Part 14

But one who, like the physician, has actively to face natural forces which bring about weal or woe, is also under the obligation of seeking for a knowledge of the truth, and of the truth only; without considering whether, what he finds, is pleasant in one way or the other. His aim is one which is firmly settled; for him the success of facts is alone finally decisive. He must endeavour to ascertain beforehand, what will be the result of his attack if he pursues this or that course. In order to acquire this foreknowledge of what is coming, but of what has not been settled by observations, no other method is possible than that of endeavouring to arrive at the laws of facts by observations; and we can only learn them by induction, by the careful selection, collation, and observation of those cases which fall under the law. When we fancy that we have arrived at a law, the business of deduction commences. It is then our duty to develop the consequences of our law as completely as may be, but in the first place only to apply to them the test of experience, so far as they can be tested, and then to decide by this test whether the law holds, and to what extent. This is a test which really never ceases. The true natural philosopher reflects at each new phenomenon, whether the best established laws of the best known forces may not experience a change; it can of course only be a question of a change which does not contradict the whole store of our previously collected experiences. It never thus attains unconditional truth, but such a high degree of probability that it is practically equal to certainty. The metaphysicians may amuse themselves at this; we will take their mocking to heart when they are in a position to do better, or even as well. The old words of Socrates, the prime master of inductive definitions, in reference to them are just as fresh as they were 2,000 years ago: ‘They imagined they knew what they did not know, and he at any rate had the advantage of not pretending to know what he did not know.’ And again, he was surprised at its not being clear to them that it is not possible for men to discover such things; since even those who most prided themselves on the speeches made on the matter, did not agree among themselves, but behaved to each other like madmen (τοῖς μαινομένοις ὁμοίως).[28] Socrates calls them τοὺς μέγιστον φρονοῦντας. Schopenhauer[29] calls himself a Mont Blanc, by the side of a mole-heap, when he compares himself with a natural philosopher. The pupils admire these big words and try to imitate the master.

[Footnote 28: Xenophon, _Memorabil._ I. i. 11.]

[Footnote 29: Arthur Schopenhauer, _Von ihm. über ihn von Frauenstadt und Lindner_. Berlin, 1863, p. 653.]

In speaking against the empty manufacture of hypotheses, do not by any means suppose that I wish to diminish the real value of original thoughts. The first discovery of a new law, is the discovery of a similarity which has hitherto been concealed in the course of natural processes. It is a manifestation of that which our forefathers in a serious sense described as ‘wit’; it is of the same quality as the highest performances of artistic perception in the discovery of new types of expression. It is something which cannot be forced, and which cannot be acquired by any known method. Hence all those aspire after it who wish to pass as the favoured children of genius. It seems, too, so easy, so free from trouble, to get by sudden mental flashes an unattainable advantage over our contemporaries. The true artist and the true inquirer knows that great works can only be produced by hard work. The proof that the ideas formed do not merely scrape together superficial resemblances, but are produced by a quick glance into the connection of the whole, can only be acquired when these ideas are completely developed--that is, for a newly discovered natural law, only by its agreement with facts. This estimate must by no means be regarded as depending on external success, but the success is here closely connected with the depth and completeness of the preliminary perceptions.

To find superficial resemblances is easy; it is amusing in society, and witty thoughts soon procure for their author the name of a clever man. Among the great number of such ideas, there must be some which are ultimately found to be partially or wholly correct; it would be a stroke of skill _always_ to guess falsely. In such a happy chance a man can loudly claim his priority for the discovery; if otherwise, a lucky oblivion conceals the false conclusions. The adherents of such a process are glad to certify the value of a first thought. Conscientious workers who are shy at bringing their thoughts before the public before they have tested them in all directions, solved all doubts, and have firmly established the proof, these are at a decided disadvantage. To settle the present kind of questions of priority, only by the date of their first publication, and without considering the ripeness of the research, has seriously favoured this mischief.

In the ‘type case’ of the printer all the wisdom of the world is contained which has been or can be discovered; it is only requisite to know how the letters are to be arranged. So also, in the hundreds of books and pamphlets which are every year published about ether, the structure of atoms, the theory of perception, as well as on the nature of the asthenic fever and carcinoma, all the most refined shades of possible hypotheses are exhausted, and among these there must necessarily be many fragments of the correct theory. But who knows how to find them?

I insist upon this in order to make clear to you that all this literature, of untried and unconfirmed hypotheses, has no value in the progress of science. On the contrary, the few sound ideas which they may contain are concealed by the rubbish of the rest; and one who wants to publish something really new--facts--sees himself open to the danger of countless claims of priority, unless he is prepared to waste time and power in reading beforehand a quantity of absolutely useless books, and to destroy his readers’ patience by a multitude of useless quotations.

Our generation has had to suffer under the tyranny of spiritualistic metaphysics; the newer generation will probably have to guard against that of the materialistic hypotheses. Kant’s rejection of the claims of pure thought has gradually made some impression, but Kant allowed one way of escape. It was as clear to him as to Socrates that all metaphysical systems which up to that time had been propounded were tissues of false conclusions. His _Kritik der reinen Vernunft_ is a continual sermon against the use of the category of thought beyond the limits of possible experience. But geometry seemed to him to do something which metaphysics was striving after; and hence geometrical axioms, which he looked upon as _à priori_ principles antecedent to all experience, he held to be given by transcendental intuition, or as the inherent form of all external intuition. Since that time, pure _à priori_ intuition has been the anchoring-ground of metaphysicians. It is even more convenient than pure thought, because everything can be heaped on it without going into chains of reasoning, which might be capable of proof or of refutation. The nativistic theory of perception of the senses is the expression of this theory in physiology. All mathematicians united to fight against any attempt to resolve the intuitions into their natural elements; whether the so-called pure or the empirical, the axioms of geometry, the principles of mechanics, or the perceptions of vision. For this reason, therefore, the mathematical investigations of Lobatschewsky, Gauss, and Riemann on the alterations which are logically possible in the axioms of geometry; and the proof that the axioms are principles which are to be confirmed or perhaps even refuted by experience, and can accordingly be acquired from experience--these I consider to be very important steps. That all metaphysical sects get into a rage about this must not lead you astray, for these investigations lay the axe at the bases of apparently the firmest supports which their claims still possess. Against those investigators who endeavour to eliminate from among the perceptions of the senses, whatever there may be of the actions of memory, and of the repetition of similar impressions, which occur in memory; whatever, in short, is a matter of experience, against them it is attempted to raise a party cry that they are spiritualists. As if memory, experience, and custom were not also facts, whose laws are to be sought, and which are not to be explained away because they cannot be glibly referred to reflex actions, and to the complex of the prolongation of ganglionic cells, and of the connection of nerve-fibres in the brain.

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

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

From the entire chain of my argument it follows that what I have said against metaphysics is not intended against philosophy. But metaphysicians have always tried to plume themselves on being philosophers, and philosophical amateurs have mostly taken an interest in the high-flying speculations of the metaphysicians, by which they hope in a short time, and at no great trouble, to learn the whole of what is worth knowing. On another occasion[30] I compared the relationship of metaphysics to philosophy with that of astrology to astronomy. The former had the most exciting interest for the public at large, and especially for the fashionable world, and turned its alleged connoisseurs into influential persons. Astronomy, on the contrary, although it had become the ideal of scientific research, had to be content with a small number of quietly working disciples.

[Footnote 30: Preface to the German translation of Tyndall’s _Scientific Fragments_, p. xxii.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ON ACADEMIC FREEDOM IN GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.

_Inaugural Address as Rector of the Frederick William University of Berlin. Delivered October 15, 1877._

In entering upon the honourable office to which the confidence of my colleagues has called me, my first duty is once more openly to express my thanks to those who have thus honoured me by their confidence. I have the more reason to appreciate it highly, as it was conferred upon me, notwithstanding that I have been but few years among you, and notwithstanding that I belong to a branch of natural science which has come within the circle of University instruction in some sense as a foreign element; which has necessitated many changes in the old order of University teaching, and which will, perhaps, necessitate other changes. It is indeed just in that branch (Physics) which I represent, and which forms the theoretical basis of all other branches of Natural Science, that the particular characteristics of their methods are most definitely pronounced. I have already been several times in the position of having to propose alterations in the previous regulations of the University, and I have always had the pleasure of meeting with the ready assistance of my colleagues in the faculty, and of the Senate. That you have made me the Director of the business of this University for this year, is a proof that you regard me as no thoughtless innovator. For, in fact, however the objects, the methods, the more immediate aims of investigations in the natural sciences may differ externally from those of the mental sciences, and however foreign their results and however remote their interest may often appear, to those who are accustomed only to the direct manifestations and products of mental activity, there is in reality, as I have endeavoured to show in my discourse as Rector at Heidelberg, the closest connection in the essentials of scientific methods, as well as in the ultimate aims of both classes of the sciences. Even if most of the objects of investigation of the natural sciences are not directly connected with the interests of the mind, it cannot, on the other hand, be forgotten that the power of true scientific method stands out in the natural sciences far more prominently--that the real is far more sharply separated from the unreal, by the incorruptible criticism of facts, than is the case with the more complex problems of mental science.

And not merely the development of this new side of scientific activity, which was almost unknown to antiquity, but also the influence of many political, social, and even international relationships make themselves felt, and require to be taken into account. The circle of our students has had to be increased; a changed national life makes other demands upon those who are leaving; the sciences become more and more specialised and divided; exclusive of the libraries, larger and more varied appliances for study are required. We can scarcely foresee what fresh demands and what new problems we may have to meet in the more immediate future.

On the other hand, the German Universities have conquered a position of honour not confined to their fatherland; the eyes of the civilised world are upon them. Scholars speaking the most different languages crowd towards them, even from the farthest parts of the earth. Such a position would be easily lost by a false step, but would be difficult to regain.

Under these circumstances it is our duty to get a clear understanding of the reason for the previous prosperity of our Universities; we must try to find what is the feature in their arrangements which we must seek to retain as a precious jewel, and where, on the contrary, we may give way when changes are required. I consider myself by no means entitled to give a final opinion on this matter. The point of view of any single individual is restricted; representatives of other sciences will be able to contribute something. But I think that a final result can only be arrived at when each one becomes clear as to the state of things as seen from his point of view.

The European Universities of the Middle Age had their origin as free private unions of their students, who came together under the influence of celebrated teachers, and themselves arranged their own affairs. In recognition of the public advantage of these unions they soon obtained from the State, privileges and honourable rights, especially that of an independent jurisdiction, and the right of granting academic degrees. The students of that time were mostly men of mature years, who frequented the University more immediately for their own instruction and without any direct practical object; but younger men soon began to be sent, who, for the most part, were placed under the superintendence of the older members. The separate Universities split again into closer economic unions, under the name of ‘Nations,’ ‘Bursaries,’ ‘Colleges,’ whose older members, the seniors, governed the common affairs of each such union, and also met together for regulating the common affairs of the University. In the courtyard of the University of Bologna are still to be seen the coats-of-arms, and lists of members and seniors, of many such Nations in ancient times. The older graduated members were regarded as permanent life members of such Unions, and they retained the right of voting, as is still the case in the College of Doctors in the University of Vienna, and in the Colleges of Oxford and of Cambridge, or was until recently.

Such a free confederation of independent men, in which teachers as well as taught were brought together by no other interest than that of love of science; some by the desire of discovering the treasure of mental culture which antiquity had bequeathed, others endeavouring to kindle in a new generation the ideal enthusiasm which had animated their lives. Such was the origin of Universities, based, in the conception, and in the plan of their organisation, upon the most perfect freedom. But we must not think here of freedom of teaching in the modern sense. The majority was usually very intolerant of divergent opinions. Not unfrequently the adherents of the minority were compelled to quit the University in a body. This was not restricted to those cases in which the Church intermeddled, and where political or metaphysical propositions were in question. Even the medical faculties--that of Paris, the most celebrated of all at the head--allowed no divergence from that which they regarded as the teaching of Hippocrates. Anyone who used the medicines of the Arabians or who believed in the circulation of the blood was expelled.

The change, in the Universities, to their present constitution, was caused mainly by the fact that the State granted to them material help, but required, on the other hand, the right of co-operating in their management. The course of this development was different in different European countries, partly owing to divergent political conditions and partly to that of national character.

Until lately, it might have been said that the least change has taken place in the old English Universities, Oxford and Cambridge. Their great endowments, the political feeling of the English for the retention of existing rights, had excluded almost all change, even in directions in which such change was urgently required. Until of late both Universities had in great measure retained their character as schools for the clergy, formerly of the Roman and now of the Anglican Church, whose instruction laymen might also share in so far as it could serve the general education of the mind; they were subjected to such a control and mode of life, as was formerly considered to be good for young priests. They lived, as they still live, in colleges, under the superintendence of a number of older graduate members (Fellows) of the College; in other respects in the style and habits of the well-to-do classes in England.