In the former essays of this volume I have earnestly maintained that scientific culture, rightly understood, is a suitable basis for a liberal education; and I have maintained this thesis without in any way attempting to disparage that literary culture hitherto so generally regarded as the only basis on which the liberal arts could be built. While, however, I have argued that, in the present condition of the world, there is more than one basis of true scholarship, I have fully admitted that for far the larger number of scholars, including all those whose lives are to be occupied with literary pursuits, the old system of education is still the best. Moreover, I have endeavored to point out that scientific culture in no way conflicts with literary culture; that it has a different spirit, a different method, and a different aim; and I have only recommended it as suitable to those who are distinctly preparing themselves for a scientific calling; but I have maintained that for such men scientific studies, rightly followed, may lead to a broad, a noble, and in the truest sense a liberal education.

I have used the term scientific culture rightly understood in order to mark a distinction; because a great deal that passes for scientific scholarship in the world does not imply true scientific culture. In all departments of learning, and not less in scientific than in literary studies, erudition does not necessarily imply a high degree of culture. We all value the labors of the lexicographer, and the work may be so done as to task the noblest intellectual power; but there is a higher form of literary culture than that which dictionary-making usually implies. So also in science, no amount of book-learning constitutes what we have called scientific culture rightly understood. For example, the ability to pass an examination on the facts and principles of science is no test whatever of the form of culture we are advocating. Not that we underrate the value of such tests, or of the knowledge they imply; but the ability to master a subject as presented in a text-book, and to state that knowledge in a concise and accurate form, is the normal result of literary, not of scientific culture. The power to do something well is involved in the very idea of culture, and the scholar who can pass a successful written examination has acquired a power which literary culture chiefly gives, and that this power may be applied to scientific as well as literary subjects is obvious. Here is a most important distinction in connection with our subject. Culture implies the acquisition of some power of the mind in an eminent degree, and such power is constantly associated with erudition, simply because it leads to erudition. But when we see erudition without such power, as we often do in every department of scholarship, we perceive at once upon how much lower a level it stands. What very different things are classical scholarship and classical erudition; and is not the power which the great classical scholars possess of interpreting the thoughts of the classical authors, and of reproducing their life, the great element of difference between the two?

So scientific culture implies the ability to interpret Nature, to observe her phenomena, and to investigate her laws. The scholar, to whom Nature presents merely an orderly succession of facts and phenomena, knows nothing of true scientific culture. As there is a spirit in the great writers of classical antiquity which ennobles the study of the forms in which the thoughts of these authors were expressed, so also is there a spirit in Nature without which facts and phenomena, however well classified, create no intellectual elevation. The last century of the world's history has been marked, more than by anything else, by the increase of our knowledge of Nature, and it will be known in history as the age of great discoveries; but valuable as the facts and principles of science certainly are, greatly as they have promoted the well-being of mankind, and important, therefore, as the knowledge of these facts and principles must be to man, yet nevertheless I should never urge the claims of physical science as a basis of liberal education if they could be defended on no other grounds than these. It is here as elsewhere "the spirit which giveth life"; and the power to interpret Nature, and to commune with the intelligence that rules the universe, is the one acquisition which, above all others, gives worth and dignity to the form of culture we have endeavored to advocate in these essays.

Those who regard science simply as utilitarianism, and who value scientific studies solely because they teach men how to build railroads, to explore mines, to extract the useful metals from their ores, or to increase the yield of agriculture, have an even more imperfect conception of what is meant by scientific culture than those to whom science is merely a valuable erudition. It is true that physics and chemistry may be studied as arts rather than as sciences, and we have no desire to underrate the importance of such technical education; but the difference between the two modes of study is as wide as the difference between the artisan and the scholar. In asserting this we do not forget that the occupations of the engineer, the electrician, and the analytical chemist demand a very large amount of knowledge, judgment, and skill, and are rightly regarded as learned professions. But let it not be supposed that skill in such professions is the end or aim of scientific culture; any more than legal skill is the end or aim of literary culture. If literary scholars regard the study of science solely from this point of view, it is no wonder that they think that the tone of scholarship would be lowered if it rested solely on such a utilitarian basis; and, on the other hand, if they could once realize the sublimity of Nature, as Copernicus, Newton, Faraday, and unnumbered others have realized it, this fear that devotion to science must degrade scholarship would disappear.

We are well aware that practical men frequently regard with undisguised contempt the students of theoretical science, and that the greater number of persons seeking a scientific education must look for employment to the practical professions in which this tone too often prevails. But, certainly, a narrow technical spirit prevails quite as often in the professions in which literary scholars chiefly find employment; and the new scientific professions are even more closely dependent on the discussion of theoretical and abstract principles than those which have hitherto been exclusively regarded as liberal. It is an admitted fact, as we have shown in another place, that all the great advances in practical science, all the great inventions, which during the last century have so wonderfully increased the power of man over Nature, may be traced directly to the results of theoretical study. For this reason, if on no higher ground, we have claimed that it is both the interest and the duty of the State to foster and reward scientific investigation. The time is not far distant, if it is not already at hand, when the scientific culture of a people will be one of the chief factors in determining its position among the nations of the world.

We can not leave this subject without giving prominence to another thought, which has been ever present with us while writing these pages, if not hitherto distinctly stated. Culture, as we have seen, implies power, and the possession of power also involves corresponding obligations. Among the many blessings which Christianity and its attendant civilization have brought to mankind, the recognition of this principle is most plainly marked. The principle is assumed in almost every relation of life, even when not distinctly acknowledged; and happily it can rarely now be disregarded without incurring the odium of mankind. It leads the possessors of great wealth to devote no inconsiderable share of their fortunes to the public good; it stigmatizes as miserly any neglect of this obligation; and the best hope of preserving our modern civilization against the destructive agencies of socialism is to be found in the increasing recognition and enforcement of this saving grace.

But while this principle is, to a greater or less degree, acted upon in all relations of life, it is enforced by public opinion with special strictness upon those who assume to be the servants of the people. In political life the obligations it imposes are already very generally recognized; and still more strongly are they felt by the ministers of religion. The politician who uses his high position to promote his personal interests may sometimes escape his just deserts; but the clergyman who prostitutes his influence for private gains is universally condemned. So true is this, that a clergyman is debarred by his profession from many of the industries and occupations of life which are regarded as perfectly honorable callings for other men. A clergyman who speculated in stocks, or even engaged in a mercantile pursuit, would, with good reason, lose the respect of the very men who had gained their wealth by the same ways which they deny to him. He may not, like the members of the elder religious fraternities, take the vow of poverty, but still he is held to a very strict rule of life; and on this is based his claim to an adequate support from the people to whom he ministers. Because "appointed to sow spiritual things," the clergy are entitled "to reap worldly things" which they have not sown nor gathered; and evil will be the days when this claim is disallowed.

Now, we hold that the profession of a scientific teacher implies an obligation not less binding than that which rests on the clergyman; and this is especially true if the teacher has been placed in a conspicuous and responsible position before the world. The teacher has been set apart as truly as the clergyman, and, if he uses the influence of his office merely as a means of accumulating wealth, he is not loyal to the profession which he has voluntarily assumed. Let me not be misunderstood. There are a thousand legitimate ways of earning a livelihood and acquiring wealth by means of the knowledge which scientific study gives; and a man has a right to use scientific knowledge for his worldly advancement as freely as any other knowledge. But the man who has accepted the post of a teacher, and receives the support to which his position entitles him, is bound to do the work of a teacher to the best of his ability, and to devote his whole energies to extending the knowledge of the science which he professes to teach. It is of the utmost importance that the community should be educated up to this point, and should hold its teachers to their trusts and obligations as strictly as it does its clergy. Indeed, the scientific even more than the religious teacher requires the aid of a correct public sentiment to maintain the tone of his profession. Scientific knowledge and acumen, when centered on business relations, has often discovered direct avenues to wealth; the temptation to make use of the opportunities thus offered is of course very great, and in most of the relations of life the career so opened may be perfectly legitimate and honorable. But no one can expect to succeed in any business career without devoting his whole energy to the work, and there are conditions under which such a course would involve the betrayal of a trust. Nor are the words betrayal of a trust too strong; for it is sometimes the case that, besides neglecting his appropriate work, the scientific teacher sells the reputation of his position, and commands a higher price because he barters the good name of the institution with which he is connected.

I am well aware that there is another side to this question. In many of our colleges the professor has an inadequate support, and is expected or even invited to supplement his income by what is technically called "commercial work." Of course, in such cases the man can not be blamed; but public opinion should be such as to prevent a respectable institution from offering, or a respectable professor from accepting, such a position. The workman is worthy of his hire, and the same sentiment which demands from the scientific professor a whole-hearted devotion to his work, demands also from the community for which he works an adequate support.

It is undoubtedly in consequence of the inadequate support which scientific teachers generally receive in this country that public sentiment tolerates with them practices which sober judgment must condemn; and it must be remembered that under these circumstances a teacher, if he is faithful to the routine of his office, may devote his remaining energies to commercial work, not only without any consciousness of wrong-doing, but even with the approbation of his associates. Hence, it is the more important to establish firmly in the public mind the well-founded opinion that the endowed professorships of our higher institutions of learning are offices of public trust, to be administered solely for the public good. There is no hardship in this position; since perfectly legitimate and honorable avenues are opened to the scientific scholar, on which he may expend his business energies, and, at the same time, use his scientific knowledge; and for many men these avenues lead in the directions in which they can not only most effectually advance themselves in worldly prosperity, but also most benefit their fellows. Among the men of practical ability who have developed a new industry, or introduced a new invention, and who have acquired wealth thereby, are to be found some of the greatest benefactors of their race; and far would it be from me to institute a comparison between the practical men and the scholars. All we claim is that the men of affairs should resign the endowments intended for the maintenance of scholars to those whose zeal is sufficient to induce them to make gladly the sacrifices which the advancement of knowledge usually entails.

These considerations will appear still more forcible if viewed in relation to the interest of the community in scientific culture to which we have already referred. This interest has not been overlooked, and in recent years a great many projects have been discussed for what is termed the "endowment of research"; and already very considerable funds are held by learned societies of the Old World, and smaller amounts by several societies of this country, which have been devoted to this object. But although means are thus furnished to a limited extent to pay the expenses of scientific investigations, and very considerable prizes are offered for the solution of important problems, yet it must be confessed that as yet the results have been meager and have not answered the expectations of the founders of the endowments; and the reason of the small fruitage is not far to seek. A certain order of scientific results can be purchased like other professional work for a price which is to some extent proportionate to the skill required to obtain them. Such, for example, are the daily observations at an astronomical or a meteorological station; such also are chemical analyses and assays of various kinds; such, again, is much of the routine work of a physical laboratory. But the highest order of scientific results, such as leave a permanent impress on the records of science—like Newton's law of gravitation, Young's theory of light, Faraday's theory of electricity, or Bunsen's methods of spectrum analysis—can no more be had to order than could "Paradise Lost" or "In Memoriam" have been purchased by the foot. Moreover, scientific progress follows a necessary law of continuity, and important advances can not be made until the time is ripe. The most that can be done with the direct endowments for research is, to multiply trustworthy observations, and thus prepare the way for discovery; and more than this can not be expected.

A more efficient means of cultivating science, and one which is certain, in the long run, to yield a far more abundant and richer harvest, is to secure the conditions which are known to be favorable to scientific discoveries, and to hold in honor such discoveries when made; and I think there will be little difference of opinion among competent scientific authorities that the one essential condition above all others is a certain atmosphere which results from the association of men who are engaged in scientific study.

An association of scholars acts in many ways to favor either literary or scientific production. In the first place, it leads to competition, which, although a low motive, is a very potent one in all forms of human activity. In the second place, the contact of minds engaged in similar studies leads the student to take a broader view of his subject, and to see it from the various points of view which the criticism of his associates may point out. Above all, work done in such associations is not done without observation, and there are present witnesses to attest the results, and publish them with the authority which is required to insure for them general acceptance. A great deal of scientific work is lost to the world because done in a corner, and buried in the transactions of local societies, from which it is not disinterred until the work has been repeated. The advantages of such association are only too evident to the numerous workers in science at the isolated colleges of this country, who are forced to compare their opportunities with those of their compeers in the great capitals of Europe; and the want of scientific productiveness in the United States which we so greatly lament is due chiefly to the want of the stimulus which combined action so greatly gives. Happily, however, the conditions favorable for scientific investigation are multiplying at home, and already there are several centers at which the productiveness is rapidly increasing, and gives great promise of the future. Moreover, this growth gives us a good indication as to the points at which we can most advantageously apply aid; and I am confident that there is no way in which we can so effectively encourage scientific investigation as by establishing at the institutions of learning, which are at present the chief centers of scientific activity, more professorships and fellowships, in order to give support to those who are ready to devote their lives to scientific study.

The teaching which a professorship implies, instead of being a hindrance, ought to be a great stimulus to scientific investigation. Of course, this influence is greatly impaired if, as in many of our colleges, the available energies of the teacher are exhausted by the daily routine of instruction, or by the outside work required to supplement his meager salary. But, if the teaching is only moderate in amount and in the direction of the professor's own work, there is no stimulus so great as that which the association with a class of earnest students supplies.

Were it necessary to sustain the opinions here advanced by further illustrations, we need only point to the Royal Institution of Great Britain, which holds foundations like those we have advocated; for the names of Davy, Young, Faraday, Tyndal, and Dewar, are a conspicuous memorial of the very great success of such endowments in advancing physical science.

It is obvious, however, that the endowment of professorships and fellowships will be of no value to the community unless it is understood that the incumbents are set apart for their special work; and the suggestion that such positions could be used to favor private ends, or as the basis of mercantile transactions, is sufficient to show how inconsistent such a practice is with the true conception of scientific culture.

Our patent laws have a very marked and not altogether a beneficial influence on the scientific culture of the country. It is true that they foster mechanical ingenuity and inventive talent in certain directions, but they also set before the people a very low and mercenary standard of scientific attainment, upon which the popular notion of the utilitarian tendency of scientific studies is to a great extent based. No one can question that the discoverer of a new process, or the inventor of a new machine, has a right to keep his knowledge to himself, and to make the best use he can of his good fortune to increase his wealth. But certainly the motto at the head of this essay points to a more excellent way, and it is at least an open question whether it is for the interest of the community at large to encourage by its laws the more selfish course. The argument by which the patent laws are usually defended by legal writers—that it is for the benefit of the community to encourage and therefore to protect inventive talent—is by no means so unanswerable as it appears prima-facie.

In the first place, it may be questioned whether, in the present condition of our patent laws, they do not hinder more than they foster invention. Any one who has attempted to perfect a machine, or improve a chemical process, knows to what extent he is hampered on every side by patent rights, which often have no value to the holders except that which the new improvement may give to them.

Again, the inventions which the patent laws foster are only those having an immediate pecuniary value, and it is often exceedingly simple contrivances—like the needle of a sewing-machine or a gaudy toy—which yield the greatest return; simply because they have been accommodated to present emergencies or to passing popular fancy. Such contrivances usually manifest no extended knowledge and no special talent, and the inventor owes his good luck to the sole circumstance that he was in a position to recognize the want.

Now, every scientific investigator knows that the ordinary work of a physical or chemical laboratory frequently demands inventive ability of a high order, and that few important scientific results have been reached that have not involved inventions as worthy of admiration as the sewing-machines and power-looms which are so frequently cited as examples of the beneficent influence of our patent laws; and the question arises, is it for the interest of the community to promote one class of inventions more than the other? Certainly, if we consider either the sacrifice involved, or the ultimate good which eventually results to the community, there can not be a moment's question which class is the most valuable or most worthy of commendation. Yet the patent laws not only give their immense prizes solely to inventions of immediate utility, but also tend to raise a false estimate of the intrinsic value of such inventions in the public mind.

Some writers have gone to the extreme of claiming that a man has the same right in his inventions or discoveries that an author has in his books; but this claim will not bear analysis. The first duty of a government is to protect its citizens in the enjoyment of the results of their lawful labor, and certainly any one who has written a book knows that it is just as much the product of day-labor as any article of merchandise. On the other hand, an invention or discovery may be the result of a fortunate accident, and, although it may be the fruit of superior knowledge and intelligence, it can not be regarded in the same sense as a direct product of labor. It is much more frequently a free gift of Nature.

Moreover, it is seldom if ever the case that a useful invention, meeting a popular want, and therefore having a large commercial value, is in any sense the product of one man. As a general rule, the patentee who enjoys the right to the invention has actually added to the old stock only a single detail. It may be that this detail was the one thing required to make the invention practically useful; but it is certain that the addition could never have been made if the previous knowledge had not existed, and it is at least an open question whether the community ought to grant to the last man an exclusive right to the whole inheritance. Volta discovered—invented, if you please—the mode of generating a current of low-tension electricity, which has been ever since, with certain modifications, in general use; Oersted and AmpÉre discovered the magnetic effects of this electrical current; Faraday, again, learned how to produce an electric current from a magnet, and invented the original dynamo-machine; Henry discovered the conditions under which the magnetic effects of an electric current might be produced at great distances from the source of the power. All these men were inventors of the highest order, whose inventions have never been excelled either in the ingenuity displayed, or in the influence exerted on the welfare of mankind. Moreover, these far-reaching inventions were a willing contribution to the world's knowledge, for which no pecuniary compensation was either asked or received. Is it not, then, a question if any man of the present day has a right to the exclusive use of these inventions; for writing messages at a distance, for transmitting sound over wires, or for any purpose whatsoever?

There is of course another side to the question, and I freely admit the difficulty of the problem which our patent laws present; but I feel that in their present condition they do more harm than good, and do injustice more frequently than they protect right. I greatly doubt if it is safe to grant by statute property in any invention or discovery beyond the definite mechanical contrivance in which it is for the time embodied. To grant the sole use of a well-known power of Nature to produce a specific effect, although the effect be a novel one; to give the monopoly of a process of Nature to the man who was the first to claim it; above all, to grant the sole right to make a specified mixture of materials—is certainly a policy which directly encourages vast monopolies, that tax the public without rendering a corresponding benefit.

In this connection it must be remembered that the discoverer or inventor himself rarely reaps the fruit of his sagacity or skill; but his rights, frequently purchased for a song, are made the basis of great business enterprises in which he has little or no share. On such a slender basis have frequently been built up huge monopolies, in which the patent laws have been made the instruments of oppressive exactions, and have become the nucleus of a most complex system of usages and legal decisions, by which the original intent of the laws has been wholly overlaid, and to a great extent nullified.

Certainly, there ought to be some limit to the inventor's claims on a grateful people. Admit to the utmost the inventor's merit; rank him in the fore front of the long procession of the great benefactors of the human race; rank him before Faraday, before Volta, and before Newton; rank him before Washington and the Fathers of the Republic; rank him before the patriots and martyrs who have died in the defense of human rights, or in attestation of the truth: and yet, in virtue of these transcendent merits, should he or his representatives be authorized to tax his countrymen millions on millions of dollars a year? Surely, there could not be a greater travesty of our motto, "Noblesse Oblige"; and a system which gives a legal sanction to such abuses will soon force on the public mind that most convincing of all proofs of perversion, the reductio ad absurdum.

It is not, however, our intention to discuss the abuses of the patent laws, much less to suggest the required remedies. We clearly see the difficulties of the subject, and we perceive that it involves questions, both of political economy and of jurisprudence, with which we are not competent to deal. Our interest is solely to maintain the dignity of scientific culture, and to demand for it the respect to which it is entitled; but which is seriously compromised by the mercenary and utilitarian spirit that the patent laws encourage and make prominent. We are most anxious that the intelligence of our people should fully recognize the fact that, among the students of science in this practical age, there is such a thing as devotion to the truth for the truth's sake; that throughout the length and breadth of these United States may be found many an earnest student of Nature who, under great disadvantages, and often at great personal sacrifice, is devoting the noblest intellectual power, and the highest inventive skill, to the sole end of advancing knowledge: and we rejoice to believe that the time will come when it will be plainly seen by all that these silent workers have been laying broad and deep-enduring foundations, on which national greatness can securely rest.

XIII.