But, without attempting to discuss this question, on which much might be said on both sides, it is certain that no such objection can be urged against the study of the physical sciences if conducted in the manner I have attempted to describe. These subjects present to the consideration of the student every degree of probable evidence, accustoming him to weigh all the evidence for or against a given conclusion, and to reject or to provisionally accept only on the balance of probabilities. Moreover, in practical science, the student is taught to follow out a chain of probable evidence with care and caution, to eliminate all accidental phenomena, and supply, by experiment or observation, the missing links, until he reaches the final conclusion—an intellectual process which, though based wholly on probable evidence, may have all the force and certainty of a mathematical demonstration.
Indeed, that highly valued scientific acumen and skill which enables the student to brush away the accidental circumstances by which the laws of Nature are always concealed until the truth stands out in bold relief, is but a higher phase of the same talent which marks professional skill in all the higher walks of life. The physician who looks through the external symptoms of his patient to the real disease which lurks beneath; the lawyer, who disentangles a mass of conflicting testimony, and follows out the truth successfully to the end; the statesman, who sees beneath the froth of political life the great fundamental principles which will inevitably rule the conduct of the state, and thus foresees and provides for the coming change; the general, who discovers amid the confusion of the battlefield the weak point of his enemy's front; the merchant, even, who can interpret the signs of the unsettled market—employ the same faculty, and frequently in not a much lower degree, that discovered the law of gravitation, and which, since the days of Newton, has worked so successfully to unveil the mysteries of the material creation.
Moreover, I hope, my friends, that you will come to value scientific studies, not simply because they cultivate the perceptive and reasoning faculties, but also because they fill the mind with lofty ideals, elevated conceptions, and noble thoughts. Indeed, I claim that there is no better school in which to train the æsthetical faculties of the mind, the tastes, and the imagination, than the study of natural science.
The beauty of Nature is infinite, and the more we study her works the more her loveliness unfolds. The upheaved mountain, with its mantle of eternal snow; the majestic cataract, with its whirl and roar of waters; the sunset cloud, with its blending of gorgeous hues, lose nothing of their beauty for him who knows the mystery they conceal. On the contrary, they become, one and all, irradiated by the Infinite Presence which shines through them, and fill the mind with grander conceptions and nobler ideas than your uneducated child of Nature could ever attain.
Remember that I am not recommending an exclusive devotion to the natural sciences. I am only claiming for them their proper place in the scheme of education, and I do not, of course, deny the unquestionable value of both the ancient and the modern classics in cultivating a pure and elevated taste. But I do say that the poet-laureate of England has drawn a deeper inspiration from Nature interpreted by science than any of his predecessors of the classical school; and I do also affirm that the pre-Raphaelite school of painting, with all its grotesque mimicry of Nature, embodies a truer and purer ideal than that of any Roman fable or Grecian dream.
And what shall we say of the imagination? Where can you find a wider field for its exercise than that opened by the discoveries of modern science? And as the mind wanders over the vast expanse, crossing boundless spaces, dwelling in illimitable time, witnessing the displays of immeasurable power, and studying the adaptations of Omniscient skill, it lives in a realm of beauty, of wonder, and of awe, such as no artist has ever attained to in word, in sound, in color, or in form. And if such a life does not lead man to feel his own dependence, to yearn toward the Infinite Father, and to rest on the bosom of Infinite Love, it is simply because it is not the noble in intellect, not the great in talent, not the profound in knowledge, not the rich in experience, not the lofty in aspiration, not the gifted in imagery, but solely the pure in heart, who see God.
Such, then, is a very imperfect presentation of what I believe to be the value of scientific studies as a means of education. In what I have stated I have implied that, for these studies to be of any real value, the end must be constantly kept in view, and everything made subservient to the one great object.
To study the natural sciences merely as a collection of interesting facts which it is well for every educated man to know, seldom serves a useful purpose. The young mind becomes wearied with the details, and soon forgets what it has never more than half acquired. The lessons become an exercise of the memory and of nothing more; and if, as is too frequently the case, an attempt is made to cram the half-formed mind in a single school-year with an epitome of half the natural sciences—natural philosophy, astronomy, and chemistry, physiology, zoölogy, botany, and mineralogy, following each other in rapid succession—these studies become a great evil, an actual nuisance, which I should be the first to vote to abate. The tone of mind is not only not improved, but seriously impaired, and the best product is a superficial, smattering smartness, which is the crying evil not only of our schools but also of our country.
In order that the sciences should be of value in our educational system, they must be taught more from things than from books, and never from books without the things. They must be taught, also, by real living teachers, who are themselves interested in what they teach, are interested also in their pupils, and understand how to direct them aright. Above all, the teachers must see to it that their pupils study with the understanding, and not solely with the memory, not permitting a single lesson to be recited which is not thoroughly understood, taking the greatest care not to load the memory with any useless lumber, and eschewing merely memorized rules as they would deadly poison. The great difficulty against which the teachers of natural science have to contend in the colleges are the wretched tread-mill habits the students bring with them from the schools. Allow our students to memorize their lessons, and they will appear respectably well, but you might as easily remove a mountain as to make many of them think. They will solve an involved equation of algebra readily enough so long as they can do it by turning their mental crank, when they will break down on the simplest practical problem of arithmetic which requires of them only thought enough to decide whether they shall multiply or divide.
Many a boy of good capabilities has been irretrievably ruined, as a scholar, by being compelled to learn the Latin grammar by rote at an age when he was incapable of understanding it; and I fear that schools may still be found where young minds are tortured by this stupefying exercise. Those of us who have faith in the educational value of scientific studies are most anxious that the students who resort to our colleges should be as well fitted in the physical sciences as in the classics, for otherwise the best results of scientific culture can not be expected. As it is, our students come to the university, not only with no preparation in physical science, but with their perceptive and reasoning faculties so undeveloped that the acquisition of the elementary principles of science is burdensome and distasteful; and good scholars, who are ambitious of distinction, can more readily win their laurels on the old familiar track than on an untried course of which they know nothing, and for which they must begin their training anew.