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 ■/J.ivjp-yffc-*' 
 
 LG709 .S^s"" ""'"^"y Library 
 ^■miMlte'' °' 1902- 
 
 oiin ^ ^924 030 639 49o 
 
Union Book 
 
 of 1902... 
 
 Beiug the contribution of 
 THE" SYDNEY UNIVERSITY 
 UNION to tne celebration 
 or the JUBILEE or the 
 University (1552-1902) 
 
 Sij'Jticy : 
 
 WILLIAM BROOKS and COMPANY, IJMITED, 
 17 Castlbrbaoh Stsiet. 
 
 1902. 
 

 !\^\.<\<^'v^ 
 
THE UNION 
 
 OFFICE BEARERS 
 In the Year of its Foundation, 1874» 
 
 PRESIDENT : 
 
 Professor The Rev. Charles Badiiam, D.D. 
 
 vice-presidents: 
 Profesbor Pell, B.A. H Kennkdt, B.A. 
 
 Professor Smith, M.D., LL.D. G. J. Sly, M.A., LL.B. 
 
 Professor Livbrsidge,^M.A. R. E. O'Cokkor, M.A. 
 
 committee: 
 A. Backhouse, B.A. ,1. H. Oakruthers. 
 
 E. Barton, M.A. E. A. Nathan. 
 
 secretary and treasurer: 
 
 G. £. B. Jones. 
 
 In the Year of the University Jubilee, 
 1902. 
 
 president : 
 E. R. Holme, B.A. 
 
 VICE-PRESIDENT : 
 
 R. C. Terce, M.A.' 
 
 COMMITTEE : 
 G. H. Wilson, B.A. T. B. Cloustoh. 
 
 E. R. Larcombe, B.A. S. Kai. 
 
 J. W. G. Powell. 
 
 SECRETARIES: B. N. Teece, B.A. TREASURER: 
 
 C. St. L. Willis. H. M. Green, B.A. 
 
Hditorial Committee : 
 Tub Pbksidbnt. 
 d. p. evams'jones, b.a. 
 G. H. W1L8ON, RA, 
 N. J. GoDGH, B.A. 
 W. J. BINN8. M.A. 
 
 Publishing Committee : 
 
 TliK PRBSIDRNT. 
 
 The Skcebtariu. 
 Thx Trkasurrr. 
 
CONTIiNTS. 
 
 PASE. 
 
 I. Presidential Addresses — 
 
 I. Inaugural. 1875. 
 
 Charles Badham, D.D.,Oxon., Professor 
 of Classics 1867-1883 1 
 
 n. 1897. 
 
 M. W. MaoCallum, M.A., Glasg., Challis 
 Professor of Modern Literature. ... 27 
 
 ui. igoz. 
 
 J. T. Wilson, M.B., Ch. M., Edin., 
 
 Challis Professor of Anatomy. ... 65 
 
 II. Pdblic Lectures — 
 
 I. The Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 i88g. 
 W. Scott, M.A., Oxon., Professor of 
 
 Greek 1885-1900 101 
 
 II. Edmund Burke. i8go. 
 
 T. Butler, B.A., Syd., Professor of Latin. 139 
 
 III. A Modern Philosopher — Green of 
 
 Balliol. i8go. 
 
 F. Anderson, M.A., Glasg., Challis Pro- 
 fessor of Logic and Mental Philosophy. 175 
 
 IV. Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 1896. 
 The Hon. B. R. Wise, B.A., Oxon., Q C, 
 
 Attorney-General 201 
 
 V. Recollections of the University — With 
 Some Thoughts of the Future. 
 1897. 
 His Honour Judge Backhouse, M.A., 
 
 Syd., Viee-Chancellor. 239 
 
 VI. Ibsen, igoo. 
 
 N. J. Gough, B.A., Syd., Vice-President 
 
 of the Union, 1900 269 
 
 III. The Sydney University Review. 
 
 Biological Science — A Necessary Fac- 
 tor in University Work. 1882. 
 W. J. Stephens, M. A., Oxon., Professor 
 
 of Natural History 1882-1890. ... 309 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924030639490 
 
PREPACE. 
 
 Perhaps even to Union men the Union Jubilee 
 book will helpfully begin with some forewords 
 explanatory of the aim and method of its compila- 
 tion. For others a little more about its origins 
 may well be provided. Something of the former 
 kind is indeed necessary, since the design 
 originally announced has not been wholly fol- 
 lowed ; and the Historical Account of the Union 
 with which the Editorial Committee wished, and 
 almost promised, to crown its labours has had to 
 be excluded by the fast limits of time and space 
 — more immediately the latter, for still " a penny 
 can do more than it may." But the Union Book 
 remains, in its essentials, as it was first pro- 
 jected, and should win acceptance for the happy 
 old associations it will renew, for its .value as a 
 permanent record of some important Union 
 interests and doings during the greater part of 
 the first fifty years' existence of the University, 
 and for the help it will give towards expressing, 
 at an appropriate time, some of the inner 
 worth of University life as it has been known to 
 successive generations of Sydney alumni. 
 
 The Sydney University TTnion is the oldest 
 among the University Societies of a non-athletic 
 nature. It was founded in 1874 by a group of 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Graduates and Undergraduates, to which it is 
 particularly inteiesting at the present moment to 
 look back. By the " Objects' Clause " its aim 
 was stated to be " the promotion of the mental 
 culture of its members by means of debates and a 
 magazine." Its scope naturally widened in fehe 
 course of years, and in one of the later features of 
 its work, that of arranging public lectures by dis- 
 tinguished men, it became the pioneer of the 
 University Extension movement within the 
 Colony. And now it is developing further 
 towards that social organisation under Club 
 conditions, of which the great English Universi- 
 ties offer so excellent an example. 
 
 The Union Book, then, is intended by the 
 Executive of this University Jubilee year to 
 represent the more notable happenings in this 
 past progress by a selection from the records now 
 at its disposal. Thus, of Presidential Addresses 
 still extant, three have been chosen as specially 
 memorable and timely, and they form the first 
 section of the book. The Union is well content 
 so to place in the forefront of its first printed 
 work the most honoured name of its first 
 President, Charles Badham. The next section 
 consists of Public Lectures, selected so as to give 
 as much variety as possible within all the condi- 
 tions of the choice — not excluding the occasional 
 reluctance of the author to permit republication. 
 Of living contributors, whether in this or the pre- 
 ceding part, it is necessary here to say perhaps. 
 
Preface. 
 
 without further compliment, only that the Union 
 owes them much thanks for their assistance both 
 before and now. 
 
 Without a Hansard of its own, and sternly dis- 
 couraging the use of manuscript in its verbal 
 jousting, the Union has no section in its book 
 devoted to Debates. In that respect it must be, 
 perhaps is well content to be, " a voice and 
 nothing more." But among its other objects, 
 mostly no more capable of permanent recording in 
 the manner of their pursuit, its old ambition of 
 founding a literary Review can still appear in 
 realisation. For a brief space, between November, 
 1881, and July, 1883, the Union touched the 
 height of its desire, though with a hand that 
 faltered somewhat under the financial load it had 
 to bear ; and in that small life the Sydiiey 
 University Review lived not unworthily. Only 
 one specimen from it could be admitted ; but that 
 one is from its upper levels, bears the name of a 
 man of rare general culture as well as high 
 scientific attainment, aad fitly forms a section by 
 itself and a conclusion to the whole. 
 
 The regret of the Editorial Committee at being 
 compelled to leave all unrecorded in the Union 
 Book, the domestic history, the inner being and 
 secret desires of the Union, is a little tempered by 
 knowledge that it has at least secured some valu- 
 able additions to its archives. By the very kind 
 and willing aid of men best qualified to interpret 
 them in the light of thrar own strenuous Union 
 days a number of sketches of different periods in 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 the history of the Society have been prepared. 
 These should prove ultimately a firm basis for an 
 even more thorough piece of work than the Com- 
 mittee had in contemplation. In the meantime 
 its best thanks for their efforts on its behalf are 
 due to Messrs. E. A. Nathan, M.A., LL.B., 
 H. A. Russell, B.A , A. G. Saddington, B.A., W. 
 L. Curnow, B.A., J. B. Peden, B.A., LL.B, 
 F. S. Boyce, B A., LL.B,, D. P. Evans-Jones, 
 B.A., G. H. Wilson, B.A.,and W. J. Binns, M.A. 
 
 Finally, the Union has a debt of gratitude to 
 pay the Senate of the University for a liberal 
 contribution towards the expenses of publishing. 
 
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESSB: 
 
 By Professor Badham. 1575. 
 
The President's Address, 1575. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — You little know 
 how much that simple commencement appears 
 to me fraught with terror and dismay ; a ter- 
 ror and dismay which are increased tenfold 
 by what I see before me. I am not accus- 
 tomed to quail before audiences, nor indeed 
 do I now feel my heart sinking within me 
 through the ordinary causes which produce 
 that disagreeable sensation. It is not because 
 I am unprepared, but because I am prepared 
 too well, that I look upon this large concourse 
 with the utmost trepidation. Shall I confess 
 it to you, for at present I am speaking in 
 riddles, not only I never expected to say ladies 
 and gentlemen, but I never expected to en- 
 counter an audience which has almost swelled 
 to the dimensions of a public meeting. I 
 thought that I should be provided with the 
 easiest chair of a commodious apartment, and 
 that I should be surrounded with a few 
 friends of my own sex who would be willing 
 to listen to some desultory observations of 
 mine with more or less interest as suited 
 them, but certainly not with the eagerness 
 which is the most dangerous humour for an 
 audience to be in, for as sure as digestion 
 waits on appetite, so sure is criticism the 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 inevitable follower of eager attention. I am 
 still witholding my confession, because it is 
 expedient tliat before you learn what I have 
 done, you should know how I was brought to 
 do it. When I was invited to deliver an 
 address before this society, I was in the midst 
 of all manner of occupations. I am not 
 alluding to my ordinary duties, but to the 
 preparations which I had to make for a future 
 labour of no ordinary kind. These bursaries, 
 in which the members of the society, as Uni- 
 versity men, must needs take the same inter- 
 est as I do, are not things to be managed by 
 sleight of hand. The preparation for their 
 establishment compelled me to make certain 
 geographical studies, to ascertain local pecu- 
 liarities, to consult with leading persons in 
 the North, and South, and West, and to plan 
 a winter campaign in the Riverina, 
 and the outlines of a September raid 
 upon New England; and in the midst 
 of all this I was to deliver a dis- 
 course upon a perfectly_ different subject! 
 But believing that it would be more of a 
 family gathering of the sons of Alma Mater, 
 and not feeling sure that I should have suffi- 
 cient time to think over the heads of a suitable 
 discourse, I took refuge where others had 
 done before me. I took refuge in scribbling. 
 It is not always easy to think, but a man can 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 always write; and (I cannot conceal it) I 
 wrote my address. As when a man has a 
 sweet little box in the country, and has pre- 
 pared a dinner for six homely neighbours, if 
 the train brings him down an unexpected 
 shoal of distinguished guests, he must 
 straightway extemporise a tent on his 
 front lawn, with any material that 
 comes to his hand, so I am building up 
 at this moment this pavilion of shreds and 
 patches to welcome you all ; but to welcome 
 you to what ? To this poor manuscript fare, 
 which I hold in my hand, not as intended for 
 you, not as worthy of you, but as all which I 
 had by me when you honoured me with this 
 unexpected visit. 
 
 Like a great historical personage who was 
 much embarrassed as to his mode of proceed- 
 ing with a famous debating society, I have 
 besought my conscience thrice, that it would 
 not put me on this work of interfering with 
 this mimic Parliament of yours ! But when I 
 remembered that I was invited to do so, and 
 when I thought who the persons were that 
 invited me, it became at last impossible to 
 resist any longer ; and here I am, though for 
 what purpose I am here, and what possible 
 service I can render you, I am up to 
 this moment unable to discover. I know 
 very well that I have to deliver an 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 Address, because those are the very 
 terms of the iuvitation, but it seems 
 almost necessary that au address should 
 be upon some topic : I know there are excep- 
 tions to this rule, and that some men have 
 become such perfect masters of language that 
 they can speak about nothing ; but I am con- 
 tent to rank myself with that inferior class 
 of men, who, even when they have something 
 to say, find it very difficult to embody that 
 something in the forms of speech. Let any- 
 one of you put himself into this position and 
 ask himself, how would he behave in it; I 
 suppose he would congratulate the society 
 upon its formation, and augur for it a happy 
 continuance, and endeavour to speak very 
 rapturously of the good which it is likely to 
 do if it works upon sound principles and 
 steadily jjursues its proper aim. Well, all 
 this I am thankful to say I can do with per- 
 fect sincerity, and with a warmth of heart 
 \\hioh I must beg you to accept in place of 
 eloquent periods and exquisitely finished lau- 
 dations. 
 
 I rejoice to see the members of our Univer- 
 sity combining as such, whatever the purpose 
 of their combination may be; every bond 
 which knits the students together — every pur- 
 suit in which the students of former times 
 have fellowship with the students of today. 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 are signs of that natural sympathy and union 
 of spirit which is a guarantee of the strength 
 and permanence of the body which it per- 
 vades. If this were a combination only for 
 some common pastime, it would deserve to be 
 welcomed as a proof of this public spirit ; but 
 an association for the purpose of intellectual 
 culture, as it is a means of a closer union than 
 any club for the promotion of bodily strength 
 and skill, so is it more appropriate to an insti- 
 tution whose sole business is to guide and 
 train the intellect by the discipline of thought 
 and reason. We were lately told by a person 
 whose position entitles him to every respect, 
 that students were apt to neglect the claims 
 of bodily health, and more than one species 
 of exercise was recommended to us with a 
 view to the preservation of that blessing ; but 
 I hope no one so far misunderstood the mean- 
 ing of this advice, as to suppose that it 
 implies any depreciation of hard intellectual 
 labour. 
 
 One of the noblest passages in Jeremy 
 Taylor is that in which, speaking of the edu- 
 cation of the young, he contrasts the parents 
 of old times who rejoiced to see their youth 
 striking the lion with his hunting spear, or 
 doing battle with some other lord of the forest, 
 or bruised and battered with the fierce conten- 
 tions of the wrestling ground, with those par- 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 ents of the present day, who are proud to see 
 their offspring pale with study and worn with 
 deep research. How unlike the shallow 
 prattle of your small modern wits, who think 
 that nothing is manly save that which is mus- 
 cular; who know nothing of the dogged 
 courage which refuses to be beaten by some 
 intricate problem, or, to speak with Platfl, 
 which never faints till it has tracked the 
 question, like some wily and mischievous 
 beast, into its inmost lair, and dragged it into 
 the light of day. It is manly not to shrink 
 from this mental fatigue which is so different 
 from mere plodding. The latter is certainly 
 injurious to the health of the body, but it is 
 quite as certainly injurious to that of the 
 mind ; whereas intellectual efforts need never 
 be carried so far as to undermine the vigour 
 of the frame, and they are absolutely neces- 
 sary to that mental vigour which is the privi- 
 lege of man. The person who invented that 
 cliarming anecdote about Dean Gaisford, 
 which was adopted by the Governor to illus- 
 trate some remarks which he made before the 
 University, seems to have fallen into the 
 vulgar error of confounding the scholar with 
 the pedant or the hireling— the scholar who 
 makes his mind to undergo labours by which 
 its strength is developed, with the pedant who 
 plods for mere ostentation, that he may be 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 quoted as an authority because lie knows what 
 others do not care to know ; or the hireling, 
 who measures learning by the pelf which it 
 will bring in. Such objects may be suited to 
 the ambition of the pedant or the hireling ; 
 and the toil which they impose upon them- 
 selves is as low as the ambition which prompts 
 it. But there are other pedantries, besides 
 that which apes scholarship, and other hire- 
 lings besides those who plod through books 
 for the sake of money. For instance, there 
 are political pedants, who never aspire be- 
 yond the repetition of hackneyed phrases ; 
 and political hirelings who work by the piece 
 or by the journey; and even in the sporting 
 world there are men who give themselves to 
 the pursuit for no generous aims; and if I 
 were to ask one of these latter pedants what 
 were the advantages of sport, he would no 
 doubt tell me first, that it would help me into 
 the society of the great, from whence I could 
 look down upon all non-sporting men; 
 secondly, that it would enable me to read the 
 pedigrees of horses with great interest; and 
 thirdly, that it sometimes led to considerable 
 emoluments upon the turf. And as we may 
 presume that his Excellency would look upon 
 such reasons for sport with disapprobation, 
 so have we a right to look upon similar 
 reasons for learning and intellectual labour 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 us wholly unworthy of us and inapplicable to 
 us. But enough of this. 
 
 I have assumed that the object of 
 this Debating Society, inasmuch as it is 
 composed of University men, is the im- 
 provement of the mind. It is true that 
 not all members of all debating socie- 
 ties view the matter in this light; there 
 are some, no doubt, who wish to acquire a 
 certain glibness of speech, without caring 
 about the quality of the speech which they 
 employ. Now, I do not deny that, in some 
 cases, it is a very good thing to overcome 
 natural timidity by practice, or as the Greeks 
 call it, ixeXiTT) ; and the best fi-tXi-rq or rather 
 the only one that is worthy of the name, is 
 what Thncydides calls /xcXItt; /itra kivSiVcov. To 
 call up the right words from the depths of 
 your consciousness, or indeed to have any 
 internal consciousness at all, while you are 
 standing up to be looked at by an innumerable 
 throng of faces, is a power which scarcely 
 comes by nature, even to those whom nature 
 intended for public speakers. But of the men 
 who undergo this ordeal and acquire this arti- 
 ficial courage, how many become fluent whose 
 fluency is a sore burden to others, so sore a 
 burden as to provoke the homicidal part of 
 our nature; and, just as when a promising 
 boy has, by study, initiated himself in the 
 
 8 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 principles o£ the squirt, we inconsiderately 
 wish tjiat that useful implement had never 
 been invented, so the hateful and unabashed 
 readiness of talkers who have nothing to say, 
 tempts us, though very unjustly, to regard all 
 meetings for the exercise of disputation as 
 conspiracies against sweet and wholesome 
 silence. Sometimes while listening to per- 
 formers on musical instruments we are 
 tempted to wish that the ingenious Jubal had 
 died in infancy; and after hearing certain 
 fluent speakers we are sorry that they ever 
 found means of getting over their original 
 diffidence, supposing always that there was 
 ever such a stage in their lives. 
 
 A friend of mind is constructing a Model 
 Republic in case New South Wales should 
 ever need one ; and, being a Graduate in Arts, 
 he has of course put the University at the 
 head of all things, and subordinated the 
 House of Legislature to it ; and this is one of 
 his provisions : There is to be universal suf- 
 frage, of course; but after the representa- 
 tives have been chosen, they will have to 
 undergo an examination by the Sydney Uni- 
 versity Senate, and they will be drafted into 
 three classes, according to their proficiency. 
 First-class members will have a right of 
 voting and speaking ; second-class, of voting 
 but certainly not of speaking ; and those who 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 fall into the third-class will form the chorus 
 of the House, whose province it will be, 
 when told off into strophe and antistrophe, 
 to do the "Loud cheering" and "Oh ! Oh !" 
 business, and all such inarticulate ex- 
 pressions of public opinion. This will 
 in some degree modify the evil which 
 may arise from excessive facility of 
 speech, derived from improper use of debat- 
 ing societies. But an Academical Society 
 like yours will, I trust, be something better 
 than a mere palaestra of the tongue ; you will 
 never lose sight of the excellent order accord- 
 ing to which the tongue (let the profane ears 
 of punsters be absent!) is but the lictor of 
 those first consuls, the brain and the heart. 
 You will value the opportunity of exercise, 
 because it releases you from the trammels of 
 inexperience, and enables you to do justice 
 to the researches and the reflections which 
 call for utterance within you. 
 
 If so, you will be led to see the great im- 
 portance of making a wise choice of subjects 
 for discussion. Those who wish to train 
 themselves to the art of unravelling an intri- 
 cate question, and expressing it with clear- 
 ness, will naturally avoid subjects which do 
 not demand much reasoning power or the 
 balancing of many details, — they will especi- 
 ally avoid questions which have been recently 
 
 10 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 debated on in another place, and chewed over 
 again by those lordly ruminators who re- 
 pose in unrefuted majesty in the fields of 
 journalism. There can be little left for the 
 exercise of perspicacity and ingenuity in the 
 tailings which remain after so majiy rock- 
 ings and washings of these professional gold- 
 finders. Besides, the subjects themselves 
 often owe their apparent greatness to their 
 excessive nearness to the spectator. With 
 the whole realms of ancient and modern his- 
 tory before us, why should we narrow down 
 our souls to the consideration whether Sir 
 A. B. was justified in sending for Sir C. D., 
 and make battle-fields out of these little heaps 
 of litter which, in less than a year, will be 
 swept into the darkest and most forgotten 
 corner of colonial history. But if even the 
 subjects were of ever so much importance, 
 how difficult it must be, in following others 
 who have discussed them before, not to copy 
 their language as well as their arguments; 
 but whoever does this defeats his own pur- 
 pose and aim, which is, to express his own 
 thoughts or the thoughts which he has made 
 his own, in words' chosen and adapted by him- 
 self. It is scarcely necessary to remind you 
 that no man who copies the phrases of a 
 debate or of a leading article, nay, no man 
 who studies such matters to the exclusioji of 
 
 11 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 good English writers, can ever hope to attain 
 to anything like purity of language. I need 
 scarcely remind you of such barbarisms as 
 available and reliable. When it is good 
 English to say that a stick is leanable, or a 
 chair is sitable, but not till then, are you 
 likely to tolerate such a phrase as " reliable 
 evidence." Until that time, it would be as 
 well to put up with the old-fashioned trust- 
 ivorthy. When a gentleman wishes to say 
 that certain materials were turned to account, 
 but prefers to tell us that they were availed 
 of, you would doubtless like to ask him, see- 
 ing that I avail myself is a reflective verb, 
 whether he means that the materials availed 
 themselves of themselves without the inter- 
 vention of an intelligent agent. When you 
 hear a man speaking of trivial offences or 
 trivial expenses, you are Latinists enough to 
 laugh at his confusion between trivial and 
 trifling; or when he speaks of eliminating 
 the good from the bad, or tells you that " but 
 for the Chinese a great deal of gold would 
 have remained unearthed," you may smile at 
 the ambition which has caused him in one 
 case to confound the choice parts with the 
 refuse, and, in the other, the earth with the 
 open air. But what are we to do with that 
 large number of words which, without being 
 ungraramatical, are none the less foreign to 
 
 12 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 the language? Old Dryden growls, in the 
 surliest and most sterling English, at those 
 oi his time who, in place of telling you, 
 " You are in the right," must fetch over a 
 compliment from France, and tell you that 
 " You have reason :" " which is all one," says 
 glorious John, " as if they should say to me 
 you are not a beast." What would he have 
 said, nay, what would Macaulay have said, 
 to " postal," and " governmerdal," and " vtilis- 
 ing," and " regretable," and such other French 
 commodities ? It is difficult, in some cases, 
 to determine whether it is silly ambition or 
 absurd attempts at compression, which lead 
 to many of these innovations. No doubt the 
 former is answerable for the banishment of 
 ajich plebeian words as because and before 
 and eating and drinking ; for now a man must 
 take his umbrella owing to the fact that it 
 rains, he must brush his hat previous to go- 
 ing out, and he must partake of a glass of 
 wine. But I will not fatigue you with a 
 recital of the ravages made by the unlettered 
 in this stately park of the English language ; 
 ihe genteel promenaders therein are also 
 guilty of strewing it with the broken bottles 
 and the greasy fragments of newspapers as 
 the record of their day's diversion. A Eight 
 Reverend Prelate who passed for a great 
 orator in his day, informs us that somebody 
 
 13 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 " was given the king's daughter in mar- 
 riage " ; that the little boys did not say to 
 Elijah, "Go up, bald-head!" but "Go up, 
 hair-cropj,ed\" ; and, because we say indul- 
 gence and effulgence, he thinks himself justi- 
 fied in calling the act of divulging a divvl- 
 gence ; following, I suppose, the reasoning of 
 the philosophical youth who asked : if 
 Satrapes is the Greek for a satrap, why should 
 not Ratrapes be the Greek for a rat-trap ? 
 
 I will not presume to direct the studies of 
 the gentlemen here present ; but if I could lay 
 hold of one of the younger members of this 
 society and withdraw him into some corner 
 where I might offer him a little private ad^ 
 vice, I should beseech him, above all things, 
 to take care that he learnt not only to speak, 
 but to speak English. I should say to him, 
 " the best means of learning good English 
 is to confine yourself to good English models ; 
 and the best mode of acquiring readiness in 
 English composition is that which the Uni- 
 versity provides for you. Translate the good 
 authors of other languages, and never be 
 satisfied till the translation reads as much 
 as possible like an original; try to be clear 
 and simple before you attempt to be flowery, 
 or impassioned, or sublime ; do not study any 
 man's style for the purpose of imitating that 
 style ; believe that nothing but clearness of 
 
 14 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 thought can give you clearness of diction; 
 do not attempt to divide a subject according 
 to some arbitrary framework, but think it 
 over till it resolves itself into its own natural 
 parts, — ^the knowledge of the relation of the 
 parts to the whole is method, and method 
 will teach you to arrange every part in 
 its natural order; and when things are 
 in their natural order they illustrate and 
 explain each other." If I found my pupil 
 contented with the plan traced out for him, 
 well and good; but, if he had a soul above 
 such ordinary things as purity of diction and 
 clearness of argument, and aspired to gay and 
 brilliant effects, it would be necessary to 
 adapt one's style somewhat to his humour, 
 and to introduce a few touches of fajicy into 
 the remainder of the lecture. " The history 
 of language, sir, is faithfully reflected in the 
 history of the old alphabets ; the first species 
 of writing was nothing more than a series of 
 pictures ; it represented nothing but the im- 
 mediate objects of sense. But when men 
 found that they needed to convey something 
 -more than visible objects were capable of por- 
 traying, such as inward feeling or metaphy- 
 sical notions, the old picture alphabet gradu- 
 ally ripened into an alphabet of sounds, or 
 some new contrivance was adopted for that 
 purpose. In the same manner, the language 
 
 15 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 of a civilized people is more picturesque in 
 its early stages, speaks more to the fancy, and 
 deals more largely in metaphor. But, as it 
 grows with the growth of the people's mind, 
 and has to deal more and more with abstrac- 
 tions, it seeks less the aid of imagery, and 
 makes a freer use of arbitrary symbols of 
 thought." Now, there is no doubt a very great 
 charm in figurative language, because it 
 places objects more vividly before the mind's 
 eye; at the same time there is greater con- 
 venience and greater rapidity of communica- 
 tion in the exchange of those intellectual 
 counters which stand for the more complex 
 results of our mental operations. But people 
 often, in this rapid interchange, take these 
 counters as a matter of course, without pon- 
 dering their exact value, and the result is 
 vagueness and confusion, ajid a belief in 
 phrases, instead of an appreciation of things. 
 The great masters of language, while they 
 strive at once to quicken the minds which 
 they undertake to teach, and to convey the 
 thing taught in all its completeness, employ 
 both these properties of langiiage, and, in 
 their highest passages, they contrive so to 
 blend them together, so to play at once the 
 part of painters and of logicians, that while 
 they give the fancy some palpable reality to 
 dwell on, they enable the imagination to exr 
 
 16 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 pand into wider regions of thought. Poetry 
 is, as Milton defines it, simple, sensuous, pas- 
 sionate; eloquence admits the sensuous ele- 
 ment, but does not suffer it to predominate 
 over the logical; in mere declamation the 
 sensuous entirely disappears ; it offers noth- 
 ing but vehement generalities, because it is 
 unreal, is no true reflex of a mind possessed 
 mainly by one thought, and therefore does 
 not represent the real conditions of such a 
 mind alternating between general notions 
 and particular images, now thinking in the 
 abstract, and now realising its own thoughts 
 through the intervention of the fancy, by pre- 
 senting to itself a particular image. When 
 Macbeth is made to say — 
 
 " Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather 
 The multitiidin<ms seas incarnadine 
 Making the green one red " — 
 
 W3 are bidden to observe the contrast 
 between the vague grandeur of the first ex- 
 pression and the definite strength of the 
 second, as illustrating the difference between 
 the Latin and Anglo-Saxon elements of our 
 language. But it is wrong to look upon this 
 as a mere trick of words. Our language, 
 indeed, as is well known, owes its more vivid 
 words, that is, those which address themselves 
 to the senses, to one source, and the more 
 artificial words to another ; but the contrast 
 
 17 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 is not intended as a contrast of the words as 
 such, but as a contrast of the states of mind 
 of which those words are the natural embodi- 
 ment. I quote the following passEige from 
 Jeremy Taylor to shew another instance of 
 this contrast which occurs between two single 
 words, but the whole passage is so noble that 
 I dare not mutilate it, and, indeed, when 
 looked at closely, it will be found to contain 
 more than one example of the thing in ques- 
 tion : — "But if we could, from one of the 
 battlements of Heaven, espy how many men 
 and women at this time lie fainting and dying 
 for want of bread ; how many young men are 
 hewn down by the sword of war ; how many 
 poor orphans are now weeping over the graves 
 of their fathers by whose lives they, were 
 enabled to eat; if we could but hear how 
 many mariners and passengers are at this 
 present in a storm and shriek out because 
 their keel dashes against a rock, or bulges 
 under them ; how many people there are 
 that weep with want, or are mad with oppres- 
 sion, or are desperate by too quick a sense 
 of constant infelicity : in all reason we 
 should be glad to be out of the noise and par- 
 ticipation of so many evils." 
 
 When Burke is describing the sufferings 
 of the fugitives from the Carnatic, and speaks 
 of the many hundreds who perished by famine 
 
 18 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 in the granary of India, he adds : — " I was 
 going to awaken your justice towards this 
 unhappy part of our fellow-citizens, by bring- 
 ing before you some of the circumstances of 
 this plague of hunger. Of all the calamities 
 which beset and waylay the life of man, this 
 comes the nearest to our heart, and is that 
 wherein the proudest of us all feels himself 
 to be nothing more than he is. But I find 
 myself unable to manage it with decorum; 
 these details are of a species of horror so 
 nauseous and disgusting, they are so degrad- 
 ing to the sufEerers and to the hearers, they 
 are so humiliating to human nature itself, 
 that, on better thoughts, I find it more advis- 
 able to throw a pall over this hideous object, 
 and to leave it to your general conceptions." 
 Here he awakens the curiosity of the inward 
 sense, but refuses to gratify it by any dis- 
 tinct image ; our mental eye knows that there 
 is something beneath that pall too hideous 
 to look upon, and a stronger effect is produced 
 than if by glutting it with horrors he had 
 impelled the mind to disenthral itself by re- 
 fusing to entertain any thought at all of the 
 thing described. 
 
 I wish I could remember or lay my hands 
 upon that remarkable commencement of a 
 sermon by John Henry Newman, in which he 
 observes that when the mind is called to the 
 
 19 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 contemplation of some terrible calam^ity, it 
 will often seem benumbed and incapable of 
 t iking in the description offered to it, till the 
 mention of some little incident connected with 
 the event brings the whole scene in all its 
 reality before us. Here again we see the 
 operation of this painter within us — to speak 
 with Plato — which by presenting some single 
 image gives life and meaning to the whole 
 conception. I will not tire you with further 
 illustrations, but I will only exhort you, if 
 you desire to emulate these great heroes of 
 speech, to husband and keep ready in your 
 memory, and to combine in judicious propor- 
 tions, these two elements — the sensuous and 
 the metaphysical. It will only need a bril- 
 liant fancy, a rich mine of observation, a 
 temperate judgment, a subtle wit, and pro- 
 found reflection. Do not imagine I am laugh- 
 ing at you, I am laughing at the hopeless 
 difficulties into which my own enthusiasm has 
 betrayed me. Let us take it in another way 
 — you want to know something about meta- 
 phors, and apostrophes, and accumulations, 
 and climax : where to find them, and how to 
 use them.** My answer is, — Don't find them 
 at all, but let them come when they like. Not 
 that you must always admit them when they 
 do come; for they are seductive-looking 
 things, and may persuade you to employ them 
 
 20 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 at times when they will give you more plague 
 than profit. For example, if you wish to fly 
 a metaphorical kite, take care that the back- 
 bone is sufficiently substantial to bear the 
 strain, and yet that the whole framework is 
 not so heavy as to be incapable of soaring. 
 You don't like my figure, so I will put it in 
 another way. Let your comet's tail be as long 
 and as fiery as you can make it, but let it have 
 a nucleus, lest when the telescope of the critic 
 is directed right iipon its centre, he should 
 declare it to be all incandescent gas. For lan- 
 guage, again, has its three temperatures, and 
 three conditions corresponding to them ; when 
 I say the day is fine, I eive you a cold and 
 solid statement, but the moment I import any- 
 thing of a wish, or a passion, or a sympathy 
 with nature into the thought, and say, — 
 " Sweet day — so cool, so calm, so bright — 
 The bridal of the earth and sky," 
 
 you perceive that the language has reached 
 the melting mood; that it has acquired 
 warmth and mobility. Intensify the fervour 
 by fixing your imagination on the everlasting 
 day, such as glows in the pages of some in- 
 spired seer, and you see that the language is 
 expanded and rarefied, as though it were striv- 
 ing to transcend the bounds of matter. Now, 
 whatever other people may do, my young 
 friend, never become so gaseous but that you 
 
 21 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 shall have some solid residuum, lest the vul- 
 gar, who are somewhat given to materialism, 
 and judge of the reality of a thing by its 
 solidity, should tax you as an unsubstantial 
 talker. 
 
 But, while I am thus giving instructions to 
 some imaginary novice, you are waiting to 
 hear something addressed to yourselves, — ^but 
 here the old difficulty returns ; for what can a 
 man say, when he possesses no more informa- 
 tion than his hearers, and when he addresses 
 those whom it would be impertinent to ad- 
 vise ? You see the blunder that has been com- 
 mitted, and the embarrassment to which it 
 leads. You wanted not a speech but an 
 address : when a man has to make an ordinary 
 speech, he has to communicate some thought 
 of his own, which his hearers may adopt or 
 not, as they think fit; but when a man is 
 called upon to make an address, his business 
 is to divine the thoughts which are already 
 present in the minds of the assembly — to 
 interpret to every member the sentiments of 
 all the rest — to speak not only to all, but for 
 all, so that every one may at once recognise 
 his own sentiment, and find that it is in har- 
 mony with the sentiment of others. But, 
 if it is difficult to present one's own thoughts 
 in such a way as to make them acceptable to 
 the minds of others, it is far more difficult to 
 
 23 
 
Presidential Address. 1875. 
 
 set before a number of intelligent men such 
 a transcript of their own ideas as they shall be 
 willing to recognise as true, and to ratify as 
 adequately expressed. But, alas ; it is too 
 late to attempt this now, for indeed, it is pro- 
 bable that there is but one thought remaining 
 in the whole of this audience — " Oh, that he 
 would make an effort at a decent peroration, 
 and let us depart in peace !" I am not good 
 at perorations, but I am quite willing to let 
 you depart, after I have performed the solemn 
 ceremony of inaugurating this Society. 
 Gentlemen, there are two kinds of augurs 
 known to the English language, with a slight 
 difference in the spelling ; an augur is a kind 
 of prophet, and an auger also an instrument 
 for making holes, or, more briefly, a bore. 
 Having sufficiently performed the functions 
 of the latter, I will now assume the office of 
 the former, and without telling you by what 
 signs this insight is acquired, I will present 
 you with the augury of your future career. 
 As a body you will not influence, in any per- 
 ceptible degree, the legislation of the 
 country ; you will not seek to attract the pub- 
 lic eye to the results of your deliberations ; 
 but, in after years, when men shall remark 
 the great change that has come over the tone 
 of our Legislative Assembly, and shall ask, 
 "Why is there no longer the same slip-shod 
 
 23 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 English, the same vapid iteration of ill- 
 stated and confused argument? Why is 
 there so much of that candour which strives 
 to occupy the point of view from which an 
 opponent is speaking, and of that courtesy 
 which strives to refute without insulting or 
 degrading the holders of opposite opinions ? 
 Why are there such hroader views, and so 
 much more exalted a sense of the high duties 
 of legislation y" — some man, who has quietly 
 observed the course of events from the watch- 
 tower upon Grose Farm, will step in, as the 
 interpreter, and say, — "The men who have 
 produced these changes were old students of 
 ours, who learnt those principles with us, 
 and perfected them by practice in the 
 University Debating Society." 
 
 24 
 
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESSES. 
 
 Bv Professor nacCallum. 1597. 
 
*The President's Address, 1597. 
 
 It has often been my privilege to deliver 
 the Presidential Address before this So- 
 ciety, and I have always endeavoured to 
 impress students, and especially fresh- 
 men, with the importance, alike as an 
 advantage and a duty, of becoming members. 
 To-night I do not wish to ring any more 
 changes on the old theme, on which I have 
 already said all that I have to say, but prefer 
 to deal with a subject, which in one of its 
 aspects is not unconnected with the work of 
 an association like the Union, but which is 
 of a somewhat wider interest, and engages, 
 or ought to engage, the attention of all Uni- 
 versity men. I refer to the question which a 
 little while ago was brought prominently be- 
 fore the public, whether our degrees should 
 be obtainable on examination merely, or only 
 on examination after residence. It is a ques- 
 tion of which we assuredly have not heard 
 the last, and it is by no means easy to answer. 
 The popular view of the matter seems to be 
 
 ^In this paper I haye discussed only as a general principle the 
 advisability of throwing open the degree to candidates who have not 
 attended lectures. The question of exemption in special cases stands 
 on quite a different footing. In point of fact the University has at 
 present (see By-laws, Cap. XII. Sees. 6, 7, 8) full authority to grant 
 such exemptions, and does so when a claim is satisfactorily made out. 
 No objection can be urged against this power to meet exceptional 
 emergencies. 
 
 27 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 that our examinations should be open to all 
 comers without limitation or distinction ; 
 and this commends itself by its apparent 
 liberality and straightforwardness, perhaps 
 also by its seeming conformity with the ideas 
 of a democratic community. On the other 
 hand, the adherents of the existing system 
 have on their side the weight of authority 
 and the practice of by far the greater number 
 and the most distinguished of kindred insti- 
 tutions : which gives them, too, a -prima facie 
 claim to consideration. Clearly neither op- 
 inion is one to be dismissed or accepted with- 
 out serious examination ; and as the matter 
 has come within the sphere of practical poli- 
 tics — of politics, I fear, in the strictest sense 
 of the words — it behoves us to set about form- 
 ing a right estimate of it without delay. 
 
 It is my purpose to-night to make my own 
 small contribution to the final verdict. I am 
 well aware that a University teacher is un- 
 likely to be deemed an impartial witness on 
 such a point. Like Alexander, the silver- 
 smith of Ephesus, he may be suspected of 
 arguing : " This our craft is brought • in 
 danger." And it is very probable that my 
 ideas may be coloured by my habits, position, 
 and associations. At the same time, I do not 
 see why that should hinder me from stating 
 the case as it appears to me ; and if a profes- 
 
 28 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 sor's interests are concerned — which they are 
 not in the way that is usually supposed, i.e., 
 financially — on the other hand he may be 
 assumed to have knowledge of some things 
 which are likely to be overlooked by out- 
 siders, but which are worth being taken into 
 account. At any rate, I may claim this 
 qualification for myself, that the subject is 
 one which I have often thought about since 
 I first became a lecturer ; that my convictions 
 have not changed, but only become clearer 
 with the lapse of time ; and that they are now 
 practically the same, when I am on the stafE 
 of a teaching University, as they were when 
 I began to teach in connection with an exam.- 
 ining University nearly twenty years ago. 
 That is, they are the same as when my inter- 
 ests were in some respects the opposite of 
 what they are at present. 
 
 Now, the first thing that strikes me (and 
 which I point out in no spirit of captiousness, 
 but merely to clear the ground) is that this 
 demand for examinational degrees is not to 
 be confounded with the demand for higher 
 education. The argument, as I see it gene- 
 rally stated, is that a degree carries with it 
 certain privileges, a certain position has in 
 short a certain market value; and therefore 
 ought to be within the reach of all. Cleaily 
 this is very different from the claim for the 
 
 29 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 pai'ticipation in such culture as a Uuiversity 
 can supply, the claim which for example we 
 acknowledge and try partly to satisfy with 
 our Extension Lectures. It is a very different 
 spirit which urges Scotch lads of the poorer 
 class to live on oatmeal in garrets, as Carlyle 
 and so many less illustrious persons have 
 done, that they may put themselves within 
 reach of University teaching; or which 
 induces young men in business — and among 
 my own friends from my own year I can 
 count four merchants who did this — to attend 
 Uuiversity lectures at such hours as they can 
 spare from their counting houses. It is 
 interesting to observe that in Scotland, pre- 
 cisely the country where the appetite for 
 higher education is strongest and most popu- 
 lar, the demand for a purely examinational 
 degree does not exist; so that the examina- 
 tions of the University of London have never 
 gained a footing north of the Tweed, and 
 hardly any Scotchman thinks of taking a 
 London degree. 
 
 Indeed this distinction between the desire 
 for education and the desire for a degree is 
 illustrated by the present position of afEairs 
 in our own community. If we threw open 
 our examinations to-morrow, it would give no 
 one greater opportunities of self-improve- 
 ment than he possesses to-day. As things 
 
 30 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 stand, lie can study the same subjects, read 
 the same books, obtain the same guidance 
 from the University courses as set forth in 
 the Calendar. The only difference would be 
 that at present he has to content himself with 
 the names he received from his parents or his 
 god-parents, and that otherwise he could eke 
 them out with one or two other alphabetical 
 signs. Be it remembered, then, that the 
 question is not of culture, but of a title, the 
 concession desired is primarily not educa- 
 tional but mercantile, for the degree is sup- 
 posed to bring certain advantages to the 
 bearer. 
 
 But in saying this we have neither exhaus- 
 ted nor condemned the movement. It may 
 be quite justifiable, though it is not what it is 
 ordinarily assumed to be ; and it may involve 
 more, and more important results than it 
 explicitly seeks to secure. In both respects 
 this is largely true of the demand for the 
 examinational degree. 
 
 If the academic style is an advantage — 
 put at the very lowest, an advantage in the 
 struggle for existence — it is only fair that it 
 should be made accessible to as wide a circle 
 as possible. If it will help to due recognition 
 the solitary student of the back-blocks, or the 
 awakened minds of the sleepy little township, 
 who cannot obtain it in the ordinary way, 
 
 31 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 surely these are worthy of encouragement 
 and ought, if it can be done, to be encouraged. 
 The acquisition of a degree may be to these 
 the first step in a career honourable to them- 
 selves and useful to others. It may supply 
 just the initial leverage they require, to move 
 the mass of circumstance that encumbers 
 them, and let them step freely into the light. 
 And again, though all have the same 
 opportunity of self-culture now that they 
 would have were our examinations thrown 
 open, it may be questioned whether so many 
 avail themselves of it. For human nature is 
 seldom heroic ; and we often find that we 
 leave undone what we know we ought to do, 
 and even what in a sense we desire, if we 
 have to find the stimulus only in ourselves 
 and are not kept up to the mark by some ex- 
 ternal consideration. Probably with a degree 
 as bribe a greater uumber would push their 
 studies further than do so at present ; and the 
 spread of knowledge, on whatever motive, is 
 a thing to be desired. One can well imagine, 
 especially in a country like this, with its 
 long distances and ill-populated tracts, many 
 a man* with a real interest in and capacity 
 for mental work letting his energies rust and 
 
 * " Many a man '' seems to be too strong, if we may infer any- 
 tliing from the very small numbers of those that present themselves 
 without attendance at lectures for the examinations of the Univer- 
 sity of Melbourne. 
 
 32 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 his efforts relax amid uncongenial surround- 
 ings ; and for such an one, the hope of a 
 degree might just furnish the requisite spur. 
 The motive may be to a great extent utilita- 
 rian, in so far as an outward decoration is the 
 prize at the end of the course ; hut then that 
 prize can only be obtained by enriching and 
 disciplining the mind. Such a student, as 
 Groethe says of "Wilhelm Meister "is like 
 Saul the son of Kish, who went out to seek 
 his father's asses and found — -a kingdom." 
 
 From this point of view, then, it seems a 
 just and beneficent measure to do away with 
 all artificial prohibitions and admit as our 
 graduates all who have satisfied the require- 
 ments of the examiners. But now we have to 
 hear the arguments on the other side, which 
 aim at showing how this change could only 
 be made at the price of radical injuries to the 
 University. 
 
 Of course, if our degree merely meant that 
 a certain fixed standard had been reached iu 
 the examinations, obviously there would be 
 no difficulty at all. In that case, provided 
 that the amount of knowledge necessary for 
 a pass were acquired, it would not matter how 
 it was acquired, by lectures, by coaching, or 
 by private study. It would matter no more 
 than whether one got one's washing done at 
 
 33 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 a public laundry or at home or — did it one- 
 self. 
 
 But the question is not quite so simple. 
 The degree of a teaching University is more 
 than a warrant that certain questions have 
 been answered on certain prescribed books, 
 and the change would involve a complete re- 
 volution in the conception of a University 
 education which prevails not only in Sydney, 
 but in almost all the more important institu- 
 tions of Britain, of Europe, and of America. 
 
 In the first place, one of the most profitable 
 parts of an academic course is the participa- 
 tion in the life of the University, and especi- 
 ally the contact of a student with his fellow- 
 students in college, in societies, or in ordi- 
 nary friendly intercourse. The value of this 
 can hardly be over-rated. In many cases, I 
 am convinced, more is done for the mental 
 development of the individual by this free 
 comradeship with other minds at about the 
 same stage of growth, with the same interests 
 and with the same problems, than in any 
 other way whatever. This is one of the 
 acknowledged excellences of the Oxford and 
 Cambridge college system, which the alumni 
 of these Universities are not backward in 
 celebrating, and they would in truth be un- 
 filial sons if they failed to do so. 
 
 34 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 Now, of course, we do uot have this so con- 
 spicuously in the University of Sydney. The 
 colleges, which supply the same kind of 
 thing, excellent as they are, receive only a 
 fraction of the total number of students. 
 Most of our undergraduates live in private 
 lodgings or in their own homes. And the 
 accusation is often brought against us that 
 we have no common life at all. I have even 
 heard people, who attach exclusive import- 
 ance to the point we are discussing, argue 
 in this way : " Since we have not the English 
 college system, what remains is of hardly 
 any value. If the colleges were dominant, 
 it would be worth while fighting for resi- 
 dence ; since they are not, we may as well 
 give degrees on examination merely." 
 
 But this seems to me a fatal exaggeration. 
 It is, as the homely German proverb puts it, 
 throwing out the child with the dirty water ; 
 or rather, throwing out the child because- 
 there is not so much water as we should like 
 in the tub. 
 
 It is a view, my English colleagues will 
 pardon me for saying, that arises from that 
 quality which is at once the strength and 
 weakness of Englishmen, their insularity. 
 They practically assume that there is Uni- 
 versity life only in their own two great Uni- 
 versities and the very few English-speaking 
 
 35 
 
The. Union Book. 
 
 institutions that conform to the same model, 
 but nowhere else on the face of God's earth. 
 I wonder, to take examples from my own 
 experience, if they have any acquaintance 
 with the Universities of Germany, where the 
 freemasonry of students stares you in the face. 
 They have not to attend chapel, and they 
 don't need to be indoors by a particular hour, 
 and there are other like blessings which are 
 withheld from them; but the want of the 
 college system is, on the whole, amply made 
 good by their clubs. I wonder if the objec- 
 tors have ever got behind the externals even of 
 a Scotch University, where the clubs and 
 societies are by no means so powerful, and 
 where the visible unity is reduced to a mini- 
 mum. When I look back on my own time 
 at Glasgow, and remember the pleasant 
 walks and talks with fellow-students, the dis- 
 cussions in the quads and common-room, the 
 .meetings of the Dialectic and the Witenage- 
 mot, the assembly of wise men, as we 
 modestly called one of our clubs ; and when 
 I consider all the agreeable acquaintance- 
 ships, the permanent friendships, the stimu- 
 lating associations then formed ; I think we 
 had a good deal of the real thing, however 
 we may have wanted its trappings and out- 
 ward circumstance. And mine was no ex- 
 ceptionally favourable case, for during my 
 
 36 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 wliole University career I was engaged in 
 coaching, some years for more than four 
 hours a day, so I had less time for social life 
 than many other students. Now, I wish to 
 insist on this, for it seems to me that a great 
 deal of mischievous cant is talked about the 
 absence of University life in Sydney. Of 
 course we have far less than we ought to have 
 and far less than I hope we shall have. I 
 have often said so in the past, and I shall 
 often say so in the future, unless things pro- 
 gress much more rapidly than they are at 
 present doing. Our little seed plot of cor- 
 porate life has to be most carefully guarded 
 and most assiduously cultivated. I would 
 fain see every student of the 'Varsity, besides 
 gravitating naturally to the society of his fel- 
 lows, become a member of one at least of its 
 various clubs, and especially, to repeat my 
 old appeal, of this Union. At the same time, 
 to confess that we have not attained our ideal 
 and that there is much for us to do, is not to 
 say that we have utterly failed. There is a 
 wide interval between honours and a pluck, 
 and I do not admit that we have deserved the 
 latter. Of this I am sure, that you have as 
 much opportunity for University life as there 
 was at Glasgow in my days — nay, more — and 
 I know we had it. And I ask the older stu- 
 dents and graduates to consult their memo- 
 
 37 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 ries and run over the list of their cronies and 
 associates, and then to answer if they have 
 not had it too. 
 
 Now, at present the degree means not 
 merely the possession of so much or so little 
 Algehra, Latin, and the rest, but for some 
 years frequenting the company of men who 
 have a certain community of aim, work, and 
 spirit. I should be sorry if it came to mean 
 leas. 
 
 But again, in another respect, ooir degree 
 implies more than the attainment of a par- 
 ticular standard in examinations ; and to 
 open the lists would have bad results on this 
 side too. It would indeed be nothing else 
 than a negation of the principle on which the 
 teaching at this, as at most other tiniversities, 
 has hitherto been based. 
 
 For in the first place, in a course of study 
 such as teaching Universities prescribe, the 
 character of the knowledge to be acquired 
 is not what can be fixed inevitably and in 
 advance as in all circumstances the best. 
 There are many subjects so vast and so many- 
 sided that only certain parts and aspects of 
 them can be taken up, and frequently it does 
 not greatly matter what particular selection 
 is made. This is not so true, I suppose, of 
 the exact sciences, but it is undoubtedly true 
 of Literature, History, and even of Philoso- 
 
 38 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 phy — of all tlie studies that go to make up 
 what has been called the department of 
 Litterse Humaniores, the department that 
 in my opinion belongs distinctively to an 
 Arts Course. And it is the Arts Course that 
 I mainly have in view to-night, partly 
 because I know most about it, but principally 
 because the B.A. is the degree that would 
 most generally, perhaps exclusively, be in 
 request among examinational candidates. 
 Well, all the subjects that fall under the 
 group of the Litterse Humaniores, may be 
 treated in a variety of ways, and the most 
 excellent way in any individual case 
 will to a very great extent depend 
 on its being the way most congenial to 
 the teacher. In the Classics the study 
 of the Greek orators or the study of the 
 Greek philosophers may be more profitable 
 accordingly as it is pursued under the gui- 
 dance of one who has given his love to the 
 one or to the other. So, too, the social, the 
 economic, or the constitutional aspect of His- 
 tory, and the attention to this or that period, 
 may legitimately predominate, according to 
 the equipment or bias of the teacher. And 
 in the same way one may be entered in Philo- 
 sophy by the study of its development, or of 
 a special philosopher, or by systematic dis- 
 quisition. Now, one of the evils of a rigid 
 
 39 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 examination system is that it interferes with 
 this legitimate freedom of choice ; and this, 
 I think, is one reason why good school-mas- 
 ters are often discontented with the coercion 
 of our Public Examinations. They may, cf 
 course, also object to particular questions 
 and particular arrangements ; but these are 
 separable accidents ; the objection which Is 
 bound to remain under any hard-and-fast 
 examinational' regime, is that the teacher is 
 compelled to teach certain things when he 
 could teach other ones better; and a very 
 great evil it is. But if disadvantageous in 
 schools, it would be doubly disadvantageous 
 in a University, for the more advanced and 
 the higher the teaching, the greater need of 
 having it spontaneous. 
 
 But, it will be said, there is no talk of 
 interfering with the teacher's choice of his 
 subjects ; that would remain as at present. I 
 answer that this could not be. For at present 
 the teacher chooses his subjects without 
 necessary reference to the hand-books on 
 them. But if the permission to come for- 
 ward for examination without residence were 
 to be real and not nominal, then such free 
 selection would be impossible. For it would 
 be the height of absurdity to say to the 
 country candidate, " You may present your- 
 self to be examined," unless he could have 
 
 40 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 the books on which to prepare himself. Such 
 a proceeding would not allay biit excite dis- 
 content, as all injunctions to make bricks 
 without straw are sure to do. It would be 
 the old fable of the crane inviting the 
 fox, and then only serving soup in a 
 narrow-necked vase. I fear the public is 
 quite fox enough to retaliate by giving the 
 University crane her gruel in a very shallow 
 platter of State aid. 
 
 To remove restrictions on the conditions of 
 examination, therefore, would be to impose 
 restrictions on the choice of subjects ; and 
 that this might have disastrous results, I can 
 illustrate from my own experience. On the 
 whole, the University course by which my 
 contemporaries most benefited was that in 
 Philosophy delivered by the present Master 
 of Balliol. It was the turning point in the 
 intellectual, I might almost say, in the moral 
 life of many. Now that course was on the 
 lines of a philosophy which at the time was 
 virtually unknown in England and on which 
 no English text-books existed, save the very 
 bulky and abstruse volumes of Dr. Hutchison 
 Stirling. If Professor Caird had been com- 
 pelled to deliver a course that might be pre- 
 pared from accessible philosophical works, 
 he would have been unable to give what he 
 was best fitted to give, and his students would 
 
 41 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 have been without an inspiring and regula- 
 ting influence that has rested upon them ever 
 since. 
 
 And this leads me to another point, closely 
 connected with the preceding one. The grant- 
 ing of degrees on examination solely, is bound 
 not only to restrict the range of possible sub- 
 jects, btit to hamper the treatment. And for 
 this reason. The grand justification of the 
 idea is to put the degree within the reach of 
 students in the country and in remote towns. 
 Nothing, therefore, ought to be required of 
 them that they may not be reasonably 
 expected to obtain. Consequently, the exami- 
 nation must be confined to the substance of a 
 few easily procurable, and perhaps I should 
 add, not very expensive books. They must 
 not be too numerous, or too costly, or too hard 
 to come by, otherwise they would be out of the 
 reach of those concerned. Even allowing the 
 utmost latitude in this respect, we have to 
 remember that even the purchase of a certain 
 number of high-priced volumes would not 
 supply the kind of library required for the 
 mastery of a subject; such a library is 
 beyond the resources of all but a very few in 
 the community. But in point of fact we 
 could not assume the possession even of a few 
 of the dearer publications. The work would 
 have to be confined to getting up certain re- 
 
 42 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 cognised manuals and texts, and anything 
 beyond would be considered unfair. Now of 
 course every teacher knows, at least if he has 
 a wide field to cover, that in some cases he too 
 must rely on such books, and can do little 
 more than select from them the important 
 points, and give them, due prominence, fuller 
 exposition or such individual illumination as 
 may suggest itself. But that is the least valu- 
 able part of his'function. As a rule he will 
 not be content to expound and inculcate the 
 authorised view ; he will look at it for him- 
 self; investigate it at first hand; seek 
 materials for his judgment in many quarters ; 
 consult more recondite works, transactions, 
 foreign authorities ; gather his conclusions at 
 times from a multitude of scattered sources, 
 and combine them by his own thought in his 
 own way. His object should be not to dole 
 out the current elements, but to put himself 
 and his students abreast of the best that is 
 done. And in so far as he does this, he is 
 not merely a middle term between the book 
 and the pupil ; he is an independent teacher, 
 nay, in some cases he is entitled to be an 
 original teacher, and make his own correc- 
 tions, additions, and innovations. In other 
 words. University teaching should always aim 
 at being more than a thing of manuals, how- 
 ever good those manuals may be ; and in all 
 
 43 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Universities, except the purely examining 
 bodies, this has invariably been the ideal, 
 however much the practice may have fallen 
 short of it. This is a point on which I feel 
 bound to speak as strongly as I possibly can, 
 though I do so with extreme reluctance, for 
 it lays one open to the retort that one's own 
 performance belies one's principle. Truly the 
 work to be done in some kind of way is often 
 so multiform, that the University teacher 
 cannot do it all with the thoroughness he 
 would like ; but speaking for m.yself, every 
 year I endeavour to give certain lectures and 
 certain courses which shall be the result of 
 my independent research ; and it is just they, 
 as I notice, that are most interesting and pro- 
 fitable to my classes. But I am not here try- 
 ing either to defend or to exalt the procedure 
 of particular persons, myself or anybody else. 
 We have to distinguish between principles 
 and the individuals by whom they may 
 happen to be represented. It is the principle, 
 the system that I contend for. What 1 
 V. ish to preserve for Sydney University is 
 liberty for the future Adam Smiths and 
 Mommsens and Matthew Arnolds, who lec- 
 ture within its walls, to treat their own 
 subjects after their own fashion, that they 
 may have free scope for their powers, and 
 students of far-ofE days may enjoy living con- 
 
 44 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 tact with minds that create knowledge. And 
 I speak for all who, without being epoch- 
 making geniuses, have still their contribu- 
 tions to make from conscientious work in 
 their own corner of the intellectual vineyard. 
 All this will be thwarted, or at least, checked, 
 if the aim of study is an examination that 
 niay be passed on the knowledge of books. I 
 have a right to speak on this matter. For 
 seven years before coming here, I was Profes- 
 sor in one of the provincial University 
 Colleges that worked in connection with the 
 University of Loudon. I think we sent up 
 as many candidates as any other institution 
 of our size, and I think we had more than 
 average success in passing them. It is not 
 therefore because we failed in equipping 
 students for the test that I speak against an 
 examining University. My protests are by 
 no means due to the animus engendered by 
 the grudge of discomfiture. But what I found 
 was that the examining system, as applied 
 itt University work, reduced to a minimum, if 
 it did not entirely extinguish, all freedom and 
 originality in teaching. For instance, in 
 literary history, I knew and my students 
 knew perfectly well that a certain acquaint- 
 ance with some chapters in Morley's First 
 Sketch would secure a pass. I do not say a 
 high pass, but there are in every class a pro- 
 
 45 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 portion of persons who work merely to scrape 
 through. So this inevitably interfered with 
 the instruction I gave. Whatever went beyond 
 was of doubtful utility, for it made the 
 weaker candidates carry extra weight in the 
 race to their particular goal. Yet every 
 teacher knows that the most valuable parts 
 of a course on Literature — and I suppose this 
 is true of other subjects — are often not those 
 that can be found in manuals and are not 
 necessarily those that can be examined 
 on at all; Bnd he knows beyond ques- 
 tion that a literary history, were it 
 many times better than Morley's, is not of 
 much educational importance without indi- 
 vidual expansion and illustration. In point 
 of fact we did manage to smuggle a good deal 
 that was not required into our lectures, but 
 the performance was smuggling of the most 
 unscrupulous kind, and the whole afEair was 
 irritating and unsatisfactory. This was the 
 experience too of all the other professors in 
 University Colleges with whom I have 
 exchanged views, and their number is not 
 small. They were all vexed with the same 
 bonds. Their work was made mechanical, its 
 vitality was crushed out, independent re- 
 search was almost penalised. And the only 
 teachers who did not complain were those in 
 
 46 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 cramming establishments, to whom of course 
 the system was a godsend. 
 
 My fear then is that if degrees were given 
 on examination alone, the subjects would be 
 restricted to those on which there are cheap 
 accessible books, the mere knowledge of which 
 would entitle to a pass, and that this would 
 react on the University instruction and inter- 
 fere with its efficiency. In a word the exami- 
 nations would rule the teaching, while, in a 
 true " abademia," the teaching should rule 
 the examinations. 
 
 Indeed the history of the relations between 
 the University of London and the provincial 
 colleges shows how unsatisfactory the exami- 
 national degree has proved in practice, and 
 how the trend of opinion is to abolish or 
 largely restrict it, accepting it at the best as 
 a necessary evil. Though the London degrees 
 are nominally obtainable on private study, it 
 was from the first found safer and better to 
 have the help of some sort of tuition. This 
 brought into existence a large class of private 
 tutors, some of whom were good and some 
 bad; also a great many coaching establish- 
 ments, most of which were bad ; and, running 
 together with the far greater and more impor- 
 tant movement for carrying higher education 
 to the doors of the people, it co-operated in 
 bringing about the establishment of properly 
 
 47 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 equipped University Colleges in mauy of the 
 provincial towns. The rise of these colleges 
 is in some ways the most remarkable educa- 
 tional phenomenon of England in the 
 nineteenth century. (Jwens College, Man- 
 chester ; the Yorkshire College, Leeds ; the 
 Mason College, Birmingham ; the University 
 Colleges in Aberystwyth, Cardiff, and Bangor, 
 are some of those that so originated. At the 
 outset the students of these colleges, in so far 
 as they arrived at a degree at all, worked for 
 the London examinations, and the college 
 courses were in substance arranged with 
 reference to tbe London calendar. But this 
 was found so intolerable that soon the cry 
 arose for the incorporation of the different 
 institutions as themselves teaching and 
 degree-granting Universities. This demand 
 was met first by the foundation of the Vic- 
 toria University, originally with Owens as 
 its sole constituent college, but by degrees 
 other northern colleges have been admitte'l. 
 Then the three Welsh Colleges were combined 
 in the University of "Wales, the youngest 
 born of British Universities. And meanwhile 
 we see University College, London, which 
 used to be the chief jackal of the London 
 University, heading a movement for obtain- 
 ing a teaching University in London itself, 
 which shall have the power of arranging its 
 
 48 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 own courses and conferring its own degrees.* 
 I think this is an object lesson by which 
 we ought to profit. To my mind its moral is 
 not doubtful. It means that with full 
 experience under the most favourable condi- 
 tions, it has been found that institutions for 
 the imparting of higher knowledge must 
 singly, or in combination, arrange their own 
 courses for their students, appoint their own 
 tests in view of their own teaching and not be 
 content with a standard set merely with 
 reference to books. And my fear is that by 
 giving our degrees on examination only, our 
 University would lapse into the position 
 from which these colleges have escaped or are 
 escaping. 
 
 But perhaps it may be said that the Univer- 
 sity of the federative type into which some 
 of these colleges have grown, is as destructive 
 of the originality in teaching, on which I laid 
 such stress, as the examinational University. 
 For in such a University there are various 
 authorised lecturers, each of whom is pro- 
 bably a specialist in his own line and yet 
 cannot have it all his own way in arranging 
 the common curriculum. Of course one 
 might answer that in such an academic as in 
 
 * A movement happily, now succesaful. The change of Mason 
 College into the Birmingham University is a new instance of what is 
 urgea above. 
 
 49 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 a political federation, the principle of give 
 and take must prevail, and that the teacher 
 at any rate will have his views a good deal 
 more considered than where the Board of 
 Studies simply ignores the teaching alto- 
 gether. But further we see that there is an 
 answer of the " solvitur ambulando " kind. 
 In a teaching University, where there are 
 several authorised lecturers on the same 
 branch, whether it conforms to the collegiate 
 type as in England, or has a number of extra- 
 ordinary professors and privat-docenten, as 
 in Germany, we do not in point of fact hear 
 complaints of the teaching being cramped, as 
 we do in the case of colleges that are 
 tyrannised by an examining University. And 
 the reason is very clear. The authorities who 
 fix the curricula and arrange the examina- 
 tions in a teaching University, calculate on 
 there being properly giiaranteed instructors 
 who niay be expected to deal with matters at 
 first hand ; they are, therefore, far less depen- 
 dent than the merely examining University 
 on special books and rigidly defined courses, 
 but may look beyond to the subjects as such ^ 
 a greater latitude and liberty are permis- 
 sible ; and thus the teacher is generally 
 allowed some scope in his treatment, and the 
 student is directed from the letter that 
 killeth to the spirit that giveth life. 
 
 50 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 Nevertlieless, it is only under very special 
 conditions that a federation is really satis- 
 factory. It will always be better than a 
 University in which the exaraination is the 
 one thing needful, but unless the stafE is very 
 large, or the colleges closely adjacent, it will 
 not give the same scope for Lehrfreiheit that 
 the independent teaching University does. 
 
 Indeed, the University of London itself is 
 an inconsequent and involuntary, but for that 
 very reason is all the more emphatic a witness 
 to the greater importance of good teaching 
 than of any mere examination. In all other 
 departments candidates get their degrees if 
 only they satisfy the examiners, but this is 
 not the case in medicine. ' In that faculty 
 they are not admitted to the test if they have 
 scrambled up their knowledge anyhow, but 
 only if they have gone through a course at 
 certain approved institutions — of which I 
 need hardly say the University of Sydney is 
 one. Now why is it that in this matter the 
 London people go back on their professed and 
 dominant principle ? Is not this an acknow- 
 ledgment that in a particular department the 
 merely examinational system would not yield 
 satisfactory results, that something more js 
 required, 4hat instruction under iit guidance 
 is a sine qua non ? And if in medicine, why 
 not in other subjects? I think the only 
 
 51 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 answer is that in medicine the practical issues 
 of health and sickness, of life and death, are 
 so palpable and unmistakeable that they do 
 not let themselves be overlooked; while in 
 other subjects they are subtler and less 
 obvious. But I confess that I cannot see in 
 principle any distinction between Medicine 
 and Physical Sfieuce, which latter also 
 requires its costly laboratories and practical 
 experimental work, and in which, neverthe- 
 less, London gives degrees on examination 
 only. And in Arts, if there is a distinction, 
 it is one as I have tried to show that increases 
 rather than diminishes the importance of 
 independent teaching. 
 
 But to return to our main argument, it 
 seems to me for the reasons I have given, 
 that a degree obtained on exajnination 
 only, and a degree in which exami- 
 nation is only one factor, are of very 
 diiferent values, and therefore, ought not to 
 be indicated by the same symbol. To use an 
 algebraical formula, if x equals examinations, 
 1 equals lectures, and u equals the University 
 life, then in the one case B.A. equals x, and in 
 other B.A. equals xlu. And the B.A. that 
 merely means x, is not, in point of fact, con- 
 sidered quite so important as the B.A. that 
 means xlu. This, I think, is conspicuously 
 proved in the case of the London B.A. There 
 
 52 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 is little doubt that the examinations of the 
 University of London are in most respects 
 harder than those of the teaching Universities, 
 and so the London B.A. is sometimes 
 described by its advocates, and justly, if 
 examinations were the only thing to be con- 
 sidered, as the most valuable of all. But is 
 it ? Headmasters in engaging assistants, and 
 councils in electing headmasters, generally 
 prefer graduates of teaching Universities. 
 Not only so, but we often find London 
 graduates afterwards obtaining another style, 
 but very rarely B.A.'s of teaching Universi- 
 ties trying also to get the London style. That 
 means that the London B.A., despite the 
 undoubted rigour of the test, is generally 
 speaking taken only by those who for some 
 reason or other are prevented from going else- 
 where. The reason might be poverty, or the 
 need of residing in some particular place, 
 or in the case of women it was that till 
 recently there was no other degree obtainable. 
 (I should like to remark, by the way, that 
 though I have been criticising London 
 University to-night, it has been in self- 
 defence, and I am not unmindful of the fact 
 that it has led the way in many good works, 
 among which one of the most important was 
 opening its gates to women. And I should 
 like also to explain that the remarks I have 
 
 53 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 just made apply to the B.A., but not to the 
 higher degrees. The higher degree is a certi- 
 ficate merely of more advanced knowledge, 
 which can and usually does mean indepen- 
 dent work on the part of the candidate. Hence 
 the London M.A., etc., are extremely good 
 degrees.) 
 
 If then residence at a teaching University 
 is for various reasons a good thing, and is 
 generally felt to he such, two consequences 
 seem to follow. 
 
 In the first place, we hear much of justice 
 in all this discussion, and justice is an excel- 
 lent thing to appeal to. But in our efforts to 
 be just to private students, we must not be 
 unjust to others. And would it not be unjust 
 to those others to give all graduates, whether 
 they had been in residence or had merely 
 come up for examination, the same hall 
 mark? The style of B.A. would mean two 
 quite different things in the two cases, and 
 those for whom it had the fuller meaning 
 would, I think, have a grievance if they were 
 labelled in the same way as those for whom 
 it had the less. And would not the worth of 
 the degree suffer; for, since procurable on 
 examination merely, would it not be estimated 
 in terms of its lowest value ? 
 
 In the second place, if coming to the Uni- 
 versity is a desirable thing, we want as many 
 
 54 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 as possible to come; but if the degree were 
 obtainable withoTit residence, it is likely tbat 
 many who at present make an effort to attend, 
 would take their course in the cheaper and 
 less satisfactory way. They would have the 
 concession to their own disadvantage. It 
 would be used, not only by those absolutely 
 unable to come to Sydney, but by others 
 to whom it was merely inconvenient. 
 And it is likely that some, not in a 
 position to judge for themselves, would 
 be influenced by interested persons. Pro- 
 bably in many cases the choice would 
 be not between the University and pri- 
 vate study, but between the University and 
 local crammers, and lads would go to some 
 neighbouring town who could almost as easily 
 and much more profitably make the longer 
 journey. As in Bunyan's allegory, the 
 pilgrims would be apt to meet some Mr. By- 
 ends who would seek to turn them from the 
 way to the Celestial Citv in Camperdown, 
 when the Chancellor, and Vice-Chancellor, 
 and the Registrar, and other " shining ones" 
 stand waiting to admit them. 
 
 The careful consideration of our problem 
 then seems to involve us in an unfortunate 
 dilemma. On the one hand there are some 
 living up country, who, by no fault of their 
 own, are debarred from residence, and whose 
 
 55 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 circumstances should be sympathetically and 
 generously considered ; further, it is well to 
 give a stimulus and goal to Higher Education 
 throughout the colony. On the other hand, 
 there are cogent ohjections which concern all 
 members of the University, and the whole 
 University system, to throwing open the 
 degrees to any who may pass its examinations. 
 Can this difficulty be evaded ? 
 
 Now, in the first place it is sometimes said, 
 and not without reason, that the case of 
 country candidates is already met by the 
 existing examining Universities, if people 
 choose to avail themselves of their help. There 
 is nothing to prevent men from preparing for 
 the examinations of the University of Mel- 
 bourne, or the University of London. The 
 latter has already held examinations in the 
 colony, and the former would no doubt be 
 willing to do so if it were asked. Why should 
 not those who cannot come to Sydney qualifj- 
 for these degrees ? Why, if the examinational 
 titles are equally valuable, will nothing but 
 precisely the Sydney style content them, so 
 that they call on us to overturn our ancient 
 system that they may have it ? Indeed, one 
 might go further, and say it would be much 
 better to make use of existing machinery. 
 For there is no reason in the nature of things 
 +0 multiply examining Universities. One 
 
 56 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 could do all the work as efficiently as twenty 
 or two hundred ; in fact, more efficiently, for 
 all difficulties as to the discrepancy in value 
 between the degrees of rival establishments 
 would be avoided. The London University 
 is, with all its drawbacks, a noble institution, 
 and I see no reason why it should not supply 
 the purely examinational degrees to the whole 
 British Empire, as it already does to a consi- 
 derable portion. Or if the colonial article Is 
 preferred, I would, without jealousy, see the 
 University of Melbourne extend its benefits 
 to New South "Wales. 
 
 At the same time, the University of Sydney 
 has a certain duty to the colony, from the 
 common resources of which it derives part 
 of its revenue ; and it ought, when it can, to 
 do its share in the furtherance of higher 
 culture throughout all classes and all 
 districts. Is there anything it can do in this 
 matter without losing its distinguishing 
 character ? Surely there is, and I even think 
 a solution of the problem, both for the 
 immediate present and for the remoter future, 
 has already been discovered. 
 
 The solution of the difficulty as it presses 
 upon us at the instant, is in my opinion, the 
 establishment of a new, purely examinational 
 degree. I say advisedly and deliberately, a 
 
 m 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 degree, for a mere diploma would not meet 
 tlie case. 
 
 I would have the curriculum as nearly 
 analogous as possible to the B.A. curriculum ; 
 only modifying it in such a way as to let it 
 b3 obtainable on the knowledge of accessible 
 books. This qualification would indeed 
 prevent it from being identical with the B.A. 
 course, but it would be possible to make it a 
 rough equivalent. Accordingly, in the second 
 place, I would suggest that it should carry 
 with it all the rights and privileges of the 
 B.A., an entry to the same positions, exemp- 
 tion from certain examinations, and the like. 
 The particular designation of such d^ree is 
 a minor matter, but some such term as L.A. 
 Literate in Arts, would suggest both its 
 parellelism with and its divergence from tho 
 B.A. 
 
 Now this, I believe, would completely fulfil 
 all the requirements of the case, and would 
 avoid all or almost all the objections to throw- 
 ing open the present degrees. Surely it ought 
 to be an ample recognition of non-resident 
 students. What more could they fairly 
 demand? They could not reasonably com- 
 plain of the difference in style between them 
 and residential graduates. For either the 
 examinational degree is as valuable as the 
 other, or it is not. If, as some maintain, it is. 
 
 58 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 then its symtol would be held in equal 
 honour. If, as I believe, it is not, then it is 
 only just to indicate the distinction. And, the 
 distinction being made, there would be an 
 inducement for all who could, to qualify for 
 the more estimable style by residence ; and, 
 therefore, the risk of encouraging any to stay 
 away who could come to the University, would 
 be cancelled; further, the courses for the 
 two degrees being mutually independent, 
 there would be no chance of any interaction 
 that might interfere with the ideal of 
 teaching. 
 
 The second solution is involved in greater 
 difficulties, and perhaps will not be practi- 
 cable for years to come; but to me it is the 
 more attractive, and by no means unfeasible 
 in the long run. At any rate I think we 
 ought to have it in our minds and not lose 
 sight of it. Briefly, it is to have a staff of 
 licensed University lecturers, attendance at 
 whose lectures shall count for admission to 
 the degree examinations, and who might 
 lecture, not only in Sydney, but in the country 
 towns. There is nothing very new in this 
 suggestion, I am happy to say, or I should 
 be the first to suspect it, for after the way that 
 some call precedent, so worship I the Grod of 
 my fathers. But we find practically the same 
 thing in other times and other places. Of old 
 
 59 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 the title of magister carried with it the 
 sanction to teach, and in all German Univer- 
 sities there is the class of privat-docenten, or 
 private teachers who are authorised to give 
 courses within the curriculum. The only 
 innovation then that the present proposal 
 contemplates, is to let such licensed teachers 
 be itinerant, or, at least, non-resident, instead 
 of confining them to the walls of the Univer- 
 sity, though I would let them lecture there 
 too if they rhose. And their certificates that 
 anyone had gone through a particular course 
 with them would so far qualify him for entry 
 to the degree examinations. Further, this 
 is only giving a slightly new turn to powers 
 that the Senate of the University already 
 possesses by its Act of Incorporation. In 
 paragraph xi., it is empowered to accept the 
 certificates of any colleges it may approve, 
 that a candidate has gone through his 
 course at such a college. On my scheme 
 there would not necessarily be a college ; a 
 centre might have a lecturer on one sub- 
 ject of the course one year, and a 
 second on a different subject another year; 
 but all lecturers, and this is the main point, 
 would be directly appointed by the Univer- 
 sity. So this would be a very different thing 
 from throwing open our examinations to all 
 and sundry. For the University would have 
 
 60 
 
Presidential Address. 1897. 
 
 to be most fastidious in making its selection ; 
 the standard would have to be very high, and 
 the teachers would be practically University 
 teachers in partihus. They would have to be 
 exceptionally gifted and thoroughly equipped 
 men, chosen, I suppose, not exclusively, but 
 principally from the elite of our most distin- 
 guished graduates, who gave evidence of the 
 inclination and aptitude for the academic 
 vocation, and whose instruction would have 
 vitality and character, and not be limited to 
 the crammer's tips. To send them forth would 
 be a two-fold gain. It would be to the 
 advantage both of the country by supplying 
 it with the higher kind of education, and of 
 our Alma Mater, by providing a learned career 
 for such of her sons as had the requisite 
 endowments, while at present we can do little 
 but tell them there is no opening for them. 
 At first this plan might be worked by an 
 elaboration of the Extension svstem. Candi- 
 dates might be admitted to examination who 
 had attended a certain number- of continuous 
 Extension courses delivered by particular 
 Extension lecturers specially authorised, and 
 together covering something like the ground 
 of an University curriculum. By-and-by, in 
 the more important centres, such missionary 
 lecturers might find it advisable to make a 
 longer halt and establish a more permanent 
 
 61 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 organisation. And, finally, they might form 
 the nucleus of a dependent college with its 
 due share of student life; as at home the 
 Nottingham University College is the outcome 
 oi the Extension movement. All this, no 
 doubt, is a little apocalyptic. At present we 
 are brought face to face with the fact that 
 there is hardly enough of a population 
 interested in higher education to make our far 
 humbler Extension scheme a conspicuous 
 success. There are not yet sufficient numbers, 
 nor is there money forthcoming to support 
 the staff of licensed teachers that I imagine. 
 But if apocalyptic, I don't think it is quite 
 chimerical. When we remember the progress 
 this country has made iu culture and popula- 
 tion during the last hundred years, who will 
 say how soon iu the twentieth century this 
 dream of to-night may be realized ? 
 
 But leaving this as an intricate and debate- 
 able question to which perhaps time alone can 
 furnish the answer, I recall your attention 
 to the other proposal for establishing a new 
 examinational degree. That seems to me 
 quite practicable and quite reasonable. It 
 seems to avoid the dangers both of rashly 
 changing our system and obstinately uphold- 
 ing it. Of one thing I am quite convinced, 
 that it is infinitely preferable, if that is the 
 only alternative, to granting our existing 
 degree to the mere examinee. 
 
 62 
 
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESSES. 
 
 By Professor Wilson. 1902. 
 
The Presidenrs Address, I. 902 
 
 At this close of my term of presidentship 
 of the Union, I desire once again to thank 
 you most heartily for the honour you con- 
 ferred upon me in electing me as your presi- 
 dent during the past year, and offer my warm 
 appreciation of the opportunity which that 
 election secured for me of intercourse and 
 companionship with you in your meetings. 
 
 I thank you also for the unfailing courtesy 
 and consideration I have at all times experi- 
 enced at your hands, a courtesy and consider- 
 ation which have rendered the duties of chair- 
 man the easiest and pleasantest imaginable. 
 I much regret my absence from a number of 
 your meetings. Those at which I was able 
 to be present I thoroughly enjoyed, and the 
 recollection of them will for long be a plea- 
 sant memory to me. 
 
 In looking around for a theme which I 
 might venture to take as the subject of my 
 address to you this evening I found that my 
 choice was by no means an easy one. The 
 subjects which chiefly occupy my attention 
 are hardly of sufficient general interest to per- 
 mit of their supplying the material of a Presi- 
 dential Address to a society like yours. For 
 
 65 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 the University Uniou is, and ought to be, a 
 C()mmon meeting-ground for graduates and 
 undergraduates of any and every faculty, and 
 of the most viiried modes of thought. It 
 seems desirable, therefore, that the annual 
 address of the President should in some mea- 
 sure reflect this community of feeling in the 
 choice of a subject of broad and general aca- 
 demic interest. 
 
 Every one who is free from the vulgar 
 error of supposing that a University is 
 nothing more than a huge coaching establish- 
 ment, must realise that institutions like the 
 Union ought to form an essential feature of 
 the corporate activity of the University. And 
 this is true in a sense paramount to that in 
 which we may also rightly say that the Sports 
 Union ought to take its place in the life of 
 the University. For the special and distinc- 
 tive idea of this life is, after all, admittedly 
 an ethical and intellectual one. And the full 
 intellectual influence of the University upon 
 its members can be exerted only to limited 
 extent within the walls of its class-rooms. 
 The influence of the class-room may indeed 
 be stimulating, but the work there accomi- 
 plished is for the most part of the passive and 
 receptive sort. As a school of thought and 
 action, as the source of an intellectual and 
 moral dynamic, a University ought to afEord 
 
 66 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 opportunity for more than tliis. It should 
 provide an arena in which its younger mem- 
 bers may find scope for their free rational 
 activity, in which they may essay and prove 
 themselves and their weapons, accustoming 
 themselves to judge amidst the conflict of 
 opinion, and to give articulate expression to 
 their own, in an audience of their peers. It 
 is difficult to see how otherwise than by means 
 of this and similar organisations the full 
 impetus of an active intellectual interest can 
 be maintained, and a habit of spontaneous 
 intellectual initiative propagated and culti- 
 vated. A uniform attitude of receptiveness 
 is good for no one. A continuous course of 
 mere cramming of the intellectual maw.leada 
 surely to mental dyspepsia, and induces us to 
 forget our alliance "with that which doth 
 provide and not -partahe, effect and not 
 receive." Hence the active and aggressive 
 spirit of the Union is an appropriate cor- 
 rective to the more passive and receptive 
 habits of the lecture-room. So far as I know, 
 no official academic machinery has anywhere 
 been created or invented to take the place of 
 such voluntary associations as this, nor can 
 I imagine these replaced by machinery of any 
 sort iiastituted by external authority. Ade- 
 quately to fulfil their function, it seems neces- 
 sary that they should be autonomous, and 
 
 67 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 the outcome of a spoutaueous impulse. Aris- 
 ing 80, and maintained by the feeling of fel- 
 lowship and common interest, they are fitted 
 to be the embodiment of much of the active 
 and effective spirit of University undergradu- 
 ate life, as distinguished from the more pas- 
 sive and reflective spirit of the student pure 
 and simple. 
 
 It is, I think, greatly to be regretted that 
 not more than about five per cent, of 
 the undergraduates avail themselves of 
 the opportunities for fellowship and 
 culture which are offered by the 
 Union. I rejoice to think that the past 
 two or three years have given evidence of au 
 increased interest. Revivals and awaken- 
 ings are commonly traceable to the influence 
 of individuals, and I believe it is largely due 
 to the interest and enthusiasm of a few indi- 
 viduals amongst you in recent years that the 
 Union has latterly done something more to- 
 wards the assumption of its legitimate func- 
 tion in the University organisation. May that 
 interest and enthusiasm prove contagious ! 
 Very much may be effected by even one man 
 who is keen enough, and public-spirited 
 enough, to try. I can promise such an one 
 that, even individually, he will not fail of his 
 reward. Endeavour to think of the Union, 
 not as a mere casual and incidental accom- 
 
 68 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 paniment or bye-product of University life, 
 but as an integral part of Uuiversity training, 
 and a genuine educational opportunity ! If 
 even a few men determine so to consider it, 
 tbis determination will soon bear fruit in the 
 work of tbe Union itself. 
 
 As an interested observer and a sharer of 
 the work of the Union fiuring the past year, 
 I now ask your permission to offer a few re- 
 marks by way of criticism. I hope I shall 
 not be thought censorious, nor that I abuse 
 the privilege of a retiring President, if my 
 comments are not wholly laudatory. 
 
 My conception of the true place and function 
 of the Union is so high that I think its pro- 
 ceedings might with advantage be taken a 
 little more seriously than they are. By 
 this I do not mean that I should like to see 
 diminished by one gleam the sum total of 
 humour in debate or criticism which so often 
 enlivens your proceedings, though I do think 
 that often its sparkle would be more exhilar- 
 ating if members would not allow it to leak 
 out so lavishly in the form of interruption, 
 but would bottle it up, and then ofEer the 
 bumper at the appropriate time. 
 
 But what I really mean is, that, apart 
 from the by-play of humourous retort or witty 
 rejoinder, or even the more legitimate fun of 
 a set reply, edged with banter and good- 
 
 69 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 humoured personalities — and I would not be 
 understood to decry the use of such weapons 
 —I think that the actual subject-matter of 
 discussion should command something more 
 in the way of serious and thoughtful, and, 
 above all, prepared, consideration, than some- 
 times falls to its share. I do not think that 
 subjects should be selected for discussion, or 
 only rarely, that are of such slender interest, 
 or of such a frivolous character, that they are 
 undeserving of some degree of forethought or 
 preparation. Consider that the Union meets 
 but rarely, and that three years are probably 
 about the average time during which the 
 undergraduate attends its meetings ; it is, 
 then, obvious that, if the influence of 
 the Union is to be genuinely educa- 
 tional, the themes for discussion should 
 be carefully chosen. There are number- 
 less topics of social, political, literary, 
 and aesthetic interest upon whose consider- 
 ation it is desirable and even important that 
 young University men should spend a modi- 
 cum of their time and some of their most 
 strenuous thinking. I do not for a moment 
 say that the duty of deliberately working up 
 the subject is wholly neglected, but I have 
 occasionally realised the absence of an ade- 
 quate amount of preparation, and especially 
 a neglect of the obligation of previous con- 
 
 70 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 sultation of sources of information, and of 
 tliat great body of educated and critical opin- 
 ion out of relation to whicli, our own views, 
 evolved from an insufficiently enlightened 
 inner consciousness, are apt to be crude and 
 inadequate. It is plainly a mistake to sup- 
 pose that, without knowledge of the best that 
 has been said and written on any subject, our 
 own original opinions (which, after all, are 
 really not original but vaguely and uncon- 
 sciously picked up from our intellectual envi- 
 ronment in an uncritical way) are likely to 
 have any real worth at all. But, with a proper 
 basis of acquaintanceship with what has 
 already been said and done in any field of 
 thought, honest application of our own wita 
 to the problem at issue may have a real value 
 for others and will certainlv be of the greatest 
 educational importance for ourselves. 
 
 No amount of smartness of treatment of the 
 subject under discussion should atone for the 
 neglect of the primary and elementary obli- 
 gation to have informed oneself of the lead- 
 ing lines of argument which have previously 
 been followed, and of the salient facts of the 
 case involved in such discussion. I do not 
 think we should greatly prize, though we 
 may admire, the talent which underlies the 
 capacity for making a tolerably consecutive 
 extempore speech upon any conceivable sub- 
 
 71 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 ject, of which the speaker really has uo genu- 
 ine knowledge at all. It is an ensnaring 
 capacity, because the eclat which must follow 
 a successful effort of this kind will foster the 
 idea of substantial worth in such utter- 
 ances, the truth being that, except as a mental 
 and verbal gymnastic, it is absolutely futile 
 — a mere darkening of counsel by words 
 without knowledge. It is, perhaps, one of the 
 most unfortunate features of our system of 
 democratic elections, with its competitions of 
 hustings-oratory, that a high premium is 
 often in public life placed upon this same 
 dangerous and pernicious propensity. It can- 
 not be too often reiterated that the one indis- 
 pensable characteristic of all worthy and ratio- 
 nal utterance is the true and exact correspon- 
 dence of word and phrase to idea. 
 
 Another feature of the procedure of the 
 meetings which I must ask your indulgence 
 for commenting upon is the slight stress 
 which is laid upon what may be described as 
 the formalities and conventionalities of 
 debate. I do not mean that these are entirely 
 neglected, but that slight breaches of these 
 conventionalities and a failure strictly to 
 observe an attitude of punctiliousness in for- 
 mal discussion are perhaps tolerated with 
 overmuch leniency. The Union ought 
 surely to be a school of form as well as of 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 thought, and I cannot think it wise to admit 
 in formal debate the free use of the loose col- 
 loquialisms, and even of the slang expres- 
 sions, of ordinary casual conversation. It 
 is an essential of literary discussion that there 
 should be a special efEort of speech in place 
 of loose and casual talk, and also the exercise 
 of a degree of self-restraint appropriate to 
 formal public utterance. 
 
 Except as distinguished by these character- 
 istics of effort and of self-restraint, I cannot 
 see that mere talking on one's legs has any 
 very conspicuous advantages over the ordi- 
 nary conversation of the common room, and 
 it is much less likely to be lucid than its 
 slightly more informal prototype. I do not 
 know how far the transformation of the Union 
 meetings into a species of smoking symposia 
 may be partially responsible for the more free 
 and easy tendencies to which I have referred. 
 Whilst gratefully availing myself of the prob- 
 ably wise concession to bodily comfort, I m.aj' 
 venture to hope that we shall never allow the 
 traditional aspect of a meeting for the pur- 
 poses of academic criticism and debate to be 
 obscured by the atmosphere of the club 
 smoking-room. 
 
 Having now delivered myself of one or two 
 criticisms chiefly by way of warning against 
 some possibilities of diminished usefulness, 
 
 73 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 whose presence might, I thiuk, be detected 
 iu the procedure of your meetings, I hasten 
 to say that during the past session I had the 
 pleasure of listening to a large number of 
 utterances which were of a very high order, 
 whether as regards their manner and style, 
 or their argumentative and critical substance. 
 It is, perhaps, of the nature of criticism that 
 the points criticised should assume a quite 
 disproportionate prominence, and I am pain- 
 fully conscious that I have been performing 
 a seemingly ungracious task in reviewing at 
 such length the one or two tendencies which 
 have seemed to me to demand your careful 
 consideration. 
 
 There is, however, another point with re- 
 gard to the working of the Union, to which I 
 may now refer with the fullest confidence 
 that I shall have the entire sympathy of m.y 
 audience. I allude to the desirability of deve- 
 loping a livelier and more active interest on 
 the part of graduates of the University 
 in the work of the Union. It is quite true 
 that some of its most active and devoted mem- 
 bers are now, and in the past have often been, 
 graduates. But I think we should all like to 
 see a much larger proportion of graduates, 
 as more or less regular attenders at, and 
 sharers in the business of, the meetings of the 
 Union. Perhaps the chief obstacle to this 
 
 74 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 lias been the inconvenience of the place of 
 meeting for those whose habits of life and 
 business tend more and more to render the 
 city itself the centre and focus of their inter- 
 ests. I do not see why we should not make 
 greater effort to keep in touch with them, and 
 to keep them in touch with us. It would 
 perhaps be inconvenient for many of the 
 undergraduates, and I am sure it would be 
 reckoned extremely undesirable, to transfer 
 the home of the Union from the University 
 to the city. But might it not be very desir- 
 able to hold a certain number of its meetings, 
 perhaps alternate meetings, at the University 
 Chambers in town? Arrangements might be 
 made for the discussion, at these meetings, of 
 subjects specially selected as likely to stimu- 
 late the common interest of both graduates 
 and undergraduates. I submit the suggestion 
 for what it is worth for the consideration of 
 this year's committee. 
 
 A year ago my predecessor in this chair, 
 addressing you shortly after the inauguration 
 of the federal union of the Australian States, 
 chose, fittingly, for the subject of his remarks, 
 that of the suggested federation of Australian 
 Universities. 
 
 The present year will witness the jubilee of 
 our own University of Sydney, which was, 
 as its Principal and Professor of Classics, Dr. 
 
 75 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 Woolley, pointed out in his oration at its 
 inauguration on 11th October, 1852, "the first 
 colonial University in the British Empire." 
 
 The present occasion seems to me to be not 
 an inappropriate one upon which to look 
 backwards over the earlier period of Univer- 
 sity history, in order to take note of some of 
 the general problems which were then discus- 
 sed, and to endeavour to realise what value 
 for the community and state may be attach- 
 able to the origin and growth of University 
 institutions in its midst. Beyond this will 
 be seen to lie all those wider questions which 
 concern the function of the University 
 in furthering that perfected organisation of 
 the state, whose achievement is more and 
 more becoming the ideal of social and politi- 
 cal endeavour. 
 
 It is no part of my present intention to 
 review the history of the establishment of our 
 University. This must be left to others more 
 competent and better equipped than I. But 
 it may do us all good if we make the attempt 
 to realise what were the motives and ideals 
 which largely inspired its foundation, and 
 what were the expectations of its founders and 
 earlier representatives. For the conscious and 
 articulate rendering of these one naturally 
 turns to the utterances of Dr. Woolley, and, 
 somewhat later, but still in the eaxlier stages 
 
 76 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 of growtii, to those of his distinguished suc- 
 cessor, Dr. Badham. 
 
 I do not regret the noble services and the 
 far-sighted statesmanship of Wentworth and 
 .of his collaborators in the statutory establish- 
 ment and the material equipment of the Uni- 
 versity ; nor those of the other able and dis- 
 tinguished men who have been its administra- 
 tive heads and the directors of its general 
 policy. Yet I think we may justly say that 
 at any time the moral and intellectual effect- 
 iveness of a University is to be estimated 
 very largely by the moral and intellectual 
 calibre of its public teachers. And whatever 
 may be the verdict upon later stages of its 
 career, I do not think we have ap.y reason to 
 shrink from the application of this criterion 
 of worth to the beginning's of our University 
 life. 
 
 From a perusal of the addresses and lec- 
 tures of these fathers of the University, one 
 rises with feelings of profound admiration 
 and thankfulness for their general liberality 
 of view, their earnestness and their enthusias- 
 tic devotion to exalted ideals of learning, of 
 social policy and of personal character. 
 Grateful, too, we may well feel for the 
 high hopes they entertained for the 
 future of the tender cutting they had 
 planted from the old-world tree of know- 
 
 77 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 ledge and of University life and tra- 
 dition. It is to no small extent the inspir- 
 ation of their earnestness, their devotion and 
 their hopefulness, communicated to their suc- 
 cessors and their disciples, which has borne 
 fruit in the attainment of such measure of 
 success as your Alma Mater has since 
 achieved. 
 
 It may be that the path of actual develop- 
 ment has not at every turn followed the plan 
 which the early guides of the young Univer- 
 sity would have sketched out for her. Yet, 
 if we have not in all respects followed the 
 letter of their counsel, I do not think that we 
 have been conspicuously unfaithful to its 
 essential spirit. If in some degree " the old 
 order changeth, yielding place to new," this 
 is but the Divine law of human afEairs, " lest 
 one good custom should corrupt the world." 
 
 One impression gained from a study of the 
 utterances I have referred to is that of the 
 striking similarity of the issues which were 
 then discussed to those familiar to ourselves. 
 After all, a period of only forty or fifty years 
 ago is by no means ancient history. In his 
 inaugural address, in 1852, Dr. Woolley, iu 
 referring to the general idea of a University, 
 quotes with approval a definition of that idea 
 by Sir William Hamilton as of two-fold cjiar- 
 acter. According to this the University is 
 
 78 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 " first, as its uame imports, a school of liberal 
 and general knowledge ; and, secondly, a col- 
 lection of special schools, devoted to the 
 learned professions." After reference to the 
 historical justification of such a definition, 
 Dr. WooUey remarks that "Few, indeed, 
 amongst modern Universities preserve unim- 
 paired the two-fold type of their origin ; in 
 some the special schools have well-nigh super- 
 seded the general ; in others they have prac- 
 tically disappeared themselves." A further 
 comment is to the effect that " either neglect 
 is deeply to he regretted, and, if possible, 
 
 repaired " ; whilst the hope is 
 
 expressed that "neither of these examples 
 will be followed by the University of Syd- 
 ney," though in the meantime she is con- 
 gratulated on having done wisely " in avoid- 
 ing for the present the delusive appearance of 
 a perfect type ; and in establishing, after the 
 ancient pattern, first, the Faculty of Arts, she 
 has consulted as well the interests of those 
 sciences which she is contented for a time to 
 want, as of those which she commences by 
 professing." 
 
 Sajie and liberal views like these both on 
 the constitution of Universities in gene- 
 ral, and on that of the University oi Sydney 
 in particular, have on the whole, I think, 
 generally prevailed durinc the brief period of 
 
 79 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 our University liistory. And some of the con- 
 flicts of University opinion which have arisen 
 during that period have had their origin in 
 the failure to do justice to one or other of the 
 two interests so well set forth by Dr. Woolley. 
 At the present time we may fairly claim to 
 have given practical effect to his views so far 
 as has been practicable with the resources at 
 the disposal of the University authorities. 
 The " three professors, with four subjects, of 
 instruction" in the one Faculty of Arts, which 
 he admits, " are truly inadequate to support 
 the dignity of a University," havei grown, by 
 the liberality of the Legislature and the 
 munificence of private benefactors, to the 
 number of fifteen professors, and over fifty 
 lecturers, demonstrators and instructors, dis- 
 tributed amongst four Faculties of Arts, Law, 
 Medicine, and Science, including important 
 departments of Engineering and Dentistry. 
 The two-fold aspect, therefore, which Dr. 
 Woolley had in view is now thoroughly char- 
 acteristic of the University of Sydney. 
 
 I think it may be alleged with some truth 
 that even Dr. Woolley was not completely 
 consistent in his attitude towards the question 
 of the inclusion of schools of professional 
 training in the University system ; or perhaps 
 I should rather say, towards the question of 
 their function in such a system. One feels 
 
 80 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 entitled to assume that a full recognition of 
 the rightful place of these schools in the Uni- 
 versity system implies an admission of their 
 capacity to contribute towards the educa- 
 tional discipline and culture of the members 
 of the University. Yet the instinct, sound 
 and salutary upon the whole, which called 
 forth his energetic protest against the narrow- 
 ness and short-sightedness of purely utili- 
 tarian ends in our educational systems, 
 seems sometimes to have led him to the 
 expression of extreme views, the adoption of 
 which would seem logically to lead on to the 
 denying professional courses of training 
 any power to promote that higher culture 
 which is legitimately expected of University 
 men. One may heartily agree with his con- 
 demnation of " the fatal notion " that " edu- 
 cation should be limited to the learning of our 
 trade ; that no work is useful at school which 
 will not help us to earn our livelihood in the 
 world, or to advance our material interests. 
 Education must be the forming of the whole 
 man." 
 
 This is all good and well. But when he 
 goes on to develope the theory that all forms 
 of effort are degraded so soon as they become 
 a means of livelihood, and that " our liberty 
 is exactly in proportion as we cultivate know- 
 ledge and practice employments from which 
 
 81 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 we cannot expect any personal gain or advan- 
 tage" it seems time to enter a most emphatic 
 protest. The theory seems based on the 
 assumption of a simplicity and singleness of 
 aim and an abstractness of human pur- 
 pose which I rejoice to believe is abso- 
 lutely untrue to fact. There is no doubt 
 about the speaker's meaning. Can we pos- 
 sibly assent to such a proposition as 
 the following: — "A man may be inde- 
 pendent and a tradesman, but not an in- 
 dependent tradesman," he says. "And the 
 reason is obvious. No matter how high, how 
 even sacred the truths which my vocation 
 requires me to stu.dy ; how noble the facul- 
 ties which that study developes, I am study- 
 ing not truths but means of gain ; I am cul- 
 tivating my energies not for self-improve- 
 ment, but as instruments of service to my cus- 
 tomers. Call them what you will — audience, 
 clients, flock, patients, pupils, employers, sub- 
 jects — their requirements and wishes, not my 
 own inclination, determine the measure of 
 attention I must pay to the truths which I 
 investigate ; I may not balance their intrinsic 
 importance; their import to me is the revenue 
 which accrues from them." In my opinion, 
 it is only the exigency of special pleading 
 that can account for a view which seems to 
 me to be so distorted and palpably untrue to 
 
 82 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 fact. And only as a temporary obsession 
 by such ideas can one account for the 
 further opinion that " our professional 
 training, whatever that training or profes- 
 sion be, so far from being the exclu- 
 sive object of our education, should 
 be its least important part, strictly limited to 
 that minimum which is consistent with our 
 efficiency as workmen." Is that not a higher 
 rule which reads — " Whatsoever thy hand 
 findeth to do, do it with thy might" r* 
 
 Yet it is hardly fair thus to drag into 
 prominence and isolation words uttered in a 
 special relation, and which have, perhaps, 
 something of truth concealed behind them. 
 As expressed they do embody, as I believe, a 
 dangerous educational heresy, and one feels 
 them to be wholly at variance with the spirit 
 of Dr. Woolley himself — a spirit of unselfish 
 devotion to the cause of higher education 
 which he had made the professional work of 
 his own life. 
 
 In an inaugural- address delivered at the 
 University Commemoration in 1867, imme- 
 diately after his arrival in Sydney, Dr. Bad- 
 ham seeks to define the peculiar function of a 
 University. This is, in his view, " to give to 
 civil society its dignity and its permanence." 
 This is indeed a proud claim, and it may 
 repay us to consider whether it is capable of 
 
 83 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 serious defence. "Although industry and the 
 spirit of adventure," the speaker continues, 
 " may hring civilisation to unknown shores — 
 as in this particular instance it was brought 
 here — the spirit of industry and the spirit of 
 adventure cannot create civilisation ; neither 
 can they arrest its inevitable decay if the con- 
 ditions of its existence are not carefully main- 
 tained. By the same arts, by the same 
 studies, by the same devotion of the higher 
 principles and faculties in man which created 
 it, must it always and forever be maintained." 
 Now, it is obvious that the high claim 
 which is made for the office of the 
 University in modern -society is not 
 necessarily made for any local and particular 
 institution. Rather it is by its capacity for 
 meeting such a claim that the true status of 
 any professed Universitv is to be judged. 
 It by no means follows that a political 
 state which has not founded a University 
 in its midst is thereby shut out from honour 
 and dignity, or that its permanence as a civi- 
 lised community is necessarily endangered. 
 And conversely, the mere possession of 
 a University in its midst will not en- 
 sure dignity and permanence if the 
 spirits of truth and freedom should 
 cease to inspire University life. But it 
 may well be urged that the dignity and per- 
 
 84 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 manence of civil society are inseparably 
 bound up with the prosecution of those intel- 
 lectual and ethical activities which in 
 modern times have found their home in Uni- 
 versities, and as the visible symbol of which 
 the University stands, in the estimation of the 
 community. It is, of course, always possible 
 that a community may temporarily or even 
 for prolonged periods draw upon outside 
 sources of intellectual force for the susten- 
 ance of its higher activities. Such are usually 
 the colonising periods of young communities. 
 But so soon as such importation ceases to be 
 a part of the necessary general policy of the 
 nation, the introduced intellectual element 
 will tend to become foreisrn and exotic, and 
 proportionally powerless to influence the main 
 stream of national development. Thus, whilst 
 it is doubtless true that it is not a local 
 University that is essential, but the general 
 and universal intellectual influence which 
 Universities represent, yet, in the long run, 
 if these influences are to retain and develope 
 their full power, they must be organised and 
 embodied in institutions which are in every 
 sense part and parcel of the national life. It 
 is only such an indigenous institution which 
 can well be the source and fountain of the 
 native intellect\ial life of any society. And 
 this may be admitted without in any way de- 
 
 85 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 tractiiig from the immense value of the edu- 
 ciitioiia,! iuflueiiues of foreign travel and of 
 foreign institutions. Our native institutions 
 must ever be open to influences from without. 
 Though indigenous, it is not necessary that 
 they should be insular. 
 
 But, after all, the greatest difficulty is to 
 get the man in the street to see that we have 
 any right to ascribe to Universities such high 
 functions as the endowment of society with 
 a dignity and permanence it could not other- 
 wise attain. For him the University is a 
 mere piece of educational machinery, created 
 by the State or by well-meaning private indi- 
 viduals, lie will admit, perhaps, that it is 
 no mere educational luxury, but a place where 
 certain classes of professional men receive 
 their training. As for its ministrations to 
 society in any more fundam.ental capacity, he 
 is unable to see how the permanence of the 
 fabric of civilised society should be held to 
 depend upon a feature which he may insist 
 is of comparatively late appearance. He is, 
 of course, sufiiciently well informed to know 
 that Universities have not always existed, 
 but that they are a product of the mediaeval, 
 and have been adapted to the modern, spirit. 
 Are we then to understand that prior to these 
 times the elements of dignity and perman- 
 ence were absent from civil society ? Like 
 
 86 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 most of the reasonings of the man in the 
 street, all the truth there may be in his argu- 
 ment is of the most obvious sort. "When we 
 speak of the University as a source of 
 strength to society, we mean, of course, that 
 spirit of free enquiry, and all those disinter- 
 ested intellectual impulses which, in our 
 modern system are pre-eminently associated 
 with University institutions, but which in all 
 times have knit men together in intellectual 
 and spiritual fellowship, whether in ancient 
 schools of the prophets, academies of philoso- 
 phers, schools of rhetoric, or monasteries and 
 religious houses. 
 
 From various causes, more or less regret- 
 table, the intellectual influence of the Church 
 upon the more educated classes has certainly 
 declined, and the Universities have become, 
 more than ever, guardians of the intellectual 
 interests of humanity at the present time. In 
 any case, the interests of the Church are not 
 primarily intellectual, nor is it well that they 
 ever should be so. It is, then, to the Univer- 
 sities that we have to look for the promotion 
 of many of the higher manifestations of 
 rational activity upon which social progress 
 is based, and upon which ultimately social 
 equilibrium depends. A University should 
 be, not a mere higher school within the State, 
 but the school of the State; and as such it 
 
 87 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 should embody and develope all the principles 
 oJ: civil society and all the interests of 
 humanity. Social permanence is no status 
 catalejiticus, but implies the growth ajid 
 development of an organic existence. To 
 minister to social permanence, in Badham's 
 phrase, is thus no merely conservative func- 
 tion ; it is to become a living fountain of in- 
 tellectual light, liberty and truth. " I claim," 
 he says elsewhere (in another of those com- 
 memoration orations whose collection we owe 
 to Professor Butler), " I claim the honour of 
 being useful. I claim that our influence 
 should be felt in your Houses of Parliament, 
 at your Bar, and iu the practice of your medi- 
 cal men ; nay, that its influence should be 
 felt in the home of every squatter, and in the 
 council chamber of even the smallest munici- 
 pality. I claim that the common-sense, that 
 the temperance which is begot by study, 
 should reappear, as coming from this source 
 in the character of our citizens of hereafter." 
 What do you think of Badham's claim? It 
 is no small one, but is it a mere devout aspira- 
 tion, or a practical possibility and hope for 
 the future? We must sadly admit that it 
 has not yet been realise;!, but neither has it 
 remained wholly shadowy. Here and there, 
 in individuals, perhaps even in profeBsions, 
 we may recognise the promise of a wider and 
 
 88 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 ft deepening influence of intellectual ideals 
 which, purify and ennoble. " Make your sons 
 scholars," says Badham again elsewhere, 
 " and you will make them capable of influen- 
 cing the community in which they live." We 
 owe it, not only to ourselves, but to those 
 who have laid open to us the opportunities 
 of University life, that those opportunities 
 should become fertile and reproductive. It 
 will be a reproach if the man of University 
 training!, with the hall mark it may be of a 
 University degree upon him, can mix with 
 men of ruder culture and remain unknown 
 and unrecognised. Surely by their fruits ye 
 shall know them. Not by a priggish omnisci- 
 ence, or intellectual self-assertiveness, let us 
 hope, but by intellectual sympathy, tolera- 
 tion, candour and reasonableness. Let this 
 but be so with ourselves, and the leavening of 
 society with the same intellectual virtues will 
 surely follow. 
 
 Do not imagine that expectations of such a 
 kind are the weak illusions of sentimental- 
 ists ! What is the essential conviction under- 
 lying the provisions of the recent bequests of 
 Cecil Rhodes ? Nothing less than the convic- 
 tion, backed by two millions sterling, of the 
 justice of Dr. Badham' s thesis that the 
 mission of the University in civil society is 
 of the profoundest significance. Nor can the 
 
 89 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 magnificent endowment of Universities by 
 shrewd and hard-headed American million- 
 aires be regarded as mere self-advertisement 
 or otherwise than as a testimony to the same 
 belief. I am afraid that it is we ourselves, 
 University men, who are often blindest to the 
 value of the franchise wherewith we are made 
 free. Let us, then, be not faithless, but 
 believing. 
 
 The contribution of the University to the 
 growth and permanence of civilisation 
 through the material advances and scientific 
 discoveries which originate in scientific 
 laboratories, is one which is quite generally 
 admitted. It is one which even the man in 
 the street can so far comprehend. What he 
 seems unable to understand, however, is that 
 the process of scientific investigation, which 
 may incidentally lead to discoveries and in- 
 ventions of practical importance, is, and 
 should ever be, carried on quite independently 
 of narrowly utilitarian motives. And it is 
 just this feature which distinguishes the 
 University attitude towards scientific proce- 
 dure from that appropriate to purely technical 
 schools and colleges. The impulse guiding 
 laboratory research within the University 
 must ever primarily be that of the scholar. I 
 have already protested against the notion that 
 either education in the wider sense, or scien- 
 
 90 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 tific investigation, is degraded by its utilisa- 
 tion in a professional career. On the other 
 hand, the even narrower spirit which would 
 withhold sympathy and support from any 
 pursuit of knowledge unless that can be shown 
 to have a probable practical value, is absolu- 
 tely foreign to the atmosphere of liberal Uni- 
 versity studies. It is, moreover, dependent 
 on an extremely shortsighted view, for it is 
 impossible to say to what end an apparently 
 purely scientific issue may or may not lead. 
 The question, however, should not be to what 
 particular result of practical importance may 
 these facts lead; it ought to be sufficient as 
 a criterion of University work, in science or 
 anything else, that something is contributed 
 to the general whole of knowledge. And in 
 this sense no truth whatsoever is wholly use- 
 less, even from the practical point of view. 
 It is out of the organised whole of knowledge 
 that practical issues ultimately do flow, 
 through some channel or another. 
 
 It is quite true that the work of the pro- 
 fessional schools of the University has an 
 immediate practical issue. Elsewhere* I have 
 spoken of the general ideal of University life, 
 as summed up under the two heads of Charac- 
 ter and Culture. For its professional students 
 
 * "Ideals in Medical Education," Annual Lecture to the Mel- 
 bourne Medical Students' Society, 1901. InteicolmiiAil Medical Jour- 
 nal of Aijatralia. W/9f01. 
 
 91 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 we must add to these another end, that of 
 Craftsmanship. Now it is my firm conviction 
 that, if a professional curriculum were 
 reducible to a mere course of training in 
 technical craftsm:inship, it would lose its 
 claim of right to University status, and 
 should not receive the stamp of a University 
 degree. But three years of the curriculum in 
 medicine (to take an example with which I 
 am familiar), are devoted to what are 
 really scientific subjects. The degrees 
 are as much scientific as professional 
 degrees. Some indeed of the purely 
 technical subjects, in the different pro- 
 fessional schools, may have in themselves 
 little or no value as general intellectual disci- 
 plines. This cannot be said of the curricula 
 as a whole, of which they form a part. The 
 justification of the place of such merely 
 technical subjects is not their intrinsic char- 
 acter, but the fact that they contribute to the 
 training of the whole man. To such subjects 
 the criterion of disinterestedness does not 
 apply. It is, on the contrary, their immediate 
 utilitarian importance which justifies or 
 demands their inclusion in the curriculum. 
 From this point of view one might even say 
 that in themselves they are not University 
 subjects; but they are indispensable to the 
 completeness of a University curriculum. 
 
 92 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 And the culture and education of its profes- 
 sional men is precisely one of the modes in 
 which the University contributes to the 
 dignity and permanence of our social organi- 
 sation. 
 
 The present time, perhaps more than any 
 since the establishment of our present systems 
 of education, is one of anxiety and interest 
 in matters educational. Movements have 
 begun in various directions from which 
 needed reforms may be expected. Suspicion 
 has at length been aroused that, in spite of 
 many political assurances to the contrary, all 
 is not soimd in our system of national edu- 
 cation, primary or secondary. I have no 
 intention of entering into any discussion of 
 the details of the need for or the precise 
 manner of desired reforms. 
 
 But in pursuance of my object to-night of 
 bringing before you again some of the general 
 ideas which were vividly before the minds of 
 earlier representatives of our University, I 
 shall ask your attention to another educa- 
 tional fallacy admirably dealt with by Dr. 
 Woolley, and which, though not always expli- 
 citly expressed, is tolerably wide-spread. I 
 believe it is well to bring it definitely and 
 consciously to light in view of the important 
 bearing that its recognition should have upon 
 the discussion of methods and principles to be 
 
 93 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 adopted in the organisation of our systems of 
 instruction. The nature of the heresy to 
 which I refer may be given in Dr. WooUey's 
 own words : " We often hear complaints of 
 the time and labour consumed in elementary 
 instruction ; the weary waste of youth in the 
 inculcation of first principles, and the train- 
 ing of the mind to the habit of independent 
 critical thought. Why should the precious 
 spring of life be lost in this unnecessary and 
 unproductive toil ? Let there be, if you will, 
 men devoted to the study of abstract know- 
 ledge ; be it theirs to expose falsehood and 
 to establish the foundations of truth ; for us 
 it is enough to learn the practical results of 
 their research ; we need not follow their 
 tedious and circuitous path : let us and our 
 children enter at once into the possession of 
 the domain which they have won. Whether 
 as regards physical or moral truth, this is a 
 most dangerous mistake. By all means 
 abridge as much as possible the necessary 
 process of education; substitute for old and 
 cumbrous methods others founded upon a 
 clearer understanding of the human mind : 
 select the subjects of instruction, not in super- 
 stitious compliance with tradition, but by 
 their adaptation to the development of the 
 rational faculties, and to the requirements of 
 actual life; but let not any class become the 
 
 94 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 blind slave of anotlier; set up no learned 
 Brahminism ; let no degree or occupation be 
 cut off from the hierarchy of science; and 
 sink into the Pariah of the intellectual com- 
 monwealth." 
 
 The fallacy that the " practical results of 
 research " of any kind can be made thorough- 
 ly and effectively our own, and that vigorous 
 and reproductive life can be indefinitely 
 sustained upon second-hand material, is one 
 of the most pernicious and suicidal that can 
 possibly be entertained. It is one that crops 
 up in all sorts of ways. For the student it 
 appears in the insidious conviction that 
 printed books are for him the source of real 
 knowledge, either of nature or of the human 
 mind and soul. The riffht value of books 
 needs no vindication from me. They are 
 priceless. But they are only introductions 
 to reality, and they have not served their 
 purpose unless, and until, the reader has him- 
 self come in contact with the reality of the 
 phenomena themselves, so far as, in the 
 nature of the case, that may be possible. And 
 if books ever become for the student a final 
 and sufficient external authority for ascer- 
 tainable fact, he will lose the impetus of his 
 quest after, and his vision of, reality. Then 
 " The God that you took from a printed book 
 be with you, Tomlinson !" 
 
 95 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 For the community, the self-same fallacy 
 appears in the inveterate conviction of some 
 of our legislative masters, and in this matter 
 I do not think we can distinguish between 
 labour members and leisure members, that 
 the material results of, say, scientific inves- 
 tigation, can be exploited, and fully appre- 
 hended for social and educational purposes, 
 without a continuous living experience of the 
 methods and processes of investigation by 
 which results are laboriously won. Only the 
 tardv logic of a lengthy experience of failure 
 would seem sufficient to carry conviction on 
 this point. If I have chosen to illustrate 
 the principle as applied to scientific investi- 
 gation, that is only because it is here that, 
 with the aid of its frequently obvious enough 
 material results, we can best hope, by con- 
 tinuous effort, to obtain leverage enough to 
 move slightly the mass of ignorant misappre- 
 hension which impedes the path of educa- 
 tional reform. But the case is not essentially 
 otherwise with the study of literature, philo- 
 sophy or art. Here, too, the results are never 
 really independent of the process of acquisi- 
 tion. Pure receptiveness is useless. Here, 
 too, we must do if we would " know of the 
 doctrine." Every philosophical student knows 
 that facts are not simply given ready-made, 
 
 96 
 
Presidential Address. 1902. 
 
 but in a sense are constituted such in the act 
 of knowledge. 
 
 It is, of course, perfectly true that the in- 
 dividual student cannot possibly follow the 
 apostolic injunction to " prove all things." In 
 spite of what I have said about books he will 
 have to accept much through books without 
 experimental verification. In much we must 
 walk by faith and not by sight. But we can- 
 not walk entirely by faith. In matters per- 
 taining to the domain of knowledge, at all 
 events, it is absolutely essential that at some 
 points we should be in touch with reality, at 
 first hand. This gives us our standpoint, from 
 which we are at liberty to receive the state- 
 ments of others as evidence of whose cogency 
 we are qualified by our own experience in 
 some collateral field to judge. We re- 
 ceive it on the faith and understand- 
 ing that if we were to take the necessary steps 
 experimentally to verify it, we should realise 
 it in our own immediate experience. It is the 
 consciousness of this permanent possibility 
 of verification by ourselves if placed in a cer- 
 tain relation to the phenomena concerned, 
 which alone entitles us to accept much of our 
 knowledge at second-hand. Of two collabora- 
 tors in a joint investigation, neither perhaps 
 may himself personally verify all the observa- 
 tions upon which the work depends. The con- 
 
 97 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 uexious of the facts are intimate. One is 
 unintelligible without the other. The joint 
 work is therefore the first-hand experience of 
 each, in a sense which could not be true of an 
 outsider. To be entitled to receive some of 
 our knowledge from books we must be in some 
 sense collaborators. Otherwise our knowledge, 
 that is, our judgment, is valueless. Hence 
 arises the unconditional necessity for includ- 
 ing original observation, experiment or 
 practical exercise in our systems of instruc- 
 tion of whatever kind, primary, secondary, 
 technical or university. Obviously, the mode 
 of experiment or practice will vary with the 
 nature of the subject. Experiment in meta- 
 physics, for example, can only mean the per- 
 fect intellectual realisation in the mind of the 
 student of the thought-process which is the 
 object of study, whilst in the study of any 
 branch of objective science the external object 
 itself must be the centre and focus of our 
 interest. 
 
 It is only by faithful adherence to this 
 cardinal principle of immediacy in educa- 
 tional experience that we shall avoid falling 
 under the yoke of that intellectual Braimin- 
 ism against which Woolley delivered his elo- 
 quent warning. 
 
 98 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE use AND ABUSE OE EXAMINATIONS. 
 
 Bg Professor Scott. 1559. 
 
The Use and Abuse of Examin- 
 ations. 
 
 When my friend tke secretary of the 
 University Union came to me some weeks ago 
 with the proposal that I should give a lecture 
 under the auspices of the society, and I tried 
 t.i think of some subject in which the mem- 
 bers of the Union and their friends would be 
 likely to take an interest, it occurred to me 
 that there is one subject which is never long 
 absent from the thoughts of any of us, and 
 which, at certain times and seasons, is apt 
 to obtrude itself with an almost unmannerly 
 persistence; and that is, the subject of 
 "Examinations." It occurred to me further 
 that this subject is one on which, if personal 
 experience goes for anything, I ought to have 
 no difficulty in finding something to say; 
 for there are probably not many people pre- 
 sent who have either undergone the process 
 themselves, or inflicted it on others, to a 
 greater extent than I have. It seemed to me, 
 therefore, that I could not do better than 
 follow the example of the pious ^neas at 
 the famous meeting of the Carthaginian 
 Union, at which Queen Dido took the chair, 
 and discourse upon a theme suggested by my 
 
 101 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 own toils and wandering's in the troubled 
 sea of examinations. I propose, then, that 
 we should make some attempt to review our 
 position with regard to examinations, and ask 
 ourselves what is the meaning of this con- 
 stant setting of papers and writing of 
 answers — what is the use of it, if indeed 
 there is any use in it, and under what 
 circumstances there is a danger of its becom- 
 ing useless or positively mischievous. 
 
 One fact which we cannot help noticing Is 
 that the present predominance of examina- 
 tions is of quite recent growth. Education 
 is a very old thing, but education stimulated 
 and regulated by examinations is a new 
 thing ; so new that its full effects have hardly 
 yet had time to show themselves. Greek, 
 and Roman, and mediaeval boys and men 
 attended their school classes and University 
 lectures, and learnt or failed to learn what- 
 ever there was to be learnt there, without 
 the help — or hindrance — of examinations. 
 Thus it is only within the present century, 
 roughly speaking, that the examination 
 system has been established. 
 
 It was in the year 1800 that a serious 
 examination for the B.A. degree was for 
 the first time established in Oxford ; and from 
 that time onward examination has grown 
 and expanded step by step, till it now 
 
 102 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 covers the whole education of England with 
 its network. Moreover, the system estab- 
 lished in England has been adopted with 
 some modifications by us in Australia ; and 
 though the examination pressure is not quite 
 so severe here as in the old country, most of 
 us know by experience that here too there is 
 examination in plenty. Now, a machine so 
 elaborate, and worked with so much vigour 
 as the modern examination-mill ought to 
 turn out magnificent results. But is it so in 
 fact ? What is to be said of the working of 
 our machine? Is this new invention to be, 
 classed with the steamship and the railway, 
 as one of the forms of nineteenth century 
 progress, and regarded as one more ground 
 for " boasting ourselves to be much better 
 than our fathers" ? or is it a diseased growth 
 which threatens to choke all life out of our 
 education, and dry up the sources of culture? 
 Whichever view we may decide to take, we 
 can find plenty of good aiithorities to sup- 
 port us. And in proportion as the system 
 has grown and spread, intelligent observers 
 have become more doubtful of its benefits 
 and more impressed by its evils. The Royal 
 Commission appointed in 1852 to inquire into 
 the condition of the University of Oxford 
 reports favourably upon the working of the 
 examination system there. " The general 
 
 103 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 effect of the change," they say, " has been 
 exceedingly beneficial ; industry has been 
 greatly increased." But at the same time 
 they point to some incidental evils — " The 
 examinations have encouraged a good deal of 
 spurious knowledge." And later on we find 
 unfavourable criticisms increasing in number 
 and in weight. 
 
 A recent number of the English Spectator 
 spenks of "the learning which is now almost 
 banished from the Universities, and indeed 
 from England, by the autocrat examination." 
 And finally, the growing discontent felt at 
 the working of the system in England was 
 recently expressed in a " protest against the 
 sacrifice of education to examination," signed 
 by over 400 names, and published in the 
 Nineteenth Century of last November. "We 
 wish," say those who sign the paper, " to re- 
 cord our protest against the dangerous men- 
 tal pressure and misdirection of energies and 
 aims which are to be found in nearly all 
 parts of our present educational system." 
 
 The grounds of their protest may be sum- 
 marised as follows: — 1. Physical mischief 
 results from the mental overstrain caused by 
 examinations, stimulated as it is by prizes 
 and rewards. 2. Examinations destroy the 
 best teaching. The teacher being forced to 
 think himself, and to make his pupils think, 
 
 104 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 in the first place, of what will pay, feels him- 
 self hound by external restrictions, and loses 
 his intelligent self- direction ; and the result 
 is a deadening uniformity. And finally, to 
 pass over a whole crowd of "more subtle 
 evils," the protest goes on to say " The 
 moral effect of the system is distinctly bad. 
 We have substituted a lower motive, a sum 
 of money, the public triumph of a successful 
 class, or the gaining of a place, for the 
 higher motive of knowledge for its own sake ; 
 and both teacher and pupil are morally de- 
 pressed and incapacitated by a system that 
 deliberately sets itself to appeal to the lower 
 side of human nature." 
 
 And then the attack that opens with this 
 rattle of musketry is followed up by the big 
 guns of Professor Max Miiller, Professor 
 Freeman, and Professor Frederic Harrison. 
 " From what I have seen at Oxford and else- 
 where," says Professor Max Miiller, " all 
 real joy in study seems to me to have been 
 destroyed by the examinations, as now con- 
 ducted. . . . The mischief done is, I 
 believe, most serious. It will poison the 
 best blood of England, if it has not done so 
 already." " The Frankenstein monster of 
 examination," says Mr. Frederic Harrison, 
 '■'is becoming the master of education,"— 
 with much more to the same purpose. 
 
 105 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Now, when we are told on high authority 
 that we have an autocrat, and a Frankenstein, 
 nnd a hlood-poisoner stalking in our midst, 
 it is surely time to look about us. It is true 
 that these complaints are directed especially 
 against the working of examinations in Eng- 
 land ; hut our educational system is so far 
 modelled on that of England that if there is 
 good ground for such complaints in the old 
 country there can hardly fail to be some 
 ground for a similar protest in Australia; 
 and it is well worth while to consider whether 
 our examination system tends to produce 
 such evils here as the protest speaks of, and if 
 so, how those evils can best be remedied. 
 Some of those who attack the system speak of 
 it as though it were a mysterious and baneful 
 power which has grown up nobody knows 
 how, and spread, like an epidemic disease, 
 without human agency. But it need hardly 
 be said that this is not the case. The foun- 
 ders of examinations must have established 
 them because they thought that some good 
 was to be gained by doing so ; and if we did 
 not think that examinations were doing more 
 good than harm on the whole, we were free at 
 !iuy time, and are free at this moment, I sup- 
 pose, to drop them. What, then, are the 
 objects which examinations are intended to 
 effect ? These objects may be classed under 
 
 106 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 two heads. Examinations are intended first, 
 and directly, to test the ability and proficiency 
 of students ; and secondly, and indirectly, to 
 stimulate students to work, and to regulate 
 their studies. In other words, examination 
 may be regarded either as a test of education 
 or as an instrument of ediication. Now, it is 
 evident that in the first place it is highly de- 
 sirable to have a test of education. It is use- 
 ful for the student himself to have a definite 
 standard by which he can from time to time 
 test his progress, measure his own powers, and 
 find out how he stands as compared with 
 others. It is useful to the teacher to have a 
 means of estimating the results of his teach- 
 ing, and it is useful for those to whom the stu- 
 dent m.ay afterwards applv for employment, 
 and for the public at large, to have some ready 
 means of knowing what claim he has to be 
 considered an educated man, and how far he 
 is qualified, in this respect at least, for any 
 duty which he may undertake to perform. 
 
 But at the same time, the other object — ^that 
 of promoting education — is of more import- 
 ance still; and if the two iu any way come 
 into conflict, it is the first which must give 
 way to the second. Compared with the inter- 
 ests of education itself, the usefulness 
 of educational tests is a quite subordi- 
 nate consideration, and if, as some of 
 
 107 
 
The Union Booh 
 
 tlie supporters of the protest seem to 
 hold, such tests are necessarily detri- 
 mental to good education, then we must he 
 prepared to abandon them. Let us have good 
 education at any price. If we find that we 
 can keep the tests as well, so much the better ; 
 if not, we must learn to do without them. Let 
 us try to find out, then, how examinations act 
 for good or ill on education. As I have said, 
 they are intended to promote education, and 
 that mainly in two ways, by stimulating 
 students, and by regulating their studies. 
 They stimulate by offering rewards for suc- 
 cessful study, sometimes a direct reward in 
 the shape of a prize, a scholarship, or an ap- 
 pointment, sometimes the indirect inducement 
 of the credit to be gained by winning a^certi- 
 ficate or a high place in the class list, or the 
 discredit of a failure. And secondly, exami- 
 nations regulate study. By prescribing 
 certain subjects for examination we determine 
 what the candidates shall study, and by the 
 form of the questions set we partly determine 
 how they shall study. The question is, then, 
 how our examinations fulfil these two objects 
 — of stimulating and guiding study. And 
 the answer given by the English protest is an 
 unqualified condemnation of the system. 
 Examinations, say these gentlemen, stimu- 
 late, but they stimulate to excess, and in a 
 
 108 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 wrong way; they regulate study, but they 
 regulate it to excess, cramping the free action 
 of teachers and students, and give their work 
 wrong directions. Now, how far this 
 criticism is justified with regard to 
 the examination system as it now ex- 
 ists in England, I do not propose to 
 discuss. I will only say in passing that 
 the protest appears to me to lose a great part 
 of the force which it might have had, owing 
 to its want of discrimination. But that 
 examinations must necessarily be open to this 
 sweeping condemnation I altogether deny. 
 Let us look at the charges in detail. 
 
 Eirst, we are told that examinations do 
 their work of stimulating only too well, 
 that they cause over-work and over-pressure, 
 and consequent physical and mental mischief. 
 Now no one woiild deny that such things do 
 occasionally happen, that a candidate, in his 
 anxiety to pass some test or to gain some prize, 
 occasionally over-taxes his brain or injures 
 his eyesight by too continuous study, when 
 otherwise he would not do so. In most cases 
 the warning given by a headache or a slight 
 sense of discomfort is wisely taken in time, 
 and no harm follows. Very often, I suppose, 
 the examinee is a little fagged by the time 
 his trial is over, but is himself again after a 
 week or two of well-earned rest. But most 
 
 109 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 of us have known of a few cases — and very 
 sad cases some of them are — in which the 
 first warnings have been disregarded in the 
 excitement of the struggle, with the result of 
 permanent loss of health. But then if we go 
 on to ask whose fault it is when such a thing 
 occurs, I am afraid we must admit, though 
 it may sound unfeeling to say so, that it is 
 the fault of the candidate himself — or in the 
 case of younger boys and girls, the fault of 
 those who have charge of them, and not of the 
 system. Sometimes the mischief, where mis- 
 chief is done, is due not so much to an exces- 
 sive amount of study, as to an unwise arrange- 
 ment of it — as when a candidate puts off his 
 work to the last, and tries to crowd into 
 a mouth what should have been spread over 
 a year, or when he needlessly neglects some 
 simple law of health. But then it is a mis- 
 take to blame the examination for the result, 
 for the fact is, that even with a view to the 
 examination itself, overwork does not pay. A 
 candidate who keeps his brain fresh and his 
 nerves cool will, other things being equal, do 
 better than one who has read a larger number 
 of hours a day, but who enters the examina- 
 tion room jaded and feverish from want of 
 sleep and exercise. No doubt, if such errors 
 of judgment and consequent mischiefs were 
 common, the system which gave occasion for 
 
 110 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 them would stand condemned. The ques- 
 'tion is, whether the numher of such cases is 
 large enough to counterbalance the advan- 
 tage of the wholesome exertion called out 
 by examinations in the mass of candidates. 
 
 Now, this is the question which each of us 
 must answer by the light of his own obser- 
 vation and experience. For my own part, 
 I am convinced that, even with all the stimu- 
 lus of the examination system, the evils of 
 overwork are not to be compared with those of 
 underwork — with those, in fact, of natural 
 human laziness ; that in study, as in other 
 things, far more of the mischief in the world 
 is due to doing too little than to doing too 
 much ; and that, on the whole, the steadier 
 and more energetic work called out by the 
 inducement of a definite object to work for 
 is not only mentally and morally wholesome, 
 but physically wholesome as well ; and I be- 
 lieve that the majority of those who have gone 
 through the mill, as I have, would agree with 
 me in saying that the stimulus of examina- 
 tion has served as a useful corrective to their 
 natural inclination to take things over- 
 easily. There are some lines in the Geor- 
 gics of Virgil which seem to me to have been 
 written with a prophetic eye to examina- 
 tions. They may be translated thus : — " Our 
 father, Jove himself, ordained that the path 
 
 111 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 of culture should be no easy one; lie first 
 invented the art of ploughing, seeking thus 
 to sharpen men's wits by trouble, and suffer- 
 ing not his realm to lie torpid in dull sloth." 
 The fathers of the examination system had 
 a similar end in view ; and I think that, on 
 the whole, their aim has been justified by suc- 
 cess. ( )f those who ^o to schools and Uni- 
 versities, there are a few — and only a few, I 
 think — who have such a strong natural dis- 
 position to study, such keen ambition, or such 
 ii passion for duty, that they need to be held 
 back rather than to be spurred on. In their 
 case I admit that the examination stimulus 
 is needless, and may, unless due care 
 be taken, have its dangers. But even 
 in their case the dangers can and 
 should be guarded against by some less 
 violent method than that of abolishing 
 examinations altogether. Those who belong 
 to this class have only to remind themselves, 
 or to be reminded by judicious friends, that 
 over-exertion will defeat its own objects — 
 both the immediate object of winning the 
 2)rize, and the ultimate object of self-culture 
 — and that consideration should be sufficient 
 to prevent mischief. Then, at the other ex- 
 treme, we find another class — and again, I 
 think, a small one — of the incorrigibly lazy, 
 those who frcim some defect of nature or bad 
 
 112 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 bringing-up have become incapable of any 
 intellectual exertion wbatever, or who obsti- 
 nately refuse to make the necessary efiort of 
 will. A few such cases find their way into 
 the exajnination-room from time to time' — 
 boys and m^en who m.ay have many good qua- 
 lities; some of them might make excellent 
 soldiers and sailors, or tinkers or tailors, but 
 they are only misleading themselves and 
 others as long as they call themselves stu- 
 dents. For these, the examination system 
 can do nothing, nor any other system either. 
 We can only tell them gently, but firmly, to 
 find, if they can, some business that suits 
 them better, and to go about th,eir business. 
 And this is done in a practical way by the 
 examiner when he plucks them every time 
 that they present themselves. 
 
 But between these rare extremes there 
 lies, an intermediate class, which in- 
 cludes the great mass of material, and 
 to which I profess myself to belong 
 — a class of people who mean well on 
 the whole, and wish to do what they 
 know to be best — who have, in very various 
 degrees, some taste for some kinds of study, 
 and are quite aware of the value of know- 
 ledge ; but who, at the same time, find it difii- 
 cult at times to brace themselves up to exer- 
 tion, and occasionally feel the temptation to 
 
 113 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 postpone useful labour to the more immediate 
 pleasures of idleness. Now, we who belong 
 to the class — and most of us, I feel sure, do 
 belong to it — have surely some reason to be 
 grateful for a system which provides us with 
 an additional motive for pegging away 
 steadily at the work which in our hearts we 
 really wish to be doing, and face what may 
 not be at any given moment an agreeable 
 effort. Knowledge for its own sake is a fine 
 thing in the long run, no doubt; but in the 
 meanwhile, a day on the water, or an arm- 
 chair and a novel, may have their attractions 
 as well ; and when we are hesitating between 
 the two, I hardly see why we should be too 
 proud to accept the help of a coming exami- 
 nation in turning the scale. And it is to be 
 noted that at all other times of life men have 
 more immediate objects to spur them to their 
 work. Boys at school have their lessons set 
 them day by day, with results sometimes 
 rather painful in prospect if they refuse to 
 learn them ; and on the other hand, men who 
 have gone out into the work of life have con- 
 stantly some immediate task in hand in 
 which success or failure bears very directly 
 on their influence and reputations, or their 
 means of life, or both together. " I am being 
 examined," said an English bishop, " every 
 
 114 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 day of my life, whenever I open my lips, and 
 as often as not I am plucked." 
 
 It is only in the interval, after the compul- 
 sion of the school has ceased, and before the 
 practical business of life has begun, that the 
 student, if left to himself, has no motive set 
 before him, except the excellent but rather 
 vague and distant motive of knowledge for 
 its own sake ; and to iill this gap is the pur- 
 pose of examinations. A University student 
 should no longer require the daily or weekly 
 task-setting of the school, and it is right and 
 proper that the responsibility of keeping him 
 up to his work should be thrown mainly on 
 himself. Some may misuse the greater liberty 
 they find on leaving school, and waste their 
 time; but it will not do to deprive all alike 
 of the opportunity of self-direction, with the 
 training for the conduct of life which such 
 self-direction gives, because a few misuse it. 
 But, on the other hand, it may not unreason- 
 ably be maintained that, for most, the change 
 from the daily lessons of the school to the 
 yearly examinations of the University is a 
 sufficiently large step in advance for the time, 
 and that it would be going too far to remove 
 such inducements to work altogether. But 
 this brings us to another argument urged in 
 the protest. " There is no nobler influence," 
 we are told, " that can be brought to bear on 
 
 115 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 a young student than the desire to get know- 
 lodge for the sake of understanding the world 
 in which he has to live, the marvellous forces 
 amongst which he has to act, and the human- 
 ity of which he forms part, and thus of pre- 
 paring a life of mental activity and happiness 
 for himself, and of enlightened usefulness to 
 others " ; and that, we shall all agree, is a 
 very proper sentiment. " But," the protest 
 goes on to say, " this influence is almost 
 entirely set aside by the prize system." 
 " The motive to which examinations appeal," 
 we are told, " is a degrading one ; students 
 should work from a love of knowledge for its 
 own sake, and when you invite them to work 
 for the sake of getting a degree or a prize you 
 are substituting a lower motive for a higher, 
 and poisoning the life-blood of the nation." 
 Well, that sounds bad, no doubt. But let 
 us look at the matter more closely. Does it 
 really follow that the motive of the candidate 
 is low and degraded because, having made up 
 his mind to go in for an examination, he 
 works with the immediate object of doing 
 well in it ? 
 
 To begin with, the wish to get on in 
 life and rise in the world — for that, I 
 suppose, is the low motive which they 
 speak of — though there may be no 
 special merit in it, seems scarcely to 
 
 116 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 deserve all the liard words which our pro- 
 testaiits fling at it. It is at least as worthy 
 as the wish to give up working out of pure 
 laziness. I presume its worth really depends 
 on the further purpose which the student 
 intends to make his position serve when he 
 has gained it. Supposing, for instance, that 
 he aims, as many poor men do, at getting a 
 scholarship as a means of enabling him to 
 pay the expenses of further study, is there 
 anything so very degrading in this ? And 
 even if he does prefer credit and income to 
 obscurity and poverty, and works the harder 
 becavise he hopes to gain them, I suppose he 
 is just as much to be despised for it as men 
 who do the same in other departments of life, 
 but surely no more. But the main point is 
 this. Would not the man who makes these 
 his objects now have equally low motives even 
 if examinations did not exist ? It was Bacon 
 who said, writing long before the examina- 
 tion-system was invented, that " men have 
 entered into a desire of learning and know- 
 ledge, most times for lucre and profession, and 
 but seldom sincerely to give a true account 
 of their gift of reason to the use and 
 benefit of men." Now, those who make 
 the accusation assume that the " lucre 
 and profession " motive, where it exists 
 at all, must be substituted for the 
 
 117 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 higher motive of "knowledge for its own 
 sake " ; they forget that it may merely be 
 added to it. I should say that the latter case 
 is by far the commoner. 
 
 It seems to me that the strong 
 language which our high-minded critics 
 use would only be applicable in the 
 case of a student who worked for a prize, 
 while believing that he was actually injuring 
 his intellectual powers by so doing. But 
 surely that is not the case. The usual atti- 
 tude of the candidate I take to be this : he 
 takes it for granted that the work prescribed 
 for the examination is work which it is for 
 his intellectual good to do, partly because he 
 feels it to be so as he does it, and partly because 
 he has some confidence in those people, pre- 
 sumably of more experience and wider know- 
 ledge than himself, who have planned out 
 the work prescribed ; and taking this for 
 granted, he feels that he can saiely make suc- 
 cess in the examination his immediate object, 
 because in doing so he is doing what is best 
 for " knowledge for its own sake " as well. He 
 wishes for the prize or distinction, and is grati- 
 fied when he gets it, not merely for its money 
 value, but because it is a proof to himself 
 and to his friends that he has been successful 
 in doing the work that it was for his intellec- 
 tual good to do. The examination-motive, 
 
 118 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 therefore, need not in any way displace the 
 other, so far as that other exists, but is simply 
 an addition to it, and, for aught that I can 
 see, a wholesome and useful addition. One 
 of two things — either the student does feel a 
 desire for his own advance in education, or 
 he does not. If he does, then there is no 
 reason why the further desire to come out 
 well in an examination should not work har- 
 moniously with it. If he does not, then 
 the alternative is not between working for a 
 higher and working for a lower motive, but 
 between working for the lower motive, and 
 not working at all. But to tell us, as these 
 gentlemen do, that the very same man who is 
 eaj: able of no higher motive than selfish 
 greed as long as examinations exist will, 
 by the very fact of their abolition, be some- 
 how made accessible to the nobler motive 
 which he never felt before, is to presume a 
 little too far on our credulity. 
 
 But in saying this, I have assumed that the 
 work which the examination stimulates the 
 student to do is work that is, and is felt by 
 him to be, good for him in the interest of his 
 education. If it is not so, we must admit 
 that there will be mischief. And this brings 
 us to another charge against the system. 
 Examinations guide and regulate education, 
 and it is asserted that they guide and regu- 
 
 119 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 late it wrongly. The necessity of preparing for 
 examinations, we are told, spoils the work both 
 of the scholar and of the teacher. Now, that 
 a bad or badly-worked examination system 
 may produce these results I fully admit, only 
 I deny that there is any necessity that exami- 
 nations should produce them ; and when they 
 do so someone is to blame — it may be the 
 examiner, it may be the student, or the 
 teacher; or, perhaps, in some degree, all 
 three. The chief complaint amounts to this, 
 that examinations tend to the substitution of 
 cramming for true study. Now what is cram- 
 ming ? I suppose we may say that it means 
 learning things by rote without understand- 
 ing them, and in such a way as to exercise 
 the memory alone, at the expense of the 
 rational faculties. Now in all subjects there 
 are certain matters which must, by beginners 
 at least, be learnt by an effort of memory — 
 certain inflections of nouns and verbs in 
 language, certain formulse in chemistry, and 
 so on ; and there is no fear that the memory 
 will not be sufficiently exercised in learning 
 them. What the true educator aims at doing 
 is to reduce these within as narrow limits as 
 possible by making the learner see the reason 
 of the fact wherever it is possible for him to 
 do so. In fact, this is no paradox to say that 
 a bad verbal memory may be an actiial advan- 
 
 120 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 tage to the student, because it forces him to 
 put his dependence on other faculties better 
 worth exercising ; for when the reason of the 
 fact is once perceived, there is no danger of 
 its being forgotten, and the memory is to that 
 extent relieved. 
 
 All teaching and learning, then, which 
 uses the memory when it might use the 
 higher faculty, may be properly stigmatised 
 as cram. And the question is, are examina- 
 tions necessarily of such a nature as to put a 
 premium on the worse method? In this 
 respect the process of examination differs a 
 good deal according to the subject to which 
 it is applied. Those subjects work best in 
 examination in which the candidate is neces- 
 sarily forced to use reason, and not mere 
 memory, in answering the questions, i.e., in 
 which he is required not merely to state facts, 
 but to apply principles. 
 
 The most satisfactory of all examination- 
 subjects from this point of view is, I suppose, 
 mathematics. It is impossible to cram an 
 arithmetical or algebraical problem which the 
 candidate has never seen before it faces him 
 in the examination-paper. Mathematical 
 book-work — for instance, Euclid — no doubt 
 depends more on the memory ; but it must at 
 least be memory accompanied by understand- 
 ing ; for the effort of memory required to 
 
 121 
 
The Union Booh 
 
 learn a series of geometrical proofs, with- 
 out understanding them, is fortunately so 
 great that few people are capable of 
 attempting it. Roughly speaking, it 
 may be said, that to mathematics thei charge 
 of cram cannot apply. Next to mathematics 
 in this respect I should place languages, and 
 especially the classical languages. To translate 
 a piece of English into Latin or Greek, or an 
 unprepared passage of Latin or Greek 
 into English, is a test of the powers 
 of reason, taste, and intelligent atten- 
 tion, but only in a very subordinate 
 degree of the memory. A thoroughly 
 bad teacher may, if he chooses, even in 
 these matters, waste his pupil's time by such 
 methods as setting him, for instance, to learn 
 vocabularies by heart ; but we have at least 
 the satisfaction of knowing that, in doing so, 
 he would be taking a bad. course for exami- 
 nation results as well as for education. 
 
 But classical study includes not only the 
 study of language, but also the study of 
 authors. And here it must be admitted that 
 the task of the examiner in discouraging 
 cram becomes more difficult. The examina- 
 tion must take in part the form of setting pas- 
 sages for translation; and in preparing for 
 such an examination learners and teachers 
 have more opportunity of going wrong in 
 
 122 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 their methods, if they choose to do so, with 
 some hope of escaping" detection. This 
 brings us to the subject of cribs. Instead 
 of finding out the author's meaning for him- 
 self with just as much help as he needs and 
 no more, a lazy candidate may prefer to read, 
 or to get from his teacher, a literal trans- 
 lation of the Latin or Greek, and trust to the 
 hope that when he sees a passage of the ori- 
 ginal, the corresponding English words may 
 recur to his memory. That this is a bad 
 method, and that those who adopt it contrive 
 to avoid most of the good of learning without 
 avoiding the trouble, we are all agreed. The 
 question is whether the adoption of the wrong 
 method in place of the right is really encour- 
 aged by examinations ; in other words, does 
 it pay ? To that I should answer, that if it 
 ever does pay, that must be the fault of the 
 examiner. If the translations are supple- 
 mented by suitable questions, and if the ex- 
 amination consists in part of unprepared 
 translations from and into English, the more 
 intelligent knowledge of the language gained 
 by a proper method of preparation will tell, 
 and here again, cramming will not pay, even 
 from the point of view of results in a single 
 examination. Of course, perverse students 
 and misguided or dishonest teachers may 
 adopt a bad method under the mistaken notion 
 
 123 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 that it will pay ; but then it is hardly fair to 
 blame the examination for their mistake ; for 
 I suppose that under all systems alike, where 
 students are perverse and teachers misguided 
 or dishonest, the educ.'itional results are not 
 likely to be satisfactory, and I do not see that 
 we are called upon, in the vain hope of 
 reforming them, to sacrifice the inducement 
 to study by good methods, which is provided 
 by examination in set books. The great 
 advantage in such examinations is that, 
 rightly used, they promote a thorough and 
 systematic study of an author which, human 
 nature being what it is, would otherwise be 
 rare. For instance, most of those who have 
 prepared for the final classical examination 
 at Oxford would, I think, agree with me that 
 one of the greatest advantages which they 
 have acquired from it is the intimate 
 acquaintance they have thereby gained with 
 some few great books — Plato's " Republic," 
 for instance, or Aristotle's " Ethics." Had 
 there been no examination to prepare for we 
 should still, perhaps, have read some of these 
 books with interest; but I doubt whether 
 most of us would have assimilated and 
 absorbed them as we have done, so that the 
 thoughts which they contain have become, 
 so to speak, part of oxir own minds — an addi- 
 tion to our intellectual equipment for the 
 
 124 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 rest of life. And in saying this, I can 
 almost claim the authority of Professor Free- 
 man himself. " I have deeply to thank my 
 Oxford undergraduate course," he says, " for 
 causing me carefully to read several books — 
 Aristotle's ' Ethics,' for one — which I other- 
 wise might not have read at all, or might 
 have read less thoroughly." True, he goes 
 on to say, " I do not thank it at all for 
 examining me in anything." He assumes, 
 that is, that he would have read his "Ethics" 
 as thoroughly had there been no examina- 
 tion to follow. Now, Professor Freeman is a 
 great and remarkable man, and in his case 
 that may be true ; biit in the case of most of 
 us, I have my doubts about it; and for my 
 part, when I feel disposed to return thanks 
 for what I learned at Oxford, I cannot 
 honestly deny that a part of the thanks is 
 due to the examination system under which 
 I learnt it. To this it may be added that 
 quite apart from the actual knowledge gained, 
 the faculty of working steadily at a definite 
 book or subject till one has mastered it — a 
 faculty which is cultivated by all honest pre- 
 paration for examinations — is one which it 
 is well worth some pains to acquire ; and the 
 value of such training will last, even if the 
 special subject studied is afterwards for- 
 gotten. 
 
 125 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 Geuius, it has been said, consists in the 
 power of taking pains ; and if this is a one- 
 sided statement, at any rate it is true that 
 geuius is wasted unless the power of taking 
 pains goes with it; and, what is of more 
 immediate concern to most of us, that where 
 genius does not exist, the power of taking 
 pains is the best available substitute. Now, 
 this is just the power which is specially cul- 
 tivated in preparing for an examination in 
 a set subject ; and those who go through the 
 process will, if they have done their work 
 honestly, be so much the better prepared 
 for taking pains in any task that later life 
 may set them. It is almost the only form of 
 mental drill • or discipline which is left to 
 us ; and I believe that we common-place peo- 
 ple — I am not speaking of men of genius 
 and Professor Freemans — could ill afford to 
 part with it. What I have said of the risk 
 of bad methods in preparing for examination 
 iu set books applies in perhaps a higher de- 
 gree to some other subjects, for instance to 
 history and literary criticism, to philosophy 
 and, I think — though here I speak with diffi- 
 dence, as an outsider — to m.ost branches of 
 natural science, as treated in paper examina- 
 tions ; that is to say, that if students and 
 teachers prefer to adopt bad methods of learn- 
 ing and teaching, and to depend on verbal 
 
 126 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 memory rather than on thought and reason, 
 the examiner m.ay sometimes fail to bring 
 them to account for it. We cannot here apply 
 any method so effective as in mathematics 
 and languages to discover whether what the 
 learner writes in his answers is really his 
 own. I do not mean that it need be, strictly 
 speaking, original ; no reasonable person 
 would expect great advances in original 
 thought of a schoolboy or an undergraduate ; 
 but we may sometimes fail to discover 
 whether he has made the thoughts, which he 
 reproduces, his own by intelligent reflection, 
 or is merely repeating by rote phrases which 
 he remembers from his text-book or his lec- 
 ture notes. We can minimise the danger by 
 taking care to prescribe no books but such as 
 are worth thorough study for their own sake, 
 by good judgment in setting the questions, 
 and by careful examination of the answers ; 
 but we cannot altogether get rid of it. But 
 here again, observe that it is untrue to say 
 that the examination causes bad work ; it is 
 the fault of the learner and the teacher if 
 they choose to employ bad methods in place of 
 good ones ; and under a well-managed exami- 
 nation system, the student who has not adopt- 
 ed unworthy devices will certainly outstrip 
 the crammer and his pupils in the end. 
 
 127 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 A perfect examination has been well 
 defined as an examination " in which that 
 candidate will do best who has learnt what 
 it is best for him to learn, and has learnt it in 
 the best way." And though it is useless in 
 this imperfect world to look for absolute per- 
 fection, I think it is possible for competent 
 and painstaking examiners, working under 
 a system judiciously arranged, to arrive at 
 results which do not fall very far short of 
 this ideal. So much for the effect of exami- 
 nation on the student. But we are told that 
 the system has an equally bad effect upon 
 the teachers. Examinations, it is said, force 
 the teachers who prepare their pupils for them 
 into a groove, and prevent originality and 
 healthy competition between different educa- 
 tional methods. The teacher, bound down 
 by external restrictions, loses his own intelli- 
 gent self-direction ; he is forced to think of 
 what will pay, and not of what is best for his 
 pupils ; in short, he is either turned into a 
 crammer despite himself, or, if he refuses to 
 become one, he is ousted by the crammers. 
 Now, this complaint is answered in part by 
 what I have already said. Assuming that 
 those who regulate and conduct the exami- 
 nations do their duty (for here, too, every- 
 thing depends on that), what will pay is iden- 
 tical with what is best for the teacher's 
 
 128 
 
Use and Ahuse of Examinations. 
 
 pupils ; and he, like they, if he is convinced 
 of the fact, can combine the two motives. 
 But I do not think that this is a quite suffi- 
 cient answer. "We are speaking now, not of 
 students in statu pupillari, who, by the very 
 fact of their positiqn may be assumed to need ■ 
 guidance and stimulus from without, but of 
 teachers, who, if they are fit for their posi- 
 tion, must be well-educated men. Wow, 
 though I suppose there are few of us who are 
 not the better for some guidance, it is cer- 
 tainly true that, for such men, guidance at 
 least in the rigid and uncompromising form 
 of an external examination system, should 
 be superfluous, and as soon as it becomes 
 superfluous, it begins to be mischievous. 
 
 I assumed a good examination system, 
 -i.e., one which prescribes what is best for the 
 students ; but the truth is, that when we take 
 the teacher into account, there is no absolute 
 best. Every teacher can work best according 
 to the method which he has acquired by his 
 own experience, and which he himself 
 believes in, and when he finds himself forced 
 by restrictions from without into lines which 
 do not suit him, he loses his faith and interest 
 in his work, and his pupils sufEer. And this 
 suggests a principle which seems generally 
 agreed on by those who have taken part in the 
 protest, and which I believe to be a 
 
 129 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 thoroughly sound one. Examination should be 
 kept subordinate to teaching, and not teach- 
 ing to •examination. And in order that this 
 may be ensured, the teachers must have con- 
 trol over the examination. I do not mean that 
 the examiner need be va, all cases the same 
 person who has taught, but that the subjects 
 and methods of the teaching ought to be deter- 
 mined as the teachers themselves think best, 
 and then the examination arranged to suit the 
 teaching. Hence, wherever the teaching is 
 in the hands of one body of men, and the 
 examination in the hands of another body, 
 unconnected with and uncontrolled by the 
 teachers, there the benefits of examination are 
 likely to be smallest and its evils greatest. 
 Now, in our University, as well as in the 
 Scotch Universities, this principle is happily 
 observed. The teachers teach what they 
 think best, and in the way that they think 
 best, and are free to adjust the examinations 
 to their own teaching. And this seems to 
 me to be one main reason why many of the 
 complaints made against the examination- 
 system in England have, or should have, far 
 less application here. At Oxford the system, 
 although regulated in the main by the teach- 
 ing body as a whole, is one to which the indi- 
 vidual teacher feels himself subordinate, and 
 the University of London is a body which 
 
 130 
 
Use and Ahuse of Examinations. 
 
 exists solely for the purpose of conducting 
 examinations, over which, those who prepare 
 the candidates have no control whatever. 
 Here the teacher is given full freedom, and 
 has only to consider what is best in the inter- 
 ests of education. And under these circum- 
 stances, if the system works badly, it must be 
 the fault of those who work it, whether as tea- 
 chers or as studgnts. And this is the best 
 way to make sure of keeping examination in 
 its proper place, and making it the servant of 
 education, and not its master — a harmless, 
 useful drudge, and not a Frankenstein. 
 
 This principle is observed in our University 
 itself ; but it is not observed with regard to 
 the senior and junior public examinations. 
 In the case of those examinations, just as in 
 that of the corresponding examinations in 
 England, the teaching of candidates is done 
 mainly by the schools, and the examina- 
 tion by the University ; and there is no direct 
 communication between teachers and exami- 
 ners. Now, I am not going to bring forward 
 any proposals to abolish the public examina- 
 tions. I believe that they were established 
 and are maintained for good and sufficient 
 reasons, and have done much to raise the 
 general level of education in the country. But 
 at the same time it must be admitted that 
 some of the charges of which I have been 
 
 131 , 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 speaking apply with special force to exami- 
 nations of this character, and that there are 
 dangers in them which need to be guarded 
 against with special care. If the scheme of 
 the examination is wisely arranged, and the 
 work of the examining well and carefully 
 done by the University, I think that those 
 teachers who on their side honestly do their 
 best for the education of their pupils will have 
 no great reason to complain of the results. 
 
 I think that the system, with modifications 
 in detail introduced from time to time as the 
 need for them is felt, is the best that we can 
 get for the present; but I do not think it is 
 a perfect system. The examinations probably 
 interrupt the regular work of the schools; 
 they are inevitably used to some extent as a 
 test of tl^jB teacher's work, and yet they are not 
 a fair test of it, as they are applied to a few 
 boys from each school only, and not to the 
 school as a whole ; and they hold out a strong 
 inducement to the teacher in preparing candi- 
 dates to teach them in the way that he thinks 
 likely to pay best in the examination, even 
 when it is not the way which he thinks best 
 for their education. If it were my business 
 to devise a substitute for the existing system 
 which would be less open to these objections, 
 I think that it would not be difiicult to frame 
 one — on paper, that is ; and the school ex- 
 
 132 
 
Use and Abuse of Examinations. 
 
 amination system of my ideal republic would 
 take som.e such shape as this : every school 
 which desired to submit itself to external ex- 
 amination would frame its own curriculum 
 within the lines of some very elastic scheme 
 drawn up by University authority. The head 
 master would make application to the Uni- 
 versity for an examination of the school as a 
 whole, or of the upper classes of it, in the 
 subjects of their yearly school work, to be 
 held in the school itself, and at such time as 
 might best suit its convenience; and the 
 University (of course in our ideal republic, an 
 infallible and universally trusted University) 
 would send one or more examiners, them- 
 selves experienced teachers, who would ex- 
 amine the school class by class, in consulta- 
 tion with and assisted by the masters, but 
 taking on themselves the final responsibility 
 for the examination results. The examiner's 
 report on the work of the school as a whole 
 would be forwarded to the school authorities ; 
 while the results in the case of individual 
 boys would, if it were desired, be brought to 
 scale with some general standards such as 
 those of the present junior and senior exami- 
 nations, and serve. as the basis for the award 
 of University certificates, as at present. 
 
 But framing a scheme on paper is much 
 easier than carrying it out in practice; and 
 
 133 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 to come baxjk to the actual world, the present 
 business of all concerned, I take it, is to work 
 the system which now holds the field in such 
 a way as to make it promote true education as 
 much as possible, and to hinder it as little as 
 may be. And if we do that, we need have no 
 doubt, I think, that we are helping more than 
 hindering. I will end by stating shortly the 
 conclusion to which all this seems to me to 
 lead. "Examination is a good servant, but 
 a bad master." In order to prevent examina- 
 tion from becoming mischievous to educa- 
 tion, it is essential that it should be kept sub- 
 ordinate to the interests of good teaching and 
 true study; and this may best be done by 
 charging those who do the teaching with the 
 control of the examination. The mischiefs 
 of examination so emphatically insisted on in 
 the English protest are mischiefs to which we 
 are less liable in this country, partly because 
 this rule is here observed, at least within our 
 University, and partly because examinations 
 are not yet so universal and so frequent, and 
 competition in examination is not so keen 
 here as in England. 
 
 But at the same time the evils to which the 
 protest points are evils which we, too, need to 
 be on our guard against, and they can be 
 guarded against, because they are not inher- 
 ent in examination as such, but are due to the 
 
 134 
 
Use and Ahuse of Examinations. 
 
 misttse of examinations. As in the case of all 
 machinery, the results of the system depend 
 upon the skill and care and honesty of those 
 who work it. As long as all parties do their 
 best in the interests of true education, exami- 
 nation is useful as a wholesome stimulus to 
 work, as a guide of work, and as a test of 
 work. In cases where the regulations are 
 badly framed, and the subjects badly pre- 
 scribed, where the examiners are careless or 
 inefficient, the teachers misguided or dis- 
 honest, and the candidates incapable of any 
 but the lowest motives, the dismal results des- 
 cribed in the protest may be expected to fol- 
 low in due course; bijt then, given such un- 
 promising materials, it is not likely that any 
 system or absence of system would work very 
 much better. "We should spare no effort to 
 guard against the abuses of examination ; but 
 we cannot afford to do without its uses. 
 
 135 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 CDHUND BURKC. 
 
 By Professor Butler. 1590. 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 When I was asked by the able and ener- 
 getic secretary of your Union to say 
 some words to you, I was rather at a loss for 
 a subject. I thought that, as you are a 
 debating society, you might perhaps care to 
 have a few things called to your recollection 
 about some of the great orators of the 
 world. But I presumed that many of you 
 had heard enough of me upon Cicero; I 
 should have liked very well to say something 
 of the greatest of all orators, Demosthenes, 
 but most of you have now forsaken the 
 study of Greek, and I despaired of being able 
 to reproduce in another tongue the burning 
 eloquence of the man "who wielded at will 
 the fierce democraty." At last I thought 
 that it would not be inopportune to bring 
 before your minds, in however imperfect a 
 way, one of the greatest of orators, who was 
 also one of the profoundest of political 
 philosophers and one of the best of men. One 
 who was, in truth, vir bonus, dicendi peritus 
 — Edmund Burke. In my opinion, there is 
 no one whose speeches and writings are more 
 worthy that you should "read them by day 
 
 139 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 and study them by night," especially those 
 of you who cherish the honourable ambition 
 of some day serving your country in Parlia- 
 ment. Of course, I do not recommend you 
 to adopt all his views, any more than I 
 should recommend you to adopt all those of 
 Plato, but the reading of Burke is most 
 stimulating and suggestive from the blending 
 of profound thought with great practical 
 sagacity, and a noble earnestness and 
 patriotism. 
 
 Edmund Burke was born in Dublin on the 
 12th January, 1729 (or, according to some 
 authorities, 1730). His father was an attor- 
 ney in good practice. He was of the Protes- 
 tant religion, but Burke's mother wa^ a 
 Roman Catholic; to which latter fact was 
 probably in part owing Burke's large tolera- 
 tion for Catholics at a time when that virtue 
 was not so common as it happily is now 
 among all religions for all religions. He 
 also learnt that virtue from being put to 
 school when a lad to a learned and excellent 
 Quaker, Abraham Shackleton, a Yorkshire 
 man, who kept an academy (to use Dr. 
 Johnson's word for his own establishment) in 
 Kildare. With Richard, the sou of his pre- 
 ceptor, Burke formed a life-long friendship, 
 and, what is more difficult, kept up a regular 
 correspondence. Richard Shackleton, who 
 
 140 
 
Edmund Burhe. 
 
 succeeded his father in the school, has lejEt a 
 written account of his friend, the pompous 
 style of which smacks 'somewhat of the peda- 
 gogue. "Edmund," he tells us, "was a lad 
 oi: most- promising genius, of an inquisitive 
 and speculative cast of mind. This was 
 iniproved in him- by a constitutional indis- 
 position that prevented him from suffering by 
 those secessions from study which are a con- 
 sequence of puerile diversions. He read 
 much while a boy, and accumulated a stock 
 of learning of great variety. His memory 
 was extensive, his judgment early ripe." 
 
 In 1774 he entered Trinity CoUegie, 
 Dublin. Soon after, he wrote to his friend 
 Shackleton complaining that he was 
 obliged to study that great authority on 
 logic, whom he styled the hideous Burgers- 
 dicius. At his University, Burke, like 
 many other eminent men, made no great 
 mark as far as carrying ofE honours and prizes 
 was concerned. But he made good use of 
 the library, where he read constantly and 
 largely in history and philosophy as well as 
 iu literature generally. He acquired also a 
 wide knowledge of the ancient writers, more 
 especially the Latin, and references to the 
 classical poets and historians are frequent 
 in all his works. Cicero he seems to have 
 studied deeply, and he might well have 
 
 141 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 apostrophised the great Roman orator iu the 
 words of Dante to Virgil — 
 
 Tu se' solo colui, da cui io tolsi 
 Lo bello stile, die m'ha fatto oiiore. 
 
 He appears to have had a turn for meta- 
 physics at this time, and is said to have 
 begun a confutation of Berkeley when at 
 college. Of poetry, he was then, as always very 
 fond, his favorite poet, like Mr. Bright's, 
 being Milton. He wooed the muse himself, 
 and we have preserved a verse translation 
 by him of the last part of Virgil's second 
 Georgic, and a copy of verses to John Darner, 
 Esq., in which he sings the virtues of Mr. 
 Darner and his plantation— verses which, I 
 am bound to say, the author might as well 
 have burnt, as Plato is said to have burnt 
 his youthful poems. It would seem that he 
 also wrote a comedy at ihis time, which he 
 in vain endeavoured to get put upon the 
 stage. His college life is said by Prior to 
 have been free from the irregularities which 
 are chronicled of the college lives of other 
 distinguished men (not excluding distin- 
 guished Irishmen). In 1748 he took his B.A. 
 degree, and had then to look about him for a 
 livelihood. His father wished him to make 
 the Bar his profession, and in 1750 he went 
 to London to keep his terms at the Middle 
 Temple. It seems that, though devoted to 
 
 U2 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 his mother and entertainiBg the utmost filial 
 respect for his father, he was not altogether 
 sorry to leave his home, as his father was 
 the victim of an unhappy temper, which 
 greatly tried the feelings of his family. No 
 doubt, too, young Burke felt in an intense 
 degree the eagerness which most youths feel 
 to become acquainted with the great world, 
 and which young literary aspirants feel to see 
 something of the great men of letters. 
 
 Though Burke showed in later life a large 
 knowledge of law (a report which he wrote in 
 1794 upon the Lords' Journals relative to the 
 proceedings on the trial of Mr. Hastings, 
 and which embraced many important ques- 
 tions in law, is said to display "extraordi- 
 nary knowledge of legal forms, principles, 
 and history"), he felt no call to practise that 
 profession, and was never admitted to the 
 Bar. But during these earlier years in 
 England he seems to have devoted himself 
 with his characteristic energy to enlarging 
 and strengthening his acquaintance with 
 almost all the arts and sciences : pictures 
 and statues (says Prior), a farmyard, a mine, 
 or a manufactory, were equally subjects for 
 his investigation. He continued his 
 studies in politics and history, and his 
 speculation in philosophy, and is said to 
 have at this time written much for the 
 
 U3 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 booksellers to keep the pot boiling, as his 
 father, incensed at his neglect to pursue 
 his profession, either altogether withdrew or 
 largely diminished his allowance. In 
 
 1756 he published the Vindication of 
 
 Natural Society in a Letter to Lord , iy 
 
 a Late Nolle Writer, a marvellous imitation 
 of the style and manner of Lord Boling- 
 broke, which not only the common run of 
 readers, but even acute men like Lord 
 Chesterfield and Bishop Warburton took to 
 b(} genuine. In this piece he reproduces 
 "the rapid torrent of an impetuous and over- 
 bearing eloquence, and the variety of rich 
 imagery," which in the preface he aiEects to 
 suppose that the reader will miss in this 
 pfisthumous work. In it there is, in parti- 
 cular, one very fine touch, as it seems to me, 
 where, to carry ofE the imposture better, 
 Burke refers to Bolingbroke's friend, Pope. 
 It is this : "There are few with whom I can 
 communicate so freely as with Pope. But 
 Pope cannot bear every truth. He has a 
 timidity which hinders the full exertion of 
 his faculties almost as effectually as 
 bigotry cramps those of the general herd of 
 mankind." Shortly afterwards Burke pub- 
 lished his Philosophical Inquiry into the 
 Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and 
 Beautiful. In this treatise he essays to trace 
 
 144 
 
Edmund Burhe. 
 
 the physiological causes of these emotions. 
 That of the sublime he traces to "an unnatu- 
 ral tension, and certain violent emotions of 
 the nerves." Beauty, he tells us, acts by 
 relaxing the solids of the whole system, and 
 he gives us the following description of the 
 body when affected by the sight of the 
 beloved object: "The head reclines some- 
 thing on one side, the eyelids are more closed 
 than usual, and the eyes roll gently, with 
 an inclination to the object; the mouth is 
 a little opened, and the breath drawn 
 slowly, with now and then a low sigh; the 
 whole body is composed, and the hands fall 
 idly to the sides. All this is accom- 
 panied with an inward sense of melting and 
 languor." Whatever be the soundness of 
 his theory, the essay is interesting as show- 
 ing his early leaning to abstract speculation. 
 It shows also, in the illustrations with which 
 it abounds, his knowledge and appreciation 
 of the ancient poets and of the great poets 
 of our own tongue, especially Milton and 
 Spenser. He draws largely, too, on the 
 Bible, quotations from which, indeed, as well 
 as adaptations of its expressions to his parti- 
 cular purposes, are to be found plentifully 
 scattered through all his works ; as they are 
 in the works of Macaulay and the speeches 
 of that great orator, Mr. Bright. This essay, 
 
 145 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 as others have before observed, does not show- 
 that mastery over the whole range of lan- 
 guage, nor that wonderful richness of 
 imagination, which characterise his mature 
 works — a remark which may also be applied 
 to the early writings of another of our 
 greatest masters of style, Cardinal Newman. 
 An observation of Burke's in this essay with 
 regard to poets may be here quoted as show- 
 ing the acuteness of his criticism — "the 
 pcets," he says, "have been rather imitators 
 of one another than of nature ; and this with 
 so faithful a uniformity, and to so remote an 
 antiquity, that it is hard to say who gave 
 the first model." 
 
 In 1757 he married a daughter of Dr. 
 Nugent, an accomplished physician, who was 
 one of the original members of the famous 
 Literary Club, better known as Johnson's 
 Club. Mrs. Burke is said to have been a 
 lady of great amiability, and to have done 
 very much, in after years, to soothe the 
 irritable temper of her husband, which was 
 sorely tried in the later part of his Parlia- 
 mentary career. Burke himself declared 
 that every care vanished the moment he 
 entered under his own roof. 
 
 About this time Burke made the acquaint- 
 ance of many of the distinguished men in 
 London, including Garrick, of whom he was 
 
 146 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 an ardent admirer, and who, he said, was the 
 first of actors because he was the most acute 
 observer of nature Burke ever knew; and 
 Johnson, whom he met at Garrick's table. 
 Between Burke and Johnson, in spite of their 
 strong political differences, there soon sprang 
 up a warm friendship, which lasted till the 
 death of the old sage, who, on his deathbed 
 said, in answer to a remark of Burke's thai 
 the presence of strangers might be oppressive 
 to him, "No, sir, it is not so, and I must be 
 in a wretched state indeed when your com- 
 pany would not be a delight to me." Johnson 
 had a just appreciation of Burke's powers aa 
 a talker. He loved, so he said, the affluence 
 of his conversation, "his stream of mind is 
 perpetual, he doesn't talk from a desire of 
 distinction, but because his miud is full." 
 On one occasion when the doctor felt unwell, 
 on Burke's name being mentioned, he said, 
 "That fellow calls forth all my powers ; 
 were I to see Burke now, it would kill me." 
 At an-other time he said, "Burke is such a 
 man that if you met him for the first time in 
 the street, where you were stopped by a drove 
 of oxen, and you and he stepped aside to take 
 shelter but for five minutes, he'd talk to you 
 in such a manner that when you parted you 
 would say, ' This is an extraordinary man.' " 
 He also said that he did not grudge Burke's 
 
 147 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 being the first man in the House of Com- 
 mons, for he would be the first man any- 
 where. Burke, on his part, fully appreciated 
 the old philosopher's conversational powers, 
 and once, when it was insinuated to him by 
 an admiring friend that Johnson had appro- 
 priated too large a share of the talk of the 
 evening, Burke answered, "It is enough for 
 me to have rung the bell for him." Another 
 friend whom he met about this time was 
 Reynolds, that excellent painter and most 
 excellent man, who cherished the utmost 
 esteem and veneration for Burke. The latter, 
 on his part, had a real love for Sir Joshua, 
 and when, after the painter's funeral, Burke 
 attempted, on behalf of the family, to utter 
 their thanks to the members of the Royal 
 Academy for the honour paid to their 
 deceased president, his feelings so far over- 
 came him that he utterly broke down. Gold- 
 smith had been at Trinity College at the same 
 time as Burke, but they do not appear to have 
 been then well acquainted. They met, how- 
 ever, in London, some years after Burke 
 settled there, and Burke entertained a warm 
 affection for that delightful, though way- 
 ward, genius. 
 
 Though busy with his pen, Burke, who 
 soon felt a strong call to parliamentary life, 
 was a frequent attendant of the debates of 
 
 148 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 the House of Commons, and devoted much 
 of his time, as he said himself afterwards, 
 to the study of the British Constitution, and, 
 iu the next place, to that of commerce 
 and finance; studies, the fruits of which 
 were afterwards seen in the depth and pre- 
 cision of his views on these questions, in 
 which he far excelled his contemporaries. 
 When Adam Smith came to London, he 
 declared that Burke was the only man he had 
 met with who thought as he did on the chief 
 topics of political economy without previous 
 communication. An opnortunity was now 
 afforded him for taking a certain part in 
 politics by his introduction through Lord 
 Claremont to Mr. William Gerard Hamilton, 
 better known as Single-Speech Hamilton, 
 who, in 1761, was appointed Chief Secretary 
 for Ireland. Hamilton, who though a vain, 
 arrogant, bad-hearted man, still had a keen 
 eye for ability, made Burke his secretary, 
 and it is said that on the secretary mainly 
 devolved the management of the Irish 
 House of Commons. After some years' ser- 
 vice, Hamilton procured for Burke a pension 
 of £300 a year on the Irish establishment; 
 but, on the strength of that pension, he 
 sought so far to fetter Burke's independence, 
 and he made such extravagant demands on 
 Burke's time and talents, that the latter 
 
 149 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 very soon threw up his allowance in dis- 
 gust. On the formation of the Rocking- 
 ham Administration, Burke was recom- 
 mended to the Prime Minister by "William 
 Fitzherbert, and received the appointment 
 of private secretary, in spite of the warnings 
 of the Duke of Newcastle against the wild 
 Irishman, who was a Papist and a Jacobite, 
 and whose real name was O'Burke! Very 
 soon afterwards he entered Parliament as a 
 member for a pocket borough belonging to 
 one of the Whig Lords. 
 
 Burke brought into Parliament a combina- 
 tion of gifts such as perhaps has never been 
 displayed there before or since. To a 
 thorough acquaintance with finance and 
 trade, with the constitution, with the whole 
 history of English politics, he added a pro- 
 found knowledge of all history, and a deep 
 insight into the principles of government 
 and into the relations between the various 
 elements that constitute a state. He 
 brooight, too, indefatigable industry, elo- 
 quence such as had never before been heard 
 ill an English Parliament, and an intense 
 zeal to devote all his gifts and acquire- 
 ments to the service of the country. The 
 year after he entered the House of Com- 
 mons he was described by the Duke of 
 Grafton in a letter to Lord Chatham, in 
 
 150 
 
Edmund Burhe. 
 
 whicli he urged the latter to give a place to 
 Burke in the Administration he was then 
 forming, as perhaps" the readiest man upon 
 all points in the whole House. Very soon 
 after his election, Burke made a speech on 
 the American question, after which Mr. Pitt 
 (who had not yet entered the House of 
 Peers) said that "he had himself intended 
 to enter at length into the details, but he 
 had been anticipated with so much ingenuity 
 and eloquence, that there was little left for 
 him to say; he congratulated the young 
 member on his success, and his friends on 
 the acquisition they had made." Dr. John- 
 son, soon after, wrote to Bennet Langton that 
 Burke had made two speeches in the House 
 for repealing the Stamp Act, which were 
 publicly commended by Mr. Pitt, and had 
 filled the town with wonder. 
 
 Here, perhaps; I may say something of 
 Burke as an orator. In the earlier half of 
 his career in Parliament he appears to have 
 held the attention of the House much more 
 closely than in the latter. We read in his 
 later years of the frequent interruptions to 
 which he was subjected, coming from 
 numbers of young men who had been elected 
 for the first time to the Parliament of 1789, 
 iu which the younger Pitt had a large 
 majority. These youngsters made it a 
 
 151 
 
', The Union Boole. 
 
 point on every occasion — ^provoked, no doubt, 
 by the severity of his attacks on that Minis- 
 ter and his measures — to attempt to coiugh 
 him down or to interrupt him with idiotic 
 cnchinnations, so much so that on one occa- 
 sion he was driven to remark that "he could 
 teach a pack of hounds to yelp with more 
 melody and equal comprehension." There 
 is no doubt that, as he grew older, his 
 increasing vehemence and irritability of 
 temper made him disliked by many. He 
 was also regarded from the first with the 
 same jealousy with which Cicero was 
 regarded by the Roman nobility, as a novus 
 homo, a mere adventurer. Frequently, too, 
 he spoke at great, perhaps excessive length, 
 and he never stooped to the common- 
 places which are most acceptable to large 
 and mixed assemblages : so that, in his last 
 years, the House often thinned during his 
 speeches, and he is said to have been called 
 the dinner-bell of the House of Commons. 
 Even in 1774, Goldsmith, in his Retaliation, 
 says of Burke that — 
 
 Too deep for his hearers, he went on refining. 
 
 And thought of convincing while they thought of dining. 
 
 But even to the last he was, to use Dryden's 
 
 words of Shakespeare, always great when a 
 
 great occasion presented itself. His speech 
 
 on the army estimates of 1790, in which he de- 
 
 152 
 
EdTnund Burke. 
 
 livered one of his many attacks on the French 
 Eevolution, and denounced the French 
 democracy, has unanimously (says Mr. John 
 Morley) been pronounced one of the most 
 brilliant and efEective speeches that Burke 
 ever made. Burke's manner is described 
 by Grattan (no prejudiced critic) as wanting 
 grace and elegance. He had none of the 
 advantages in that respect of Chatham, who 
 is described as possessing, in addition to a 
 graceful and commanding figure and most 
 animated countenance, a magnificent voice, 
 over which he had a perfect command, and a 
 mastery of gesture and expression, in which 
 he was said to be equal to Garrick. Burke's 
 figure was heavy and ungraceful, his voice 
 was often harsh, and, to the ears of an 
 English assembly, not improved by his Irish 
 accent, his gesticulation was frequently 
 over-violent. These disadvantages, however, 
 he overcame, and caused his hearers to lose 
 sight of, by his perfect mastery of his sub- 
 ject, both as regards general principles and 
 minute details, by his luminous exposition, 
 his lucid illustrations, his brilliant fancy; 
 when the occasion required it, by deep pathos, 
 or fierce invective, sometimes by austere 
 irony, sometimes by cutting sarcasm ; and 
 all these clothed in language of the greatest 
 vigour, flexibility, and richness. His speeches 
 
 153 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 are beyond question the most profitable, the 
 most instructive, the most captivating, the 
 most stirring of any we possess in the English 
 tongue, and take rank with those of Cicero 
 and Demosthenes among the treasures of the 
 world's literature. He has not the intense- 
 ness, the fiery, burning, irresistible eloquence 
 or Demosthenes, nor perhaps is the English 
 tongue equal in harmony and strength to that 
 of Greece ; but Burke has more suppleness and 
 variety and an ampler mental grasp than the 
 great Athenian. Cicero is like Burke in his 
 copiousness and variety of diction, and, to 
 some extent, in his range of knowledge, in his 
 variety of illustration from the arts and 
 sciences, in his mastery of sarcasm and 
 invective ; he is superior to Burke in 
 correctness of taste, in lucidity, in 
 delicateness and harmoniousness of ex- 
 pression, but he is inferior in force, in 
 grandeur, in richness of imagination, in the 
 impression produced by the character (■^^os) 
 of the speaker, and very far inferior in origin- 
 ality of mind, in enlarged wisdom, in philo- 
 sophic power and insight. Fox has been said 
 by some great critics to have been the moat 
 Demosthenic speaker since Demosthenes. In 
 some respects, I think, John Bright was. 
 Bright has often, too, great massiveness and 
 grandeur, but he lacks the breadth of mind, 
 
 154 
 
Edmund BurJce. 
 
 the various and profound knowledge of Burke. 
 He was like Burke in his intense earnest- 
 ness, his great humanity, his thorough 
 honesty, and love of country. Both Burke 
 and Bright are indeed grand and noble 
 masters of the English tongue, and should be 
 constantly in the hands of those who aspire to 
 take part in guiding and directing (as far 
 as individuals can help to guide and direct) 
 the destinies of their country. 
 
 Burke's first great speech of which 
 we have a full report was made in 
 1874 on the question of American 
 Taxation, the matter under considera- 
 tion being the repeal of the famous 
 duty on tea. In this masterly exposition of 
 true statesmanship he lays down the proper 
 line of policy in dealing with the American 
 colonies. " Again and again revert to your 
 old principles — seek peace and ensiue it; 
 leave America, if she has taxable m^atter in 
 her, to tax herself. I am not going here into 
 the distinction of rights, nor attempting to 
 mark their boundaries. I do not enter into 
 these metaphysical distinctions. I hate the 
 very sound of them. Leave the Americans 
 as they anciently stood, and these distinc- 
 tions, born of our tunhappy contest, will die 
 along with it. They and we, and their and 
 our ancestors have been happy under that 
 
 155 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 system. Let the memory of all actions in 
 contradiction to that good old mode, on both 
 sides be extinguished for ever. Be content 
 to bind America by laws of trade ; you have 
 always done it. Do not burden them by taxes ; 
 you were not used to do so from the begin- 
 ning. Let this be your reason for not tax- 
 ing. These are the arguments of states and 
 kingdoms. Leave the rest to the schools, 
 for there only they may be discussed with 
 safety. But if intemperately, unwisely, 
 fatally, you sophisticate and poison the very 
 source of government by urging subtle de- 
 ductions and consequences odious to those 
 you govern, from the unlimited and illimit- 
 able nature of supreme sovereignty, you 
 will teach them by these means to call that 
 sovereignty itself in question. When vou 
 drive him hard, the boar will surely turn 
 upon the hunters. If that sovereignty and 
 their freedom cannot be reconciled, which 
 will they take? They will cast your sove- 
 reignty in your face. Nobody will be argued 
 into slavery." At the end of this speech 
 he says, " The noble lord will, as usual, 
 probably attribute the part taken by me and 
 my friends in this business, to a desire of 
 getting his place. . . . But I know the 
 map of England, as well as the noble lord, 
 or as any other person ; and I know that the 
 
 L.G 
 
Edmund BurJce. 
 
 way I take is not the road to preferment." 
 Well might he say so, considering that Eng- 
 land was driven into its senseless course of 
 action against America, mainly through 
 the narrow-minded obstinacy of George 
 III. In this oration occurs the splen- 
 did passage on Lord Chatham — whom 
 nevertheless Burke appears to have 
 strongly disliked, for, writing of Chat- 
 ham long after (in 1792) he says : "Alas ! 
 alas ! how different the real from the osten- 
 sible public man. Must all this theatrical 
 stuffing and raised heels be necessary for 
 the character of a great man?" — and the 
 brilliant characterisation of Charles Towns- 
 hend. In the following year, 1776, Burke 
 made the speech on Conciliation with America, 
 which some critics prefer to all his other 
 speeches for its sober, serene, luminous wis- 
 dom, and the chastened vigour, beauty, and 
 occasional majesty of the diction. The per- 
 oration is certainly one of the noblest pieces 
 of eloquence in the English or any other 
 language. 
 
 On the dissolution of Parliament in 1774, 
 Burke was requested by an influential depu- 
 tation from Bristol to allow himself tO' be put 
 in nomination for that borough, then the 
 second city in the kingdom. He was elected, 
 together with a worthy merchant named 
 
 167 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Cruger, who after his colleague had thanked 
 the electors, made that celebrated speech, — 
 " Gentlemen, I say ditto to Mr. Burke." 
 Burke in his speech, thus lays down the duty 
 of a representative of the people in Parlia- 
 ment: — "It ought, certainly, gentlemen, 
 to be the happiness and glory of a represen- 
 tative to live in the strictest union, the 
 closest correspondence, and the most unre- 
 served communication with his constituents. 
 Their wishes ought to have great weight 
 with him, their opinions high respect, their 
 business unremitted attention. It is his 
 duty to sacrifice his repose, his pleasures, 
 his satisfaction to theirs ; and above all, ever, 
 and in all cases, to prefer their interest to his 
 own. But his unbiassed opinion, his mature 
 judgment, his enlightened conscience he 
 ought not to sacrifice to you, to any man, or 
 to any set of men living. These he does not 
 derive from your pleasure ; no, nor from the 
 law and the constitution. They are a trust 
 from Providence, for the abuse of which he is 
 deeply answerable. Your representative owes 
 you not his industry only but his judgment, 
 and he betrays instead of serving you if he 
 sacrifices it to yoiir opinion." That Burke 
 sjjoke these words, as he said all that he ever 
 said, with the utmost sincerity and earnest- 
 ness, he showed in that Parliament to which 
 
 158 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 h<i was then elected, when he refused to allow 
 his views on the question of giving relief to 
 Roman Catholics, on the American war, on 
 Irish trade, and on the inhuman law with re- 
 gard to the imprisonment of insolvent debtors 
 — then grave questions — to be influenced by 
 the adverse opinions of his constituents. The 
 result was that, upon the next dissolution, 
 after a short canvass of Bristol, he found that 
 his re-election was by no means certain. He, 
 therefore, with great good temper and judg- 
 ment retired from the contest. As he said 
 himself, " I think it far better, with my 
 strength unspent, and my reputation unim- 
 paired, to do, early and from foresight, that 
 which I might be obliged to do from neces- 
 sity at last." In the course of his brief address 
 he made the often-quoted remark, occasioned 
 by the death of a fellow-candidate during the 
 contest, " whilst his desires were as warm and 
 his hopes were as eager as ours," that this sad 
 event " has feelingly told us what shadows 
 we are and what shadows we pursue." At 
 the beginning of the contest Burke made one 
 of his finest speeches, in which his honesty, 
 integrity, humanity, and large civil wisdom 
 are nobly displayed. Though rejected by 
 Bristol, he was able to secure a seat in the new 
 Parliament for the small borough of Malton, 
 for which he had previously sat. 
 
 159 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 To po back a little — shortly before the dis- 
 solution in 1780, Burke introduced his plan 
 for economical reform, in which he partly 
 struck at the great influence possessed by the 
 Court, through its having the bestowal of a 
 large number of lucrative sinecures, which 
 enabled it to control a considerable propor- 
 tion of votes in Parliament ; and partly aim- 
 ed at effecting a great reduction of unprofit- 
 able expenditure. Ilis scheme is one of the 
 many proofs of his untiring industry and 
 wonderful mastery of details. There was no 
 part or order of government (says Mr. John 
 Morley) so obscure, so remote, or so complex 
 as to escape his acute and persevering obser- 
 vation. Though blocked at every turn by the 
 large number of members and their friends, 
 whose interests were prejudicially affected by 
 his proposals, he succeeded in bringing about 
 a large annual saving, and he swept away a 
 number of useless offices, including the Com- 
 missioners of the Board of Trade, among 
 whom was the historian Gibbon, who thus 
 lost £700 a year. Gibbon, however, testifiea 
 to the delight with which Burke's eloquence 
 was heard by all sides of the House. Consi- 
 deration for your patience will not allow me 
 to go into detail as to his defence of Fox's 
 East India Bill (which Burke him.self is 
 thought to have drawn up, and which was, 
 
 160 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 perhaps deservedly, defeated by Court in- 
 fluence), though I hope you will all read at 
 least his glowing panegyric on his friend Fox. 
 One of his most brilliant orations is that on 
 the Nabob of Arcot's Debts, in a celebrated 
 passage of which he painta that most appal- 
 ling and pathetic picture of the desolation of 
 the Carnatic. 
 
 In 1786 he entered upon the most arduous, 
 and, as he himself considered, the most merit- 
 orious of his many labours, to champion the 
 cause of a far distant people (from whom he 
 said, he could get no thanks) against their 
 powerful and tyrannical oppressor. That he 
 did so from the purest of motires, I suppose 
 nobody now doubts ; that Hastings was at all 
 guilty has been of late most strongly denied. 
 Maeaulay admits that the plain truth is Has- 
 tings committed some great crimes, at the 
 thought of which Burke's blood boiled (for, as 
 Burke once said of himself, " in his breast no 
 anger, durable or vehement, had ever been 
 kindled but by what he considered as 
 tyranny"). But Macaulay's celebrated essay 
 on Hastings is declared to be untrustworthy. 
 We are told he set himself to advocate the 
 cause of the Whig party (then undivided), 
 which had taken up the prosecution of Hast- 
 ings.' It appears to me, however, that recent 
 writers, in view of Hastings' pre-eminent ser- 
 vices, have almost come to the conclusion that 
 
 161 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 the end justifies the means, and that, there- 
 fore, they wink verj' hard at the gross mal- 
 practices and the hideous cruelties of which 
 he was at times guilty. It is true that 
 great empires have seldom, perhaps never, 
 been founded by pure justice ; but, as iu 
 the case of the French Revolution Burke 
 thought there could be no true freedom with- 
 out justice, so here he set no store by acquisi- 
 tion of territory however vast, or of revenue 
 however ample, which he believed to have 
 been obtained by unjust and disgraceful 
 means. With incredible toil, though he was 
 near 60 years of age, he devoted his whole 
 energy, week after week, month after month, 
 nay, year after year, to acquiring a thorough 
 knowledge -of the condition and history 
 of India, and to pleading its cause in the 
 teeth of a strong opposition, backed by all the 
 immense influence of the Court. The scene 
 at the opening of the trial of Warren Hast- 
 ings has been described by Macaulay in a 
 highly-wrought (perhaps too highly-wrought) 
 passage, in which he also relates the extra- 
 ordinary effect of the advocate's burning elo- 
 quence. Hastings himself is said to have re- 
 marked, " For half an hour I looked up at 
 the orator in a reverie of wonder, and during 
 that space I actually felt myself the most 
 culpable man on earth ; but I recurred to my 
 
 162 
 
Edmund BurJce. 
 
 own bosom, and there found a consciousness 
 that consoled me under all I heard and all I 
 suffered." Though Hastings, considering all 
 the circumstances, no doubt deserved his final 
 acquittal, yet it has been truly said that 
 Burke's exertions had this great result, that 
 since then " the crimes which sullied the 
 glory of Hastings have never been repeated 
 by the worst of his successors." All who 
 ruled India, from the Governor-General to 
 the lowest clerk, were taught to remember 
 that there were watchful eyes in England, 
 keen to descry any misdeed even at so remote 
 a distance, and tongues eloquent to denounce 
 it. 
 
 In 1789 (as you are all aware) broke out 
 that tremendous revolution in France, before 
 the horrors of which we yet stand appalled as 
 before a terrific convulsion of nature. At 
 first it was hailed in^ngland by the great 
 majority with delight, and Fox uttered the 
 opinion of the large body of Englishmen who 
 looked upon the French as in slavery to an 
 absolute despotism, when he cried, " How 
 much the greatest event is this that has ever 
 happened in the world, and how much the 
 best !" Burke, however, from the beginning 
 viewed the course of events in France with 
 deep distrust. He saw with horror the break- 
 ing up of all the old institutions, ecclesiaa- 
 
 163 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 tical and civil, and he looked with contempt 
 on the efforts at reconstruction of the theor- 
 ists, who appeared to him to build as if they 
 were building a house of cards. " By this 
 unprincipled facility of changing the State 
 (he writes) as often, and as much, and in as 
 many ways as there are floating fancies or 
 fashions, the whole chain and continuation 
 of the commonwealth would be broken ; no 
 one generation could link with the other ; men 
 would become little better than the flies of a 
 summer." He maintained that the French 
 might have built up a sound and solid govern- 
 ment out of the remains of their old consti- 
 tution. They had, he said, in some parts the 
 walls and, in all, the foundations of a noble 
 and venerable castle. With regard to his 
 denunciation of the geometric and literary 
 methods at first adopted, Mr. Morley observes, 
 "No part of ihe Re-llec^mms is more energetic ; 
 and these are just what the modem explorer 
 hits upon as one of the fatal secrets of the 
 catastrophe." Another fatal blot that Burke 
 put his finger upon was the provision made 
 for an elective clergy, which, he said, 
 would drive out of the clerical profession all 
 men of sobriety, all who could pretend to in- 
 dependence in their function or their conduct, 
 and which would throw the whole direction 
 of the public mind into the hands of a set of 
 
 164 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 licentious, bold, crafty, factious, flattering 
 wretches, of such condition and such habits 
 of life as would make .their contemptible pen- 
 sions (in comparison of which the stipend of 
 an exciseman was lucrative and honourable) 
 an object of low and illiberal intrigue. In 
 one of the many passages which show his 
 marvellous foresight, he writes: — "In the 
 weakness of one kind of authority and the 
 fluctuation of all, the officers of the army will 
 remain for some time mutinous and full of 
 faction until some popular general who un- 
 derstands the art of conciliating the soldiery, 
 and who possesses the true spirit of command, 
 shall draw the eyes of all men upon himself. 
 The moment in which that event shall hap- 
 pen, the person who really - commands the 
 army is your master." 
 
 Yet, though Burke's Reflections on the 
 French Revolution cojj^in very many pas- 
 sages pregnant with the truest and deepest 
 wisdom, though from the profundity of his 
 observations on man, on society, on religious 
 and civil institutions, they deserve to 
 be and will ever be a precious man- 
 ual of political philosophy — still we can 
 hardly agree with Burke that the French 
 Eevolution in its results was not on 
 the whole a blessing to mankind. To 
 apply the eloquent words of his own, used of 
 
 165 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 religious faction, " On the lava and ashes and 
 squalid scoriae of the old eruption grow the 
 peaceful olive, the cheering vine, and the 
 sustaining corn." It was not to be expected 
 that when a people unused to any share, how- 
 ever humble, in the work of government, and 
 an immense number of whom were suffering 
 from terrible poverty and grinding oppres- 
 sion — it was not to be expected that when 
 such a people first gained its freedom it should 
 use it well or wisely. But when we read the 
 accounts of the state of things at that time we 
 cannot wonder that the nation rose in revolt. 
 " Hunger and nakedness," writes Carlyle, 
 '' and nightmare oppression lying heavy 
 on twenty-five million hearts : this, not 
 the wounded vanities or contradicted 
 philosophies of philosophical advocates, 
 rich shopkeepers, rural noblesse, was 
 the prime mover in the French Re- 
 volution, as the like will be in all such re- 
 volutions in all countries." As for the pea- 
 sants, " so heavy was the burden of taxes," 
 says one writer, " imposed upon them, that 
 all motives for economy or the improvement 
 of agriculture were destroyed." Of the ad- 
 ministration of justice, Arthur Young writes 
 " It was partial, venal, infamous. The 
 conduct of the Parliaments was profligate and 
 atrocious. The bigotry, ignorance, false prin- 
 
 166 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 ciples, and tyranny of these bodies were gene- 
 rally conspicuous." The privileges of the 
 nobles and of the clergy, the upper ranks of 
 which latter were recruited from the nobility, 
 were looked upon with hatred by a people 
 that was gradually becoming enlightened, 
 among whom was gradually spreading a 
 knowledge of the freedom of Englishmen, 
 and who had rendered active assistance in 
 securing still greater freedom for the Ameri- 
 cans. 
 
 The dreadful state of the French finances 
 had been pointed out by Burke himself as 
 early as 1766, when he wrote, in his Observa- 
 tions on the " Present State of the Nation," 
 that " under such extreme straitness and dis- 
 traction labours the whole body of their 
 finances, so far does their charge outrun their 
 supply in every particular, that no man, I 
 believe, who has considered their afiairs with 
 any degree of attention but must hourly look 
 for some extraordinary convulsion in that 
 whole system, the efiect of which on France, 
 and even on all Europe, it is difficult to con- 
 jecture." When we add to these considera- 
 tions the weakness of the King, the rashness 
 and levity of the Queen, the incompetence of 
 Necker, except in regard to finance (in which 
 he was not allowed to have his way), the 
 Court's distrust of Mirabeau, who might per- 
 
 167 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 haps have saved it, we cannot wonder that 
 the old monarchy fell ; and great was the fall 
 of it. Burke, looking upon the form of the 
 French Commonwealth immediately after the 
 revolution, said, with prophetic utterance: — 
 " In its present form it can hardly remain ; 
 but before its final settlement it may be oblig- 
 ed to pass, as one of our poets says, ' through 
 great varieties of untried being,' and in all its 
 transmigrations to be purified by fire and 
 blood." France has passed through such, and 
 the end is not yet; but we can hardly doubt 
 that it was a great gain to have secured the 
 vindication of the rights of labour and the 
 equality of all men in the eyes of the law. 
 
 It is curious to compare Burke's estimate 
 of the nobility of the time with that of Car- 
 lyle. The latter asserts that as for their 
 debauchery and depravity, it is perhaps un- 
 exampled since the era of Tiberius and Com- 
 modus ; Burke — who in his stately way says 
 that " Nobility is a graceful ornament to the 
 civil order; it is the Corinthian capital of 
 polished society " — declares that his inquiries 
 and observations did not present to him any 
 incorrigible vices in the noblesse of France, 
 or any abuse which could not be removed by 
 a reform very far short of demolition. Burke 
 had a great dislike to pure or absolute 
 democracy. And though we may not agree 
 
 168 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 with him, we should weigh well his reason, 
 which is that " in a democracy the majority 
 of the citizens is capable of exercising the 
 most cruel oppressions upon the minority 
 whenever strong divisions prevail in that kind 
 of polity, as they often must; and that op- 
 pression of the minority will extend to far 
 greater numhers, and will be carried on with 
 much greater fury than can almost ever be 
 apprehended from the dominion of a single 
 sceptre." As we are a democracy, and shall, 
 I hope, remain so, having no liking to pro- 
 duce (as the late Dr. Badham said) the spuri- 
 ous imitation of an aristocracy — we should do 
 well to take these words to heart, for we spend 
 quite sufficient time upon the contemplation 
 of our perfections. 
 
 Burke followed up his Reflections on the 
 French Revolution by his Letters on a Regi- 
 cide Peace, in which he preached a holy war 
 (as it has been well called), against the nation 
 which he believed to be corrupting the man- 
 ners, morals, and religion of Europe. These 
 letters contain many passages of the most 
 splendid rhetoric, of austere irony, of brilliant 
 fancy, of great grandeur of sentiment and 
 expression. Their main characteristic, how- 
 ever, is the fierce invective with which he 
 assails all French statesmen, and the no less 
 fierce ridicule and scorn which he heaps upon 
 
 169 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 those, who, like Pitt, wished to leave France 
 to settle its internal afEairs as it best could. 
 For Burke felt a burning indignation against 
 the French for their assaults on Christianity, 
 on property, and all venerable institutions ; 
 and had no patience with those who, as he 
 thought, could wait till their own house was 
 on fire, before they would help to put out the 
 flames. As a specimen of the grandeur of 
 sentiment and expression of which I spoke, I 
 should like to read to you the following pas- 
 sage: "Never was there a jar or discord be- 
 tween genuine sentiment and sound policy. 
 Never, no never, did Nature say one thing and 
 Wisdom another. Nor are sentiments of eleva- 
 tion in themselves turgid and unnatural; 
 Nature is never more truly herself than in her 
 grandest forms. The Apollo of Belvedere (if 
 the universal robber has yet left him at Bel- 
 vedere) is as much in Nature as any figure 
 from the pencil of Rembrandt, or any clown 
 in the rustic revels of Teuiers. Indeed, it is 
 when a great nation is in great difficulties, 
 that minds must exalt themselves to the occa- 
 sion or all is lost. Strong passion under the 
 direction of a feeble reason feeds a slow fever, 
 which serves only to destroy the body that 
 entertains it. But vehement passion does not 
 always indicate an infirm judgment. It often 
 accompanies, and actuates, and is even auxili- 
 
 170 
 
Edmund Burke. 
 
 arj to a powerful understanding ; and wlien 
 they both conspire and act harmonio^isly, 
 their force is great to destroy disorder within 
 and to repel injury from abroad. If ever 
 there was a time that calls on us for no vul- 
 gar conception of things, and for exertion in 
 no vulgar strain, it is the awful hour that 
 Providence has now appointed to this nation. 
 Every little measure is a great error, and 
 every great error will bring no small ruin. No- 
 thing can be directed above the mark that 
 we must aim at; everything below it is ab- 
 solutely thrown away." 
 
 I should have liked to say something about 
 Burke's apologia pro vita sua, his Letter to a 
 Noble Lord; but I feel that I have already 
 trespassed too much upon your patience. I 
 will therefore conclude with the hope that 
 my humble efforts may do something to in- 
 spire some of the younger members of your 
 Union with a love and admiration of Burke, 
 and a desire to become better acquainted with 
 that master-mind and that great hero of 
 speech (to borrow a phrase of Professor Bad- 
 ham's). If I have done so it is a reward more 
 than ample for any exertions of mine. 
 
 171 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 III. 
 
 A P10DCRN PHILOSOPHER GRCCN OP BAI.LIOL. 
 
 Bv Professor Anderson. I590. 
 
A Modern Philosopher— Green of 
 Balliol. 
 
 I"wish to speak this evening of tke life and 
 work — not of a great man of action, whose 
 deeds remain to praise him, nor of a great 
 master of speech, whose words still have 
 power over our hearts — but of a philosophic 
 teacher who lived plainly in a quiet corner 
 of the world — if Oxford may, without offence, 
 be called a corner — and who, in outward 
 things, sought to be no more than a good 
 citizen. If it be true that the " great events 
 of the world take place in the intellect," it 
 is also true that in the lives of men of great 
 intellect there is comparatively little to re- 
 cord. What we have to deal with is usually 
 a story of spiritual development, where life 
 and thought move in perfect harmony, or 
 where, as in the case of the great Cardinal for 
 whose death the whole English-speaking race 
 is now mourning; the outward crisis but helps 
 to m.ark more clearly and definitely the 
 growth of the spirit within. 
 
 Thomas Hill Green, Fellow and Tutor of 
 Balliol College, and afterwards Whyte's Pro- 
 fessor of Moral Philosophy in the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford, was born in the year 
 
 175 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 1836, two years after the emancipation 
 of the slaves, two years hefore the formation 
 of the Anti-Corn Law League. He died 
 eight years ago, in 1882, the year of the 
 fall of Gambetta and the death of Lord 
 Beaconsfield. In his youth he seems to have 
 been deeply interested in the work of social 
 and political reform. With the fervour of 
 spirit of a young Radical not too careful in 
 his choice of words, he says, " Fools talk at 
 Oxford of its (the formation of a rifle corps) 
 being desirable, in order that the gentry may 
 keep down the chartists in the possible contin- 
 gency of a rising. I should like to learn the 
 use of the arm, that I might be able to desert 
 to the people, if it came to such a pass." He 
 spoke at the Oxford Union in defence of the 
 Italian Mazzini, and was one of the few in 
 England who did their best to stem the tide 
 of mistaken sympathy with the Southern 
 States during the American civil war. To 
 those who cast the blame of the war upon Re- 
 publican institutions he replied, " It is not a 
 Republic that is answerable for this war, but 
 a slave-holding, slave-breeding, and slave- 
 burning oligarchy, on whom the curse of God 
 and humanity rests." These are strong words, 
 and not such as we are accustomed to hear 
 from the lips of philosophers. But we cannot 
 understand Green — either the man or the 
 
 176 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 philosopher — unless we note the fact that first 
 to last the main interests of his life were to be 
 found in the regions of ethics and politics. 
 The questions which troubled his soul were 
 never questions of " mere speculation " ; and 
 although I have called him a modern philo- 
 sopher, I might alsoi have taken as the title 
 of this lecture the words " A Practical Philo- 
 sopher," for philosophy was to him no intel- 
 lectual gymnastjc merely, exercises in the 
 "art of bewildering oneself methodically," 
 which a mistaken criticism has identified with 
 metaphysics, the queen of all sciences and 
 the crown of all knowledge. 
 
 There is no doubt that much of Green's 
 early work was incompletely thought out and 
 imperfectly expressed, but there is what 
 Carlyle has called the "-completeness of 
 a limited mind," which finds no difficul- 
 ties because it asks no questions — ^the 
 completeness and self-satisfaction which are 
 the cause of so much that is conven- 
 tional in our life, insular in our thought, 
 and parochial in our politics. Green, like 
 every philosopher, aimed at system, at reach- 
 ing a universal point of view from which he 
 could look on things — to quote Spinoza's 
 noble phrase, " svh specie oeternitatis." But 
 the width of the horizon never made him for- 
 get the importance of what lay nearest to 
 
 177 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 him, and it is in this union of thoroughness 
 of detail and largeness of view that we are to 
 find the secret of his intellectual strength and 
 independence. At school and college he was 
 one of those clever boys who conceal their 
 cleverness under a veil of seeming indolence 
 and stupidity, and who make their teachers' 
 lives a burden by refusing to submit to the 
 routine of educational drill. He was always 
 " a plant growing," said one of his friends, 
 " not a brick being moulded." " We used to 
 say of him," writes Mr. Bryce, the author of 
 the "American Commonwealth," "that you 
 never talked to him without carrying away 
 something to remember and ponder over. On 
 everything he said or wrote there was stamped 
 the impress of a forcible individuality, a 
 mind that thought for itself, and whose 
 thoiights had the rugged strength of an 
 original character wherein grimness was 
 mingled with humour, and practical shrewd- 
 ness with a love of abstract speculation. His 
 independence appeared even in the way he 
 pursued his studies. With abilities of the 
 highest order, he cared comparatively little for 
 the distinctions which the University offers ; 
 choosing rather to follow out his own line of 
 reading in the way he judged most perman- 
 ently useful, than to devote himself to the 
 pursuit of honours and prizes." One other 
 
 178 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 personal characteristic has been noticed by 
 the author of " Robert Elsmere " — ^his large- 
 hearted sympathy. It was a sympathy which 
 showed itself as often in silence as in speech, 
 and which made him, as it made the late Dr. 
 Pusey (although perhaps to a different class 
 of men) a kind of father confessor or spiritual 
 guide to those whom the difficulties of a time 
 of transition had brought into mental or 
 moral straits. 
 
 It is in Green's minor writings on art, re- 
 ligion, and politics that we find the strongest 
 evidence of his sympathy, where it takes the 
 form of what for want of a better phrase we 
 may call " intellectual detachment," a deli- 
 cate appreciation of the motives of men whose 
 thoughts and ways were far different from his, 
 a keen insight into the nature of those social 
 and spiritual problems which take new forms 
 in every age, and which each age has to solve 
 in its own way and for its own salvation. The 
 English writers who had perhaps most in- 
 fluence on Green's thought were "Wordsworth, 
 Carlyle, and Maurice. The development of 
 English philosophy from Bacon and Locke 
 down to Mill and Spencer has been a more or 
 less one-sided development, proceeding along 
 narrow lines, and ending in a system which 
 neglects if it does not altogether ignore the 
 ideal elements in human thought and experi- 
 
 179 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 ence. It was therefore a healthy and happy 
 instinct which led Green to find spiritual 
 sustenance in the writings of those poets and 
 imaginative prose writers who have held the 
 mirror up to nature. A German critic has 
 called Shakespeare the " philosopher of the 
 moral order of the world," and in the writings 
 of "Wordsworth and Carlyle we have ideals of 
 human life presented to us which are truer to 
 the facts of life than theories which make 
 pleasure the end of existence, and duty but a 
 name for self-deception. Philosophy differs 
 from poetry, not so much in inspiration and 
 insight as in method and system, and in 
 Green's ethical writings we have the thought 
 of the poet translated into the language of the 
 philosopher. He makes us see again the 
 pathos and dignity which Wordsworth found 
 in humhle life. He speaks with the "sweet 
 reasonableness " which made F. D. Maurice 
 a spiritual seer among men, while his moral 
 judgments are so vigorous and pure as those 
 of Carlyle, without Carlyle' s puritanic hard- 
 ness and bitterness of spirit. Green's private 
 life was consistent with his thought. The 
 author of a popular novel has told us that to 
 lead a really simple life is reserved for those 
 who are intellectually very high or very low 
 in the scale. Under modern conditions of 
 civilisation, with its too often false social 
 
 180 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 standard, its criminal waste and unbeautiful 
 luxury, simplicity of life is more of a tradi- 
 tion than, a fact; but as far as it lay in 
 Green's power he did lead a quiet and simple 
 life, happy in his home, faithful in his friend- 
 ship, sweet and kindly in his social relations. 
 He realised Dante's ideal of one who was in 
 boyhood and youth, modest, temperate, and 
 resolute; in manhood, just and generous; in 
 age, thankful and in perfect peace with God. 
 Green was no recluse, but figured in public 
 life. He was perhaps better known in the 
 city of Oxford than in its cloisters. He was 
 a member of the School Board and of the 
 Town Council, and was deeply interested in 
 educational, social and political reforms. Our 
 concern, however, is not so much with Green, 
 the man and citizen, the worker for particular 
 educational, social and political reforms, as 
 with the philosopher or teacher of truth. I 
 have called him a " modern philosopher," and 
 modern philosophy has a task set before it in 
 comparison with which the labours of ancient 
 philosophers sink into comparative insignifi- 
 cance. According to one definition, philo- 
 sophy is the " summing up of the whole moral 
 and intellectual life of the age with which it 
 deals." It is the attempt to unify knowledge 
 on a scientific basis, to harmonise the results 
 of the different departments of knowledge, so 
 
 181 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 that the multitude of facts may be brought 
 under law, and the multitude of laws under 
 one law. It seeks to interpret nature, to dis- 
 cover and establish ideals for human life, to 
 understand the workings of the human spirit 
 in society, politics, art and religion. Now this 
 is a sufficiently comprehensive programme, 
 and it is no discredit to philosophy if its 
 achievements in the past and the present fall 
 very far short of its hopes and its aims. But 
 ambitious though those aims may seem, they 
 are yet natural and necessary, being simply 
 the highest outcom^e of the effort of man to 
 understand himself and the world of which he 
 forms a part. It is not a valid objection to 
 say that system gives place to system, ajid 
 that (though such is not the case) every philo- 
 sopher contradicts his predecessor ; for this is 
 only another way of stating the fact that 
 knowledge is ever on the increase, and that 
 all truth cannot be held in the grasp of a 
 single system. Wisdom is justified of her 
 children ; and if we see farther than our an- 
 cestors, it is, to quote Hegel's pithy remark, 
 because we stand upon their shoulders. The 
 history of philosophy is not a succession of 
 conflicting systems, but the record of a con- 
 tinuous development ; not a series of ingen- 
 ious guesses, but the story of a progressive 
 effort on the part of man, to " know himself " 
 
 182 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 and humbly " to read God's thoughts after 
 Him." 
 
 In an essay entitled " Popular Philosophy 
 in its relation to Life" (collected works, Vol. 
 3), Grreen explains how the need for philo- 
 sophy arises, and the different ways in which 
 man attempts to satisfy that need. It hegins 
 in wonder, in the desire to understand, in 
 the consciousness of freedom. The reason of 
 man sets forth with unfailing faith in its own 
 powers, 
 
 " If she be false, oh, then Heaven mocks itself !" 
 And the popular philosophy of any age is 
 simply the brief abstract and chronicle of the 
 time, the " result of the various methods, 
 poetic, religious, metaphysical, by which man 
 has sought to account to himself for the 
 world of his experience." Here, perhaps, 
 some of you may stumble at the word " meta- 
 physical." Metaphysical ! that which goes 
 beyond the physical, which transcends fact, 
 which enters into a region which common- 
 sense does not know and science ignores. 
 Surely, someone may object, philosophy con- 
 demns itself in being metaphysical. But, 
 according to Green's argument, neither com- 
 nonsense nor science can move a step with- 
 out being metaphysical Man is as "meta- 
 physical when he talks of body or matter as 
 when he talks of force — of force as when he 
 
 183 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 talks of mind — of mind as when he talks of 
 God. He goes beyond sense as much when 
 he pronounces that he can only know things 
 individual or phenomena, as when he claims 
 to know substances or the universal." As 
 philosophy passes from the market-place to 
 the schools, man goes on more or less syste- 
 matically to " theorise upon his judgments, to 
 seek for a science of his sciences, for the unity 
 of principle which must be in that which he 
 knows as it is in himself." Here, in this last 
 sentence, we have clearly stated the special 
 aim of Green's philosophy, and, we might say, 
 of all modern philosophy. It is to establish 
 a science of principles and ultimately of the 
 universal principle in living relation to all 
 the facts of reality. Is there such a principle, 
 knowable or known, or is the search for it an 
 idle pursuit of a will-o'-the-wisp leading no- 
 where but to dissatisfaction and confusion of 
 spirit ? Modern materialism gives one answer 
 to this question. Idealism, as Green under- 
 stood it, gives another. In order that we may 
 understand the question more clearly, let me 
 put it in another form. Why is the world a 
 cosmos and not a chaos ? Materialism begins 
 by assuming matter as the sole principle of 
 explanation, and goes on, as Herbert Spencer 
 does, to reduce everything to matter and 
 motion. Matter itself, however, is left unex- 
 
 184 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 plained, with the result that modern material- 
 ism, in its latest form, becomes a kind of 
 mysticism, a dogmatic agnosticism according 
 to which matter is declared to be the mystery 
 of mysteries, the ultimate principle of all 
 things, yet unsolved and insoluble. Now 
 this materialistic view of the universe is one 
 which has done much for science and will do 
 more. The world is regarded simply as one 
 great and complex case of the quantitative 
 " re-distribution of matter and motion." And 
 so far, philosophy has no quarrel with science, 
 and no right to quarrel with it. But philo- 
 sophy goes on to assert that quantitative re- 
 lations are not the only relations which exist, 
 and which have to be considered. There are 
 differences, for example, between the inor- 
 ganic and the organic, between the natural 
 and the moral, which are more than quanti- 
 tative; and on the materialistic basis it is 
 difficult to see how these can be explained, 
 except on the supposition that new forms are 
 due to new creations. And since materialism 
 cannot admit that supposition, it takes refuge 
 as we have seen, in an agnosticism which is 
 the negation of all philosophy — the assertion 
 that the only possible explanation of the uni- 
 verse is the explanation that no explanation 
 is possible. 
 
 185 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 The materialistic theory of the universe has 
 important practical bearing when we transfer 
 it to the sphere of ethics and politics, for it 
 places the ultimate object of life in, material 
 existence and identifies human well-being 
 with pleasure ; or, as Professor Huxley says : 
 " In the cycle of phenomena presented by the 
 life of man no more moral end is discernible 
 than in that presented by the lives of the wolf 
 and of the deer." If this were true, pessimism 
 in ethics would be the corollary of agnosti- 
 cism in science; the moral life would be a 
 contradiction in terms, and politics a deadly 
 game in which the stakes are the lives of men. 
 
 I do not intend to describe in detail 
 Green's system of philosophy ; for that I must 
 refer you to his works themselves, only re- 
 marking that, with the exception of his 
 shorter essays and addresses, they are works 
 for t^e philosophical student rather than for 
 the general reader. What I wish to do is to 
 state briefly and as clearly as I can, his posi- 
 tion with regard to the question of knowledge 
 and reality, in the first place, and, secondly, 
 to state his views on ethics and politics. In 
 the first place, then, Green admits to the 
 fullest extent the fact of development, that 
 all nature is a process of unfolding. But this 
 unfolding implies an energy, which for the 
 purposes both of science and philosophy may 
 
 186 
 
A Modem Philosopher. 
 
 be best described as immanent, not external. 
 Nature is one, continuous throughout, and 
 must be interpreted without the aid of a 
 mechanical and external teleology. But 
 natural science is not, and need not on that 
 account be materialistic. It cannot say of 
 mind what the Frenchman said of God, " I 
 do not need that hypothesis." Concerned 
 with matter as science is, it is still mind con- 
 cerned with matter. The thought within 
 answers the thought without in virtue of a 
 real spiritual kinship existing between man 
 and nature, and this kinship cannot be ex- 
 plained merely by the fact of a common 
 material basis, but only by the supposition 
 that they are both manifestations of a 
 spiritual principle which can only be des- 
 cribed as thought or reason. " All truth thus 
 partakes of the nature of revelation." We 
 may, if we please, regard the universe as a 
 gradual unfolding of what is latent in matter 
 from the simplest form in which it exists up 
 to the point in which nature "becomes con- 
 scious' of itself in man." But this explana- 
 tion does not by any means involve the mater- 
 ialistic position that the immanent energy, 
 the creative power is material and nothing 
 more. On the contrary, Green held that just 
 as in the words of Tennyson, " The highest 
 is the measure of the man, and not the Caffre, 
 
 187 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Hottentot, Malay," so the spiritual is but the 
 " natural rightly understood." If it is true 
 on the one hand that the interpretation of 
 nature by the supposition of ends external to 
 it, has been discarded, on the other hand, the 
 recognition of ends immanent in nature, of 
 ideas realised within it, is the basis of a scien- 
 tific explanation of life. It is as absurd, there- 
 fore, to limit the universe to the material, as 
 it is to describe science as "godless." Both 
 nature and man are the revelation of the 
 Thought who is the source of all their life, 
 and the goal of their labour. 
 
 The central conception which Green deve- 
 lops in a hundred different ways is to be 
 found in the idea that what from one point 
 of view may be regarded as development may 
 from another be regarded as revelation, that 
 the whole round of human experience is but 
 the self-manifestation of a single eternal 
 energy which lives in all and through all, 
 which " spreads undivided " in knowledge, 
 and " operates unspent " in love. " The outer 
 world," he writes, "is no independent exis- 
 tence, but a means through which man's own 
 mind is ever more communicated to him, 
 through which the Deity, who works unseen 
 behind it, pours the truth and love which 
 transform his capabilities into realities." 
 Green's argument may be termed mystical 
 
 188 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 and metapliysical, but it is at any rate free 
 from the defects of a sceuticism which finds 
 God nowhere, or a pseudo-religious agnostic- 
 ism which worships it knows not what, and 
 finds peace of mind in intellectual suicide. 
 Let me quote a short passage from the Essay 
 on Aristotle, a passage in which Green's style 
 has a quiet, and, for him, uniisual eloquence : 
 " If, in any true sense, man can commune 
 with the spirit within him, in the same he 
 may approach God as one who, according to 
 the highest Christian idea, ' liveth in him.' 
 Man, however, is slow to recognise the divi- 
 nity that is within himself in his relation to 
 the world. He will find the spiritual some- 
 where, but cannot believe that it is the natural 
 rightly understood. What is under his feet 
 and between his hands is too cheap and trivial 
 to be the mask of eternal beauty. But half 
 aware of the blindness of sense which he con- 
 fesses, he fancies that it shows him the every- 
 day world from which he must turn away if 
 he would attain true vision. If a prophet tell 
 him to do some great thing, he will obey. He 
 will draw up ideal truth from the deep, or 
 bring it down from heaven, but cannot 
 believe that' it is within and around him. 
 Stretching out his hands to an unknown god, 
 he heeds not the god in whom he lives and 
 moves and has his being. He cries for a reve- 
 
 189 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 lation of him, yet will not be persuaded that 
 his hiding-place is the intelligible world, and 
 that ho is incarnate in the son of man, who, 
 through the communicated strength of 
 thought, is lord also of that world." From this 
 quotation we may see that Green did not look 
 upon religion as something different from the 
 ordinary life of man, a kind of spiritual top- 
 dressing to be added to a life of material pros- 
 perity and a politics of laissez faire. Rather 
 have we in religion gathered up all the 
 diverse and struggling notes of human effort 
 and human aspiration, not in any narrow or 
 imperfect ideal — ^that we can say lo here ! or 
 lo there ! but so large and so divine that it can 
 contain and harmonise all that helps forward 
 the progress of man, morally, socially, intel- 
 lectually, the desires of the past, the needs of 
 the present, and the aspirations of the future. 
 And religion takes this not as a heaven of 
 shadows in the clouds, but as a living stream 
 of energy in the actual present of here and to- 
 day, making for righteousness as well as cul- 
 ture, conduct as well as creed, inspiring men 
 to nobler deeds, and showing them how to 
 create a higher manhood and a purer society. 
 So understood, religion is the crown -and ful- 
 filment of science and philosophy. 
 
 Arnold tells us that conduct is three- 
 fourths of life, and the majority of readers, I 
 
 190 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 suppose, are more interested in the ethical or 
 political teaching of a philosopher than in his 
 metaphysical speculation. The two sides, 
 however, are very closely connected, and 
 Green's ethical teaching is the natural and 
 necessary result of his theory of knowledge 
 and reality. Just as the spiritual is the 
 " natural rightly understood," so the moral 
 life is regarded as the completion of the natu- 
 ral or animal. The true nature of man is 
 thus not to be found in his being subject to 
 physical processes like the animal. " The 
 highest is the measure of the man," and this 
 highest does not enter into him from out of 
 doors, although such is the theory advanced 
 in a recent work, according to which the 
 natural could not become the spiritual man 
 unless a series of miracles came to his aid. 
 In Green's view the union of the passions and 
 reason, the natural and moral, is not some 
 mysterious and miraculous conjunction. The 
 opposition between them is but the accident 
 of growth. It is because reason is already in 
 the passions that they can be made vehicles 
 of the spirit and servants of righteousness, or 
 allowed to descend into a deep which even the 
 animal cannot reach. 
 
 Further, since the spirit which makes man 
 a self-conscious being manifests itself in all 
 men alike, if not in the same degree, morality 
 
 191 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 is more than a means of saving the individual 
 soul, and the distinction between ethics and 
 politics merges in a higher view in which the 
 interests of the individual and society become 
 one and the same. Human perfection and 
 social good are but two ways of expressing 
 the same ideal of humanity. The individual 
 cannot come to know himself except in rela- 
 tion to the world of things of which he forms 
 a part; still less can he lead a moral life 
 without entering into the life which he shares 
 with his fellows. He can only save his soul 
 as he loses it in the wider interests of the 
 family and the State, in making himself an 
 organ of some social purpose, a living and 
 active member of society. Here we have a 
 theory of the State which rises superior to 
 the view derived partly from Rousseau and 
 the sentimentalists of last century, and illus- 
 trated in the opportunist politics of to-day. 
 According to the latter, the State consists on 
 the one hand of a mass of individuals, each 
 seeking his own pleasure and following his 
 own gain ; and, on the other hand, of an or- 
 ganisation which interferes as little as pos- 
 sible with what are called the " natural laws" 
 which govern society. Tes, but what are 
 those natural laws? We have seen already 
 the ambiguity of the word " natural," the way 
 
 192 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 by which at pleasure it can he made to cover 
 the instincts of the brute or the noblest aspir- 
 ations of the soul; and in its former sense 
 it belongs to the theory which would, to quote 
 Green's words, leave " nothing of the beauti- 
 ful in nature or art but that which it has in 
 common with a sweetmeat, nothing of that 
 which is lovely and of good report in the 
 saint or statesman but what they share with 
 the dandy or the diner-out." 
 
 Green maintains a constant polemic 
 against individualism as a theory of ethics 
 and politics, not, however, in favour of an 
 artificial State control, against which the citi- 
 zens have no rights. On the contrary, his 
 idea of a true liberal programme he declared 
 to be the " removal of all obstructions which 
 the law can remove to the free development 
 of English citizens." If we were asked what 
 result we looked for from the enfranchise- 
 ment of the people, we answer — That is not 
 the present question. Untie the man's legs, 
 and then it will be time to speculate how he 
 will walk. The liberation of the individual 
 from external restraints is one of the ends 
 of society, no doubt, but only as a means to 
 a higher end, and this higher end demands 
 for its realisation more than a merely nega- 
 tive freedom. It demands, among other 
 
 193 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 things the positive development of all that is 
 involved in the idea of citizenship. 
 
 Thou shalt not covet, but tradition 
 Approves all forma of competition. 
 
 So runs the latest form of the tenth com- 
 mandment. It may happen, however, that in 
 the development of the idea of citizenship it 
 may seem good to the citizens to put certain 
 restrictions upon competition. An English 
 manufacturer in giving evidence before a 
 commission of the House of Commons 
 declared that it was to the interest of the 
 nation that there should be unlimited compe- 
 tition for employment, for then the price of 
 labour would fall, and with it the cost of pro- 
 duction. He added that he often increased 
 his profits by turning out workmen and re- 
 placing them by apprentices. When asked 
 what happened to the workmen, he replied, 
 "I do not know, I left their fate to the natural 
 laws which govern society." A good many 
 things have happened since that evidence was 
 given, and we now, I suppose, generally 
 admit that it may sometimes be the duty of 
 the citizen, for the State's sake, as well as 
 for his own sake, to interfere with the 
 " natural " laws which govern society, or, to 
 put it in a more familiar way, to interfere 
 with the forms of free contract where it is 
 impossible to maintain the reality. 
 
 194 
 
A Modern PMlosofher . 
 
 Now, the philosopher is not a prophet, nor 
 id he usually even a practical politician. He 
 has no special nostrum for the disease of the 
 body politic, and when a social crisis takes 
 place, there is more need of the practical 
 than of the theoretical philosopher. One of 
 the most acute observers and critics of poli- 
 tical life in Australia said the other day, 
 " The man who would be most welcome at 
 the coming conference would be, not the 
 homilist with a denunciation of property on 
 his lips and the ground plan of a new Jeru- 
 salem for labour in his pocket, but the inven- 
 tive genius who would discover a real modus 
 Vivendi for labour and capital, and some work- 
 able machinery for adjusting their differences 
 before they have time to set them by the ears 
 and make the whole social fabric totter to its 
 base." 
 
 But if he cannot find a cure for strikes, the 
 philosophic thinker and moral teacher can, at 
 any rate, try to discover and enunciate those 
 conditions under which alone the idea of 
 citizenship can be realised. Freedom of con- 
 tract and Rousseau's doctrine of natural 
 rights are not to be accepted blindly, as if 
 they had been given from some modern Sinai. 
 Society enforces contracts with a purpose, and 
 if an agitation strikes at the roots of all con- 
 tract, it imperils the foundation of society 
 
 195 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 itself. If the humblest labourer is in danger 
 from the tyranny of his fellows, he has n 
 ripht to call the whole force of the State to 
 his assistance. But Green lays stress upon 
 another truth too easily ignored, that it is bad 
 policy to "insist on maintaining the forms of 
 free contract where the reality is impos- 
 sible " ; and further, that labourers have a 
 right (call it natural or social, or whatever 
 you please) to protection if they " are too 
 weak to obtain it for themselves by contract." 
 It is on principles such as these that Green 
 justifies the modern interference of the State 
 with the individual in the matters of labour, 
 health, and education, and specially in the 
 case of land : " Our present system of great 
 estates gives a false set to society from top to 
 bottom. It causes exaggerated luxury at the 
 top, flunkeyism in the middle, poverty and 
 recklessness at the bottom. There is no 
 remedy for this poverty and recklessness as 
 long as those who live on the land have no 
 
 real and permanent interest in it 
 
 It is this debased population that gluts the 
 labour market, and constantly threatens to 
 infect the class of superior workmen who can 
 only secure themselves by such a system of 
 protection as is implied in the better sort of 
 trades-union. The evil can only be cured by 
 such legislation as will give the agricultural 
 
 196 
 
A Modern Philosopher. 
 
 labourer some real interest in the soil." It 
 is by such legislation that the State is to be 
 preserved, or to use a recent phrase, "recon- 
 structed." The reconstruction of society is, 
 howeYer, as meaningless a phrase as the re- 
 construction of the body. Tou can recon- 
 struct a lifeless stationary mechanism, but 
 not a living and progressive organism. But 
 if we take Green's view of the State we may 
 use the phrase, and say truly that society is 
 gradually reconstructing itself in the enlight- 
 ened hearts and consciences of its citizens 
 who strive to realise that ideal of citizenship 
 which (in Green's words) is the "true 
 basis of respect for others, and without which 
 there is no lasting social order or real 
 morality." 
 
 "Your citizenship is in heaven," said a 
 writer of the first Christian century, and 
 Green puts that mystic aspiration into the 
 language of sober philosophy when he bids 
 us seek in the commonweal our own weal, the 
 field for the exercise and the satisfaction of 
 our true nature as moral and spiritual beings. 
 The pillars of society — cries one of Ibsen's 
 heroes — the spirits of truth and freedom, 
 these are the pillars of society. 
 
 197 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 RCMINISCCNCCS Or THE OXrORD UNION. 
 
 By the Hon. B. R. Wise. 1596. 
 
Reminiscences of ttie Oxford 
 Union. 
 
 I think a man must always feel awkward 
 in speaking before strangers about persons 
 or scenes for wbich lie has a great attachment. 
 For an Oxonian to speak in Sydney about 
 Oxford is to steer between opposite difficulties. 
 One fears on the one hand to give way to 
 that dreamy delight in the beauties of the 
 place and its life, which never fails to rouse 
 the scorn and wrath of practical and well- 
 informed persons, among whom, of course, I 
 count all members of the University of 
 Cambridge ; while on the opposite side there 
 are certain commonplaces about the value of 
 University training to a young community 
 which are not precisely true, and are apt to 
 be flung back contemptuously in one's face. 
 
 Especially is this the case in speaking of 
 the Oxford Union. There is a personal diffi- 
 culty also to such Oxonians as have enjoyed 
 the membership of that Society and been 
 honoured with the confidence of their fellow- 
 members. Even if its rooms have no personal 
 association to them as the scene of parly 
 friendships, those to whom mention of the 
 Oxford Union recalls the vivid memory or 
 actual presence of Cardinal Manning, Mr. 
 
 201 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 Gladstone, Mr. Cardwell, Archbishop Tait, 
 Mr. Robert Lowe, Mr. Euskin, Sir Stafford 
 Northcote, among its earlier heroes ; and (to 
 name others of more recent fame) Mr. 
 Asquith, Mr. Curzon, and Mr. Brodrick in the 
 House of Commons, Sir Alfred Milner and 
 Mr. Arthur Hardinge in the public services, 
 in the pulpit Mr. R. F. Horton. on the press 
 Mr. E. T. Cook and Mr. Sidney Low, and at 
 the Bar a list too long to number, must always 
 speak of the Society in language, which, to 
 strangers, will seem overstrained, although 
 it gives but feeble utterance to their own 
 warm feelings. Moreover, I am well aware 
 that the vividness of one's own pleasant 
 recollections may not always be the best 
 qualification for entertaining other people. 
 With this apologetic prelude, I redeem a 
 long-standing promise to discourse to the 
 members of the Sydney University Union 
 about their eponymous Society in the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford. 
 
 The Oxford Union is no mere geographical 
 shadowy expression, but an exceedingly well- 
 appointed club, lying back from the noisiest 
 street in Oxford, and containing, in addition 
 to the usual appointments of a first-class club- 
 house, a truly magnificent library of modern 
 books, housed in a noble Gothic room once 
 decorated with the famous frescoes by Morris, 
 
 202 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 Rossetti and Madox Brown, which were the 
 first expression of that aesthetic revival in 
 arts and manners which posterity will pro- 
 bably consider to be the chief distinction of 
 this half-century. The debates were held in 
 this room until 1880, when a new hall was 
 erected on an adjoining site, which is used 
 as a reading - room, except on Thursday 
 evenings, when the tables and stands are 
 cleared out, audiences assemble, sometimes to 
 the number of a thousand, and those formal 
 debates take place, the fame of which has 
 overshadowed the other functions of the 
 Society. 
 
 For it must be remembered that, although 
 the Oxford Union was, in its beginning, a 
 debating society, it soon became a club. The 
 first local habitation was in Baxter's rooms, 
 the site of which I cannot at this distance 
 identify; but after a sojourn there of half a 
 term, it moved in January, 1829, to the large 
 rooms over a shop in the High, now occupied 
 by Vincent's Club, but then known as Wyatt's 
 Rooms. The present premises were built, I 
 believe, about 1860; and certainly for the 
 last forty years the library, smoking-room, 
 and other club advantages have been more 
 attractive to members than the debates. 
 Indeed, there must be many of the 3000 
 members on the active list who never attend 
 
 203 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 a debate during tlieir whole University 
 career, while very few of them take any part 
 in these discussions. On the other hand, 
 there is a well-known type of undergraduate 
 for whom the sun rises and sets in the 
 debating hall. Either he takes an absorbing 
 interest in private business (for it must be 
 remembered that the affairs of the Club are 
 entirely managed by the president and the 
 committee, and any officer may be questioned 
 before the debate is opened about any matter 
 pertaining to his duties), and is constantly 
 writing rubbish in the suggestion book or 
 dividing the house on questions of blotting- 
 paper or quill-pens, or he is a serious politi- 
 cian, who is always intriguing for some office 
 and gives elaborate breakfasts to consolidate 
 his influence or obtain some freshman's vote. 
 
 In 1878 the talents of the present editor of 
 a London newspaper, and of a Tory wire- 
 puller in London municipal affairs, were 
 united by just such a breakfast to secure the 
 return as president of a present Under-Sec- 
 retary of State, one of whose official acts by 
 which he deserves to be remembered in 
 Sydney, was the appointment to his com- 
 mittee of Mr. Consett Stephen. 
 
 Those questions too on private business I 
 How elastic the phrase is ! And what 
 an attraction the questioning offers to idle 
 
 204 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 visitors ! Many a speaker has been discon- 
 certed by seeing his audience fall away from 
 hundreds to tens when the president's voice 
 calls upon him to open the debate. The 
 questions themselves range over every subject 
 and are put for every purpose except that of 
 gaining information. 
 
 Primarily, they are designed to amuse the 
 audience at the expense of the officers ; and 
 as the interrogator has had weeks to prepare 
 his shafts of wit, and is sometimes played up 
 to by another member, the officer who holds 
 his own in such a battle is not likely to lose 
 his head before any audience in after life. 
 
 In private business, as in debates, one thing 
 only is demanded of speakers — that they shall 
 not become bores. No audience is at once 
 more critical and more tolerant. Offences 
 against good manners, obtrusive egotisms, 
 mere talking for display are hooted down ; 
 while the clumsiest or most foolish speech 
 will get a hearing if the speaker is in earnest 
 without being ridiculous. 
 
 It is this intolerance of bores and self- 
 assertiveness which makes the Oxford Union 
 such an admirable Parliamentary School, and 
 gives it that peculiar resemblance to the 
 House of Commons which Sir Stafford North- 
 cote called attention to in his speech at the 
 opening of the new Hall. A man who can 
 
 205 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 keep the ear of tlie Union will almost 
 certainly command attention at St. Stephen's. 
 
 The management of the Union is (or 
 perhaps I should say "was," for 1 speak of 
 fifteen years ago) in the hands of a president 
 and a standing committee. The president is 
 elected at the end of every term and takes 
 office at the beginning of the next. He 
 nominates a committee of five, giving a pre- 
 ference to his own supporters, but being under 
 a well-understood obligation not to exclude 
 young speakers of ability because they belong 
 to the opposite side. One of his committee 
 he appoints secretary, with the duty of keep- 
 ing the minutes of the debates and 
 conducting, with the help of two paid clerks, 
 the general correspondence of the Club. The 
 other officers of the Society, who are also ex 
 officio members of the committee are the 
 librarian and the treasurer, both of whom are 
 elected annually. 
 
 The principal duty of the librarian is to 
 bring down to every meeting a list of the 
 books which he recommends the Society to 
 purchase. In preparing this, and in the 
 performance of his general duties, he is 
 assisted by a committee of eight, whom he 
 appoints without reference to anyone else, and 
 among whom are usually found several of 
 the younger Fellows. As it is open to any 
 
 206 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 member to object to a book or propose the 
 inclusion of another, a librarian is often 
 required to show tact and power in getting 
 his list adopted. The librarianship thus 
 becomes a frequent stepping-stone to the 
 presidency. The librarian's most difficult 
 task was to steer a middle course 
 between the contending ecclesiastical fac- 
 tions which tore the whole University- 
 world from the Hebdomadal Council to 
 the Oxford Union. At times he would 
 be assailed by the aggressive Agnostic 
 — now a leading member of the House of 
 Commons — who with a mock profession of 
 desire for Biblical instruction demanded why 
 no copy of '' The Semitic Classics in the vul- 
 gar tongue " was to be found upon the Lib- 
 rary shelves. On one occasion, having been 
 attacked for his indifference to the claims of 
 ecclesiastical history and esegetical theology, 
 a Librarian in his next week's list sandwiched 
 Farrar's " Life of Christ " between " Letters 
 from Hell " and the " Autobiography of 
 Satan," explaining to, but not to the satisfac- 
 tion of, Lord Cranborne and the High Church 
 section that the first and third of these 
 remarkably entitled volumes were serious 
 exercises of two eminent Scotch divines, 
 directed to the elucidation of the obscurer 
 mysteries of Calvinistic teaching. 
 
 207 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 The treasurer is responsible for the internal 
 management of the House. It is his part to 
 know exactly why there is a draught in one 
 corner of the smoking-room, why the bread is 
 always stale and the soap bad, why somebody 
 snored in the library, or why dogs had intru- 
 ded beyond the entrance hall, and, generally, 
 to reply to all the heterogeneous complaints, 
 by which the crotchety or ingenious member 
 harasses the life of a club committee. The 
 treasurer was usually chosen rather for his 
 social qualities than his powers of debate, and 
 was always expected to furnish at least five 
 minutes' amusement during private business. 
 
 Private business over, the debate was 
 always opened by a mover, whose name, to- 
 gether with the subject of debate, had been 
 posted in the Club House for five days pre- 
 viously. Other speakers followed, as they 
 caught the eye of the president; but I am 
 afraid it must be confessed that presidents 
 saw the best speakers first, and failed to see 
 the bores until the house began to empty. 
 Indeed, I remember one occasion when a 
 crowded and impatient house had waited until 
 within half-an-hour of closing time to hear 
 Mr. George Curzon close a debate upon the 
 Eastern Question, and the president declared 
 that, as he saw no other mem.ber wishing to 
 address the House, he called on Mr. Curzon 
 
 208 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 to reply ; although all the time — so the presi- 
 dent was told afterwards — a most worthy 
 member with a talent for being inopportune 
 was on his legs gesticulating. The president 
 had failed to see him because he had fixed his 
 gaze upon the ceiling, and the man was 
 standing on the floor ! The disappointed 
 member and his friends brought the matter 
 up at the next week's private business, but 
 the same president ruled them out of order 
 for referring to a previous meeting, and the 
 House laughed them down. I have often 
 wished, while sitting in the Legislative 
 Assembly, that members who complain that 
 they are slighted by the Speaker, and insist 
 that every member has equal rignts, could 
 have served a year's apprenticeship in that 
 atmosphere of frankness, generosity, high 
 spirits, prejudice, independence, and indiffer- 
 ence! They would then have learnt that 
 merited distinctions are a necessary accom- 
 paniment of true equality. 
 
 The subject for debate was usually chosen 
 from a number submitted to the committee 
 by ambitious orators; but if none of these 
 were suitable it became the duty of a member 
 of the committee to support a good subject, 
 and as the president's success depended to a 
 considerable extent upon the quality of the 
 debates during his term of office, he took care 
 
 209 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 in dhoosing his committee to select men who 
 could be depended upon in such an emer- 
 gency. Politics generally proved the most 
 attractive subject : though all were open to 
 discussion except theology and topics which 
 touched upon it. So sensitive is public feel- 
 ing about this exception that in December, 
 1887, the motion that " Suicide is expedient 
 and justifiable " was protested against as 
 " involving theology," and the adjournment 
 of the House was moved in order to prevent 
 its discussion. The motion for adjournment 
 was lost by 10 votes, the numbers being : 
 Ayes, 70 ; noes, 80. And how interesting the 
 subjects are which have been chosen ! To 
 peruse the records of the Society since its 
 foundation on February 2nd, 1826, is to 
 obtain a view of the changing phases of Eng- 
 lish life and thought, no less complete and 
 accurate than is given by the cartoons in 
 Punch. The subject of the very first debate 
 is at once characteristic of Oxford and redo- 
 lent of a past age : " That the present system 
 of Mechanics' Institutions for the scientific 
 instruction of the labouring classes is not likely 
 to prove beneficial to the country." 
 
 And such motions as these, " That forgery 
 ought not to be punished by death " ; that " It 
 is a less crime to steal a -sheep than to hang a 
 man for stealing one " (which, by the way, 
 
 210 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 were both lost) ; to what a remote age they 
 seemed to belong, and yet how near they 
 bring us to Eomilly's successful efEorts to 
 reform our penal system ! The vicissitudes 
 of Parliamentary reform ; the growing disap- 
 pointment with Lord Grey's administration ; 
 the progress of the movement against slavery 
 (which, in the Oxford Union as elsewhere, 
 was always supported by a Wilberforce) ; 
 the growth of the Anti-Corn Law agi- 
 tation; the changes in political relations 
 on the Continent of Europe; the great 
 developments of social energy, directed 
 first towards an improvement of the 
 physical surroundings of the poor, and 
 later towards an improvement in their 
 industrial relations — all these phases of 
 thought and activity are brought before us 
 by the Minute Book of the Oxford Union, 
 together with many other echoes of distant 
 and less interesting controversies. Who, for 
 instance, now knows or cares whether the 
 " Duke of Reichstadt had a better right to the 
 crown of France than Charles X." (November 
 4th, 1830), or " whether Donna Maria was the 
 legitimate successor to the Throne of Portugal." 
 (November 18th, 1833)? 
 
 Then how decided the Society has always 
 been in its opinions ! The House of Lords 
 might give way before the inroads of Demo- 
 
 211 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 cracy ; but the temper of the Union was 
 iinbroken and its courage undismayed ! The 
 " national crime of 1688 " was still unatoned 
 for, and to the usurpation of the Dutch 
 Invader all England's evils could be clearly 
 traced ! Others might play with reform and 
 palter with Democracy, but the Union stood 
 unaltered in the ancient ways — the uncom- 
 promising enemy of Liberalism; the un- 
 daunted friend of the Church ; the accurate 
 exponent of the thoughts of the British aris- 
 tocracy ! It rejected the Reform Bill of 
 1832, long after this had been passed by Par- 
 liament; and has always shown a watchful 
 and determined opposition to attacks upon 
 the British Constitution ! It has surveyed 
 mankind and the political afEairs of mankind 
 from China to Peru, and has always taken a 
 particular and patronising interest in the for- 
 tunes of the United States ; having pointed 
 out so far back as 1836, on the motion of Mr. 
 Cardwell, " That no remedy can be expected 
 for the evils of American society tcithout an 
 entire change in the form of Government in 
 that country," and having further declared in 
 1841, by a majority of twelve, " That the 
 Ijower of the United States is of a character 
 calculated to experience a speedy decay." 
 Thus, as the terms of these motions indicate, 
 the only feature in which the discussions of 
 
 212 
 
Reminiseences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 the Union bear resemblance to those of less 
 famous societies, is, that its m.embers have 
 been generally ready to talk the most upon 
 those subjects about which they know the 
 least ! 
 
 But although it has been thus rigid and 
 inexorable in its political orthodoxy, the 
 Union has always shown an open mind on 
 non-political subjects. Thus it was not pre- 
 pared to " disbelieve those jihenomena com- 
 monly known as ghosts." It has several 
 times approved of State aid being extended to 
 the stage ; it would have opened all Museums 
 and Galleries on Sundays very many years 
 ago ; while the motion " That this House 
 desires to be cremated " was carried in 1888 by 
 u majority of three. It refused, however, by 
 a small majority, to express the opinion 
 " That the time is ripe for a revolt of man 
 against the growing ascendency of womMn."* 
 (October 18, 1888), and in spite of its often 
 expressed dissatisfaction with things in gene- 
 ral, it refused to agree with the proposition 
 " That this House wishes it had been born at 
 Athens in the year 490 B.C." It has several 
 times pronounced "Cheap Law" to be a 
 " national evil," and very early in its career 
 
 * So far as I am aware no woman has yet spoken in the Oxford 
 Union, though Mr. Hare mentions, in The Story of My Life, that 
 when the subject of ghosts was brought forward for debate in 1860, 
 Mrs. Gaskell, the authoress of Crcmford, wished to have spoken on the 
 subject from the gallery, but refrained. 
 
 213 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 adopted the opinion that " The infiiience of 
 the Press, both weeMy and daily, is wholly per- 
 nicious," a declaration which was renewed in 
 1878 without a division, the only speaker in 
 the negative being a Guinea Coast negro 
 named Cole (who was of course known every- 
 where as King Cole) and who greatly disap- 
 pointed the Missionary Society which paid 
 for his education, by preferring the too open 
 worship of Bacchus and Venus to more ortho- 
 dox studies. The view of the Union about 
 public affairs has always been extremely 
 gloomy. It has viewed "with alarm and re- 
 . gret " the introduction of the Caucus system. 
 It has declared every Liberal Government 
 " hopelessly incompetent." It has regarded 
 the spread of Socialism as " dangerous." It 
 has " regretted " any further extension of the 
 Franchise on several occasions and viewed 
 " with concern " the tendency of modern 
 governments towards paternal legislation; 
 while the social: condition of the country has 
 afforded it " grave cause for alarm " since 
 the first year of its foundation. Nevertheless, 
 as I have already mentioned, it would not 
 have been born in Athens in B.C. 490. 
 
 After this enumeration of the subjects of 
 debate you will not perhaps be surprised to 
 hear that the Society had the candour on 
 June 6th, 1889, to vote by a majority of three 
 
 214 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 " That this House deplores its fast history as 
 recorded in the minutes of puhlie business." 
 
 The Union was not the only field for the 
 political training of undergraduates. There 
 were also several political clubs, of which the 
 Canning and the Chatham represented vary- 
 ing shades of Toryism, while the Liberals met 
 under the Whig aegis of Lord Palmerston. 
 Admission to these Clubs was, in my time, a 
 mark of some distinction, since the members 
 seldom exceeded thirty. They had no local 
 habitation, but met in the privacy of mem- 
 bers' rooms, except on the occasion of an 
 annual banquet, which was generally 
 attended by some notable politician. Mr. 
 Gladstone, for instance, was the principal 
 guest on one occasion at the dinner of the 
 Palmerston Club; while the rival societies 
 entertained at different times. Sir Stafford 
 Northcote and Lord llandolph Churchill. 
 
 Sometimes the associations of the Union 
 continued beyond the close of an undergradu- 
 ate career. Thus in the early " Eighties ' 
 Arnold Toynbee kept together a small band 
 of friends, who met each other twice a term 
 during three years alternately in Oxford and 
 in London, for the purpose of reading and 
 criticising an essay by one of them on some 
 selected question of politics or sociology. 
 The members of this group, who dubbed 
 
 215 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 themselves proudly "The Society," were 
 Arnold Toynbee, Alfred Milner, E. T. Cook, 
 H. Hamilton, B. R. Wise, E. T. Rogers, D. S. 
 Ritchie, E. C. Montague, Hon. W. Bruce and 
 P. L. Gell, all of whom have subsequently 
 played their part in literature, at the Bar, or 
 in politics. Toynbee's intention in forming 
 " The Society " was the production of a vol- 
 ume in which important questions of current 
 politics should be dealt with dispassionately 
 and according to the best ideas of the group. 
 Owing to his untimely death, this intention 
 vas not realised ; but Mr. Montague's 
 "Limits of Individualism," Mr. Ritchie's vol- 
 umes on "State Interference," and the writer's 
 " Industrial Freedom," all had their origin 
 in discussions at these meetings ; while Lord 
 Milner and Mr. Cook used often to impress 
 their hearers with those views on foreign 
 and State politics with which the public have 
 since become familiar in the despatches of the 
 one and the leading articles of the other. It 
 may be interesting to recall that it was a fre- 
 quent subject of discussion in " The Society " 
 to what side of politics Lord Milner be- 
 longed!* 
 
 * Among: the most Dotable members of the Union at an excep- 
 tionally brilliant time in I he history of that body were Lord Curzon 
 of Kedlestoue, Sir Arthur Hardinge, Mr. St. John Brodrick, Lord 
 Cranborne, Lord Selbornei and the Rev. B. P. Horton. 
 
 216 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 The earlier days of the Union have always 
 excited special interest on account of the dis- 
 tinction of the men who were then its leading 
 spirits. Cardinal Manning, Mr. Gladstone, 
 Robert Lowe, Sidney Herbert, Lord Cardwell, 
 Lord Lincoln, Gaskell, Archbishop Tait, 
 Roundell Palmer (afterwards Lord Selborne), 
 Rogers, who became Lord Blatchford, and is 
 known to Australian history as " the man 
 named Rogers " of Chief Justice Higinboth- 
 am's invective,* Samiiel Wilberforce (after- 
 wards Bishop of Winchester), Sir Thomas 
 Acland, .Dean Merivale, Mr. Ruskin,i and 
 many others formed an unsurpassed assem- 
 blage of talent and eloquence whose early 
 promise has since been amply fulfilled. "I well 
 remember," writes Lord Sherbrooke, in his 
 fascinating ChajAer of Autobiography, '' the 
 first time I heard Gladstone speak. It was 
 on the emancipation of the slaves in the 
 West Indies. As far as mere elocution went, 
 he spoke just as well as he does now in 1876. 
 He had taken just as much pains with the 
 details of his subject as he would if he had 
 been Secretary of State for the Colonies. He 
 did not launch into commonplaces about the 
 right of men, but he proposed a well- 
 
 • The late Chief Justice of Victoria, when a Minister of the Crown, 
 protested many times against the interference of the Colonial OiRce 
 (which he said was merely a "cleric named Rogers") in Victorian 
 affairs. 
 
 217 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 considered and carefully-prepared scheme of 
 gradual emancipation. It is not too much to 
 say that even then he gave full promise of all 
 which he has since achieved." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone had been taking part in the 
 debates § for more than a year before he made 
 this speech, and the minutes show that Mr. 
 Lowe had occasionally spoken on the same 
 evening as his future chief, so that his recol- 
 lection is probably at fault that this was the 
 first occasion he had heard Mr. Gladstone 
 speak. Mr. Gladstone's topics were usually 
 historic or political; and his side was that 
 which would be looked for in " the rising 
 hope of the unbending Tories." It is inter- 
 esting to find that his Conservative instincts 
 were not limited by the field of politics. On 
 May 20th, 1830, he spoke against the removal 
 of the civil disabilities of the Jews, and a 
 month later he condemned " the establish- 
 ment of colleges in London for the education 
 of the middle classes." 
 
 Sir Francis Doyle has given a delightful 
 reminiscence of a debate in the Gladstonian 
 days. "As soon as Mr. Gladstone dawned 
 upon the Union, which was not, as I have 
 said, in the earlier days of his undergraduate- 
 ship, he took the first place. How far this 
 
 § Mr. Gladstone's flrat speech was on February Uth, 1830, in. dis- 
 approval of "the conduct oJ Mr. Fox and his party in reference to the 
 Treason and Sedition Bills of 179S." 
 
 218 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 pre-eminence was gained by eclipsing his 
 predecessor Manning, and how far because 
 Manning, whose degree time was approach- 
 ing, withdrew from our debates to fall back 
 upon his books, I do not precisely remember. 
 My impression, at any rate, is that the two 
 were not in full activity together. Gladstone 
 and ■ Gaskell became the leading Christ 
 Church speakers. ' Henry Wilberforce and 
 Hardinge, taking a tone somewhat different 
 from this, upheld the reputation of Oriel. 
 Henry Wilberforce, in particular, exhibited 
 an easy grace and facility, such as the Wil- 
 berforces, one and all, seemed to have inheri- 
 ted from their distinguished father. Part 
 of this inheritance was the wonderful Wilber- 
 force voice, so remarkable for its melody and 
 power. Nor was the speaking confined to 
 the regular debates. Private matters, e.g., 
 whether we should take in The Si^orting 
 Magazine or not, were argued about with 
 great earnestness, and what was said on those 
 occasions showed now and then a life and 
 reality which our formal harangues often 
 wanted. Still, the great oratorical event of 
 my time was Mr. Gladstone's speech against 
 the first Reform Bill ; I may add that the 
 debate as a whole, being the outgrowth of 
 genuine passion, and an excitement shared 
 by all, was better than the average. Most 
 
 219 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 of the speakers rose more or less above their 
 ordinary level, but when Mr. Gladstone sat 
 down, we all of us felt that an epoch in our 
 lives had occurred 
 
 " Another incident happened in the course 
 ol: this debate" — continues Sir Francis — 
 " happened to me at least, which left me for 
 a moment hardly knowing whether I stood 
 on my head or my heels. 
 
 " For a certain number of Thursdays, the 
 day when our debates were held, I had 
 watched, affectionately and respectfully, an 
 old gentleman with snow-white hair, who 
 seemed to have become a regular attendant. 
 Now I am as blind as a bat, so that anything 
 or any person a few yards off is most imper- 
 fectly discerned. I therefore pictured to 
 myself that this unknown personage was an 
 enthusiastic veteran, who sat watching the 
 rising generation to see if a flash of lightning 
 here and there were visible among us. Week 
 after week I kept saying to myself, ' There is 
 that dear old boy again. How nice of him to 
 come and investigate for himself what we are 
 worth. I wish I knew who he is.' This in- 
 formation was soon to be vouchsafed to me. 
 "Whilst the Reform debate was going on, 
 some earnest young Tory had denounced Lord 
 Grey and his colleagues as a vile crew of 
 traitors. He had hardly finished, when up 
 
 220 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 jumped my patriarch (it was the summer 
 term, with the boat races in full force), ami 
 m a bold and vigorous tone of voice took him 
 to task thus : ' The honourable gentleman 
 has called Her Majesty's Ministers a crew. 
 We accept the omen, a crew they are, and 
 with Lord Grey for stroke, Lord Brougham 
 for steerer, and the whole people of England 
 hallooing on the banks, I can tell the honour- 
 able gentleman they are pretty sure of win- 
 ning the race.' Down he sat, deservedly 
 applauded. But I got into a state of 
 bewilderment that passes description. I 
 thought my respected veteran had gone mad. 
 On recovering myself, however, I made enqui- 
 ries, and soon discovered that I had been 
 revering as an ancient sage the white- 
 headed boy, Bob Lowe, now flourishing as 
 Lord Sherbrooke. He afterwards held his 
 place till I left Oxford as one of the most 
 efEective of our young speakers." 
 
 This debate, besides being interesting tons, 
 produced also important consequences for 
 England, because it altered the course of Mr. 
 Gladstone's life. He was proceeding to the 
 Bar, and would have entered an Inn in due 
 course after leaving Oxford had not Lord 
 Lincoln (who took part in the debate) imme- 
 diately made known at Clumber the effect of 
 his great speech. The result was that Lord 
 
 221 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 Lincoln's father (the Duke of Newcastle, a 
 stern, unbending; Tory) immediately exerted 
 himself to bring Mr. Gladstone into Parlia- 
 ment as Member for Newark. 
 
 Manning (Cardinal and Archbishop) was a 
 frequent speaker and leader of the House be- 
 fore Mr. Gladstone joined in its debates, and 
 even then (according to Sir Francis Doyle) 
 showed that "omniscience " and intellectual 
 sharp practice which Mr. Purcell's biography 
 has made generally known. Mr. Gladstone 
 had denounced the Government for wavering 
 on the " barilla " duty. This Ministry, said 
 the impetuous orator, which wanted "the 
 Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the 
 Bill, as if it were a chapter out of their infal- 
 lible Whig Koran," what a failure it had 
 made in minor matters ! Each of these was 
 duly enumerated with a repetition of the gal- 
 ling formula. One of these was the barilla 
 duty, " If they cannot say ' the barilla duty, 
 the whole barilla duty, and nothing but the 
 barilla duty,' how can they force upon the 
 people of this country the Bill," etc. Stephen 
 Denison, then a young undergraduate of Bal- 
 liol and one of Manning's most devoted vas- 
 sals, being puzzled by this expression, sought 
 out his Pope and asked him for an explan- 
 ation of the unknown word. " Dear me ! " 
 replied Manning (so relates Sir Francis 
 
 222 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 Doyle), " not know what barilla means ? I 
 will explain it at once. You see, in com- 
 merce" (for Manning had been intended for 
 a commercial career) " there are two methods 
 of proceeding. At one time you load youi 
 ship with a particular commodity, such as tea, 
 wines, or tobacco, at other times you select 
 a variety of articles suitable to the port of 
 destination. And in the language of trade 
 we denominate this latter operation as 
 ' barilla.' " Stephen Denison, thus carefully 
 instructed, went his way, but in a week or so 
 he found out that " barilla " meant burnt sea- 
 weed or its equivalent, and his faith in Man- 
 ning's infallibility was no longer the same. 
 
 The records of the Union furnish many 
 pleasing indications of the early character- 
 istics of other eminent men. Thus it is inter- 
 esting to observe that those distinguished 
 Peelites, Mr. Cardwell, Mr. Sidney Herbert, 
 and Sir James Graham, were even in their 
 undergraduate days free-traders and inter- 
 ested in economic subjects; and that Lord 
 Blatchford, with an apparent prescience of 
 his future, had already begun to keep a 
 watchful eye upon the colonies. And when 
 we see a motion putting the blame of the 
 Civil War upon Charles I., amended into 
 this form, " That the cause of the Civil War 
 is to be sought for in the circumstances of the 
 
 223 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 times," we recognise at once that sucli an 
 amendment is judicious enougli to indicate 
 an overwhelming fitness for episcopal posi- 
 tion in the English Church, and we are not 
 surprised that it was moved by Mr. Samuel 
 Wilberforce ! 
 
 Another who attained an even higher 
 clerical position than that of Mr. Wil- 
 berforce — to wit, Archbishop Tait — was 
 in favour of removing: all restrictions 
 upon Jews except the right to sit on 
 the judicial bench or enter Parliament. 
 Tait's views on other ecclesiastical matters 
 were less limited. In March, 1835, he 
 BUpjjorted a motion by the uncompromising 
 Mr. Ward, the enfant terrible of the Oxford 
 movement, whose pitiless logic (as readers 
 of Dean Church will remember) drove New- 
 man to Rome, "' That a legislative provision 
 for the Roman Catholic Priesthood would be a 
 most beneficial measure." Capes, a name not 
 yet forgotten in Oxford, was a frequent 
 speaker on the side of the Erastiaus, although 
 his motion, " That the prospects of the Estab- 
 lished Church have been and are steadily and 
 continuously improving" (I^ovember 6th, 
 1834) found not one supporter. What a 
 challenge such a motion must have been to 
 the small band of Oriel men, who were just 
 
 224 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 beginning a campaign to rouse all England to 
 a sense of the Church's imminent peril.* 
 
 Newman, the leader of this movement, took 
 no part in the debates ; but his pupil, Patti- 
 son, who, by his keen intellect, restrained 
 force, and quiet energy, took Newman's place 
 in the University as a moral influence a gene- 
 ration later, spoke twice, once in favour of 
 repealing "The so-called taxes upon know- 
 ledge," and the other time in support of 
 anonymity in journalism. But, as the " Me- 
 moirs" tell us, the shy, eager, ecclesiastical 
 student was out of place at the Union, al- 
 though, as rector of Lincoln, he followed its 
 debates and showed such knowledge O'f their 
 incidents that at least one undergraduate 
 speaker, who owes much to the kindly wisdom 
 of the Rector, used to suspect him of clandes- 
 tine visits to the Hall on Thursday evenings. 
 The impulsive Mr. Buskin, as might be ex- 
 pected, achieved greater oratorical distinc- 
 tion, being nominated to the committee 
 during the presidency of Mr. Highton, of 
 Queen's, in Michaelmas term, 1838. During 
 the preceding summer term he had joined in 
 almost every debate. On May 17 he opposed 
 the motion, " That the present facilities of 
 
 'Another of Mr. Gapes' motions was " That of all methods for pro- 
 moting the substantial education of the people, the diffusion of 
 desultory and entertaining information is the least efficient." This 
 might be recommended as a subject for a Prize essay to the University 
 extenders of modern times. 
 
 225 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 acquiring hnowledge through the medium of 
 the Press are on the whole productive of more 
 harm than henefit," and the following week he 
 maintained the view " That the reading of 
 good and well-written novels is neither preju- 
 dicial to the moral nor to the intelleetiud char- 
 acter." He also moved two characteristic 
 motions, "That intellectual education as dis- 
 tinguished from moral discipline is detrimental 
 to the interest of the lower orders of a nation" ; 
 " That theatrical representations are upon the 
 whole highly beneficial to the character of a 
 nation" (October 25, 1838). After this 
 Mr. Ruskin's fit of Union fever seems to have 
 passed. At any rate, he took no further part 
 in its debates, and after the expiry of his 
 term on the committee, the Union knew him 
 no more until he became one of the decora- 
 tors of the famous Hall. 
 
 The frescoes in the library, which was then 
 the debating hall, mark a noteworthy stage 
 in the history of English art; because they 
 were the first attempt to apply pre-Raphaelite 
 ideas to internal decoration. They were de- 
 signed by Mr. William Morris and Mr. 
 Ruskin, to represent scenes from the Arthur- 
 ian legend; but being painted on an open 
 timbered roof in a fugitive material, their 
 inverted and ragged appearance formed a 
 constant object of derision to the Philis- 
 
 226 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 tine undergraduate. As damp and time 
 wrought greater ruin and obscurity, debates 
 were frequent as to what remedial treatment 
 should be followed. In the early seventies 
 the committee proposed at the same time to 
 save the amour propre of Mr. Morris and 
 presexT^e the frescoes by covering them with a 
 pomegranate paper bought at Mr. Morris's 
 upholstering establishment. Mr. Coplestone, 
 now Bishop of Colombo, led the opposition in 
 a speech which was much admired. " Mr. 
 Morris," he said, " may have some consola- 
 tion. Morris's frescoes will be concealed by 
 Morris's pomegranate paper. But what 
 about poor Mr. Ruskin? Are his feelings 
 not to be consulted at all ?" This appeal pre- 
 vailed, in spite of the heroic declamation of 
 Mr. (now Sir Ellis) Ashmead-Bartlett, and 
 the frescoes gradually became an indistin- 
 guishable mass of gloom. Their influence, 
 however, never died. They were the fore- 
 runner of that aesthetic movement which 
 spread in the early eighties out of Oxford 
 throughout England. Its virtues and absur- 
 dities were many and were keenly canvassed 
 at the Union, but its power was unques- 
 tioned. The extreme " aesthetes " despised 
 the Union and its herd of members, and 
 pining for a more distinctive and select 
 society, took a room in the High, which, sur- 
 
 227 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 rounded with divans for hashish-smokers, was 
 otherwise to be bare of all furniture, except 
 a bust of Shelley in an alcove of flowers. The 
 gentle youth who originated this most pre- 
 cious idea, and who feebly aped a brillia.nt 
 genius — whose services to art it is cowardly 
 to ignore, because of his self -wrought ruin — 
 advertised upon the walls of the Union the 
 following notice written in early English 
 character : — 
 
 " Members desirous of joining a new Club 
 are requested to communicate in confidence 
 with Mr. . 
 
 " The object of this Club is to supply that 
 certain something which is so conspicuously 
 wanting in other institutions of this sort." 
 
 The president, although angrily requested 
 to remove this notice, refused to interfere; 
 
 but Mr. was soon afterwards ducked 
 
 under his college pump, and the notice came 
 down without ofiicial action! Cambridge 
 men boast that such thingis are impossible at 
 Cambridge ! But Cambridge was never the 
 home of movements. An Oxonian, who edits 
 a most Oxfordy weekly journal, is said to 
 have declared that he never met an Oxford 
 man who could not write a leading article, or 
 a Cambridge man who could. " On the 
 whole," he says, " I prefer the Cambridge 
 man." Degustibus non est disptdandum; 
 
 228 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 but wIlo shall say how much the difference 
 between the characteristics of the two Univer- 
 sities is kept alive and accentuated by the 
 Oxford Union ? 
 
 Perhaps the most memorable debate at the 
 Union on account of the distinction of the 
 speakers, and as markinjsf a great change in 
 literary taste, was that on the comparative 
 merits of Byron and Shelley. Sir Francis 
 Doyle (then Mr. Doyle) being, as he states, 
 under Cambridge influences, moved on No- 
 vember 26, 1829, " That Shdley was a 
 greater poet than Lord Byron," and invited the 
 Cambridge Union, which had distinguished 
 itself by the ardour with which it had cham- 
 pioned the cause of the poet whom Oxford 
 had turned from its gates, to send over a depu- 
 tation to maintain the claims of their 
 favourite. Arthur Hallam (through whom 
 the Adonais had for the first time been printed 
 in England), Monckton Milnes, afterwards 
 Lord Houghton, and Sunderland were the 
 men chosen to speak for Shelley and their 
 University. Years afterwards Lord Hough- 
 ton, telling the story of this expedition, was 
 wont to say that when on behalf of himself 
 and his colleagues, he applied to Dr. Words- 
 worth, the Master of Trinity, for an "exeat," 
 he did not make it quite clear to that vener- 
 able dignitary whether Shelley or Words- 
 
 229 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 worth was the poet whose intellectual charac- 
 ter was to be defended by the deputation. " I 
 have always," he said, " had a dim suspicion, 
 though probably I did not do so, that I sub- 
 stituted the name of Wordsworth for 
 Shelley." However this may be, the "exeat" 
 was granted, and the three young men went 
 through the snow by the " Pluck" coach to 
 fulfil their missionary task. Here is Lord 
 Houghton's account, taken from a letter to 
 his mother, of what he saw : — 
 
 " The man . that took the most was the 
 youngest Gladstone of Liverpool — I am sure 
 a very superior person. Doyle is also clever, 
 Gaskell is as different as possible from what 
 I expected, very plain, completely unaffected, 
 and simple in his manners, and good-natured 
 even to boyishness. Sunderland spoke first 
 after Doyle, who opened, then Hallam, then 
 some Oxonians, and I succeeded. 
 
 " The contrast from our long, noisy, shuff- 
 ling, scraping, talking, vulgar, ridiculous 
 looking kind of assembly, to a neat, square 
 room, with eighty or ninety young gentlemen 
 sprucely dressed, sitting on chairs or loung- 
 ing about the fireplace, was enough to 
 unnerve a more confident person than myself. 
 Even the brazen Sunderland was somewhat 
 awed and became tautological, and spoke 
 what we call an inferior speech, but which 
 
 230 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 dazzled liis hearers. Hallam, as being among 
 old friends, was bold and spoke well. The 
 Oxonian speaking is wretched." 
 
 Now let me quote the Oxford version of the 
 same debate from a lecture on Wordsworth 
 delivered at Oxford during his Professorship 
 of Poetry by Sir Francis Doyle: — 
 
 " Some forty-three years ago f brought forward a 
 motion in the Oxford Union that Shelley was a greater 
 poet than Byron. The debate, after the fashion of non- 
 political debates, would probably have been a languid 
 one ; but friends of mine at Cambridge (the motion, I may 
 say, was an echo of Cambridge thought and feeling) took 
 the matter up and appeared suddenly on the scene of 
 action. The first of these friends was Arthur Hallam, 
 the Marcellus of our time 
 
 " The second was also a very remarkable man — Mr. 
 Sunderland. By common consent he was an orator 
 unequalled in promise, and at that moment rapidly 
 expanding into unequalled power. Hia fate, alas ! was 
 even more appalling than that of Arthur Hallam. Just 
 as he was issuing forth into life, all the stormy hopes, 
 all the struggling energies, all the tumultuous aspirations 
 of his imprisoned soul, were suddenly arrested by the 
 grasp of some mysterious brain disease. For forty years 
 he remained dumb, torpid, and motionless, recalling to 
 our minds that mighty image, suggesting itself to the 
 poet among the glaciers of Switzerland, of 
 ' A cataract 
 Frozen in an instant.' 
 
 " The third member of the trio was Lord Houghton . 
 . . . Sunderland spoke first, and spoke with great 
 effect, though scarcely, I believe, with the same fire that 
 he often put forth on more congenial subjects. Then 
 followed Hallam with equal, if not superior force. After 
 him jumped up a gentleman from Oriel, who, in a bluff 
 and burly manner, began to pooh-pooh the pretensions 
 of Shelley, as to which I need hardly say he was absolutely 
 ignorant; when, all at once, he caught sight of Mr. 
 Richard Milnes, since Lord Houghton, sitting in his place. 
 He caught sight of him, as of one still competent to speak 
 in answer — still competent to make a pounce, and tear 
 him limb from limb. The former orators then, were the 
 
 231 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 mere velites, the skirmisherg of the expedition, the forag- 
 ing parties in advance of the real army ; whilst Lord 
 Houghton repr sented in his own person the triarii of 
 the tenth legion, the Macedonian phalanx, the old guard 
 of Napoleon, irresistible in the attack and inexorable to 
 resistance. In the presence of that terrible antagonist 
 the gentleman from Oriel lost heart and faltered. He 
 changed his front at once, and went over to the enemy 
 like the Saxons at Leipsic, in the very middle of the 
 action, recording, as a deserter, his vote for Shelley, to 
 tho amazement and amusement of the hearers. Lord 
 Houghton then stood up, and showed consummate skill as 
 an advocate. In order to prove Slielley's gradual approxi- 
 mation out of his boyisli atheism to the principles of 
 Christian truth, he read, with great taste and feeling, 
 that fine chorus from the Hdlwi, one of Shelley's lattst 
 works, the chorus I mean containing this stanza : 
 * A power from the unknown God 
 
 A Promethean conqueror came ; 
 Like a triumphal path, he trod 
 
 The thorns of death and shame.' 
 " Anxious, however, perhaps over-anxious to inculcate, 
 or, as somebody once phrased it, lo tread the truth into 
 the ignorant and unthinking multitude before him, he 
 passed somewhat lightly over the fact that the chorus in 
 question is a dramatic chorus, and put by the poet into 
 the mouths of captive Christian women. After him there 
 was silence in the Union for several minutes, and then 
 Mr. Manning, of Balliol, perhaps at that particular time 
 the actual leader of our debates, with great propriety 
 rose. He felt that it would be a somewhat clownish and 
 inhospitable proceeding if these bold guests went away 
 unchallenged — if their shields were not touched with the 
 arms of courtesy by some daring Oxford cavalier. He 
 spoke well, exceedingly well, but the framework of his 
 ar^ment — the backbone of his oration — amounted just to 
 this : Byron is a great poet, we have all of us read Byron j 
 but (and this is my justification for introducing the topic 
 at all) if Shelley had been a great poet we should have 
 read him also ; but we have none of us done so. There- 
 fore, Shelley is not a great poet — a fortiori he is not so 
 great a poet as Byron. In hanc senientiam, an immense 
 majority of the Union went pedibux : the debate was 
 over, and we all of us, including Mr. Gladstone, adjourned, 
 as I have said, to supper." 
 
 And now, if I am not keeping you too long 
 from following Mr. Gladstone and his friends 
 
 232 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 to supper, I would like to chronicle the 
 memorable schism of the Eamhler. 
 
 In Michaelmas term of 1833, the Society 
 elected as its president a Mr. Massie, of Wad- 
 ham, who, being a Radical, gave great offence 
 to Tait, Roundell Palmer, W. G. Ward, and 
 other leading spirits. 
 
 The malcontents accordingly — without 
 formally seceding from the Union — deserted 
 its debates and formed a new society, called 
 the Rambler. Under this boycott the debates 
 of the Union languished and its benches were 
 empty. The obnoxious president, who was 
 really very badly used, sought the help of Mr. 
 Robert Lowe, and on his advice decided on 
 heroic measures. A resolution was brought 
 forward that all the members of the new 
 society should be expelled from the Union ; 
 but fortunately for the society the motion was 
 lost. The debate upon it was most furious. 
 About 200 members were present, and while 
 the president was speaking the greatest dis- 
 order prevailed, even threatening the dissolu- 
 tion of the meeting. Mr. Lowe, as librarian, 
 had taken the chair while the president had 
 the floor, and by his firmness saved the situa- 
 tion. Tait, the future Archbishop, was among 
 the noisiest of the dissentients, and was fined 
 by Lowe the sum of £1 for his persistent 
 interruptions of the president. This act of 
 
 233 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 decision and rigour completely restored 
 order; and though the motion to expel the 
 Ramblers was lost, the discontented members 
 returned to the fold of the parent society at 
 the beginning of the new year. The incident 
 is now principally remembered by a mock 
 Heroic poem called Uniomachia, copies of 
 which may still be met with on the book- 
 stalls. This was the joint work of Prebendary 
 Jackson and the Rev. Thomas Sinclair, while 
 the Slawkenherc; notes were by Dean Scott, 
 the famous lexicographer. The English 
 translation was by Archdeacon Giles. 
 
 Since this storm blew over, the ways of the 
 Union have been ways of peace. There have, 
 it is true, been battles royal over opening the 
 rooms on Sunday, fierce contests over the regu- 
 lations about pmoking; sometimes, too, there 
 have been personal disputes, but the supre- 
 macy of the Union has never been seriously 
 challenged by a rival society. It has con- 
 tinued, as may it always be, the representa- 
 tive of undergraduate Oxford, reflecting 
 with equal accuracy the vices and the virtues 
 of that curious medley; and if the standard 
 of its debates has fluctuated from time to 
 time as the better speakers have gone down 
 before successors to them have been fomnd, 
 it has, nevertheless, always in accordance 
 with Oxford traditions, recognised that the 
 
 234 
 
Reminiscences of the Oxford Union. 
 
 canons of good behaviour are founded upon 
 the elementary laws of good sense and good 
 feeling ; so that a revolt against them is not 
 the way to independence, but to degeneration. 
 The Oxford Union keeps its pride of place 
 because it is not an audience to mistake mere 
 eccentricity for originality, or to think that 
 a man has gained in self-respect by forget- 
 ting his manners. So may it flourish to the 
 end of time. 
 
 After this address was delivered the late Mr. Justice C. J. Manning 
 wrote me the following letter, which I subjoin both as a memento of 
 a delijjhtful personality, and for the interest of its subject matter : 
 
 " I was, I fear, a schismatic, having been one of the founders or re- 
 founders of Vincent's, whiph was so much nearer to C.0.0,, but there 
 was one scene at the Union which I shall never forget. Some one 
 impeached Mr. E. Digby (now I*ermanent Under-Secretary Home 
 Department) after his Presidency, and we had a great roll-up. Know- 
 ing that it would be a near thing, as it was (only a narrow passage 
 separating the ayes and no&s down the whole length of the old Hall) 
 we got stalwart men stationed all down the line, and these, towards 
 the end, captured many of the enemy, and passed them to the back, 
 where they were kept prisoners till they had been counted in_, and it 
 is quite probable that these tactics secured our victory. Dig. was 
 a terrible radical, but I, with many others, including, 1 think, bis 
 present chief. Sir M. W. Ridley (for the sake of Harrow) had to 
 swallow my political creed to support a O.O.C. man, and one of the 
 hardest hitters in the *Varsity Eleven. 
 
 I remember that Bryce and GifEord (A.C.) were Dig's, most pro- 
 minent supporters, and they bad the unique distinction of having a 
 first-class Lit. Hum. to their own sweet selves shortly afterwards." 
 
 235 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 RKOLLCCTIONS OF THE UNIVCRSITY-WITH 
 SOriC THOUGHTS Or THE TUTURC. 
 
 Bg His HoRour Judge BacKriouse. 1597. 
 
Recollections of the Unlversltij— 
 With Some Thoughts of the 
 ruture. 
 
 I am. credibly informed that in some 
 parts of the continent of Europe, certain 
 houses where beer is consumed give to each 
 customer a ticket, entitling his representa- 
 tives to be paid a sura of money by an Insur- 
 ance Company in the event of his dying with- 
 in one month from the time of imbibing. 
 Legislation should provide that some similar 
 liability should be imposed on all public 
 lecturers ; or, perhaps, it would be sufficient, 
 as with the advance of medical science 
 it would be possible, to administer to the 
 whole of the audience, some innoxious and 
 prophylactic anaesthetic capable of exert- 
 ing its influence for a given time, and 
 to make it a criminal offence — perhaps, 
 a capital one — ^for the lecturer to exceed that 
 time. These thoughts, suggested by many a 
 bitter experience, occurred to me when the 
 President of the Union asked me to address 
 you this evening ; and I trust that I may say 
 with all sincerity that I have profited by them 
 
 239 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 and will try to make your sufEering as mild 
 as possible. 
 
 Before speaking to my subject., let m© say 
 that the printer, who, next affp.r the reporter, 
 is the refuge of the oratorically destitute, 
 has done me an injustice in describing that 
 subject. I give him credit for the best of 
 intentions, and for a certain amount of 
 ability, but he has done me a wrong. What 
 I wrote to Professor Wood was : " RecoU'x- 
 tions of the University with some Thoughts of 
 the Fvture." The injustice is possibly owing 
 to a peculiarity of cacography, which, I may 
 admit, has caused amusement and a certain 
 amount of irritation to many of my friends. 
 
 My recollections of the University, at least 
 at second-hand, go back almost to its founda- 
 tion, for I was a pupil of Stuart Hawthorne, 
 and, subsequently, of John Kinloch, two of the 
 earlier graduates, and through their eyes I 
 see the time when theUniversity was not, and 
 its grounds, now so fair to look upon, were 
 simply the uninviting waste called Grose 
 Farm. What a debt we owe to our founders ! 
 What great men they were ! How conscious 
 of the present and prescient of the future! 
 When we look at our noble Great Hall — a 
 hall which we do not use as much as we 
 ought — that hall which, as a piece of archi- 
 tecture, has never been surpassed in the 
 
 240 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 colony, do we not see in it the embodiment 
 of their thoughts as to what the future of the 
 University would be ? 
 
 The number of students at first was small, 
 but many of them in after life played pro- 
 mine'Ut parts in the history of the colony. Sir 
 William Windeyer, Sir Arthur Renwiek, Mr. 
 Alexander Oliver, Mr. H. C. Russell (who has 
 a reputation, not only in this colony, but 
 wherever astronomy is studied), and the two 
 gentlemen whom I have already named are 
 some of those connected with the early days. 
 Mr. Stuart Hawthorne was first an assistant 
 master at the Sydney Grammar School, and, 
 subsequently, head master of the Ipswich 
 Grammar School, the first secondary school 
 established in Queensland, where I received a 
 great part of my education. Mr. John Kin- 
 loch, as well known in '70 as any one con- 
 nected with educational work, was a most suc- 
 cessful coach, and an enthusiastic lover of all 
 sports, particularly of aquatics. From him I 
 acquired that love of the water, which has 
 since been such a boon to me, and makes me 
 still look on a ten-mile spin on Cowan 
 Creek, or some such delightful spot, as 
 one of the greatest pleasures of life. 
 The present Chief Justice of Queensland, 
 the most distinguished student the Uni- 
 versity- had up to his time, is among 
 
 241 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 those who took their degrees within the 
 first ten years. Edward Lee was for many 
 years Crown Prosecutor, and, if he had 
 chosen, might have obtained a higher position 
 — he on one occasion refused the Attorney- 
 Generalship— and was as well known at 
 Randwick as he was at Quarter Sessions. 
 
 Passing from the early stage we come to 
 what may be called the Middle Ages of the 
 University. To this period I belong, and it 
 is a great pleasure to me to see so many of 
 my contemporaries occupying positions of 
 light and leading — Mr. Edmund Barton, 
 Q.C., Mr. E,. E. O'Connor, who, even then was 
 looked upon as a wise and safe counsellor; 
 Mr. Richard Teece, a mighty man of figures, 
 and, in our young days, a mighty man of 
 words, the elder Butler, Professor Butler, 
 Mr. Edmunds, Mr. Carruthers, His Honour 
 Judge Gibson and Mr. Kelly — the last, per- 
 haps one of the ablest of our graduates ; 
 circumstances prevented him from taking 
 in after life that place to which he was 
 entitled. 
 
 The University had now existed long 
 enough for the appearance of gaps in the 
 ranks of the workers. It had sustained 
 its greatest loss in the death of Dr. 
 Woolley, the first Professor of Classics, 
 who perished in that terrible disaster 
 
 342 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 which brought sorrow and despair to so 
 many a home — ^the foundering of the 
 s.s. London. I never saw him, and my know- 
 ledge of his appearance, as yours, is from 
 the fine portrait which is hung in the Great 
 Hall. How he was revered and loved by all 
 those who came under his direction, is a suffi- 
 cient proof that the choice of him as the first 
 working head of the University, was a parti- 
 cularly happy one. This loss, fortunately, 
 up to my time, was the only -one the Univer- 
 sity had had on its teaching staff. Dr. Smith 
 was still alive and fit for work for many 
 years. His influence was felt in many walks 
 of life, and he, no doubt, played a more im- 
 portant part in the progress of the colony 
 than that for which we gave him credit. He 
 did signal service on many commissions, and 
 for years was head of the Board of Public 
 Instruction. Looking back to my under- 
 graduate days I am inclined to think that we 
 gave an importance to failure in experiment 
 and in the working of machines which it did 
 not deserve, and which was more than pro- 
 bably compensated for by other matters 
 which we did not perceive. But it is not to 
 be wondered at if students put a wrong con- 
 struction upon the statement so frequently 
 made, as piece after piece of apparatus was 
 dragged from its place of hiding, " It is not 
 
 243 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 iu working order." The most vicious example 
 in my time was an electrical machine which 
 seemed as if it had taken to itself an enor- 
 mous eye glass. I still look upon it with a 
 certain amount of awe when duty calls me to 
 the store-room of the physics department. One 
 of the legends with regard to it was that it 
 would give a spark ten inches long — 
 but I never came across anyone who knew 
 of its giving a spark at all. Under Dr. Thom- 
 son, who was out off in his prime, I never 
 came. His fostering care was devoted to 
 students of the third year, and at the end of 
 two years my position in the lists was such 
 that I was enabled to devote my whole atten- 
 tion to Classics and Mathematics. He had a 
 great reputation, and if he had lived would, 
 without doubt, have taken a great part in the 
 evolving of our knowledge of the Geology of 
 Australia. He had already at the time of his 
 death done something in that direction. Pro- 
 fessor Liversidge filled the vacant place. He 
 is still with us, and that he may long so re- 
 main is the wish, not only of every one in 
 this room, but of everyone who ha« had any- 
 thing to do with University life. I am spared 
 the invidious task of criticising his work, as 
 I never had the benefit of his teaching, and 
 I therefore do not encroach upon a privilege 
 which you doubtless consider your own. I 
 
 244 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 should say a word witli regard to Mr. "Watt, 
 who filled Dr. Smith's place while the latter 
 was making a visit to England. Kindly, 
 genial, capable, all of us who had the benefit 
 of his instruction parted with him with re- 
 spect and regret, and we still keep for him a 
 niche in the memories of the pleasant past. 
 
 Professor Pell — -again I seem to hear his 
 hearty laugh, as he listened to a good story — 
 oi doing this he was never tired — a laugh 
 which from his appearance was so utterly un- 
 expected; again he is talking to me with 
 words of wisdom and advice, and preparing 
 me, not only for examinations, but also for the 
 great struggle for which, after all, examina- 
 tions are only an initiatory exercise. No 
 man so completely belied his appearance, and 
 it was not until I had completed my first year 
 that I had the faintest idea of what lay be- 
 neath that dry and apparently unsympathetic 
 exterior. But later on when I was admitted 
 to his family circle I discovered what a rich 
 mine of geniality there was to be worked 
 beneath that hard, mathematical surface. 
 Like many other great mathematicians — for 
 he was a great mathematician, as his position 
 at Cambridge shows — he sometimes gave 
 signs, as we chose to think, of weakness in the 
 lower branches. If in the midst of working 
 out some difficult problem on the blackboard, 
 
 245 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 two had to be multiplied by a two, a small 2 
 would be put in one comer, another under it, 
 a line drawn, and then 4 written which would 
 then be rubbed out with the rest of 
 the subsidiary figures and transferred 
 to the work above. Unfortunately, I 
 
 did not get the benefit of his lec- 
 tures for all my time, as that illness, which 
 not very long after caused his retirement, 
 made its first attack upon him in my third 
 year, and his place was supplied by Mr. Scott, 
 Warden of St. Paul's College, who is still 
 alive and engaged in looking after the souls 
 of a country parish more profitably than in 
 teaching the motions of bodies to undergrad- 
 uates. 
 
 I now come to the intellectual giant of my 
 time — Charles Badham. I prefer no Doctor 
 or Professor before his name ; it was too great 
 to require any distinguishing title — and by it 
 he will be known in the history of the Uni- 
 versity for all time. There are some lines of 
 Shakespeare's which are particularly apposite 
 and so accurately picture forth the man : — 
 
 " He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
 Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; 
 Lofty and sour to them who loved him not ; 
 But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.'. 
 
 In some respects it was an ill wind for him 
 which brought him to our shores, but by it we 
 gained the services of one of the foremost 
 
 246 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 scholars of Europe. But it was not so much 
 by his scholarship as by his personal influence 
 tliat he wrought good among the students. 
 That outside he trod on people's corns, that 
 he made enemies — what arreat man did not? 
 He who is approved by all is little worth — is 
 written large, but that during his time he 
 played a great part in moulding the Univer- 
 sity, and that all who came within the circle 
 of his magic influence were affected by it for 
 their lives cannot be denied. If I were asked 
 to say in what his teaching excelled, I should 
 say thoroughness, not a bad thing, be it em- 
 ployed in coaching a crew on the champion 
 course or in translating a tough tract of 
 Thucydides. The difficulty of the latter we 
 often ascribed to the bad grammar of the 
 author and not, as we should have done, to 
 our own ignorance. In this connection I may 
 say that some of the emendations proposed by 
 him were simply marvellous. The late Mas- 
 ter of Balliol scouted all such suggestions, I 
 have heard, but I am ready to believe in 
 them, having seen it demonstrated how pro- 
 bable it is that, in copying, sliffht alterations 
 crept in — ^very often through the scribe's not 
 understanding the author and making him 
 say what the copyist thought he ought to say 
 — and having had pointed out to me how a 
 few alterations, each in itself but very little, 
 
 ■247 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 make a passage clear and translucent, which 
 before was like that famous one of the trans- 
 lator for Bohn's Library, who defended it by 
 saying that he was trying to rival the obscu- 
 rity of the original. Surely something of this 
 sort is better than attempting to lay down 
 some rule of grammar to account for what is, 
 after all, a slip of the pen. Thoroughness, I 
 think, was his first point; but particularly 
 did he try to arouse in us a love of the litera- 
 ture and attempt to make us breathe the air 
 of the time of the author with which we were 
 struggling. Surely this is as it should be. 
 I think very often too much time is spent by 
 the student upon what are but the dry bones 
 of literature. Philology plays too great a part, 
 and some wretched old text which is only in- 
 teresting from its character, and what we 
 should call bad spelling, is preferred to some 
 masterpiece of English literature proper. For 
 the ordinary student to pursue such studies is 
 simply to waste time. His course is ended 
 before he gets beyond the preliminary grind- 
 ing, and dissatisfied, he relinquishes that 
 which, if it had been approached in a proper 
 way, would have made him happier and given 
 him the power to brighten the lives of others. 
 A pernickety uselessness somewhat akin is a 
 desire to know all the tittle-tattle about a 
 great author : what sized hat he wore, what 
 
 248 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 tobacco he smoked, and wlietlier he ever 
 suffered from stomach-ache. How has 
 FroTide benefited us or enhanced the reputa- 
 tion of Carlyle? What gjood result is there 
 from a book published lately with pictures 
 showing the pipes the sage smoked, the hats 
 he had, and dealing with suchlike triviali- 
 ties? The author surely thought the hat, 
 and not the head, conceived the "French Re- 
 volution," and "Sartor Eesartus." Out 
 upon such a method of i dealing with the 
 reputations of great men ; who of them 
 has not suffered when an equal prominence 
 has been given to minor details and to great 
 characteristics, and as a necessary result a 
 totally wrong impression conveyed? Does 
 it do me or any one else good to know that 
 Socrates was henpecked, as is reported, and 
 that in all probability he was not allowed a 
 latch-key? Dr. Badham made us concern 
 ourselves with the literature, and under his 
 tuition the languages were not dead, but 
 living. 
 
 "We were supposed at a certain point in 
 our course to have a lecture on Logic once a 
 week — Trendelenberg and Thompson's "Laws 
 of Thought" were the two text books which 
 nominally we were supposed to read, but our 
 real text book was the Doctor's imagination. 
 The book was but rarely referred to and wa« 
 
 249 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 very often consigned hurriedly to tlie comer 
 of the room, and then the Professor began 
 to talk about anything and everything except 
 Logic, and kept us entranced until the end of 
 the hour — giving us sparks of his own wit 
 and quotations from authors whose names 
 were unknown to most of us. Whenever he 
 referred to a person less generally known than 
 usual, his practice was to introduce his quota- 
 tion by saying to the weakest member of the 
 year : "You will remember, Mr. So-and-So, 
 what is said by," and so on. I must say the 
 weakest member was generally equal to the 
 occasion, for he would reply " yes " in a 
 manner worthy of the youthful Washing- 
 ton. The Professor not only knew us in the 
 lecture-room, but took an interest in all our 
 proceedings. Of this we had a startling 
 proof one morning. On examination days 
 there used to be placed in the Great Hall an 
 enormous water jug, by taking draughts at 
 which the perplexed and worried students 
 could vary the monotony of staring at the 
 angels on the principals of the roof for the 
 purpose of seeking inspiration. Rumour 
 had that visits to this jug were made some 
 times for the purpose of enabling information 
 to be given by one examinee to another. 
 Whether there was any truth in the rumour I 
 know not, but the Doctor on the occasion 
 
 250 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 referred to set us a piece of Latin composition, 
 and said : " Gentlemen, we will suppose that 
 we are in the Great Hall and that the annual 
 torture is proceeding, and to make the illu- 
 sion complete, there is the water jug," point- 
 ing to the one on his table. I shall have to 
 refer to Dr. Badham again when I come to 
 speak of the Union. 
 
 Mr. Hugh Kennedy occupied the position 
 now held by Mr. Barff, and was supposed to 
 be a Lecturer in Classics, but that portion of 
 his duties was perfunctorily performed. I do 
 remember going to a lecture, but I do not re- 
 member what it was about. The fact was, as 
 Dr. Badham expressed it, that the Kennedian 
 Term commenced at the middle of the ordin- 
 ary Term and ended at the same time. Beyond 
 the fact that he was a very handsome man, I 
 remember very little of him. There comes to 
 my mind, however, the recollection that he 
 strongly objected to being saluted, according 
 to the bye-laws, by the undergraduates, and it 
 was said that he would approach the Univer- 
 sity, via South Head, if he thought a number 
 of them were quitting it. 
 
 Before leaving the persons with whom I 
 had to do during my undergraduate days, I 
 wish to refer to one who has a place in the 
 affection of all the students of my time — I 
 mean Joseph Burrows, Yeoman Bedell. He 
 
 251 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 has retired after many years of faithful ser- 
 vice, but annually at the Commemoration, we 
 are glad to say, renews his acquaintance with 
 those who, if occasionally they had a peculiar 
 method of showing it, still had for him a very 
 strong liking. 
 
 I have referred to all those who were 
 teachers in the University during my course. 
 To those of them who are dead I yield my tri- 
 bute of respect; to those of them who 
 are alive, I wish a long continuance of use- 
 fulness. I thank the Union for giving me 
 this opportunity of paying a very small 
 portion of the large debt which I owe to them. 
 They not only stored my mind, but helped me 
 to pass three of the years of my life most plea- 
 santly. I cannot say that I look back to my 
 school days with any great joy — school days to 
 my mind are much overrated, and with them 
 particularly does distance lend enchantment 
 to the view — but my undergraduate days were 
 one round of sunshine and gladngss. 
 
 Shortly after I took my degree the Union 
 was founded, and I am proud to be able to 
 say that I was one of the original members. 
 Our temperance friends will be shocked to 
 hear that the preliminary meeting was held 
 in a hotel, and concluded with a "Tamba- 
 roora," and will attribute any of its 
 shortcomings since to that unhappy com- 
 
 252 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 mencement. The one to whom the 
 greatest credit is due, if credit be due 
 to anyone, for suggesting its formation, 
 is Mr. E. A. Nathan — a gentleman not 
 unknown to our Chairman to-night, the 
 Chancellor. He it was who, in spite of many 
 difficulties, set the ball rolling, and kept it 
 moving. When I look around and note the 
 amount of useless talking that goes on, when 
 I see man after man evidently imbued with 
 the idea that the work of the world is done 
 with the tongue, and not with muscle and 
 brain, I am inclined to regret the part I took 
 as contributing in a slight degree to bring- 
 ing about the present almost universal chat- 
 tering. Here for a moment let me in my dis- 
 course lecture in the proper sense of the term. 
 A debating society is good for only one 
 thing, to enable you to collect and express 
 your thoughts under abnormal conditions, 
 and, when once you have learned to talk when 
 standing on your hind legs, never speak unless 
 you have spent time in careful preparation, 
 and feel that you have something to say and 
 can add to that which has already been said. 
 Do not degenerate into vapid, dreary maun- 
 derers, who can speak on any subject at any 
 moment, and for any length without saying 
 really one word about it. 
 
 253 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 When the Union was fairly started there 
 wa^ the usual dinner. I don't know whether 
 the quality of it or of the speeches afterwards 
 took the palm; both, if I remember aright, 
 were extremely bad. Dr. Badham gave us an 
 inaugural address at the Old Masonic Hall in 
 Pitt-street. The room was crowded and the 
 address so good, and the contrast with our 
 efforts so great, that it was with difficulty that 
 we induced two of our members to move and 
 second a vote of thanks. I remember that I 
 pleaded indisposition. Some of you no doubt 
 have read the address, but I would ask you 
 not to judge it by the effect which the reading 
 gives. Remember that a speech is not an 
 essay. What sounds well when spoken, often 
 falls lame and flat when read. The method 
 to be adopted for the one is by no means ap- 
 propriate to the other. In a speech you have 
 to put a matter simply, shortly, and vigor- 
 ously, 80 that your audience may at once 
 grasp your meaning; while, when writing, 
 you can elaborate more fullv and be more 
 complex. Then, again, words uttered, deprived 
 of the manner and charm of the speaker, may 
 give little idea of what really delighted the 
 listeners. Dr. Badham was one of the finest 
 orators, if not the greatest, I have ever heard. 
 His speeches at the Commemoration were 
 looked forward to even by the undergradu- 
 
 254 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 ates, were listened to with attention, and 
 punctuated with applause. The annual 
 oratorical duel which took place between him 
 and Sir Hercules Rohinson, who was at one 
 time Governor of the Colony, the one advoca- 
 ting the claims of the ideal University, the 
 other cutting down its functions as much as 
 possible to practical utility, was often the sub- 
 ject of controversy months after it had taken 
 place. One piece of advice which he gave us, 
 is, I think, worth repeating : " If you must 
 quote, quote from English authors. You can 
 ■ always fall back upon the Bible and Shakes- 
 peare, if your reading has not gone beyond 
 them." 
 
 The Union met in what is now the Board 
 Room of the Public Library, but which then 
 resembled a cellar, and its proceedings were 
 very much the same as what I understand 
 goes on still. We settled in a way which stag- 
 gers me now, after little or no consideration, 
 and with a paucity of debate, such questions 
 as : Did the literature of the period or 
 the excesses of the nobility bring about the 
 French Revolution? Is it desirable that 
 women should have the suffrage? Should 
 women be admitted to degrees ? Is the present 
 system of Public Instruction calculated to pro- 
 mote the welfare of the peovle ? I notice that 
 Mr. Wise, when addressing you not long ago, 
 
 255 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 said that the Oxford Union on one occasion 
 passed a resolution disapproving of its pre- 
 vious actions. It tried to do what chance has 
 done for this Union, many of the records of 
 which, I am not sorry to say, are lost. 
 
 Shortly after the Union had entered on its 
 career, an opportunity was afforded its mem 
 bers of showing how ignorant they were in 
 the art of public speaking. There were one 
 hundred members of convocation, and by the 
 existing Electoral Act, the University was 
 entitled to send a member to the Legislative 
 Assembly. Sir "William Windeyer had long 
 looked upon the seat as his prerogative, but a 
 number of the younger men did not agree 
 with him, and it was determined to bring for- 
 ward Mr. Edmund Barton — at that time, 
 outside his own immediate circle, a man 
 almost unknown. I it was who was chosen to 
 speak to him, and it is one of the things upon 
 which I pride myself that time has justified 
 our choice. The struggle was a very close one, 
 and our candidate was beaten only by a vote 
 or two. It was during this election that I 
 first met the present Chancellor. This ac- 
 quaintance has since ripened into a -friend- 
 ship which, I think, will last for our joint 
 lives. How he voted we did not know, and T 
 don't think that any except himself ever will 
 We had an impression that he favoured our 
 
 256 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 side — an impression which was not strength- 
 ened by the greeting I received when I went 
 to meet him on his arrival at the University 
 on polling day, and he said, with the caution 
 of his country : " I wish to have no dealings 
 with such as you," meaning that he did not 
 wish to indentify himself publicly with either 
 side. Sir William Windeyer was raised to 
 the bench some time after, and was succeeded 
 by Mr. Barton. Subsequently, on account of 
 a series of circumstances which I need not go 
 into, the University lost the privilege of re- 
 turning a member. 
 
 I recollect an amusiug incident which 
 occurred at another election, not a parliamen- 
 tary one, but one for filling a vacancy on the 
 Senate. Feeling ran very high, and an at- 
 tempt was made to poll every possible vote. 
 One voter, a clerical gentleman, was uncertain 
 both as to his views and his legs. My side 
 determined to run the risk, and with much 
 labour and a cab, he was at last deposited at 
 the University. The voting waa, of course, by 
 ballot, but that did not prevent us from after- 
 wards learning from the scrutineers that with 
 a noble impartiality he had struck out both 
 names on the ballot paper given to him. 
 
 Our sports did not reach the same scientiiic 
 pitch as do yours, but, on the whole, I think 
 they were proportionately better supported by 
 
 257 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 the undergraduates. I have seen practically 
 all the students of the three years engaged 
 at one time in a friendly contest at football. 
 Is early all of us were compelled to take a cer- 
 tain amount of exercise, as for most, walking 
 was the only means of reaching the Univer- 
 sity. 
 
 In front of the University to the Newtown- 
 road, behind, and on its south side to the Col- 
 lege, was a barren waste, while there was a 
 small plantation fringing the Parramatta- 
 road. The beautiful piece of ornamental 
 water which now greets the eye as one enters 
 the grounds, was then a dirty pond, the clean- 
 est use of which was the washing of 'buses, 
 and which was the last scene of existence for 
 all the superfluous cats and dogs of the dis- 
 trict for miles round. Now the grounds and 
 Victoria Park form a pleasant foregrooind to 
 the noble pile of our buildings. Beautiful 
 surroundings must be an aid to your taking 
 the best advantage of the University, the 
 true end of which is to teach you to appre- 
 ciate the beautiful, be it in literature or in 
 science, used in its widest sense, or in the 
 application of either or both to the uses and 
 requirements of ordinary life. 
 
 In another respect you are in a better 
 position than were we — your choice of sub- 
 jects is not limited as ours was — we had three 
 
 256 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 Professors ; you have four times as many ; 
 we had two lecturers, one of them named ac- 
 cording to the lucus a non lueendo idea, and 
 you are helped by an army of assistants to 
 the Professors. I will not enlarge upon the 
 theme, how fortunate you are to have the 
 present men. Several of them are here 
 this evening, many of them are young, 
 and all are modest, and I would spare them 
 the blush of ingenuous shame. 
 
 In chattering of the past I have left my- 
 self very little time in which to speak of the 
 future. There are, in my opinion, two dan- 
 gers ahead of our University. One and the 
 greatest comes from its expansion. That ex- 
 pansion will go on, and there is danger of the 
 nucleus, the real University, in the develop- 
 ment being, if not forgotten, at least some- 
 what disregarded. 
 
 The Arts course, to my mind, is and should 
 be the foundation of all University training, 
 the object of which is to give a liberal edu- 
 cation. By this I understand the power to 
 appreciate what is going on around us in all 
 the different branches of learning, the power 
 not only to do our work, but also to enjoy our 
 leisure, and to make the lives of others, who 
 have not had owe advantages, brighter. The 
 last consideration-makes me the strong sup- 
 porter I am of the plan for University Bxten- 
 
 259 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 sion Lectures. TLey are no substitute for a 
 University education, but they are calculated 
 to create and foster a love of it. Nowhere is 
 this creative and fostering force more 
 needed than in Australia. I have had 
 to travel through a great portion of our 
 colony and have been struck with the mono- 
 tony of the lives of the great majority of the 
 people living in most of it. Their reading is 
 confined to a weekly periodical, of which the 
 sporting pages get the most attention ; and 
 their conversation is limited to droughts, 
 roads, cattle, and sheep. It is not their 
 fault, it is the result of their environm.ent, 
 and they simply want the veil placed before 
 their eyes to be lifted to enable them to rea-- 
 lise that the Melbourne Cup is not the cen- 
 tral event of the year, and that a Turf Guide 
 is not in itself a library. In my advocacy of 
 the claims of the Faculty of Arts, let me be 
 not misunderstood. I have no wish to depre- 
 ciate the merits of the Medical School, the 
 Law School, and the Engineering School. I 
 would not apply the term " bread and butter 
 schools " to them in any sense different from 
 that in which I would apply it to the Faculty 
 of Arts ; every school in a University should 
 teach us to eat our bread and butter properly 
 and honestly, and, what is more, should teach 
 us to enjoy it when we have earned it. There 
 
 260 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 are great difficulties in tlie way, but if it 
 could be managied, every student, before pro- 
 ceeding with his studies in any of the profes- 
 sional schools, should talie the degree of B.A. 
 The lawyers on the Senate insisted on this 
 when the Law School was established, and I 
 am very sorry that any change has been made. 
 The disposition to neglect the Arts course 
 has been fostered by the substitution of pass- 
 ing an examination, which is, strictly, not a 
 University examination, for an attendance 
 which used to be insisted on, at a part at 
 least of the course. When the Public Exami- 
 nations were established they were kept quite 
 apart from the work of the University. A 
 separate Board was appointed, the monies 
 derived from them were kept apart, and in 
 other respects the distinction was observed. 
 It still is to some extent, but day by day we 
 see the attempt more persistently made to 
 substitute the test of the examination for the 
 attendance at lectures. This is one reason 
 why I should like to see these examinations 
 abolished, and have substituted for them a 
 board which would examine all the pupils of 
 a school. This, I am sure, would be much 
 more conducive to sound education than the 
 present system, which holds out a premium to 
 the cramming of a few of the brighter of the 
 
 261 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 pupils, and neglecting tlie larger number of 
 them. 
 
 These considerations have naturally led me 
 to what I consider the second danger which 
 is likely to interfere with the proper working 
 of the University. I am sure all my under- 
 graduate friends will be with me in thinking 
 that there is a tendency to over-examine. I 
 should like, if it were possible, to see carried 
 out in earnest what Professor Butler in joke 
 alluded to at a gathering of University men a 
 few weeks ago, the granting of degrees with- 
 out examination. I admit that this cannot 
 be,, but still there is something to be said in 
 its favour, and in the days when men were 
 admitted as barristers after eating so many 
 dinners, quite as great, if not greater, law- 
 yers were turned out than are now after 
 passing the prescribed number of examina- 
 tions. How to succeed at examinations is 
 something to learn by itself, and is quite 
 apart from knowledge. There are several 
 ways of dodging the examiner without hav- 
 ing recourse to entries on shirt cufEs or the 
 smuggling of notes into the examination 
 room. We cannot do without examinations, 
 but let us reduce them to a minimum. At 
 the best they are a necessary evil, a means to 
 an end — but not that end as those people who 
 advocate the granting of degrees without 
 
 262 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 attendance at lectures would have us believe. 
 
 While, on the one hand, I see these two 
 dangers confronting the University, I see in 
 the immediate future a great gain to the Uni- 
 versity in the expansion of the Colleges. Up 
 to the present they have not played that part 
 which their founders expected, and which the 
 well-wishers of the University hoped for. As 
 attendance at lectures is superior to mere 
 examination, so life in College, with its asso- 
 ciations, is superior to attendance only at lec- 
 tures. And in years to come I hope that, as 
 the Colleges are within the University, the 
 majority of the students will be within them, 
 a state of things which will lead to the benefit 
 both of the student and the University. 
 
 What part is the woman student to play in 
 the University? This question I shall, I 
 know, be asked by all, and expected to 
 answer. When women, or at least a small 
 but loud-tongued minority of them, are try- 
 ing to force their way in every walk of life ; 
 when we see the attempt made not only to 
 wear the frofria guce. maribus, but to wear 
 them in the most aggressive manner ; when 
 we see that in the history of the world, from 
 the episode of the apple onwards, woman has 
 always had her way, sweet or otherwise; 
 there is no doubt that what they are striving 
 for they will gain, and that woman will be 
 
 263 
 
The Union Booh 
 
 put on an equality with man in every respect. 
 I f'an even see the time when, in the ordinary 
 vocations- of life, she will claim a superior 
 place. Then when she has won the battle, 
 she will learn what the victory has cost. She 
 will have lost that one thing which com^pen- 
 sates her for the harder struggle for life 
 which Nature has imposed upon her; when 
 that sense of chivalry, more or less present 
 with all men, has departed. She will have to 
 fight for her place in the crowd with the 
 other sex, and when dispossessed will look 
 back with longing eyes to the much happier 
 lot of her great-great-grandmother. It is 
 because I believe that woman's presence at 
 the University is likely to help the bringing 
 about of this unfortunate result that I have 
 always regretted her admission there. 
 Let her have Universities of her own 
 which will not drag her down to man's 
 level, but will teach her to be more 
 attractive, more lovable, a sweeter com- 
 panion, and more graceful helpmeet, and 
 from which she will graduate as wife. Then 
 will the name of " old maid " be unknown in 
 the land, and to be a batchelor after thirty 
 will be an offence punishable by compulsory 
 marriage with the plainest spinster. Who is 
 such an idiot as to speak of the superiority of 
 man over woman, or of woman over man ? 
 
 264 
 
Recollections of the University. 
 
 Each one is the complement of the other, and 
 each alone is incomplete. Each has its func- 
 tion; the man has to carry the bricks and 
 mortar to build the house, the woman to 
 furnish its adornment and management. It 
 would be well if those who so strongly advo- 
 cate women's rights would bear in mind what 
 a woman has said on the subject — ■ 
 
 " When women in their role succeed 
 To copy men they have no need ; 
 When women fail as women, then 
 They wish to try again as men." 
 
 One or two words more and I have done. 
 There is a disposition amongst some people, 
 arising in most cases from jealousy, to carp at 
 the University, and to ask what it has done, 
 and to be parsimonious about the expendi- 
 ture over what should be work perfomied in 
 the best possible manner. I am not referring 
 to those who represent the Government, which 
 has always stood by the University from its 
 foundation to the present time, but to those 
 who know nothing and care less about Uni- 
 versity life. When I see these pigmies kick- 
 ing at the foundations of our noble institu- 
 tion, when I hear these jays chattering in the 
 wind, I bethink me they are acting as if the 
 gulls which sail o'er North Head or the 
 limpets which cling to its base were to 
 threaten its existence. 
 
 265 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 I have now lived the gjreater part of my 
 life, and I trust I have done some good ; any 
 that has been effected by me has been largely 
 brought about by the teaching, the associa- 
 tions, and the elevating influence of the 
 Sydney University. 
 
 266 
 
PUBLIC LECTURES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 IB5CN. 
 
 Bg Pir. N. J. QouQh. 1900. 
 
Ibsen. 
 
 It is obvious that the successive epochs of 
 cosmopolitan culture have been dominated by 
 the culture of some particular country, which 
 has given the keynote, the inspiration. Thus, 
 in the dark ages, the literature of later Rome 
 was held in solution in the minds of Christen- 
 dom ; in the full flowering of the middle age, 
 the romance and poetry of France were the 
 romance and poetry of Europe. And, just as 
 the ferment of literature was most stirring 
 during certain periods of the fifteenth century 
 in Italy, of the eighteenth in France And Ger- 
 many, so, for the last twenty years, after the 
 exhaustion of the tradition of the great 
 French school of the mid-years of the century, 
 nearly all the fresh impulses that literature 
 has received, have come from the countries 
 of Scandinavia. The writers of its school 
 — men with hard names and uncompromis- 
 ing ideas — ^have met with a great outcry ; and 
 the very head and front of their offending is 
 Henrik Ibsen. Others have been more widely 
 read, or better loved, or more universally 
 accepted, but since Goethe there has been no 
 figure in Europe so illuminating as his. 
 
 269 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 For the present purpose, it is permissible 
 to speak of Scandinavia as one country, as it 
 is only a century since Norway was eman- 
 cipated from the Danish rule which once 
 extended over the whole of the South of 
 Sweden as well. And this strange land is 
 surely the fitting threshold of a new evangel 
 — with its weird northern lights, its midnight 
 sun and midday gloom — stretching from 
 fiord-side villages, throvigh all its long-drawn 
 valleys, to the birchwoods, the heaths and 
 hills, and quaint, red-tiled towns of Denmark. 
 And it is upon the Danish capital that this 
 literature converges, for Christiania is not so 
 much the metropolis as the largest, and, 
 therefore, most provincial city in Norway. 
 The Norwegian writers do not present their 
 country and its towns in a very amiable light, 
 and the centrifugal movement thus set up 
 has done much to send them elsewhere as the 
 Apostles of the New Gospel — to Rome, to 
 Copenhagen, to A'enice, to Dresden, to Vienna. 
 Ibsen knew the narrow bounds of home 
 society, and he looks abroad with eager eyes, 
 seeking freedom there : " If only I knew of 
 any primeval forest or a little South Sea Is- 
 land to be sold cheap. Here, everyone is the 
 slave of his p;irty vorv likely it's no better 
 in the free west either : the compact majority 
 and enlightened public opinion, and all the 
 
 270 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 other devil's trash, is rampant there, too. 
 But, you see, the conditions are larger there 
 thaji here ; they may kill you, but they don't 
 slow-torture you; they don't put the screw 
 on a free soul as they do at home here." He 
 is Norwegian ; yet he is admittedly so much 
 more that his biographers have traced in him 
 the influence of other nationalities. One of 
 his ancestors was Danish, they say ; and they 
 point out with gusto that his grandfather mar- 
 ried the daughter of a naturalised Scotchman. 
 But there are further flights than that, and 
 one of his critics comments on the shyness 
 which is the feature of Ibsen's temperament, 
 and gravely adds that it was an inheritance 
 from his paternal grandmother's second hus- 
 bands 
 
 Leaving aside such momentous questions as 
 these — which have, however, not much signi- 
 ficance for us, and probably very little more 
 for Ibsen — his parents lived at Skien, a typi- 
 cal Norwegian coast town of some 3000 inha- 
 bitants, busy in leisurely way, where he was 
 bom in 1828 — over 72 years ago. Here his 
 childhood passed, and the life of the little 
 town left an abiding impression on him. 
 Nearly all his dramas dealing with phases of 
 modern life are located in such a seaward 
 place, so that it is advisable to understand 
 some of the conditions there prevalent — not 
 
 271 
 
The Union BooJc. 
 
 that the interest of his glays is dependent 
 upon the chances and changes of the politics 
 of the little town, its social graspings and 
 pushings, but to feel the universal life that 
 lies behind this smug domesticity, we should 
 see the relations in which his characters are 
 placed and the environment in which they are 
 depicted. To such a town the North Sea or 
 the broader Atlantic bears its cargoes and its 
 wreckage, and across it come rumours of the 
 great world beyond. The head of the bureau- 
 cracy is the Burgomaster, and the club is his 
 shrine, where each lesser luminary has his 
 niche. Below the Burgomaster is a graduated 
 number of smaller officials ; below them comes 
 the smaller middle-class, and below them the 
 working class. Business is in the hands of a 
 few comparatively well-to-do men, who re- 
 present the aristocracy of the place ; who own 
 the shipyards and the forests from which the 
 timber is floated down to the yards. There 
 is- no hurry: they have considered the lilies 
 of the field : as Henrik Jseger says in his 
 admirable study, " everything which goes 
 beyond the standard of custom is an excess ; 
 every exceptionally vigorous expression of 
 individuality is regarded as an eccentricity, 
 and eccentricity is a crime." It is of such 
 a place not greatly altered with the years, 
 that Helena Alviug, the heroine of Ghosts 
 
 272 
 
lisen. 
 
 tells the bitter melanclioly truth when she 
 says : " The half-grown town has no joys to 
 offer, only dissipations; no object in life, 
 only an official position ; no real work, only 
 business." 
 
 Such were the prison bars, and Ibsen felt 
 all their bitter constraint; felt it the more 
 keenly, too, since it was early that the hard 
 edge of what we euphemistically call life 
 had grazed him. For it was his lot to ex- 
 perience a combination of such misfortunes 
 as may be strictly called public — ^the grim 
 aspect of the place, with its gloomy religious 
 feeling, and its haunting memories, touched 
 with terror for childhood, of the sombre 
 market-place flanked by the church, the 
 prison, the madhouse — ^with others of a more 
 private kind, which led to the fall of the 
 family fortunes, and of the family reputa- 
 tion along with them. Distinctions of rank 
 such as feudalism generally leaves in its wake, 
 do not exist in Norway, but in point of fact 
 their place is filled by the distinction between 
 the aristocratic and the plebeian class. To 
 the aristocracy Ibsen's family belonged, and 
 in his earliest childhood they had been fairly 
 wealthy. But when he was eight years old 
 his father became insolvent, and the family 
 removed to a decayed estate lying on the out- 
 skirts of the town. Here, in place of the 
 
 273 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 gaiety and hospitality of their town-house, 
 they lived a life of poverty and retirement. 
 The contrast was great : he was the eldest 
 son, and all this added to the natural gravity 
 of his temperament. One can picture him 
 wandering out his childhood in the lonely 
 garden, with its dank and weedy growths, that 
 attaches to such fallen mansions. He went 
 to school, where his master remembered him 
 as a quiet boy, with strange eyes and an un- 
 common talent for drawing. For the pencil 
 he felt, indeed, a great attraction, and he 
 determined to become a painter. But, by the 
 time he was fourteen, when the family 
 returned to Skien, there was no question of 
 the choice of a career. Whatever trade or 
 craft required the least outlay in the learning 
 was the divinely appointed work for him. 
 
 He had aspired to be an artist, and he 
 became apprenticed to a chemist in the sea- 
 side village of Grimstad. On that cosmopo- 
 litan neutral ground, the Continent, to be a 
 seaside village is equivalent to being gay and 
 attractive ; to obtaining the supreme distinc- 
 tion of summer tourists ; to receiving, for at 
 least the brightest months in the year, a thin 
 stream of life from the main arteries of civi- 
 lisation. But Grrimstad was not the Nor- 
 wegian for Trouville, or even for Margate. 
 For five years he remained here with his 
 
 274 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 chemist, but in the meantime he had bound 
 himself 'prentice to another trade. They 
 were years of ferment and growth. He was 
 an apothecary's assistant, but he would not 
 be content with that : he would rise to the 
 top of his profession, and become a doctor. 
 And so he began to read and to grow con- 
 scious of latent powers. This quiet lustrum 
 must have been as a divining rod over the 
 secret springs of his nature. 
 
 At length he went up to the capital to pre- 
 pare for his examination, but he took with 
 him the ill-will of many of his fellow-towns- 
 men. For in 1848, when he was twenty, Den- 
 mark was at death-grips with Grermany, and 
 when Norway and Sweden held aloof from the 
 conflict in which they had sworn to intervene, 
 his indignation first found expression. He 
 saw that all the effervescent sympathy ■rt'ith 
 the Danes, the toasts and processions and pro- 
 testations in their honour, were but " the kiss 
 that Judas gave." The series oi poems which 
 he published in the local journal with its 
 " cheap type and common paper," excited re- 
 probation. Naturally, one could not be found 
 standing calmly by and tolerating that the 
 chemist's apprentice should utter/Such daring 
 views, while his elders and betters were await- 
 ing their cue. But he had no thought of 
 giving way, and resolutely braved the public 
 
 275 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 opinion of the little community. And so we 
 find him writing some years later : " I owe it 
 to truth to add that by thus coming forward 
 I justified no very great hope that society 
 might reckon on any increase of citizen vir- 
 tue in me ; since I had run the gauntlet with 
 epigrams and caricatures, against many a one 
 who had deserved better of me, and whose 
 friendship I really valued." 
 
 When he arrived in Christiania, he tried to 
 dispose of a tragedy he had written — Cati- 
 lina — which the theatres refused and for 
 which the publishers were so good as to name 
 their price. A few friends at last clubbed 
 together to print the work, but not more 
 than thirty copies were sold ; and the little 
 company were left with the rest of the impres- 
 sion on their hands, till a huckster bought it 
 up as waste paper. About this time, too, 
 Ibsen came within reach of the arm of the law, 
 being concerned with some articles that 
 appeared in a paper which was prosecuted for 
 treason. But the whole incident, as it turned 
 out, was conceived in the lightest spirit : the 
 police converging upon the placo; surprising 
 the editor in his office ; the editor (with whom 
 it must have been good to be acquainted) 
 gently slipping the incriminating papers on 
 to the floor, to lie there in the litter native 
 to such quarters, and with a fine dramatic 
 
 276 
 
lisen. 
 
 instinct, clutching wildly at other documents 
 far less incendiary ; the inevitable bafflement 
 of angry justice — it makes a diverting 
 episode, not without its necessary touch of 
 grimness in the hints of real danger underly- 
 ing it all, of courts-of-justice and the law's 
 delays. Meantime he was winning a footing. 
 His writings brought him some notice, and 
 secured him appointment of stage manager 
 at the new theatre in Bergen, the second town 
 in Norway, where he received an amount of 
 experience invaluable to him in his later 
 career. He rehearsed about a hundred plays, 
 and this drudgery laid the foundations of his 
 fame. 
 
 With his absorbing interest in public affairs 
 it is small wonder that the course of contem- 
 porary events affected him deeply. From 
 the struggle of 1848 Denmark emerged vic- 
 torious, but Ibsen's eyes had been opened, 
 and when, in 1864, the war was re- 
 newed, and the Northerners driven back 
 from disaster upon disaster, his anger at 
 the indifference of his countrymen blazed 
 out afresh. For the next six years the 
 map of Europe was changing. In France 
 an empire fell, and the embers of the Revolu- 
 tion threatened for a moment to flicker into 
 flame. For Germany the spirit of cast-iron 
 militarism, of abasement before that jugger- 
 
 277 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 naut called the State, witli a divine William 
 figuring as a kind of Our Father which art in 
 Berlin, was consecrated at Versailles. To 
 Norway all this came as rumours over the sea 
 — first the tidings of Worth and Sedan, and 
 then of the terrors of the Commune, and Nor- 
 way thanked Heaven for its isolation ; 
 thanked Heaven that the great emotions and 
 uproar filling the outer world with clamour 
 and sin had no plare in the well-ordered life 
 of home. 
 
 But upon Ibsen the effect was different. 
 He had already seen the hollowness and in- 
 efficiency of the national life of Norway, and 
 now these hurrying events bore in upon him 
 the saddening knowledge of the selfish hypo- 
 crisy, the public ignorance and immorality 
 of the other States of Europe as well. In the 
 house of life thick dust has gathered on the 
 walls, and corruption quickened in its tapes- 
 tries ; and upon the stagnant atmosphere of 
 thought and conduct at home he lets in the 
 fresh air. Here it is to be noted that success 
 but rarely waits upon the writer who rises in 
 wrath against his country. In the vast ma- 
 jority of instances, he is driven to the wall; 
 but for Ibsen there was a wide refuge, and 
 he stepped out of Norway into Europe, out of 
 his penury into his inheritance, out of his 
 obscurity into his fame. And so from his 
 
 278 
 
vantage ground we can presume him looking 
 back upon the past; lie had suffered in his 
 own person, and that, if the bitterness be not 
 too cruel, may be the salvatioji of the artist ; 
 for oiur poor human nature, like garden 
 thyme and the briar of the hedges, must be 
 bruised to yield its sweetness. To write, Ibsen- 
 has declared, is to hold a doomsday over one- 
 self. As he says, "All that I have written 
 corresponds to something that I have lived 
 through, if not actually experienced." And 
 so to read the series of his modern plays is to 
 follow the gradual working out of thoughts 
 "too lately born into the world's conscious- 
 ness to have won over the majority." Per- 
 haps, if we are to take any one sentence of his 
 as typical of him, it would be this : The 
 strongest man on earth is he who stands most 
 alone. His constant pleading is for indivi- 
 duality, for freedom. He realises that truths 
 are not for ever true ; that there must come a 
 time for the majority of truths when, though 
 still universally accepted, they will have 
 been worked out, their virtue have evapor- 
 ated. 
 
 Yet in "the ultimate healthy healing 
 which follows on the surgery of revolution" 
 he places little faith. France has had its 
 revolution, and in 1870 he sees what happens 
 there. Yet those very ideas which have 
 
 279 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 proved so little fruitful in France are the 
 ideas upon which the whole of Europe 
 depends for sustenance. In a private letter, 
 about this time, he writes : "Public events 
 absorb a good part of my thoughts. The old 
 illusory France is broken into fragments. 
 If now this new and very real Prussia might 
 also be broken up, at one leap we should find 
 ourselves in an entirely new epoch. . . . What 
 we live on nowadays is no more than the 
 crumbs fallen from the table of the Revolu- 
 tion of the last century, and we have chewed 
 these morsels long enough. Those notions 
 demand fresh material and fresh elucidation. 
 Liberty, equality, fraternity, have no longer 
 the same meaning as in the days of the guil- 
 lotine of blessed memory. But this is what 
 politicians will not see, and for that I hate 
 them. Men want only partial revolutions, 
 revolutions in externals, in politics. But 
 this is mere trifling. What we really need 
 is a revolution in the spirit of man." You 
 see here the immense hope underlying so 
 much of what is drear and grey in Ibsen's 
 work. Conceiving that the true task of 
 democracy is to make every man in the land 
 a nobleman, he says, with "Walt Whitman : 
 "Where the men and women think lightly 
 of the laws; where outside authority enters 
 in after the precedence of inside authority; 
 
 280 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 where the citizen is always the head and 
 ideal ; where children are taught to be laws 
 to themselves : there the great city stands." 
 
 But Ihsen did not know the Norwegian 
 character from city and town-life alone, he 
 had studied it in the immemorial solitudes as 
 well. In 1862, as the result of a commission 
 he had received from the Government, he 
 made a tour of the remoter western fiords in 
 search of the folk tales and ancient ballads 
 that linger among the uplands and more se- 
 questered valleys. The very object of his 
 quest was significant of a feeling then abroad 
 in Norway. In the Forties and Fifties the 
 national movement had gained strength. 
 The younger poets, men of distinguished 
 talent, and for the most part members of the 
 official class, threw themselves into the move- 
 ment with a fei^our of enthusiasm. Without 
 any very clear apprehension, perhaps, of 
 what they desired as a sequel they called out 
 more or less ,with one accord for emancipa- 
 tion from Danish culture and literary tradi- 
 tions. And, casting about for a fitting sym- 
 bol of their movement, they lighted upon the 
 peasant. The opposed currents of roman- 
 ticism and democracy met here on neutral 
 ground. Naturally, in a world of which he 
 could hardly be said to be a contemporary, 
 the peasant moved in a simple round of obser- 
 
 281 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 vanoes, which were true relics of the olden 
 time, and he was the repository of the tradi- 
 tions of a vanished age. On closer inspec- 
 tion, however, he and his facts ungenerously 
 refused to square with the poetic school's 
 preconceived notion of the son of the soil. He 
 was stupid and probably dirty — as the indi- 
 vidual feelingly referred to as our brother 
 is so apt to be. But he had once been made 
 a symbol and a watchword, and they could 
 hardly dispense with him. So the young 
 poets washed him and white-washed him, 
 and gave him a soul and a romantic 
 pose. They concerned themselves with 
 the picturesque externals about him, so that 
 their work was only true "when the lucky 
 mood was on, and when the happy moment 
 cam.e by." They put him on a pedestal, 
 from which, later, when he had learnt 
 the uses of democracy, he refused to come 
 down. Such was the secret of the characters 
 that Ibsen satirised in Brand and Peer 
 Gynt, his two imaginative masterpieces. 
 
 He was by now thoroiughly disgusted with 
 his fellow countrymen — 
 
 A little free in promise making, 
 And then when vows in liquor willed, 
 Must be in mortal stress fulfilled, 
 
 A little fine in promise breaking. 
 
 And so, in the early months of 1864, weary 
 of the North, he left home for Italy; but 
 home followed him, even among the myrtles 
 
 282 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 and roses of the Roman world. In the forum, 
 amid the niins, he found inspiration for the 
 twin tragedy of Emperor and Galilean, yet 
 his preoccupation with Scandinavian affairs 
 was more immediate; so that the Roman 
 and Byzantine tragedy, though remaining in 
 the background of his thought, and after- 
 wards to be completed, was for the present 
 laid aside, and, while among the hills of 
 Ariccia, he wrote Brand. It is a drama, but 
 a drama of such immense compass that until 
 1885 only scattered scenes o;f it were played. 
 But in that year, in Stockholm, the whole 
 drama was acted, the performance beginning 
 at half -past six in the evening, and coming to 
 au end at a quarter-past one o'clock. 
 
 Brand is the priest of a flock set in some 
 narrow sunless valley to the north of Norway. 
 He symbolises the spirit of uncompromising 
 idealism at war with the base materialism of 
 the people; for in this valley, thinly popu- 
 lated with its mountain folk, are gathered 
 the types of the whole Norwegian people. 
 Brand has to cross a fiord in a storm to reach 
 a dying man who, after living as a murderer, 
 wants consolation from a priest. But the 
 fisherfolk refuse to go with him, and he can- 
 not go alone, for one must hold the rudder 
 while he works the sail. At last a girl, 
 Agnes, fascinated by his heroism, offers to go. 
 
 283 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 He falls in love with her, and soon they are 
 married. So severe is the climate that Alf 
 their child, dies; but Brand will not flinch 
 from his post. On Christmas Eve, Agnes 
 places the yule candles in the window to 
 shine out over little Alf's coverlet of snow; 
 and then, in a scene of surpassing beauty. 
 Brand, imposing his ideal on Agnes, causes 
 her to give up one by one all the dead child's 
 clothes to a beggar woman who brings her 
 baby to their door in the storm. Agnes does 
 so, and dies broken-hearted. And now the 
 people hail him as a saint, and flock from far 
 and near to hear him. His new-built church 
 is too small for the congregation, and so he 
 leads them out into the fields and up on the 
 mountain side. But here a change comes 
 over them ; they no longer see him as a 
 saint, and begin to stone him. He flies from 
 them bleeding up the mountain, till at 
 length, of all his flock, only one poor mad 
 girl follows him still. She, meeting him in 
 this dread wilderness, takes him for the 
 thorn-crowned Christ, and stands in adora- 
 tion before him till they are both over- 
 whelmed by an avalanche ; Brand calling in 
 his agony upon God to tell him what man's 
 NiW avails : and, as the wild mountain voices 
 call in answer He is Deus Caritatis, the whole 
 valley is filled with snow. 
 
 284 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 Professor Havelock Ellis says, "This scene, 
 in wliicli Brand dies amid his broken ideals, 
 attains an imaginative height not elsewhere 
 reached in modern literature, and for the 
 like of which we have to look back to the 
 great scene on the heath of Lear." And it 
 has been said by Professor Ilerford, speaking 
 of the entire play, "those who can imagine 
 the prophetic fire of Carlyle fused with the 
 genial verve and intellectual athleticism of 
 Browning and expressed by the aid of a 
 dramatic faculty to parallel which we must 
 go two centuries backward, may in some de- 
 gree understand its fascination." This is 
 the earliest of his masterpieces. It was pub- 
 lished in Copenhagen in 1866, and had at 
 once an immense vogue. Seeing his native 
 land in perspective and from a distance he 
 was likelier to be successful in depicting it, 
 and in that sense Norway had followed him 
 to Rome. 
 
 Brand looked on himself as in a sense de- 
 dicate. Ho was the divinely appointed in- 
 strument, and this gave him strength for his 
 acts of cruel heroism. This idea of a call, 
 definite and divine, rather than the vague, 
 nebulous mission of so mnny, plays a part in 
 others of Ibsen's tragedies; brings frequently 
 iu fact, the tragedy with it. In The Pre- 
 tenders this "call" is the mainspring of the 
 
 285 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 action. The Pretenders takes us back to the 
 borderland lying under the sunlight of his- 
 tory and the moonlight of legend. The 
 theme is as old as the hills : the two rivals for 
 the throne, Hakon and Skule, are actual his- 
 torical figures, but, in the dwindling light of 
 history, Hakon seems to have been a man of 
 no very conspicuous talent, and Skule a con- 
 servative. The two contended for mastery, 
 and Hakon won. But into this commonplace 
 theme Ibsen has read the obstinate question- 
 ings of a thousand years. To the chronicler 
 Hakon the successful was a man whose posi- 
 tion enabled him exactly to fulfil the task 
 which lay before him. Upon this point 
 Ibsen seized. This was the mystical power 
 in him, this the great secret of his inward 
 call. In the play Hakon conceives the 
 thought, the "king's thought," of uniting the 
 warring tribes of Norway under himself, and 
 the attainment of this is the fulfilment of his 
 call. He has no moment of doubt, and goes 
 o'l through all towards his steadfast goal. 
 But of infinitely greater subtlety and com- 
 plexity is the figure of his rival, for, though 
 he has the same noble nature, Skule ha^ the 
 gift of doubt. ITe declares himself King, and 
 in the ensuing war is slain, and the epitaph 
 which Hakon pronounces over him is this : 
 "All men misjudged him. There was a mys- 
 
 286 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 tcry over him. Skule Bardsson was God's 
 step-child upon earth : that was the mys- 
 tery.'; 
 
 This same doTiht in his vocation that Skule 
 feels is also the tragedy of Julian the Apos- 
 tate, the hero of the two plays Caesar's Apos- 
 taey and The Emperor Julian, grouped to- 
 gether under the title of Emperor and Galil- 
 ean. And this douht of their call brings both 
 Skule and Julian to ultimate ruin. They 
 are in bondage, the more quelling that it is 
 a spiritual bondage. For Ibsen realises the 
 small worth of the freedom that acts in ex- 
 ternals only. His point of view is somewhat 
 similar to that of the Prince in Anthony 
 Hope's brilliant novel The King's Mirror : 
 "To be free, sire, what is it but to change 
 one's master?" Hence one must be free, 
 owning oneself as one's master. "Just this is 
 freedom — perfectly to fulfil one's call" — and 
 Ibsen's call to all men is "Be through and 
 through what God meant you to be." 
 
 But the ideals of life remain unrealised, 
 and he asks himself what forces are in the 
 main responsible for the defects of peer and 
 peasant alike. And his answer is the State ; 
 " the State crushes individuality : away with 
 it." This brings us to a new phase in his 
 work — his pre-occupation with the relations 
 between the individual and society. That he 
 
 287 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 is on the side of the individual follows from 
 his temperament, but he really studies the 
 question from a scientific point of view. At 
 first sight the result of his observation seems 
 to be melancholy and pessimistic enough. 
 But in Little Eyolf, of all his plays the most 
 saddened and darkened and veiled in mourn- 
 ing, when Rita AUmers cries in despair, 
 "We are creatures of earth, after all," he 
 can answer, " But something akin to the sea 
 and the heavens, too." And as the curtain 
 falls on the last act, the flag which has been 
 floating half-mast through nearly the whole 
 play, flies from the masthead. In his frank 
 and searching acceptance of the laws of 
 human nature, and his evolution from them 
 of clear conceptions of what is beautiful and 
 true and enduring in it, there is far more 
 hope and trust than in the facile optimism, 
 which, accepting things as they are, and at 
 a ready valuation, is really the ugliest pes- 
 simism. 
 
 Looking back on it now it is perhaps a 
 little difficult to realise the storm which was 
 evoked by the appearance of A Doll's House. 
 The theme of the play turns on the moment 
 when Nora Ilelmer realises that her good, 
 kind, and honourable husband is treating her 
 like a child. "When the truth dawns on her, 
 and she sees herself only as the doll in a 
 
 288 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 doll's house, a determination comes to her to 
 leave home and children to find out the 
 truth for herself — " I must find out who is 
 right: Society or I !" "In the last scene of 
 A Doll's House," says Brandes, " when we 
 read the words that fall like sword-strokes, 
 Helmer's No man sacrifices his honour even 
 for one he loves, and Nora's Millions of women 
 have done so — words which reveal the j^ulf 
 that yawns between husband and wife, sit- 
 ting one on each side of the table — yawns 
 more horribly than the mouth of hell in the 
 old romantic dramas — we feel not only that 
 Ibsen has saturated himself with the 
 thoughts of the age, but that in passing 
 through his artist's mind these thoughts 
 have gained a power and intensity sufficient 
 to drive them home, even into hardened 
 hearts." 
 
 This play exasperated the vast majority of 
 those people who can perhaps best be des- 
 cribed as worthy, and the reception they gave 
 it caused Mr. A. B. Walklev to enquire 
 wittily, and with a happy blasphemy : 
 " Wherefor do the Heathen so furiously rage 
 around Ibsen?" The greater number ob- 
 jected, it must be confessed, on moral 
 grounds; because it was felt so subversive 
 of convention, so immoral, that is to say, that 
 Nora should leave her husband in just that 
 
 289 
 
The Union Bonk. 
 
 way. The slamming of the street-door upon 
 Nora was a slap in the face to the Pharisees 
 and the Philistines, who held views on what 
 is known in politics as the policy of the Open 
 Door. 
 
 But since the great objection was that 
 Nora left her husband — since people stood 
 aghast before that sin, Ibsen gave them 
 another Nora who should act in accordance 
 with all the recognised precepts of social 
 morality. The play which showed that if it 
 was wrong for Nora to leave her husband, it 
 would be infinitely worse for her to stay, was 
 Ghosts. Mrs. Alving, the heroine of the 
 play, had not pursued the course of Nora, 
 but had remained with lier husband, who 
 spent his days drinking and flirting with the 
 housemaid. Being a woman of energy, re- 
 source, and strength, she took his neglected 
 business into her own hands and made it 
 prosper; contrives to hide all trace of Cap- 
 tain Alving's excesses from the admiring 
 eyes of the townsfolk ; sends their little son 
 away to France, and then, when her husbaoid 
 dies, raises a monument to his memory. But 
 now she begins to think for herself, and to 
 see the folly of it all. Now her son returns 
 from Paris, where he has been brought up 
 in ignorance of his home life, and she hopes 
 for happiness after her long martyrdom. But 
 
 290 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 he is stricken from his birth, tainted by the 
 diseases arising out of bis father's life, and 
 is now within easy reach of madness. He 
 seems to his mother the ghost of his father 
 " I almost think we are all of us Ghosts, 
 Pastor Manders. It is not only what we have 
 inherited from our father and mother that 
 wallcs in us. It's all sorts of dead ideas and 
 lifeless old beliefs, and so forth. They have 
 no vitality, but they cling to us all the same, 
 and we can't get rid of them. Whenever I 
 take up a newspaper I seem to see Ghosts 
 gliding between the lines. There must be 
 Ghosts all the country over, as thick as the 
 sands of the sea. And then we are one and all 
 so pitifully afraid of the light." Her son is 
 aware of his danger, and shows her a poison 
 which he makes her swear to administer if 
 ever the fatal crisis comes. And then, as the 
 first light of morning breaks through the 
 windows, he turns to her and says, " Mother, 
 give me the sun — the sun " — and the curtain 
 falls on her frenzy and despair. 
 
 Obviously, if you like Ghosts, you like 
 Ibsen, and nothing more need be said; but 
 if you dislike it and have not read it, or, 
 having read it dislike it, you will very likely 
 argue the m.atter from the side of what is 
 suitable and what unsuitable for literature, 
 
 291 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 from the side of morals, in short : but that 
 way madness lies. We sufEer too much from 
 the excellence of our own characters by im- 
 porting them into the fields of fiction, where 
 they should be contraband ; for the master- 
 piece does not teach, but exists. When 
 Charles Lamb claimed exemption for Con- 
 greve for having depicted in his comedy of 
 manners a lightness that never was on sea 
 or land, he put in once and for all the claim 
 of literature to take, like Molierc, its stuff 
 where it finds it. But that should not set us 
 pursuing life along byways and iu blind 
 alleys, where huddle strange sins and all the 
 sad accidents of our civilisation, or making 
 halt at the sign of the Broken Command- 
 ment. Only, when great genius touches 
 some such sad theme, the philosopher's stone 
 has yielded its secret, and the suppressed sig- 
 nificance of life lies before us. From the open- 
 ing scene, with its haunting atmosphere of 
 falling rain, the tragedy runs tensely on, 
 working itself out by means inexorably 
 quiet. There is here the depth and not the 
 tumult of the soul, and destiny is moving on 
 the stage. The plot is of a Greek simplicity, 
 and there is something Greek, too, in that 
 sense of the unrelenting Fates, the taunting 
 ghosts from the past, like the furies that pur- 
 sued Orestes, who suffered though he was 
 
 292 
 
lU, 
 
 pure of heart. But what is more than classi- 
 cal is that nameless power which, sweeping 
 over a iield of horror and disease, sordid and 
 loathsome, brings greatness out of it, so that, 
 in face of it, we can but repeat the words of 
 Hedda Gabler, " I say there is beauty in 
 this." 
 
 In the dim misery and choking air of 
 Strindberg or Hauptmann — in The Father 
 or The Coming of Peace — such a story as 
 Ghosts can only take upon itself the colours 
 of a domestic catastrophe, but in Ibsen the 
 theme expands, and there is grandeur always. 
 These are the poets who (like M. Jourdain) 
 have spoken prose all their lives and have 
 never known it. They have not learnt his 
 great language, and yet their shortcomings 
 are put down in Ibsen's bill, so that to be just 
 one must add that his influence has produced 
 brilliant results elsewhere. The greatest 
 English dramatist, Mr. Pinero, who knows 
 his parish of St. James' so well, and even 
 runs across its members in Venice or on the 
 Riviera, has sent more than one of his 
 characters on an excursion to Norway, and 
 they have returned the better for the trip. 
 England is indeed Ibsen's latest conquest, 
 and in the English world he has been cham- 
 pioned by two of its men of letters — Mr. 
 Edmund Gosse and Mr. William Archer. 
 
 293 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Mr. Gosse's championship dates back to the 
 publication of one of his 'Northern Studies in 
 1873 ; while Mr. Archer, London's foremost 
 dramatic critic, has not only year by year 
 steadily upheld the art of Ibsen, but has 
 admirably translated him as well. In Eng- 
 land the influence of Ibsen has shown itself 
 largely in the school of the problem play, 
 which has been derided as a craze for lubri-- 
 city, and about the rationale of which no very 
 satisfactory opinion seems to be offered. It 
 comes, I suspect, from the fact that the 
 infringement of commandments, the positing 
 of an unconventional, even immoral, situa- 
 tion, gives such an excellent opportunity to 
 the dramatist. Actual life, for all its 
 vaunted irony, does not carry well across the 
 footlights, but here, by a reinforcement 
 bringing into play the deeper tones, the 
 dramatist gains in theatrical power and gains 
 in the air of life as well. 
 
 Ghosts was received with a shriek of execra- 
 tion, and Ibsen found himself driven to a 
 reply, and that replv was An Enemy of the 
 People, which tells how Dr. Stockmann is 
 branded as an enemy of the people because 
 he wishes to serve his fellow-citizens. The 
 splendour of isolation in which Stockmann 
 ends is the result of his answering his call. 
 He has gone up among the svimmits of life, 
 
 294 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 and there he is in loneliness. But he goes as 
 a pioneer, not as a solitary, pining exile. 
 And here, in the thin upper air, we meet 
 others among Ibsen's best loved figures, foi 
 the strongest man is he who stands most 
 alone. This loneliness Ibsen himself had felt 
 since he became an exile from Norway. Dur- 
 ing those years of travel he had sent home 
 play after play ; during them he had felt all 
 the bitterness of opposition, but knew also 
 that this was the secret of his strength, as he 
 himself admitted in some noble lines. 
 
 " My countrymen, who filled for me deep bowls 
 Of wholesome bitter medicine, such as gave 
 The poet, on the margin of his grave, 
 
 Fresh strength to fight where broken twilight rolls — 
 My countrymen, who sped me o'er the wave — 
 
 An exile, with my griefs for pilgrim-soles. 
 
 My fears for burdens, doubts for staff, to roam — 
 From the wide world I send you greeting home. 
 
 " I send you thanks for gifts that help and harden. 
 
 Thanks for each hour of purifying pain ; 
 Each plant that prospers in my poet's garden 
 
 Is rooted where your harshness poured its rain ; 
 Each shoot in which it blooms and burgeons forth,~^ 
 It owes to that grey weather from the north ; 
 
 The sun's fire loosens, but the foz secures. 
 
 My country, thanks : my life's best gifts were yojirs." 
 
 As to Ibsen's qualities, the cardinal mis- 
 take is made when he is regarded too exclus- 
 ively as a moralist. He is above all things 
 an artist, and above all else an artist in tech- 
 nique, and when his ideas will have become 
 commonplaces or been dismissed, his un- 
 
 295 
 
7'Ae Union Book. 
 
 riviiUed art will remain. The criticism ^Ir. 
 Walkley so admirably applies to Hedda 
 G abler holds good for much of his work. 
 What he says is this — " If you ask mc 
 whether Iledda is to be praised or blamed, I 
 put aside your question as a pure irrelevance : 
 she is to be watched with interest." And if 
 you ask what then is his message, you are 
 met, I trust, by the reply that he has none. 
 No doubt he wishes to be an incentive to 
 thought, but the question of conduct does 
 not fall within his scheme : and if his works 
 bear no message, their own "victorious fair- 
 ness" is enough. 
 
 Hedda Gahler is the third of Ibsen's plays 
 — -^^1 Doll's House played by Miss Janet 
 Achurch), and An Enemy of the People (by 
 the Sydney U.D.S.), are the other two — 
 to be performed in Australia, and it forms 
 au example of his method, which is quite 
 ail ay from any didatic tendency. Indeed 
 the stumbling block in the road of popular 
 appreciation is the absence of any clear 
 demarcation between the good and bad in- 
 stincts of the persons of the play, their bewil- 
 dering naturalness. Hedda is unpleasant, if 
 you will ; arrogant, heartless, and selfish, but 
 she is instinct with life. She has ability, but 
 has never put it to any use, for in the society 
 in which she has moved, all she has had to 
 290 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 do has been to dance herself tired. This she 
 has done, and then, as her parents are both 
 dead, she has married the only man who 
 offered himself. The love of beauty which 
 should have saved her has become narrow 
 pride and a nervous love of sensation, and for 
 all her tenseness of imagination she can 
 think of nothing now but to have for once the 
 power of moulding a human destiny, for the 
 cramping conditions of society, its idle bore- 
 dom, have perverted her ambition into a cal- 
 lous determination to have her pleasure out 
 of life. 
 
 All this does not mean that I admit that 
 Ibsen is not moral in the tendencies of his 
 work, for we should in justice remember that 
 it is probably the fate of each one who takes 
 us up into a high place and shows us all the 
 kingdoms of the world, to be called a tempter. 
 He is not so much morbid as grim ; remember 
 that grey weather from the North and the 
 religious influences there at work. And this 
 grimness does not often break into a ripple 
 of light laughter. His satire is too lifelike 
 to be genuinely funny, and when he strikes, 
 he strikes hard : it is not thunder but light- 
 ning, and the stroke rather than the flash. 
 
 I spoke just now of his "victorious fair- 
 ness," and it may seem a little odd to choose 
 so radiant a phrase to denote what will be 
 
 297 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 called so commonplace, so circumscribed. 
 But it is his mark and his achievement that 
 he can transmute trivial things. Not to over- 
 look the beautiful and the significant in any 
 guise is the sign of the romantic, for the 
 romantic is really in one of its phases a pre- 
 occupation with the ugly and the sinister. 
 The more smiling aspects of life do not invite 
 it so much as the air of mystery, of contrast; 
 as we see in, say, Victor Hugo and Stevenson. 
 L' Homme qui Rit and The Master of Ballan- 
 trae are thus true types of the romantic, and 
 some of Ibsen's finest pages are of their com- 
 pany. So his great moments are not alone 
 when Julian watches the star sinking over the 
 gardens of Byzantium, or when the bells of 
 Nidaros are ringing in peace to the land ; but 
 also when Hedda Gabler stands firing into the 
 garden ; or when the tide of Ilosmer's life is 
 ebbing away from his stranded ideals ; when 
 Hilda turns on Solness and raps out the 
 words " My castle — come, the castle on the 
 table" ; or when up into Bernick's office there 
 comes the sound of the sailors singing as the 
 Indian Girl is hauled out to the buoy. 
 
 Mr. Henry James speaks of Ibsen's charm- 
 less fascination; in itself a charming phrase, 
 if somewhat unjust. He suggests that Ibsen 
 has none of the graces of style. But — not to 
 venture a direct contradiction in the face of 
 
 298 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 authority so expert — we should remember 
 that so much of his material is so novel that 
 he works in almost a new medium. New 
 ideas find their first expression through him. 
 In The Pretenders Duke Skule cannot grasp 
 King Hakon's idea of uniting all disjointed 
 Norway under one sway. He replies incre- 
 dulously "Norway's saga tells of no such 
 thing." And Hakon answers "For you 'tis 
 impossible, for you can but work out the old 
 saga afresh ; for me 'tis as easy as for the 
 falcon to cleave the clouds." It would be 
 grossly unfair to say that Mr. James can but 
 work out the old saga afresh ; but assuredly 
 Ibsen cleaves the clouds, so that a certain 
 ruggedness of flight might be forgiven. 
 
 It was Brandes who exclaimed of him 
 once, "At some time or other in the battle of 
 life a lyrical Pegasus must have been killed 
 under him." It is a little difiicult to prove 
 this merely by reading extracts from him — 
 he is so dramatic ; each scene, even amid the 
 most poignant beauty is so instinct with the 
 individuality of the characters — who never 
 melt away into generalised emotions — that in 
 reading a scene without the context many 
 apparently irreconcilable touches crop up, 
 which would jar till one had them in the per- 
 spective the whole play gives. But take as 
 an instance a short passage from his all but 
 
 299 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 latest play. This is John Gabriel Borhnan, 
 in which we have the poetic working out of a 
 whole "tragedy of wasted lives" in a single 
 winter's night in the manor house of Eent- 
 heim. It is in commercial enterprise, in traffic 
 oa the deep and stormy waters of the fiord or 
 out over sea, that the imagination and ambi- 
 tion of the Norse character principally issue. 
 And John Gabriel Borkman presents this 
 type in a wonderfully poetic way. From 
 childhood the commerce of the world — the 
 whirr of wheels and smoke of factories in the 
 land's midmost murmur, the plying of the 
 ships upon the middle sea — has exercised over 
 him a dreamy fascination ; as a child he had 
 thought that the iron had sung to him in the 
 mines when loosened, it sang for very joy as 
 it came into the light of day, and he deter- 
 mined to liberate the slumbering spirits of 
 iron and copper and gold — ^till, as he grew to 
 manhood, he became ready to sacrifice all, 
 even Ella Reutheim's love, to his ambition. 
 He launched on great enterprises : as the 
 head of a powerful Bank he held vast wealth 
 ill his hands, and he used it in speculation. 
 The crash came, and now after sixteen years 
 — eight of them a prisoner of the state, eight 
 a recluse — ^the play opens. Ibsen's tragedies 
 are the first fruits of the tragedy. The only 
 person who comes to him from the outside 
 
 300 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 world is a poor old clerk called Foldal, who 
 visits him and reads to him the tragedy which 
 he has written long ago, and which has never 
 seen the light. And this is toiiched in in a 
 scene of exquisitely tender pathos and 
 hum^our : Foldal tells Borkman that the know- 
 ledge of the existence of the tra-gedy he once 
 has written does not seem to impress his 
 family, and that this makes him realise that 
 he has failed in life. "Do j^ou know what 
 I sometimes feel like" ? cries Borkman with 
 an irresistible outburst — "I feel like a 
 Napoleon maimed in his first battle." Foldal 
 places his hand on the portfolio containing 
 his tragedy and says, "I have that feeling 
 too." "Oh, well," answers Borkman, "that's 
 on a smaller scale, of course." And Foldal 
 replies, "My little world of poetry is very pre- 
 cious to me, John Gabriel." In the last scene 
 Ibsen reaches a pitch of lyrical emotion, pas- 
 sionate and sublime, the like of which I know 
 not where to find in literature. The brilliant 
 translation is Mr. Archer's. 
 
 On this night for the first time in all these 
 years Borkman steps out into the open air, 
 and he and Ella Rentheim — a white-haired 
 woman now — have emerged upon a small 
 high-lying, open plateau in the woods about 
 the house. The fiord lies beneath them, v/ith 
 
 301 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 the mountain ranges beynnd, and the snow 
 is everywhere. 
 
 Borkmau {stopjnnq at the edge of the de- 
 clivity)- -Covue here, Ella, and you shall see. 
 Ella lieutheiin (coming up to him) — What 
 do you. want to show me, John ? 
 
 Borkman (pointing outwards) — Do you see 
 how free and open the country lies before 
 us — away to the far horizon ? 
 
 Ella Eentheim — We have often sat upon 
 this bench before, and looked out into a 
 much, much further distance. 
 
 Borkman — It was a dreamland that we 
 looked out over. 
 
 Ella Rentheim (nodding sadly) — It was the 
 dreamland of our life, yes. And now that 
 land is buried in snow. And the old tree is 
 dead. 
 
 Borkman (not listening to her) — Can you 
 see the smoke of the great steamships out 
 on the fiord? 
 
 Ella Eentheim — No ! 
 
 Borkman — I can. They com.e and they 
 go. They weave a network of fellowship all 
 round the world. They shed light and 
 warmth over the souls of men in many thou- 
 sands of homes. That was what I dreamed of 
 doing. 
 
 Ella Eentheim (softly) — And it remained 
 a dream. 
 
 302 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 Borkman — It remained a dream ; yes. 
 {Listening.) And hark, down by the river, 
 dear ! The factories are working ! My 
 factories ! All those I would have created ! 
 Listen ! Do you hear them humming ? The 
 night shift is on — so they're working night 
 and day. Hark ! hark I the wheels are whirl- 
 ing and the bands are flashing— round and 
 round and round. Can't you hear, Ella? 
 
 Ella Eentheim — No. 
 
 Borkman — I can hear it. 
 
 Ella Rentheim (anxiously) — I think you're 
 mistaken, John. 
 
 Borkman (more and more fired) — Oh, but 
 all these — they're only like the outworks 
 around the kingdom, I tell you ! 
 
 Ella Rentheim — The kingdom, you say? 
 What kingdom ? 
 
 Borkman — My kingdom, of course! The 
 kingdom I was on the point of conquering 
 when I — when I died. 
 
 Ella Rentheim (shaken, in a low voice) — Oh 
 John, John ! 
 
 Borkman — And now there it lies — aefence- 
 less, masterless — exposed to all the robbers 
 and plunderers. Ella, do you see the moun- 
 tain chains there— far away? They soar, 
 they tower aloft, one behind the* other ! That 
 is my vast, my infinite, inexhaustible king- 
 dom ! 
 
 303 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 Ella Eentheim — Oli, tut there comes an 
 icy blast from that kingdom, John ! 
 
 Borkman — Thut blast is th& breath of life 
 to me. That blast comes to me like a greet- 
 ing from subject spirits. I seem to touch 
 them, the prisoned millions ; I can see the 
 veins of metal stretch out their winding, 
 branching, luring arms to me. I saw them 
 before my eyes like living shapes, that night 
 when I stood in the strong-room with the 
 candle in my hand. You b?gged to be liberat- 
 ed, and I tried to free you. But my strength 
 failed me; and the treasure sank back into 
 the deep again. (With outstretched hands.) 
 But I will whisper it to you here in the still- 
 ness of the night : I love you, a,s you lie there 
 spell-bound in the deeps and the darkness! 
 I love yoii, unborn treasures, yearning for 
 the light ! I love you, with all your shining 
 train of power and glory I I love you, love 
 you, love you ! 
 
 Ella Eentheim {in suppressed hut rising 
 agitation) — Yes, your love is still down there, 
 .John. It has always been rooted there. But 
 here, in the light of day, there was a living, 
 warm, human heart that throbbed and glowed 
 for you. And.this heart you crushed. Oh, 
 worse than that ! Ten times worse ! You 
 sold it for — for — 
 
 304 
 
Ihsen. 
 
 Borkman (trembles ; a cold shudder seems to 
 go through him) — For the kingdom — and the 
 power — and the glory — you mean? 
 
 Ella Eentheim — Yes, that's what I meaji. 
 I have said it once before to-night : you have 
 murdered the love-life in the woman who 
 loved you. And whom you loved in return, 
 so far as you could love any one. [With up- 
 lifted arm.) And, therefore, I prophesy to 
 you, John Gabriel Borkman — you will never 
 touch the price you demanded for the murder. 
 You will never enter in triumph into your 
 cold, dark kingdom ! 
 
 [John Gabriel Borkman : London, William 
 Heinemann, 1897.]" 
 
 Please remember that passage is meant to 
 be acted — not read ; it is robbed of its cumu- 
 lative force by being removed from the rest 
 of the play, and it is veiled and swathed and 
 muffled in the lint and bandages of transla- 
 tion. 
 
 30.5 
 
THE 
 
 SYDNEY UNIVERSITY 
 REVIEW. 
 
 BIOLOGICAL SCICMCE-A NECESSARY TACTOR 
 IN UNIVERSITY WORK, ' 
 
 By Professor Stephens. 1552. 
 
Biological Science, A Necessary 
 ractor in Universitg Worl^. 
 
 I do not propose in this essay to enter into 
 the defence of natural science as a means of 
 general ediication. This point has been re- 
 cently and quite sufficiently elaborated by 
 great masters in that province of intellectual 
 culture, to whose arguments I at any rate 
 have no amendments to move. But it has 
 seemed to me, with others, that some attempt 
 to duly estimate the relative value of the 
 various branches which with conflicting 
 claim^s compose the organism of University 
 study is rather urgently called for by existing 
 circumstances. And such an attempt, how- 
 ever imperfect, the reader has now before 
 him. 
 
 If the writer's opinions are frequently ex- 
 pressed in the first person, it is not from any 
 conceit of superior intelligence, nor from a 
 preference for that mode of expression, but 
 because he has often felt that the conventional 
 veneering of egoism by adverbs of " probabi- 
 lity,"' "possibility," and the like, both fatigues 
 the reader and obscures the writer's meaning. 
 
 I state my opinion therefore for the reader's 
 consideration, quite aware how little worth it 
 
 309 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 must be if it fail to gain the approbation of. 
 those who are conversant with the matter, yet 
 with some hope that it may prove to be in 
 agreement with the latent convictions of 
 many who are qualified to judge, but have 
 not yet pronounced sentence. 
 
 Two apologies have already appeared in 
 consecutive numbers of this Review, main- 
 taining with just earnestness the claim of 
 philosophy to the sovereignty, and of ancient 
 literature and textual criticism to the admini- 
 stration of the kingdom of human enlighten- 
 ment. 
 
 The claims of both are founded on justice. 
 Both seem, at first sight, to have been placed 
 at a very unfair disadvantage in modern 
 thought, and in many modern institutions. 
 And though this is, I believe, merely in the 
 swing of the pendulum, being the inevitable 
 reaction against an unwise usurpation which 
 had partially paralysed the spiritual and in- 
 tellectual growth of humanity, and though 
 the position of the moment will, I think, soon 
 be altered by the reverse oscillation, yet it 
 remains our duty to hasten, if possible, the 
 recoil, and to bring once more the fears, the 
 hopes, and the faith of humanity into the 
 focus of University study. For myself, I have 
 no apprehension for the future, but some dis- 
 satisfaction with the present; and it is this 
 
 310 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 dissatisfaction whicli has by degrees, and 
 against my inclination if not against my 
 judgment, led me to add a few pages more 
 to the vast pile of dreary prosing which the 
 persons responsible for it call "Educational 
 Literature." 
 
 The studies of all Universities, however 
 various, general in scope, or particular in 
 application they may be, are presumed to 
 have one and the same issue in view, the ele- 
 vation, that is to say, the happiness of 
 humanity. Now the happiness of man is in 
 its essentials within himself, and springs out 
 of his own constitution, moral condition, 
 intellectual cultivation, and spiritual enligh- 
 tenment ; while yet it also requires (and this 
 too of its essence, as being the happiness of 
 a creature which is both social and religious) 
 persons to be loved and revered, as well as 
 objects for contemplation. 
 
 Moreover, as the creatures which are 
 capable of happiness are dependent upon 
 external supplies and instruments (as of 
 necessaries for their very existence, and of 
 accessories on a liberal and constantly 
 increasing scale, for their comfort and con- 
 venience), it is plain that no scheme for the 
 highest welfare of humanity can afford to 
 praetermit the consideration of these vulgar 
 and material adjuncts. Again, as health and 
 
 311 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 (I sufficient length of life are both inseparable 
 qualifications for that perfect harmony of 
 function in soul and body which we call 
 happiness, and as these also, like the instru- 
 ments above-mentioned, are or may be pri- 
 marily provided by society for the indivi- 
 dual, and only secondarily and imperfectly 
 by the individual for himself, the conditions 
 under which such vitality is possible, or may 
 be secured, equally demand :an investiga- 
 tion. What belongs to the individual can- 
 not be, but all that belongs to the specific 
 or general is, matter of science. This leads 
 to a rough, but, I think, true division of 
 study in its most general sense. For with 
 technical studies, or preparation for the 
 practice of particular arts we are not now con- 
 cerned. 
 
 The sovereign is philosophy; the sciences 
 are her administrators. The one tells us 
 how to live, the other how to maintain life. 
 Hence we arrive at a threefold division of 
 study. First, the theory of humanity, social, 
 personal, eternal : secondly, the science of 
 the appliances upon which society depends : 
 and thirdly, but in equal rank, the science 
 of animal existence itself. Life and happi- 
 ness; life and comfort; life and health. 
 But, if any demur to the nomination of 
 human happiness as the end of human study, 
 
 312 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 because goodness and knowledge should be 
 oi themselves a sufficient prize, I do not dis- 
 pute the objection. I do not indeed admit 
 its force, but am ready to take the objector's 
 ground. 
 
 The aim of all national education is the 
 elevation of the national character, and not 
 merely its maintenance. People sometimes 
 carelessly acquiesce in a quite different state- 
 ment, which is not true, that all our educa- 
 tional apparatus of Schools and Universities 
 is only a precaution against the relapse of 
 our population into primitive savagery. That 
 ])ublie teaching has this effect is undeniable, 
 and it may perhaps be also confessed that at 
 some periods and~in some places methods of 
 public instruction have been planned with 
 this view, and with this alone. Nay further, 
 a certain timidity has sometimes induced 
 good and honest folk to endeavour not only to 
 scotch, as it were, the wheels of society against 
 a down hill relapse, but also to check the 
 vehicle from any progress into the country of 
 giants and dragons which was reported to 
 begin just beyond the next turn of the road. 
 
 But when we look at facts in the face, if we 
 believe in the Divine Government at all, we 
 are driven to the opposite conclusion. We 
 do not educate boys and girls in order that 
 they may not degenerate into the barbarous, 
 
 313 
 
The Union BooJe. 
 
 savage, or brutal coudition of the larrikin ; 
 nor yet merely that they shall be able to earn 
 an honest subsistence for themselves in after 
 life (both of which are nevertheless advan- 
 tages incidental to public education), but that 
 they shall be morally and intellectually, and 
 therefore socially and politically improved, 
 generation after generation, and age after 
 age. These are our objects, however much 
 wa may fail to attain to them. 
 
 Now of national education, however imper- 
 fectly organised or carried out, we must 
 regard the typical University as the comple- 
 tion and coping stone. But more than that, 
 it ought to supply the support and guidance 
 of the whole system. It should be both heart 
 and brain, concentrating in itself the vital 
 sustenance and rational control of the whole 
 body. What is desired then in national edu- 
 cation in general must be essential to the due 
 performance of the functions of the Univer- 
 sity, and what is obscured by the immediate 
 and pressing requirements of primary schools 
 may be simply and naturally observed in the 
 investigation of the higher studies. 
 
 Let it then be admitted that the elevation 
 of mankind is the ultimate scope or aim of 
 national education ; it remains for us to con- 
 sider what this education really implies. 
 
 314 
 
Biologieal Science. 
 
 To this end we must regard man in a three- 
 fold aspect, as an animal, as a responsible 
 agent, and as an intellectual power. Whether 
 and how far these aspects represent in reality 
 as many distinct constituents or factors of 
 human nature, or more, or fewer, is a ques- 
 tion which does not here concern us. The 
 division is intelligible, and sufficient for our 
 purpose. Now the best conditions of our 
 physical, material, or animal nature are 
 obvious — health, strength, beauty : of the 
 moral and rational — self-control, justice, self- 
 sacrifice : of the intellectual and spiritual — 
 wisdom, knowledge, religion. So the eleva- 
 tion of humanity requires a simultaneous 
 cultivation of all these in true harmony and 
 just proportion. And this is what we aim at 
 in national education, as distinguished from 
 special or technical instruction. There are 
 no doubt persons who do not see that there is 
 in education anything more than the prepara- 
 tion of a person for a particular profession, 
 business, or trade in which he may amass 
 money, or at least support a family with 
 credit. With such persons we do not argue. 
 We assert that the education which is empha- 
 tically that required by a nation is such a 
 course of moral and intellectiial instruction 
 and training as shall fit the individual, not 
 for the successful prosecution of a selfish busi- 
 
 315 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 ness, but for its practice to the best advantage 
 for society, and to the elevation of mankind. 
 " In majorem Dei gloriam" is no more than 
 this. 
 
 Now the studies of a University, while they 
 have all the same ultimate aim, nevertheless 
 divide themselves into three principal trunks, 
 corresponding to this threefold structure 
 of human life. These three trunks 
 or main arms of the tree are — First, philo- 
 sophy and literoe humaniores, or, to use a 
 single term, the humanities ; secondly, mathe- 
 matics, physics, and chemistry ; and thirdly, 
 biological science. The first, which is also 
 the oldest in historical order, includes not 
 only language, history and poetry, oratory 
 and logic, but also ethics, jurisprudence and 
 political science, being consummated in 
 philosophy, which is the intellectual aspect 
 of pure religion. The direct and confessed 
 object of this school is the moral and intel- 
 lectual elevation of the people. It concerns 
 itself little with their health, comfort, wealth, 
 commerce, or any other forms of material 
 prosperity ; but is devoted to the cultivation 
 of that side of man's nature which is dis- 
 tinctively human, and " miade in the image 
 of God." It knows little of what is called 
 scientific truth. But moral and religious 
 truth, beauty and goodness, are its themes ; 
 
 316 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 ba-a ecrrlv dX-qdrj, otra a-envd, bcra SiKaia, ocra dyvd 
 ocra Trpos<f>iXrj, Sera 'ivt^jxa. 
 
 The second in order of development is 
 directed to tlie material advance of society, 
 to the provision of all methods, instruments, 
 or other means by which the power of man 
 is promoted. It is, like the first, without 
 a name co-extensive with its sphere. But 
 as we roughly centered the first by the term 
 humanities, so we may indicate the second 
 by the word physics, including thereunder 
 both its calculus, which is mathematics, and 
 its most complex development, which is 
 chemistry. Now, if we disregard for a 
 moment the benefits which accrue to the in- 
 dividual from the athletic mental discipline, 
 and the habit of precise and exact calculation 
 of means to an end which is cultivated in 
 mathematics ; as well as the patience, in- 
 genuity, and caution which are developed in 
 the practice of physical or chemical investi- 
 gation, and if we regard only the general 
 bearing and scope of the whole faculty of 
 these united sciences, we shall discover that 
 they act as a contrivance for a continually 
 advancing platform of material appliances, 
 on which the external interests of humanity 
 may rest with a steadily increasing assurance. 
 All the inventions which man has imagined 
 and perfected, from tomahawk to telephone, 
 
 317 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 are the produce of this faculty. And so pro- 
 digious is its fertility, so varied and innumer- 
 able its services, that one would think its 
 importance could hardly be overrated. But 
 it is assuredly overrated when its study is 
 proposed as a suflScient culture for humanity. 
 
 Comfort and convenience, power and 
 wealth, are very good things. But they do 
 not produce of themselves either the happi- 
 ness or the elevation of man. The more 
 necessary it is that the sciences upon which 
 are based the arts which lead toward these 
 good things should form an integral portion 
 of a general and philosophical education, in 
 which an attempt at least is made to show 
 things in their right proportion and true 
 dimensions, and so to subordinate the means 
 to the end. 
 
 As the first school deals with imponder- 
 ables, with the functions of the human soul, 
 the aspirations of the human spirit, the moral 
 and intellectual needs of mankind, happiness 
 and misery, hope and despair, and as the 
 second regards and handles things that can 
 be weighed, forces that can be measured, com- 
 pounds which can be analyzed, and elements 
 which can be combined, so, as the complement 
 of both, our Third School, or that of Biologi- 
 cal Studies, investigates the constituents, the 
 structure, and the functions of organized 
 
 318 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 existences. It watclies and experiments upon 
 matter which is indeed measurable and pon- 
 derable, and subject to all the laws under 
 which such matter exists, but which is also 
 living. Life and death, the origin, develop- 
 ment, maturity, reproduction, and decay of 
 each and every individual existence are its 
 theme. In psychology it approaches to philo- 
 sophy, in physiology to physics. A founda- 
 tion for healthy society, the perpetuation and 
 invigoration of vigorous life in civilized 
 races, the extirpation of disease, and the 
 gradual conversion of youthful joyousness 
 into the no less natural cheerfulness of old 
 age, are utilitarian purposes within its view. 
 But, enormous as these benefits are, or will 
 be, they are not the only grounds on which 
 Biological studies justly claim recognition, 
 and a place in all systems of public education. 
 It is impossible to exaggerate their impor- 
 tance in the teaching of the young. I do not 
 mean that children should be drilled in 
 physiology or anatomy, or any other scientific 
 subject, in a scientific manner; much less 
 that they should be encouraged, or even 
 allowed, to cram such matters for examina- 
 tion; but that they should be taught from 
 the beginning of their teaching to look at 
 things, handle them, weigh them, name 
 them, watch them, draw them, and think 
 
 319 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 about them. And the things which are most 
 interesting and most instructive — so interest- 
 ing that no examination whip or competition 
 spur is wanted to urge the team — so instruc- 
 tive that their knowledge approaches in many 
 ways to true wisdom — these things, I repeat, 
 are plants and animals. I cannot understand 
 the indifference to these subjects, which most 
 schoolmasters exhibit, much less the dislike 
 or contempt which many actually profess. I 
 am quite sure that Natural History, if fairly 
 accepted as essential, will assist to a quite 
 unexpected extent in the mastery of the more 
 laborious and uninteresting though necessary 
 tasks, which now engross far more than their 
 share of the attention which a young mind 
 can afford. I speak from experience on this 
 matter. If I am told that such subjects are 
 fit for a school, but not for a University, I 
 answer that all schooling is, or ought to be, 
 of the same character, varying only with the 
 student's age, his abilities, and the time which 
 he can devote to it. There is no difference in 
 principle, but only in method and degree 
 between a school and an University. 
 
 To resume : the school of the humanities 
 aims at the intellectual and spiritual eleva- 
 tion of man, at discipline and justice, at the 
 organization of society under rational laws, 
 and in its highest function seeks to ascertain 
 
 320 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 the true relations between man and Ms fel- 
 low-creatures; and between man and God. 
 The school of physics is intent upon the 
 development of the material contrivances or 
 machinery in general by which the progress 
 of humanity may be assisted, and in- 
 vestigates the powers which man may 
 obtain over or in the mechanical and 
 chemical forces which surround him. 
 The school of biology in like manner 
 regards the relations of man to or- 
 ganized nature in general, discovers the con- 
 ditions under which individuals and nations, 
 single and multiple organisms exist, flourish, 
 or decay, and would consequently determine 
 with an absolute limit the possibilities of 
 human progress and perfection. All three 
 trunks are equally essential. They may not 
 be of equal dignity, nor perhaps of equal 
 utility. But without all three there is no 
 true progress for society. Consequentlj' 
 without the study of all three, on philosophi- 
 cal lines, and not for technical or commercial 
 purposes, the education of a nation cannot 
 be complete. The technical applications of 
 science are in no danger of being neglected, 
 while the broad and philosophical prospects 
 over the whole domain of human knowledge 
 — edita doctrina sapientum templa serena — 
 becoming, as they do every year, more diffi- 
 
 321 
 
The Union Booh, 
 
 cult of access, and yet more extensive and 
 fuller of wonder and enchantment to the be- 
 holder, are dependent upon the united action 
 of intellectual men in distinctively intellec- 
 tual societies. Pupil and teacher, student 
 and professor, act and react on each other. 
 Theirs is a Mutual Improvement Association. 
 Enthusiasm is contagious as well as dulness ; 
 and it is only enthusiasm that will invigorate 
 us for the ascent to these Alpine summits. 
 
 I have discarded, not as unimportant, but 
 113 beside my present purpose, the Utilitarian 
 claims of science ; and yet in reference to the 
 utility of biology, I am tempted to add a few 
 very brief remarks. The enormous work 
 which chemical and physical science has 
 during this last century effected in the service 
 of man, and the hopeful glimmer of more 
 wonders which are still behind the curtain, 
 just waiting to be revealed, have naturally 
 concentrated general attention upon them- 
 selves. The utility of those sciences is not 
 doubtful with any, and is exaggerated by not 
 a few. Biology, on the other hand, is only 
 now beginning to find its utility realized by 
 the world. The natural history of man indeed, 
 as embracing branches of anatomy and phy- 
 siology, which would be useful in the practice 
 of medicine, was regarded as a matter of con- 
 siderable importance. And such a smattering 
 
 322 
 
Biological Seienee. 
 
 of botany as might serve a florist, and so much 
 zoology as a sportsman might care to master 
 were recognised as proper ornaments of a 
 polite education. They were the elegant 
 accomplishments of wealthy and intellectual 
 adults, or recommended as unobjectionable 
 occupations for the leisure of the young. They 
 were indeed well studied, because they were 
 studied by enthusiasts. But they were little 
 studied, because they were open to no one else. 
 Things have changed. The utility of biology 
 is now plain enough. Natural History has at 
 last and almost suddenly flashed her lamp 
 upon the most terrible afflictions to which 
 our race is subject. Fevers and pestilence, 
 gangrene and leprosy, to say nothing of 
 murrains and potato famines, are now fami- 
 liar subjects for her investigations. The 
 new medicine will rest on such a basis of 
 knowledge as was not dreamt of twenty, nay 
 ten, years ago. The prevention of disease 
 will take precedence of its cure, since the 
 origin of all unhealthy action will be no 
 longer a matter of conjecture : all the Opa- 
 thies will vanish, patent pills and pilules 
 therewith. From this, more than from any 
 other branch of science, we expect the im- 
 provement of human welfare. And it is 
 growing every day with vigour unprece- 
 dented, outstripping in the vastness and far- 
 
 323 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 reaching results of its discoveries even the 
 prodigious progress of physical or chemical 
 investigations. 
 
 There is, however, one ohjection made to 
 biological study which I dare not pass by in 
 silence. It is too weighty— too solemn to be 
 ignored. For I suppose that the chief, if not 
 the only serious, resistance which is now 
 offered to biology as an essential factor in 
 general education is one which has arisen 
 since the publication of Darwin's views upon 
 the " Origin of Species." The speculations 
 of Lamarck, St. Hilaire, Gothe, and Oken, 
 were little heeded by any, and exercised small 
 influence on English thought — except as 
 filtered through the orthodox intellect of 
 Owen. They were familiarly known to 
 students, who, with a natural and not irra- 
 tional caution, refrained from pushing for- 
 ward as a philosophical system a collection 
 of conjectures and hypotheses which, though 
 plausible and taking, were not established on 
 a just basis of induction. (One exception to 
 this reticence created stir enough in its time. 
 This was " The Vestiges of Creation." I 
 suppose few now read the book; but it is 
 worth reading for the sake of comparing or 
 contrasting its method with that of Darwin.) 
 So that no serious alarm was really aroused 
 until Darwin took us by surprise with his 
 
 324 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 reduction of a mysterioiis class of vital 
 phenomena to well-known and ascertainable 
 causes. ~^ 
 
 The book was so clear, so interesting and so 
 novel, that everybody who pretended to a 
 polite edlication had to read it, discuss it, and 
 so — sometimes — came to ponder over its argu- 
 ment. The result was a general shake to 
 beliefs hitherto unquestioned. With many, 
 their new position was as second-hand, un- 
 real, and irrational as the former. With 
 others, an unexpected door was opened for 
 rapid observation and reckless speculation, 
 through which they still continue to charge 
 with little order or discretion. All qualified 
 and unprejudicial judges on the other hand, 
 while hesitating here and demurring there, 
 " mdlius addicti jurare in verba magistri," 
 recognised in Darwin's argument, withoiut 
 swearing to it, such a new ba«is of operation 
 for biological research as seemed more pro- 
 mising of result, freer from error, and more 
 securely established than ever Bacon's was 
 for physics. And his views would, I think, 
 never have been violently controverted, but 
 only fairly criticised, but for his humiliating 
 demonstration of the probability that Man 
 is, after all, an Animal, descended by ordin- 
 ary process of generation from some sort of 
 Ape, who, in his turn, sprang from some still 
 
 325 
 
The Union Boole. 
 
 less aristocratic line of ancestry. Here one 
 can imagine some ground for alarm. And 
 though we are sure that neither morals nor 
 religion can be damaged by truth, yet so 
 many of their appurtenances and buttresses 
 may be, that we cannot wonder at the horror 
 01- exasperation which that little book excited 
 in some most estimable and noble souls. 
 Certain free lances, moreover, on the revolu- 
 tionary side, displayed so ostentatious a dis- 
 regard or contempt of their apprehension as 
 to convert their instinctive dislike into a 
 not unrea-sonable (but unreasoning) hostility. 
 It is not, however, my purpose to discuss the 
 grounds of the quarrel or the operations of 
 the campaign. My object is to vindicate the 
 teaching of biology in the University. 
 
 Those who, from piety, tenderness of heart, 
 and profound anxiety for the welfare of their 
 fellow men, are tempted to check inquiry, or 
 to suppress facts which may seem adverse to 
 what they hold to be true, are in much danger 
 of helping the enemy and betraying their own 
 cause. Such management may be excusable 
 with persons of infirm mind — or, perhaps, 
 even with children. But society is not com- 
 posed of idiots or of babies ; and grown men 
 have a tendency, for certain, to question and 
 investigate things. 
 
 326 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 If, then, the natural propenBity to inquiry 
 is thwarted and subdued in those who are 
 filled with love and reverence for the beauty 
 of virtue and of holiness, and who are, there- 
 fore, the more easily induced to relinquish 
 pursuits which seem alien to, or at least, 
 remote from these objects, and is left to take 
 an uncontrolled career in minds of the con- 
 trary character, which are incapable of rever- 
 ence, and can form no conception of saintli- 
 ness, we have science and religion at once 
 disunited and divided by the bitterest 
 hostility. The combatants are not only of 
 different camps, but are opposite in race, in 
 language, in manners, and in faith. We 
 have divorced wisdom and innocence : and 
 oppose the cunning of the dove to the ingenu- 
 ousness of the serpent. 
 
 It must be borne in mind that, while the 
 above refers directly only to Darwinism and 
 its developments, yet it applies with equal 
 force to all forms of thought which are dis- 
 tinctively modern. Galileo and his astronomy 
 have now long been at peace with the Church. 
 Geology and Genesis are no longer cries of 
 battle. The still more formidable theories 
 of the latest physicists have, perhaps, hardly 
 yet been recognised for what they are ; but 
 textual and historical criticism — exercised 
 not on the training ground of old plays and 
 
 327 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 ballads, but on the books which are held 
 sacred by millions — is quite another afEair. 
 Consequently, among the pious but timid 
 English, such investigations ^ have been 
 mainly left to hard and bitter radicals, quite 
 unable to apprehend the nature of the 
 tremendous subjects with which they deal, 
 and often incompetent even to use the instru- 
 ments of the art which they profess. And the 
 reason is, that the places in which such 
 studies would have been prosecuted with 
 reverence, and would have borne fruit for 
 humanity in clearer light, nobler morality 
 and more profound religion, refused to 
 acknowledge the right of these studies to 
 existence, and placed them under such bar- 
 barous tabu, and penalties of so distressing ti 
 character, that it is no wonder that a reaction 
 against such blind tyranny has, in some Uni- 
 versities, established a condition of things 
 exactly the opposite of what it was sought to 
 obtain by repression. 
 
 Now we are apt, as we stand watching the 
 tide of human affairs, to feel disappointment 
 and despondency as wave after wave, after 
 fair show of permanent advance, retires back 
 into itself, broken, spent and resultless. But 
 the tide does flow, humanity does progress, 
 even though its progress be proclaimed by 
 destruction. It is by its destroying agencies 
 
 328 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 that we most commouly recognise it. We 
 see well enotigh the fall of the old trees, but 
 the growth of the young is too subtle for our 
 sense. Great gaps open about us, and we miss 
 many things that we have loved, that have 
 done good service, and which we have vainly 
 striven to preserve. But we must not lose 
 faith. Those who most profoundly believe in 
 the Divine Government of the world, ought 
 surely to be the last to fear the result of a 
 conflict between truth and falsehood, good 
 and bad. Progress and progress alone can 
 build up the breaches which itself has made. 
 No restoration, inevitable as reaction is, and 
 enthusiastic as reactionaries often are, can 
 avail to recover the ground once lost, or make 
 old fortifications good against new methods of 
 attack. It is living philosophy and living 
 science that must design the new defences of 
 humanity. 
 
 • Now belief in the grand sense, which im- 
 plies positive assurance of direct personal 
 relations between God and man, is a fact in 
 human nature. It does not perhaps show 
 in all men, but in the best; nor among all 
 nations, but among the noblest. But it is 
 stronger, more vital, more overmastering, as 
 the man who is its subject is the more truly 
 human. It is but little afEected by any 
 acquisition of knowledge, and not at all 
 
 329 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 opposed by any conclusion of science. The 
 most profound science is after all, only a 
 laborious accumulation of infinitesimal know- 
 ledge regarding certain forces of nature. 
 Wbat is that in comparison with ever so 
 imperfect a knowledge of God ? 
 
 Absolute purity of life, profound sympathy 
 with the sufferer along with righteous wrath 
 against the malicious wrong-doer, absolute 
 sacrifice of self to the welfare of others, 
 unceasing communion with God — these are 
 the marks of true humanity, when most 
 human, and most divine. 
 
 This " pure religion and undefiled " is not, 
 as I have said, interrupted or interfered with 
 by any the most profound or most daring in- 
 quiries in philosophy or science. But to the 
 student this aspect of the higher nature is 
 seldom much presented. He is confronted 
 from the very first with a different matter 
 called theology. 
 
 All theologies are essentially attempts to 
 formulate the ineffable, and state in set 
 terms what " eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard," nor hath ever been conceived by the 
 human reason, nor will ever be expressed in 
 mortal language. 
 
 There are better and worse systems, the 
 better being the briefer and simpler, and the 
 more complex and logical, being the worse. 
 
 330 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 These latter indeed, when framed and 
 accepted by men under the strong influence 
 of Christianity, and yet rebellious against its 
 spirit, are apt to become, so far as their 
 practical results go, little more than attempts 
 to reconcile God and Mammon, and to bring 
 " the world, the flesh, and the devil," into an 
 external conformity with religion. The intel- 
 lectual process involved in such systematic 
 theology, is not unlike the game of chess. 
 Certain postulates being accepted, and certain 
 rules of the game being observed, the argu- 
 ment proceeds without interruption. Those 
 who neglect the one or the other are out of 
 the game. But just as no morality Or religion 
 is required of the chess player, so also js 
 neither necessary for the metaphysical theo- 
 logian. His work is of the brain, not of the 
 heart. 
 
 It is true that in the Christian estimate, all 
 enquiry of science is subordinate and inferior 
 to purity and religiousness of life. But in the 
 same way I regard all theological systems as 
 subordinate and inferior to scientific truth. 
 The first are indeed positive in relation to par- 
 ticular persons, or particular associations ; 
 the other is absolutely and universally, to its 
 utmost limit, catholic and obligatory on all. 
 All are not bound to receive it, because not all 
 
 331 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 can understand it. But all who can are 
 bound. 
 
 It follows that theology, as commonly 
 understood, is not, under the circumstances 
 that exist or can be foreseen, a branch of 
 University study at all. It does not follow 
 that it is needless. As a truly religious life 
 is compatible with opposite systems of theo- 
 logy, no such system can in itself be made the 
 foundation for general teaching of religion. 
 But as those who lead the purest and holiest 
 lives are, almost without exception, pro- 
 foundly impressed with the truth of, and with 
 the necessity of belief in, the dogmas with 
 which their spiritual life is bound up, it also 
 follows that some dogmatic system of theo- 
 logy is generally necessary to the formation 
 of a truly religious character. 
 
 The edifice requires a scaffolding, which is 
 nevertheless not only not the building itself, 
 but is to be removed when that is complete. 
 But no sane person would throw down his 
 scaffolding before his house was finished. 
 Again, the same temple may be erected with 
 scaffolding constructed on very different prin- 
 ciples, and yet equally efiicacious. On such 
 grounds, while I do not think we can have ^ 
 religion without theology, while humanity 
 remains what it is, yet I also hold that the 
 University, while fully recognising the first, 
 
 332 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 cannot in any country or under any circum- 
 stances logically undertake the teaching of 
 the second. 
 
 There is, it will be seen, a kind of imperfect 
 analogy between theologies in religion and 
 hypotheses in science. A scientific hypothe- 
 sis is an artificial framework by help of which 
 a certain connection and co-ordination is 
 established between various series of phenom- 
 ena whose succession is determinate and 
 known. It is often admitted to be provisional 
 only, and fair warning is sometimes given 
 that it may bye-and-bye be superseded by a 
 new hypothesis, either a modification of the 
 first, or perhaps an entirely new conception. 
 But the scientific often lose sight of the pro- 
 visional character and artificialness of these 
 hypotheses, just as the religious are often 
 blind to the temporary nature of their theolo- 
 gies. Each feels that in his supposition he 
 has a means of correlating, combining, and 
 uniting scattered facts of science, or of spirit- 
 ual life; and he is apt to assume that what is 
 good and useful f&r himself is useful and good 
 for all others. A scientific teacher is always 
 in peril of the corresponding error which he 
 sees and ridicules in the theologian. Per- 
 haps in greater peril, at least in the present 
 day, when the speculative and theorising 
 
 333 
 
The Union Booh. 
 
 instinct is stronger in physics than in 
 spiritual matters. 
 
 It is therefore plain that the argument, on 
 religious grounds, against biological science 
 as an essential in general education, tells 
 equally against those very linguistic studies 
 which are proposed as a sufficient alterna- 
 tive ; as also that in neither case is this argu- 
 ment of any value, and that the line of 
 action which it suggests is in reality disas- 
 trous to the interests which it desires to pro- 
 tect, and is apt to produce, in a more intense 
 and virulent form, the very spirit which it 
 dreads and would fain exorcise. 
 
 I said at the outset that I would leave the 
 eulogy of natural history, as a means of edu- 
 cation, to better hands. Those who have not 
 yet read Professor Huxley's essays upon the 
 subject in " Lay Sermons, Addresses, and Re- 
 views, 1872," will, if they take the hint, be 
 grateful for the reference. It would show 
 utter want of appreciation to offer a miserable 
 abstract of these brilliant and eloquent works, 
 while to exhibit passages as specimens would 
 be to show a brick as sample of the house. I 
 pass them, therefore, excellent as they are, 
 to lift from the depth of twenty-two centuries 
 a few words which the clearest and profound- 
 est of all intellects has expressed upon this 
 subject. I have slightly paraphrased, but 
 
 334 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 only for the sake of perspicuity, his own de- 
 liverance; and add that the same vein of 
 thought runs through all his voluminous 
 writings upon biology. 
 
 " The objects of intellectual observation or 
 contemplation are of two kinds : Divine, with- 
 out origin or end ; and Natural, which are 
 subject to both. Of the former, our intellect 
 has the less advantage for examination, inas- 
 much as the sensible grounds from which it 
 may proceed are very limited indeed. On the 
 contrary, we have abundajit opportunity for 
 obtaining a knowledge of the works of 
 Nature, that is, plants and animals, through 
 our common acquaintance with them. For 
 anyone can ascertain a large number of the 
 facts attaching to each genus or species, if he 
 is prepared to take sufficient pains. Each of 
 the two studies has its own charm. For, 
 though we attain to ever so little of the former, 
 yet, on account of the transcendent excellence 
 of the subject, it has a greater fascination for 
 us than all knowledge of every-day things 
 put together ; just as a lover had rather get 
 a glimpse of the smallest belonging of his 
 sweetheart's than a full view of any quantity 
 of other people's properties. 
 
 " Yet natural history is more essentially 
 science, and in a higher sense, inasmuch as we 
 can advance in it so much more widely and 
 
 335 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 more deeply; and its subjects, as being so 
 much nearer to ourselves and so much more 
 closely allied to our own nature, lay into the 
 scales a kind of make-weight to render it more 
 equivalent to that philosophy which contem- 
 plates only the Divine. 
 
 " And since I have already stated my views 
 iipon this latter subject, it remains for me to 
 treat of Living Nature, omitting nothing that 
 I can help, however undignified, or the re- 
 verse, it may seem. For even though some 
 particulars of this subject are not very agree- 
 able to the organs of sense, yet, under scien- 
 tific observation and contemplation, the view 
 of the creative action of Nature affords, even 
 here, inconceivable pleasure to those who are 
 able to recognise the sequence of causation, 
 and are of a naturally philosophic character. 
 It is, indeed, illogical and absuid to take 
 delight in contemplating pictures of models 
 of things, because we can, at the same time, 
 behold the touches of the painter or modeller 
 who produced them, and yet not, far more, to 
 enjoy the contemplation of the things them- 
 selves as produced by Nature; if, that is to 
 say, we are capable of discovering the causes, 
 or steps and stages, by which Nature has 
 brought them into existence. 
 
 " One ought not, therefore, to turn away 
 with childish disgust from the investigations 
 
 336 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 of the lower and more ijjnoble animals; for 
 in all the works of Nature there is something 
 wonderful. And we may, to this purpose, 
 adopt the words of Heraclitus, when some visi- 
 tors, who were coming to converse with him, 
 and had got as far as the door, espying him 
 warming himself at the kitchen-stove, stood 
 still, not wishing to intrude further. ' Don't 
 be afraid,' cried he ; ' come in — God is here 
 too, as well as in the parlour.' In like man- 
 ner ought we also to enter boldly, and without 
 grimace or shyness into the investigation of 
 any or every living thing, assured that, in 
 every one of them, there is a natural beauty. 
 For, in the works of Nature, we observe an 
 absence of anything fortuitous, and an exact 
 adaptation of means to an end, more so, 
 indeed, in those works than in any other ; and 
 the end or purpose for which the organism is 
 composed or comes into existence takes the 
 place of the beautiful." * 
 
 Without laying any special stress upon the 
 opinion of this ancient authority, but on the 
 various grounds which have been at least 
 indicated above, together with those which 
 
 * Aristoteles de partibug thnimaMum. I. S. This 
 passage, like many obhers in the author's "Natural 
 HiBtory Series,'* has suffered damage at the hands of 
 sleepy copyists and dull margin-spoilers, though its meaning is 
 still sufficiently clear. In the last sentence, I believe TOV Ka\ov 
 (" the beautiful ") should be altered into TOV ai/TLOV (" the cause "). 
 This is more in accordance with A's mode of thought, which regards 
 the final cause as dominant in every work of Nature, and as determin- 
 ing all the preliminary steps in each case. It is his way of asserting 
 design. 
 
 337 
 
The Union Book. 
 
 are to be found in the treatises cited, we 
 claim for the physical and biological sciences 
 as absolute a position in a University as for 
 the humanities or philosophy. They are as 
 integral constituents of the whole organism 
 of study as the bones and muscles are of the 
 human body. We may defer to the higher 
 rank of the brain, but demand no less the 
 recognition of the rest. 
 
 It may be added that the study of medicine, 
 engineering, chemistry, or the like, for profes- 
 sional purposes, is a portion of technical edu- 
 cation which is justly pursued in the Univer- 
 sity, because all appliances, teachers, and stu- 
 dents of these subjects are concentrated there. 
 But this is an accidental service of the Uni- 
 versity to the demands of a particular society. 
 It does not directly lead to the elevation of 
 humanity ; though indirectly it does, since it 
 has the incidental effect of, guarding those 
 who are so engaged in technical preparation 
 for business against narrow-minded and ill- 
 proportioned estimates of life. The Univer- 
 sity, except under miserable conditions, 
 which, however, have sometimes existed, is 
 the best training for a just and liberal esti- 
 mate of things, for the elimination of petti- 
 ness, jealousy, and paltry ambition from the 
 heart, for the service of society, and the 
 government of men. 
 
 338 
 
Biological Science. 
 
 But even when the course is most wisely 
 and completely arranged, it will still require 
 constant modification and accommodation to 
 the organic change which is ever in process 
 throughout the whole outside world. Such 
 changes move nowadays with a swiftness 
 which surpasses^ ordinary powers of observa- 
 tion, so that no pains are thrown away which 
 result in suiting our institutions to altered 
 conditions, so far as these alterations are not 
 in the fashion of the day only, but devised 
 in the view of the ultimate interests of man- 
 kind. 
 
 " The old order ohangeth, yielding place to new, 
 
 And God fulfils Himself in many ways, 
 
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world." 
 
 339