A writer in _Cornhill Magazine_, some years ago, facetiously suggested
that, while societies for the acquisition of useful knowledge abounded,
each, doubtless, in its way, proving of eminent service to mankind,
another society, not so much as a direct opponent, but rather as
a proper, and even necessary, corrective of its rivals, should be
organized, the object of which should be to sift out and to suppress the
vast and ever increasing accumulations of knowledge that are not only
really worthless but which are an unmitigated nuisance, a useless burden,
a confused and baffling heap.
The suggestion above referred to, made perhaps in jest, is one, we
venture to suggest, which might well be made in earnest. Useless
knowledge! Has it never occurred to the reader what areas, and even
continents, not to say oceans of valueless, of absolutely superfluous
knowledge there are in the world? Observe we are not now writing of
literature, or books, merely; we say knowledge.
Useless knowledge! For everything that may, with any kind of propriety,
be comprehended under this honored term, knowledge, we usually cherish a
profound and reverent respect. The highest conception of scholarship, on
the part of many, consists in being possessed of encyclopedic information
concerning the details of almost every conceivable matter.
According to this idea learning consists in an intimate acquaintance,
at once and quite indiscriminately, with all the results of the latest
scientific research, the facts of universal history, the mysteries of
theology and subtleties of metaphysics; with all the institutes of law
and politics; with all the literature of poetry and art.
To one entertaining such an idea of scholarship as this how positively
depressing must be the monstrous and obviously ever-accumulating mass
of facts heaping up around him. He quite envies the great men of the
olden time who, in consequence of the then comparatively narrow range of
knowledge, found it not impracticable to maintain a creditable standing
at once as statesmen, soldiers, poets, philosophers, and artists; while
he, in his day, can serve, at best, only as an infinitesimal wheel in a
machinery of boundless complication.
Even were it desirable to burden the mind with boundless mental
acquisitions, one certainly has not long to live to discover the utter
futility of even the most capacious memory ever being able to compass
any such result—to learn that the human mind, whatever its capabilities,
is yet finite; that it is, therefore, the part of wisdom to select some
one department of study and devote one’s energies mainly to the mastery
of the same; and that, finally, one essential condition of usefulness
depends on one’s thus wisely restricting himself to a comparatively
narrow and limited field of inquiry and of attainment.
In the meantime it should be distinctly understood that true scholarship
does not, by any means, consist in thus knowing absolutely everything.
The popular idea that learning consists in being a walking repository
of all sorts of curious and of more or less ill-assorted erudition, is
a most childish error. Scholarship may, perhaps, be properly defined as
knowing _something_ about almost everything; but more especially every
thing _about some one thing_. This is the true university idea. Some
one has defined the university as being the school where _something_
could be learned about everything, and _everything_ about some _one_
thing. In other words, true scholarship consists in having just so much
learning as one can not only digest and master but effectively use in
connection with his own special work, or mission in life; in having
the keys, if you please, that shall unlock and open up to one at will
all the varied stores of knowledge; and more especially in being the
undisputed master of just so much and of just such knowledge as he can
himself best utilize. Just as no mechanic cares to encumber himself with
more tools, or the soldier with more weapons, than he can advantageously
use, so no true scholar, in our judgment, will covet more knowledge than
he can render properly, wisely, available for service. Why, indeed, may
not too much of a good thing, as well as too little—_l’embarrassment de
richesse_ as well as the embarrassment of poverty—prove not a help but a
burden, not a source of power but an occasion of weakness and a cause of
stumbling?
Let no one, therefore, be tempted to envy the attainments of certain
knowing ones in those walks of literature, or of science, to which he is
for the most a stranger; and, because of his ignorance comparatively on
certain special lines of study and intellectual inquiry, to depreciate
himself as a scholar. Rather, on the other hand, while thankful that, in
your own chosen sphere, you have been enabled to give a good account of
yourself and to render some service, however humble, to your kind, you
should also rejoice that others have been called to explore fields of
thought and inquiry by your feet as yet untrod.
Who that, a few years ago, at the great Exposition at Philadelphia,
walked through those acres of textile fabrics, miles of most ingenious
machinery, and thousands of square yards of painting, but must have been
profoundly impressed with the narrow limits of his own knowledge and
attainments. And yet who, if really a sensible person, instead of feeling
mortified and chagrined at all on this account, but was moved rather,
at every step, silently to give thanks that here was presented another,
and yet another branch of knowledge or industry concerning which it was
his privilege to remain in profound and most contented ignorance? Why,
indeed, should it be deemed specially important that, in order richly and
intelligently to enjoy that marvellous display of the products of all
nations, one should be altogether conversant with the Chinese puzzle, or
versed in all the arts of sub-soiling, top-dressing, tile-draining, or
stock-raising?
Let the dictionaries, therefore, and the encyclopædias, the archives and
the libraries, for the most part, serve as the treasure-houses of the
materials of knowledge—especially of all more strictly technical and
curious lore, properly classified, indexed, assorted, accessible. Let
it be the part of scholarship, if you please, exhaustively to explore
certain departments of learning as specialties; but to be content,
meantime, as a general thing, to know where, and how readily to find, and
to be able wisely to appropriate, and effectually to employ, as occasion
may require, this accumulated and duly sifted and organized learning of
the ages.