The conspicuous failure of American statesmanship consists in a failure to appreciate the value of scientific education, it shows that good citizenship is impossible without good education—for good education and good citizenship are convertible terms. And it is easy to show, by the past, that to hesitate on the subject of education is to be lost.[66]
[66] “If you examine into the history of rogues, you will find that they are as truly manufactured articles as anything else, and it is just because our present system of political economy gives so large a stimulus to that manufacture that you may know it to be a false one. We had better seek for a system which will develop honest men than for one which will deal cunningly with vagabonds. Let us reform our schools, and we shall find little reform needed in our prisons.”—“Unto This Last,” p. 50. By John Ruskin. New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1883.
Why do we provide for popular education? Is it out of pure generosity that the rich citizen consents to be taxed to pay for the education of his poor neighbor’s children? Does the man who has no children willingly surrender a portion of his estate for the education of the children of others, as an act of benevolence? Not at all. There is no security for property in a community devoid of education and consequent intelligence. Intelligence alone confers upon property a sacred character. In one of two ways only can property be rendered secure in the owner’s hands. It may be protected by a hired soldiery, through the force of arms,[E13] or through the force of public sentiment enlightened by education. The reason why the poor but educated citizen would not lay violent hands on the rich citizen’s property is the fact that he indulges the intelligent hope of himself acquiring property. Besides, the morals of a community are in the ratio of its intelligence. The indulgence of hope promotes self-esteem, and self-respect, and these qualities react ethically.
It should be borne in mind that while one of the main purposes of all governments is to preserve property rights, nearly all the governments of history have been shattered in pieces in the effort to fulfil this function of their existence. It may be said that there is never anything sacred about property unless it is honestly acquired. All the force of our own government was exerted in a vain effort to protect property in slaves. England has been compelled to disturb the property rights of the Irish landlords, and this is only the prelude to an attack upon the property rights of her own landlords. It was the ignorance of the English people hundreds of years ago that permitted the establishment of a land system which is now about to crumble in pieces, and in its fail wreck certain property rights.
There is nothing sacred about property unless it is honestly acquired and honestly held; and property can only be honestly acquired and honestly held, in communities intelligent enough to guard its acquisition, and continued possession, by just and adequate laws. It follows that education is the sole bulwark of the State, and so of property.
The question of the first consequence is, therefore, always, What is the best system of education? It is obvious, also, that the subject of cost should not enter into the discussion; that the best education is the cheapest, is an indisputable proposition. We have seen that the New England system of education, which has spread over the whole country, is very much better than the system which prevailed in those States of the Union where slavery continued to exist down to 1864. But we have seen, also, that that system is very defective; that it is automatic, and hence not natural, not practical, not scientific. It does not produce great merchants, great lawyers, great judges, or great legislators. That it does not, is abundantly shown by the fact that in mercantile life there are ninety-three to ninety-seven failures in every one hundred experiments; by the fact that there is notoriously a general failure of justice; and by the fact that here, as in Great Britain, the chief business of statesmen is the undoing of vicious legislation.
There is a system of training which produces a much higher average of culture than that of the public schools and the universities. We allude to the training received by the students of special mechanical and technical institutions, and by the apprentices in trade-shops. The proof of this is found in the world’s railways, ships, harbors, docks, canals, bridges, telegraph and telephone lines, and in a thousand and one other manifestations of skill in art. In the adaptation of means to an end, and in nicety of construction, the mechanic and the civil engineer show, in innumerable ways, with what thoroughness both their minds and their hands have been trained. If mercantile operations were governed by such excellent rules in projection, and by such precision in execution, ninety-seven merchants in a hundred would not go to the wall.
A story has lately gone the round of the public prints to the effect that, during a visit to a needle factory by the Emperor of Germany, a workman begged a hair of his head, bored an eye in it, threaded it, and handed it back to the monarch, who had expressed surprise that eyes could be bored in the smaller sizes of needles. It does not matter whether or not this story is literally true; it illustrates the delicacy of modern mechanical operations. Hundreds of similar illustrations might be given, showing how marvellously skilful the hand has become.
It is not claimed that the hand is a nicer instrument than the mind. As a matter of fact, in drilling the hole in the hair the mind and the hand work together—the mind directs the hand, we will say. The mind devises or invents a watch—every wheel, pinion, screw, and spring—and directs the hand how to make it, and how to set it up, and it ticks off the time. Why does the mind succeed so admirably when it employs the hand to execute its will, but so ill when it devises and attempts, itself, to execute? How is it that the mind invents a watch which, being made by the hand, records the hour to a second, ninety-nine times in a hundred, but fails ninety-three to ninety-seven times in a hundred to devise and carry into execution a mercantile venture? How is it that the mind invents a steam-engine consisting of a hundred pieces, so that, each piece being made by a different hand, the machine shall, when set up, ninety-nine times in a hundred, at once perform the work of five hundred horses without strain or friction, but when it grapples with law and fact in the chair of lawyer or judge produces a most pitiable wreck of justice? How is it that the mind devises and the hand executes with such nice adaptation of means to the end in view, a bridge, that resembles a spider’s web, and yet bears thousands of tons and endures for ages, but when it undertakes to legislate evolves statutes that wear out in a year? The first iron bridge constructed spanned the Severn, in England. It was opened to traffic a hundred years ago, but it is still a stanch structure likely to stand for centuries. Where are the English statutes of that time? Repealed to give place to a long line of others which in turn have been repealed. When the famous iron bridge across the Severn was constructed, English legislators were passing bills to compel the American colonies to trade only with the mother country, and to tax them without their consent. Lord Sheffield said, with charming frankness, that the colonies were founded with the sole view of securing to England a monopoly of their trade; and Lord Chatham declared that they would not be permitted to make even a nail or a horseshoe.
In 1516 Sir Thomas More denounced the criminal law of England, declaring that “the loss of money should not cause the loss of man’s life.”[67] But this humane and enlightened sentiment had so little weight that during the reign of Henry VIII. seventy-two thousand thieves were hanged—at the rate of two thousand a year. In 1785 twenty men were executed in London at one time for thefts of five shillings. The Lord Chief-justice and the Lord Chancellor agreed that it would be dangerous to repeal the law punishing pilfering by youths. In 1816 the Commons passed a bill abolishing capital punishment for shoplifting—stealing the value of five shillings—but the Lords defeated it, Lord Ellenborough, Chief-justice, observing, peevishly, “They want to alter these laws which a century has proved to be necessary, and which are now to be overturned by speculation and modern philosophy.”[68]