained outside the Universities. The answer
to such an inquiry is given in the not infrequent jest or sneer that
all wisdom in Germany is professorial wisdom. If we look at England,
we see men like Humphry Davy, Faraday, Mill, Grote, who have had
no connection with English Universities. If, on the other hand, we
deduct from the list of German men of science those who, like David
Strauss, have been driven away by Government for ecclesiastical or for
political reasons, and those who, as members of learned Academies, had
the right to deliver lectures in the Universities, as Alexander and
Wilhelm von Humboldt, Leopold von Buch, and others, the rest will only
form a small fraction of the number of the men of equal scientific
standing who have been at work in the Universities; while the same
calculation made for England would give exactly the opposite result.
I have often wondered that the Royal Institution of London, a private
Society, which provides for its members and others short courses of
lectures on the Progress of Natural Science, should have been able to
retain permanently the services of men of such scientific importance as
Humphry Davy and Faraday. It was no question of great emoluments; these
men were manifestly attracted by a select public consisting of men and
women of independent mental culture. In Germany the Universities are
unmistakably the institutions which exert the most powerful attraction
on the taught. But it is clear that this attraction depends on the
teacher’s hope that he will not only find in the University a body of
pupils enthusiastic and accustomed to work, but such also as devote
themselves to the formation of an independent conviction. It is only
with such students that the intelligence of the teacher bears any
further fruit.
The entire organisation of our Universities is thus permeated by
this respect for a free independent conviction, which is more
strongly impressed on the Germans than on their Aryan kindred of the
Celtic and Romanic branches, in whom practical political motives
have greater weight. They are able, and as it would seem with
perfect conscientiousness, to restrain the inquiring mind from the
investigation of those principles which appear to them to be beyond
the range of discussion, as forming the foundation of their political,
social, and religious organisation; they think themselves quite
justified in not allowing their youth to look beyond the boundary which
they themselves are not disposed to overstep.
If, therefore, any region of questions is to be considered as outside
the range of discussion, however remote and restricted it may be, and
however good may be the intention, the pupils must be kept in the
prescribed path, and teachers must be appointed who do not rebel
against authority. We can then, however, only speak of free conviction
in a very limited sense.
You see how different was the plan of our forefathers. However
violently they may at times have interfered with individual results of
scientific inquiry, they never wished to pull it up by the roots. An
opinion which was not based upon independent conviction appeared to
them of no value. In their hearts they never lost faith that freedom
alone could cure the errors of freedom, and a riper knowledge the
errors of what is unripe. The same spirit which overthrew the yoke of
the Church of Rome, also organised the German Universities.
But any institution based upon freedom must also be able to calculate
on the judgment and reasonableness of those to whom freedom is granted.
Apart from the points which have been previously discussed, where
the students themselves are left to decide on the course of their
studies and to select their teachers, the above considerations show
how the students react upon their teachers. To produce a good course
of lectures is a labour which is renewed every term. New matter is
continually being added which necessitates a reconsideration and a
rearrangement of the old from fresh points of view. The teacher would
soon be dispirited in his work if he could not count upon the zeal
and the interest of his hearers. The estimate which he places on his
task will depend on how far he is followed by the appreciation of a
sufficient number of, at any rate, his more intelligent hearers. The
influx of hearers to the lectures of a teacher has no slight influence
upon his fame and promotion, and, therefore, upon the composition of
the body of teachers. In all these respects, it is assumed that the
general public opinion among the students cannot go permanently wrong.
The majority of them--who are, as it were, the representatives of the
general opinion--must come to us with a sufficiently logically trained
judgment, with a sufficient habit of mental exertion, with a tact
sufficiently developed on the best models, to be able to discriminate
truth from the babbling appearance of truth. Among the students are
to be found those intelligent heads who will be the mental leaders of
the next generation, and who, perhaps, in a few years, will direct to
themselves the eyes of the world. Occasional errors in youthful and
excitable spirits naturally occur; but, on the whole, we may be pretty
sure that they will soon set themselves right.
Thus prepared, they have hitherto been sent to us by the Gymnasiums.
It would be very dangerous for the Universities if large numbers
of students frequented them, who were less developed in the above
respects. The general self-respect of the students must not be allowed
to sink. If that were the case, the dangers of academic freedom would
choke its blessings. It must therefore not be looked upon as pedantry,
or arrogance, if the Universities are scrupulous in the admission of
students of a different style of education. It would be still more
dangerous if, for any extraneous reasons, teachers were introduced into
the faculty, who have not the complete qualifications of an independent
academical teacher.
Do not forget, my dear colleagues, that you are in a responsible
position. You have to preserve the noble inheritance of which I have
spoken, not only for your own people, but also as a model to the widest
circles of humanity. You will show that youth also is enthusiastic, and
will work for independence of conviction. I say work; for independence
of conviction is not the facile assumption of untested hypotheses,
but can only be acquired as the fruit of conscientious inquiry and
strenuous labour. You must show that a conviction which you yourselves
have worked out is a more fruitful germ of fresh insight, and a better
guide for action, than the best-intentioned guidance by authority.
Germany--which in the sixteenth century first revolted for the right of
such conviction, and gave its witness in blood--is still in the van of
this fight. To Germany has fallen an exalted historical task, and in it
you are called upon to co-operate.