Part 16

Indeed, however self-evident, and however important the principle may appear to be, that natural science has to seek for the laws of facts, this principle is nevertheless often forgotten. In recognising the law found, as a force which rules the processes in nature, we conceive it objectively as a force, and such a reference of individual cases to a force which under given conditions produces a definite result, that we designate as a causal explanation of phenomena. We cannot always refer to the forces of atoms; we speak of a refractive force, of electromotive and of electrodynamic force. But do not forget the given conditions and the given result. If these cannot be given, the explanation attempted is merely a modest confession of ignorance, and then it is decidedly better to confess this openly.

If any process in vegetation is referred to forces in the cells, without a closer definition of the conditions among which, and of the direction in which, they work, this can at most assert that the more remote parts of the organism are without influence; but it would be difficult to confirm this with certainty in more than a few cases. In like manner, the originally definite sense which Johannes Müller gave to the idea of reflex action, is gradually evaporated into this, that when an impression has been made on any part of the nervous system, and an action occurs in any other part, this is supposed to have been explained by saying that it is a reflex action. Much may be imposed upon the irresolvable complexity of the nerve-fibres of the brain. But the resemblance to the qualitates occultæ of ancient medicine is very suspicious.

From the entire chain of my argument it follows that what I have said against metaphysics is not intended against philosophy. But metaphysicians have always tried to plume themselves on being philosophers, and philosophical amateurs have mostly taken an interest in the high-flying speculations of the metaphysicians, by which they hope in a short time, and at no great trouble, to learn the whole of what is worth knowing. On another occasion I compared the relationship of metaphysics to philosophy with that of astrology to astronomy. The former had the most exciting interest for the public at large, and especially for the fashionable world, and turned its alleged connoisseurs into influential persons. Astronomy, on the contrary, although it had become the ideal of scientific research, had to be content with a small number of quietly working disciples.

In like manner, philosophy, if it gives up metaphysics, still possesses a wide and important field, the knowledge of mental and spiritual processes and their laws. Just as the anatomist, when he has reached the limits of microscopic vision, must try to gain an insight into the action of his optical instrument, in like manner every scientific enquirer must study minutely the chief instrument of his research as to its capabilities. The groping of the medical schools for the last two thousand years is, among other things, an illustration of the harm of erroneous views in this respect. And the physician, the statesman, the jurist, the clergyman, and the teacher, ought to be able to build upon a knowledge of physical processes if they wish to acquire a true scientific basis for their practical activity. But the true science of philosophy has had, perhaps, to suffer more from the evil mental habits and the false ideals of metaphysics than even medicine itself.

One word of warning. I should not like you to think that my statements are influenced by personal irritation. I need not explain that one who has such opinions as I have laid before you, who impresses on his pupils, whenever he can, the principle that ‘a metaphysical conclusion is either a false conclusion or a concealed experimental conclusion,’ that he is not exactly beloved by the votaries of metaphysics or of intuitive conceptions. Metaphysicians, like all those who cannot give any decisive reasons to their opponents, are usually not very polite in their controversy; one’s own success may approximately be estimated from the increasing want of politeness in the replies.

My own researches have led me more than other disciples of the school of natural science into controversial regions; and the expressions of metaphysical discontent have perhaps concerned me even more than my friends, as many of you are doubtless aware.

In order, therefore, to leave my own personal opinions quite on one side, I have allowed two unsuspected warrantors to speak for me--Socrates and Kant--both of whom were certain that all metaphysical systems established up to their time were full of empty false conclusions, and who guarded themselves against adding any new ones. In order to show that the matter has not changed, either in the last 2,000 years or in the last 100 years, let me conclude with a sentence of one who was unfortunately too soon taken away from us, Frederick Albert Lange, the author of the ‘History of Materialism.’ In his posthumous ‘Logical Studies,’ which he wrote in anticipation of his approaching end, he gives the following picture, which struck me because it would hold just as well in reference to solidar or humoral pathologists, or any other of the old dogmatic schools of medicine.

Lange says: The Hegelian ascribes to the Herbartian a less perfect knowledge than to himself, and conversely; but neither hesitates to consider the knowledge of the other to be higher compared with that of the empiricist, and to recognise in it at any rate an approximation to the only true knowledge. It is seen, also, that here no regard is paid to the validity of the proof, and that a mere statement in the form of a deduction from the entirety of a system is recognised as ‘apodictic knowledge.’

Let us, then, throw no stones at our old medical predecessors, who in dark ages, and with but slight preliminary knowledge, fell into precisely the same errors as the great intelligences of what wishes to be thought the illuminated nineteenth century. They did no worse than their predecessors except that the nonsense of their method was more prominent in the matter of natural science. Let us work on. In this work of true intelligence physicians are called upon to play a prominent part. Among those who are continually called upon actively to preserve and apply their knowledge of nature, you are those who begin with the best mental preparation, and are acquainted with the most varied regions of natural phenomena.

In order, finally, to conclude our consultation on the condition of Dame Medicine correctly with the epikrisis, I think we have every reason to be content with the success of the treatment which the school of natural science has applied, and we can only recommend the younger generation to continue the same therapeutics.

ON ACADEMIC FREEDOM IN GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.

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.