great cise time when his tastes are moneyly keenest, and new knowcationaakes the freshest impression, a keele unceasingly through a bargle-sea of figures and formulæ, and to crush the strongest impulses to any other study, however attractive to him and suitable to his powers, in obedience to this procrustean and pedantic system? Is it not a thousand pities that his mind should be, so far as his education goes, a mere reasoning machine, with absolutely no contents so far as useful information is concerned, that he should not know whether the tertiary strata are at the top or the bottom of the geological series, or whether the battle of Leipzig was fought before or after the retreat from Moscow? May we not owe to this kind of training some of that barrenness, that preference for a vast wilderness of detail to any philosophical system, which is generally supposed to characterise English lawyers, or that singular narrowness which is equally characteristic of English theologians, and which is no less marked amongst the opponents than amongst the supporters of orthodoxy? Is it not symptomatic that a man of great intelligence and university distinction should accept the Jewish legends in all seriousness as undoubted history for many years, and then set to work confuting them with the four rules of arithmetic ? The spirit which is generated by an English university training seems to me to be favourable to a sort of microscopic visionsingular accuracy and closeness in small matters of detail, but a remarkable incapacity for taking general views, or believing that anything is knowledge which lies outside the reach of Senate House examination papers. And I may add, that the highest university students suffer, in another way, as much from the system as their neighbours. I am not competent to speak with any authority on the subject; but I believe that the mode in which mathematical and classical studies are pursued has as narrowing an effect within as without the magic circle. To me (though I speak under correction) it seemed that the primary object of the mathematical books which I was once bound to study was to reduce every subject as much as possible to a series of isolated propositions ready prepared for writing out on paper in answer to questions, and to avoid scrupulously everything approaching to a general or philosophical view of the science. Cambridge men boast that their examination system renders 'cram' impossible; and this is doubtless true, if by cram is meant the mere acquiring by rote of a set of unmeaning rules; but, if we extend the meaning of the word so far as to include an unworthy mode of acquiring such special bits of knowledge as 'pay,' without acquiring any wide views of scientific methods and principles, then I believe that even the highest students are frequently victims of a cramming system. Let me now ask what are the difficulties in the way of introducing newer studies, for very serious efforts have been made in this direction, and the university at least fully admits that its present course is meanly narrow. I have said that it would be unfair to state it as an accepted theory that knowledge should be gained at the universities merely as the road to certain money prizes; and it would be equally unfair to urge that any one held, in its blankest form, the corollary that only those studies should be encouraged which afford convenient tests for examination. Still both of these doctrines have more influence than is generally allowed. It is admitted by Cambridge tutors, and not without complacency, that fellowships are in fact, whatever the theory may be, the mainspring of their system; and that to gain one is the strongest motive for a young man's exertion. I have endeavoured to show that the present system by which these prizes are almost exclusively given (for of late there have been some exceptions), for mathematical and classical excellence, has a very prejudicial effect upon the studies of the place. But it may be asked, why should the present system prevail; and why, for example, should not fellowships be distributed so as to reward good chemists or metaphysicians, as well as good scholars? The answer seems to be plain. In the first place, under the system described, there is a constant disposition to esteem all kinds of knowledge in proportion to their capacity for supplying tests of men's abilities. A branch of study in which it is difficult or impossible to examine will necessarily be neglected for that reason, even if it be otherwise improving to the minds of learners. The non-examining world scarcely understands the many refinements of which the art of examining is capable; it is, to speak shortly, a struggle between the examiners and the crammers, each of them endeavouring to evade the resources of the others. The qualities which fit a study to supply good material for examination are those which enable the examiners to baffle the cramThese are so far good qualities, but they are not by any means the only qualities, which are desira ble in regard to the improvement of the learner's mind. For example, it is a great merit of mathematics from this point of view that it is easy to discover whether the learner can use his tools, whether he understands the principles and can apply them to the solution of problems; and classical study has the same merit, the test here being the power of accurately and elegantly translating from one language into another a power which, according to the narrow Cambridge definition of mers. scholarship, is valued out of all proportion to acquaintance with the substance of classical authors. In these studies then it is easy to judge whether the learner has assimilated the instruction, and can work with the tools for himself. This is far more difficult in such studies, as for example history, where it is easy to discover whether a man has learnt a certain number of facts, but difficult to discover whether he has the power of original investigation. Such a study then is specially liable to the manipulations of the professors of the cramming art. Now the natural effect of the Cambridge system is to determine the selection of the first subjects, and, as is specially evident in its classical theories, to take a narrow view even of them. An examiner professes to be able to arrange candidates in the two old-fashioned studies in such exact order of merit that he will distinguish a man who gets 1,020 marks from one who gets 1,000.1 In the newer studies this is at present impossible, partly from the inherent difficulties at which I have hinted; partly, I should imagine, because the university, being content till lately with its old-fashioned tests, has never seriously tried to organise an effective system of examination in the others. I must add, to be fair, that these merits are real merits, so far as they go; and that they countenance what has been called the gymnastic' theory of study. theory of study. It is easier to baffle crammers when you are testing what a man can do than when you are asking what facts he has learnt; and the studies in which this is possible are of course those which train the mind in certain directions without filling it with the result of learning. I believe, therefore, that the gymnastic theory is Two per cent., I believe, is the difference which is commonly thought sufficient to divide a bracket. VOL. LXXVII.-NO. CCCCLVIII. M seriously entertained, only that it leads to much the same result in practice as the more cynical theory of which I have spoken; for, on either hypothesis, the course of study is practically narrowed to these two studies which are naturally adapted by their special merits to provide easy tests, and in which the art of defence against cram has been elaborated by long practice. Hence it is a direct result of the system of encouraging learning by the stimulus of heavy pecuniary rewards that the course is narrowed down to the two old-fashioned subjects. And in any case, the difficulty of introducing new studies is enhanced by the incapacity for extracting from them a proper series of tests. And I need hardly expatiate upon the evils of cramping the studies, by attending in a primary degree to the ease with which they lend themselves to the examiner's art; for, after all, competitive examinations, though excellent things in their way, should not be the end and object of all study. large colleges, Trinity and St. John's, might afford to do something, because their wealth is sufficient to make them independent and to allow them, without sensible injury, to throw a sop to the unpopular studies; but the small colleges not unnaturally object to sacrificing themselves to the good. of the university. The practical result is that they form seventeen bodies for distributing rewards for precisely the same qualities. If dif ferent colleges encouraged different branches of study, they would still be obnoxious to the objections raised against the whole theory of sinecure fellowships, and would be a clumsy machinery for the purpose. As it is, each imitates its neighbours and each refuses to take goods unless stamped with the only marks that have obtained the chief popularity. The variety from which it would at first sight seem possible to derive some advantage intensifies the evil, and makes it more difficult to change the monotony of the studies. To complete what I have to say upon this part of the subject, I must add a few words upon the The difficulty is increased to a very much greater degree by the college system. If all the fellow-poll' ships were disposed of on a rational and harmonious system, it would be comparatively easy to surmount one part of the difficulty. So much money might be promised as a reward for chemical excellence, so much for metaphysics, and so on. And it might be supposed that in a rough way the colleges might exercise a similar influence. Thus Caius College is supposed to have a medical connection, and Trinity Hall is theoretically designed to encourage the study of law. Here, however, we have merely an additional instance of the evils produced by the utter absence of any university organisation. The work ing of the college system in practice is to impede the introduction of new studies, because none of these independent bodies will run the risk of making the innovation. The students, as they are called at Cambridge. They suffer, though indirectly, from the same causes which lower the value of the higher education. If learning is to be merely a race for the cleverest students, it naturally becomes a donkey race for the lowest; that is, they try to get through with the smallest exertion possible. What object have they in learning? They can't get fellowships - the one reward to learning officially proposed; they are set to go over again the dreary round of studies for which they proved themselves incompetent at school, and to feed upon the barren husks which fall from the table of their betters. To them, the gymnastic' theory has no application. High classical and mathematical training is good; but what is the use of learning to stumble through fragments of classical authors by means of a crib or of learning by heart such refreshing bits of information as the description of the common pump? The university does very badly the work that ought to have been done at school, and till lately made no attempt to offer these unfortunates any training more suited to their capacity. It has now endeavoured to encourage some new studies, by allowing the 'poll' men to devote their last year to them. It is, I fully admit, a step for the better; but there is still the objection, that a course of study professedly intended for the weaker brains of the University must necessarily be a bad one; and that a month of political economy, or botany, or what not, intended for a stupid man must necessarily be the prey of the worst variety of examiners. I have great doubt whether a study will ever do much good, in which men of ability and ambition are scrupulously strained out; for every such man will still go to the old triposes, so long, at least, as they are the only road to fellowships. For our comfort, we must reflect that it is really very hard to teach a stupid man anything, so that it does not much matter what he learns; and that a new and exhilarating task has been provided for the professors. I have thus endeavoured to show how the characteristic narrowness of our education is connected with the constitution of the colleges. The wealth which was thrown as a weight into the scale of learning communicates to the bodies upon which it has been conferred a kind of vis inertiae; it gives them a certain power, but increases the difficulty of turning them aside from the path they have entered. Meanwhile, the want of organisation hinders effective action. The university resembles an army of seventeen regiments, in which each commander acts after his own devices, without any supreme general. Naturally, it is dif ficult to induce such an army to advance, as each fraction fears to find itself exposed without due supports. Hence, as I have argued in detail, arises one great difficulty in the way of improving and widening the educational system. Every one admits in theory that the universities at least, if not the schools, should endeavour to teach some useful knowledge. Mr. Lowe's speech at Edinburgh has excited some bitter criticism, on account of its utilitarian tendencies. It was said to be intended to depreciate a thorough training of the faculties in favour of cramming the youthful mind with facts. It was the old story about Thucydides and the Times newspaper. We may admit that the highest kind of education would principally depend upon the training which Mr. Lowe's speech tended to depreciate. But as against one part of our university system, it was as unanswerable as pointed; for every one who has really seen the working of the system knows that it gives to the great mass of students neither one kind of training nor the other. Let us admit that the first classes in the triposes could not have employed their time more profitably than at present-and that is a large admission. But no one can seriously argue that the lower students, or at least four fifths of the whole, obtain from their university course any training of the logical faculties which in the smallest degree compensates for their utter ignorance of all useful knowledge. Grant that real classical scholarship is an accomplishment which it is worth acquiring at the expense of all other learning during the best years of youth, and it will still remain incredible that the bare power of stumbling through an exceptionally easy Greek or Latin author is worth any such sacrifice. An ignorance of chemistry, of history, of modern languages, or of English literature, may be compensated by the refinement of the critical faculties acquired by a real scholar; but that is no apology whatever for feeding his inferior companions upon the dry husks of their school-learning. If everybody must learn Latin and Greek, nine men out of ten have learnt as much as will be good for them by the time they have left school; and it is the height of folly to keep them toiling at the same repulsive labour, when they might be acquiring some real knowledge. It is no wonder that their stomachs are turned, and that many men pass their university career first in forgetting what they have learnt, and then in relearning enough to get through a pass examination. It is, however, unnecessary to argue at length a point which the universities have conceded in principle, though they are slow to give it full practical application. In the volume of Essays on a Liberal Education, lately published, there is much interesting discussion on the place which the older studies should occupy in our public schools. One conspicuous result of their arguments is, that the schools must wait for the universities to show them the way. We should naturally expect that wider and more philosophical views should begin at the great centres of English scholastic life, and spread downwards. In one of the most interesting essays, Professor Seeley speaks of the narrow views which are still too prevalent at those centres, and which tend to impede this salutary influence. No mere alteration of machinery can, as he truly says, produce the desirable change of spirit. There are, however, two or three changes which he suggests as desirable, and which, in his opinion, might bring the university back to a healthy state without legislation.' They are, first, that the fellowships should be thrown open to the whole univer sity; secondly, that the instruction given in the university should be made altogether independent of the college system; and thirdly, that the names in each class of every tripos should be arranged alphabetically instead of in order of merit. This last change, he thinks, would clear away what he calls 'the vulgarity of competition.' It would abolish the system under which it is now worth a man's while to read for three years with a private tutor, if by so doing he can obtain a single place in the tripos. And, as a necessary corollary of this change, he would give fellowships by college instead of by university examinations, as the colleges would no longer be able to take a man simply by his place in the tripos. In short, he would introduce the Oxford instead of the Cambridge system of giving fellowships. Everything that I have written goes to prove the desirability of the second of these proposals, and, as Mr. Seeley says, it might perfectly well be carried out by the unassisted energies of the colleges. It is also desirable, for many reasons, that fellowships should be thrown open to universities. Only it must be remarked that in all colleges-if I am not mistaken-this is already the case. So far as the statutes are concerned, they might institute examinations to-morrow, and elect men from all colleges indifferently, after the Oxford system. It is fortunate that they can do so without the necessity of legislative interference, but their unwillingness to take advantage of their liberty is of less happy augury. The reasons which oppose the introduction of such a plan, which would seem a reasonable corollary from the abolition of other restrictions, are those which tell equally against Mr. Seeley's final proposal. To put it shortly, the Cambridge authorities object strenuously and explicitly to anything which tends to diminish a |