Let us now consider this subject — the Academic Freedom of the Student — in its philosophical sense; i. e. as it ought to be; as, under certain conditions, it may be; and, what follows from thence, how the actually existing Academic Freedom will be accepted by the Student who understands and honours his vocation. We shall open a way to the attainment of insight into this matter through the following prin ciples: — 1. The external freedom of the Citizen is limited, in every direction and on all possible sides, by Law; and the more perfect the Law, the greater is the limitation, — and so it ought to be, for this is the proper office of Law. Hence, there is no sphere remaining in which LECTURE VI. 311 the inward freedom and morality of the Citizen can be outwardly exhibited and proved, — and there ought to be no such sphere. All that is to be done is commanded, under penalties; all that is not to be done is forbidden, likewise under penalties. Every inward temptation to neglect what is commanded, or to do what is forbidden, is counterbalanced in the conscience of the Citizen by the firm conviction, that should he give way to the temptation, he must in consequence suffer a certain amount of evil. Let it not be said, — " There is no existing legislation so all-comprehensive, nor is the sa gacity and vigilance of any tribunal so infallible, that every offence is sure to meet its punishment." I know this; but as I said before, it ought to be thus, and this is what we should regularly and constantly approxi mate to. Legislation cannot calculate on the morality of men; for its object — the freedom and security of all within their respective spheres — cannot be left to de pend on so uncertain a thing. For the just man there is indeed no law under any possible legislation; he will commit no evil even although it were not forbidden, and whatsoever is good and right, that he will do without being urged to it by the command of autho rity; he is never tempted to crime, and therefore the idea of its attendant punishment never enters his mind. He is conscious of his virtue, and in this consciousness he has his reward within himself. But externally there is no distinction between him, and the unjust man who is only withheld from the commission of every wrong within his power, and only impelled to every act of duty, by the threatenings of the law: — the former cannot do or leave undone anything more than the latter, but only does or does not the same 312 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
things from a different motive, which is not outwardly apparent.
2. The Scholar and the unlearned person, under this legislation, stand and ought to stand on common ground, — as Citizens. Both can raise themselves above the law in the same way, — by integrity of purpose; — but this is not calculated upon in either of them, and in neither can this integrity become apparent in the sphere of external legislation. And since the Scholar is further a member of a certain class in the State, and practises in it a certain calling, he lies also under the compulsory obligations belonging to that class and calling; — and here once more it cannot be apparent whether he fulfils his duties in this sphere from integ rity of purpose or from fear of punishment; nor does it in any way concern the community by what motive he is actuated, so that his duties are fulfilled. Lastly, in those regions which have either not yet been reached by an imperfect legislation, or which cannot be reached at all by an external legislation, he is still accompanied by the fear of disgrace; — and here again it cannot be seen whether he does his duty in consequence of this fear or from inward integrity of purpose.
3. But, besides these, there are yet other relations of the Scholar, with which external legislation cannot in terfere, and in which it cannot watch over the fulfilment of his duty, — where the Scholar must be a law to him self, and hold himself to its fulfilment. In the Divine Idea he carries in himself the form of the future Age, which one day must clothe itself with reality; and he must show an example and lay down a law to coming gene rations, for which he will seek in vain either in present or in past times. In every age that Idea clothes itself LECTURE VI. 313 in a new form, and seeks to shape the surrounding world in its image, and thus do continually arise new rela tions of the world to the Idea, and a new mode of op position of the former to the latter. It is the business of the Scholar so to interpose in this strife as to recon cile the activity with the purity of his Idea, its influ ence with its dignity. His Idea must not lie concealed within him; it must go forth and lay hold upon the world, and he is urged to this activity by the deepest impulses of his being. But the world is incapable of receiving this Idea in its purity; on the contrary, it strives to drag down the Idea to the level of its own vulgar thought. Could he forego aught of this purity, his task would be an easy one; but he is filled with reverence for the Idea, and he can give up no part of its perfection. Hence he has to set before him the difficult task of reconciling these purposes. No law, —but why do I speak of laws? — no example of the fore-world or of his own time can reveal to him the means of this union, — for so surely as the Idea has assumed a new form in him, has his case never before occurred. Even reflection, of itself, cannot give him this point of union; for although, by reflection, the Idea itself in all its purity is revealed as the first point of the union, yet much more is needed before the second point — the mental condition of the sur rounding world, and what may be, with probability, anticipated from it — can be clearly and fully compre hended in the same thought. Well may those who have wrought most mightily upon their age have closed their career with the inward confession that their re liance on the spirit of their time had ever proved fal lacious, that they never supposed it to be so perverse E e 314 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
and imbecile as it afterwards proved, and that while they accurately estimated one of its aberrations and avoided it, another, hitherto unperceived, revealed it self. To succeed at all at any time, there is needed, in addition to reflection, a certain tact, which can only be acquired by early exercise and habit.
Further, it is clear that in this matter — in doing everything possible to reconcile the opposition between the inward purity of the Idea and its external activity — the Scholar can be guided only by his own determi nation, can have no other judge but himself, and no motive external to himself. In this no stranger can judge him, — in this no stranger can even wholly understand him, nor divine the deep purpose of his actions. In this region, so far is respect for the judg ment of others from aiding his intention, that on the contrary he must here cast aside foreign opinion alto gether, and look upon it as if it were not. He must be guided and upheld by his own purpose alone; — and truly he needs a mighty and immovable purpose to keep his ground against the temptations which arise even from his noblest inclinations. What is more noble than the impulse to action, to sway the minds of men, and to compel their thoughts to the Holy and Divine? — and yet this impulse may become a temp tation to represent the Holy in a common and familiar garb for the sake of popularity, and so to desecrate it. What is more noble than the deepest reverence for the Holy, and disdain and annihilation of everything vulgar and opposed to it? — and yet this very reverence might tempt some one to reject his age altogether, — to cast it from him and cease to hold any intercourse with it. A mighty and good will is needed to resist LECTURE VI. 315 the first of these temptations, and the mightiest of all to overcome the second.
It is evident from these considerations, that, for his peculiar vocation, the Scholar needs shrewd practical wisdom, a profound morality, strict watchfulness over himself, and a fine delicacy of feeling. It follows, that at an early age he ought to be placed in a position where it is possible and necessary for him to acquire this practical wisdom and delicacy of feeling, and that this cultivation of mind and character should be a peculiar element in the education of the future Scholar. Every Citizen, without exception, may cultivate these qualities, and must have it in his power to do so; legislation must leave this possibility open to him, — it is compelled to do so by its very nature. But it does not concern the legislature or the commonwealth whether the Citizen does or does not elevate himself to this vocation, because his calling will still remain within the range of external jurisdiction. But as for the Scholar, it is of importance to the Commonwealth, and to the whole Human Race, that he should raise himself to the purest morality, allied with sound prac tical wisdom, since he is destined one day to enter a sphere where he absolutely leaves behind him all external judgment. The legislation for him, therefore, should not merely allow him the possibility of moral cultivation like every other Citizen, but, so far as in it lies, it should place him under the outward necessity of acquiring this cultivation.
And how can it do this? Evidently only by leaving him to his own judgment as to what is becoming, seemly, and appropriate, and to his own superinten dence of himself. Is he to create for himself an 316 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
independent sense of what is proper and becoming? How can he do so if the law accompanies him every where, and everywhere declares what he is to do and what to avoid? Let the law prohibit those whom she can retain under her yoke from indulgence in every thing which she wishes them to renounce; but, as for him who must one day leave her jurisdiction, let her trust him betimes as a noble and free man. The man of refined morality does not wait until the law discovers a thing to be unseemly, and directs its prohibition against it, — it would be ignominy for him to need such direction; — he anticipates the decree, and relin quishes that in which the vulgar around him indulge without scruple, simply because it is unbecoming his higher nature. Give the Student room to place him self in this class by his own effort alone. Is he to unfold in himself a profound and powerful morality, a tender delicacy of sentiment, a deep sense of honour? How can he do this surrounded by threats of punish ment? Let the law rather speak to him thus: — "So far as I am concerned, thou mayest leave the path of right and follow after evil; no other harm shall over take thee but to be despised and scorned, — despised even by thyself when thou turnest thine eye inwards.
If thou wilt venture on this peril, venture on it without fear." Is the Human Race one day to confide to him its most important interests, and in his dealings with those interests is he to have confidence in himself? How can men trust him when they have never proved him? — how can he trust himself when he has never proved his own strength? He who has not yet been faithful in small things cannot be entrusted with great things; and he who has not been able to stand a trial LECTURE VI. 317 before himself cannot without the basest dishonour accept an important trust. On these grounds we rest the claims of Academic Freedom, — of an extensive yet well-considered Academic Freedom.
In a Perfect State, the outward constitution of Uni versities would, in my opinion, be the following: — In the first place, the Students would be separated from other classes of the community pursuing other avoca tions, so that these classes might not, by the supposed possible abuse of Academic Freedom, be harassed or injured, tempted to similar irregularities, or misled into a hatred of the law while living under its rule by daily contact with a class free from its restraints. The Students at these Universities would enjoy a high de gree of freedom; — instructions on Morality and Duty, and impressive pictures of a True Life, would indeed be laid before them; they would be surrounded by good examples, and their teachers would not only be profound Scholars, but the elite of the best men in the nation; of compulsory laws, however, there would be very few. Let them freely choose either good or evil: the time of study is but the time of trial; the time for the decision of their fate comes afterwards: —and our arrangement has this advantage, that un- worthiness, where it exists, is clearly recognised as such, and can no longer be concealed.
The present actual constitution of Universities is indeed by no means of this kind. It is doubtful whether Academic Freedom was ever looked upon from the point of view from which we have described it, particularly whether it was ever so looked upon by those who gave the Universities their constitution. Academic Freedom has actually arisen in the way de- E e 2 318 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
scribed in a former part of this lecture, — i.e. from disrespect towards the Student-class: and we may leave it undetermined by what influences the remnants of this system are now maintained; for even were it admitted that the same disrespect for the class, which still exists although in a less degree, and perhaps want of opportunity to get rid of these relics of another age, were its only supports, yet this is of no moment to the true-minded Student, who judges of things not by their outward form, but by their inward spirit. What ever others may think of Academic Freedom, he, for his part, takes it in its true sense: — as a means by which he may learn to direct himself when outward precept leaves him, — watch over himself when no one else watches over him, — urge himself forward where there is no longer any outward impulse, — and thus train and strengthen himself for his future high vocation.
(319 ) LECTURE VII.
OF THE FINISHED SCHOLAR IN GENERAL.
THE true-minded Scholar looks upon his vocation — to become a partaker of the Divine thought of the universe — as the purpose of God in him; and there fore both his person and his calling become to him, before all other things, honourable and holy; and this holiness shows itself in all his outward manifestations. Such is the point at which we have now arrived.
"We have hitherto spoken of the Progressive Scholar —the Student; and we have seen how the sense of the dignity conferred upon his person by this exalted vocation expresses itself in his life. How his conviction of the holiness of Knowledge pervades and influences his studies we have already noticed in one of the early lectures, and it is not necessary to add anything to what we have said upon this point.
And it is the less necessary, since this reverence for Knowledge which is felt by the Student, chiefly manifests itself in the appropriate estimation and con secration of his person, and is therein exhausted; while it is quite otherwise in the Finished Scholar. In the Progressive Scholar, that which he strives after — the Idea — has to acquire a form and an independent life which it does not yet possess. The Student does 320 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
neither immediately possess, nor is lie thoroughly pene trated by the Idea; he worships it only in obscurity, and can comprehend it only by means of his person, as the standard to which that person ought to raise itself, the spirit by which it ought to be swayed. He can as yet do nothing directly in its service; he can only live for it indirectly, by consecrating and devoting his person to its use as its appointed instrument; pre serving himself pure in sense and spirit, because all impurity would mar and disqualify him for that high purpose; by giving himself up entirely to its influence, and pursuing and executing with unwearied industry everything which may become a means or opportunity to the Idea of unfolding itself within him. It is other wise with the Finished Scholar. As surely as he is such, the Idea has already commenced its proper and independent life within him; his personal life has now actually passed into the life of the Idea, and is an nihilated therein; which extinction of self in the Idea was only striven after by the Student. As surely as he is a perfect Scholar, so surely is there now no longer in him any thought of self, but his whole thought is constantly engrossed in the thought of the Idea.
And thus the distinction which we originally made between the holiness of his person and the holiness of his vocation now becomes a point of transition, from the contemplation of the Progressive, to that of the Finished Scholar, — the portraiture of whom it is now my purpose to place beside that of the Progressive Scholar.
Hitherto we have chiefly considered the Progressive Scholar in the character of a Student at a University; LECTURE VII. 321 LECTURE VII. 321 and these two Ideas Lave been almost constantly asso ciated together in our previous lectures. Now, for the first time, when we have to accompany the Student from the Academy into life, we must call to mind that the studies and character of the Progressive Scholar are not necessarily completed with his residence at the University; nay, further on, we will even perceive a ground upon which we say that, properly speaking, his studies have only their true beginning after his academic course has closed. This much, however, re mains true, as the sure result of what has been already said, — that the youth who during his residence at the University is not at least inspired with respect for the holiness of Knowledge, and does not at least learn to honour his own person to such an extent as not to render it unworthy of his high vocation, will never afterwards attain to any true sense of the dignity of Knowledge; and whatever part he may perform in life, he will perform it as a piece of common handicraft, and with the sentiment of an hireling who has no other motive to his labour than the pay which he is to receive for it. To say anything more of such an one lies beyond the boundaries of our present subject.
But the Student who is penetrated with the convic tion that the essential purpose of his studies will be frustrated unless the Idea acquire an intrinsic form and independent life within him, and that in the highest perfection, — he will by no means lay aside his studies and scientific labours when he leaves the University. Even if he be compelled by outward necessity to enter upon a secular employment, he will devote to Know ledge all the time and ability which he can spare from that employment, and will neglect no opportunity 322 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
which presents itself of attaining a higher culture, assured that the continual exercise of his faculties in the pursuit of learning will be very profitable to him even in the transaction of his ordinary business. Amid the brilliant distinctions of office, and even in mature age, he will restlessly strive and labour to master the Idea, never resigning the hope of becoming greater than he now is, so long as strength permits him to indulge it. Without this untiring effort, much true Genius would be wholly lost, for scientific talent usually unfolds itself more slowly, the higher and purer its essential nature, and its clear development waits for mature years and manly strength.
The Student who is penetrated with deep respect for the holiness of the Scholar's vocation, will be guided by that respect in his choice of a civic profession; and, particularly, in the province of learning, if he do not feel the deepest conviction of his ability to fulfil its highest duties, he will choose a subordinate occupa tion, restrained from assumption by his reverence for the dignity of Knowledge. But a subordinate Scholar- occupation is one in which the ends to be sought for have been laid down by some other intellect possessing a knowledge of the Idea, and in which the capacities which have been acquired through study, considered as an effort for the attainment of the Idea, are em ployed only as means to fulfil those purposes which have thus been prescribed from without. His person is thus not degraded into a passive instrument; he is for ever secured against that by the general view he takes of human life and its significance; — he serves God alone in spirit and in sense; and, under the guidance of his superiors, whom he leaves to answer for the di- LECTURE VII. 323 LECTURE VII. 323 rcction which they give to his actions and their re sults, he promotes God's purposes with men, which must embrace all forms of human activity. Thus does he proceed in his choice of a secular employment as surely as he has heen inspired in his youth with respect for the dignity of the peculiar vocation of the Scholar. To undertake this latter without an intimate conscious ness of the possession of the appropriate power and cultivation is to profane it, and manifests a want both of delicacy and of principle. And it is impossible that he should fall into error on this point; for if he has only passed through his academic course in a creditable manner, then he has certainly acquired, in some degree, a perception of what is worthy, and has obtained a standard by which he can take his own intellectual dimensions. If a conscientious course of study at a University secured no other advantage than that of presenting to youth a picture of the dignified calling of the Scholar as a model for life, and of repelling from this sphere those who are not endowed with the requisite ability, such a course would, on account of this advantage alone, be of the utmost importance to the Student.
We have thus generally described the nature of a subordinate Scholar-occupation. It does not demand in him who pursues it, the immediate possession of the Idea, but only that knowledge which is acquired in striving after such possession. It is to be understood that in this again there are higher and lower grades, as the occupation requires a wider or narrower range of knowledge, — and that, in this respect too, the con scientious man will not undertake anything which ex ceeds his powers. It is unnecessary to describe these 324 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
subordinate Scholar-occupations in detail. The higher and peculiar calling of the Scholar may be described so as to exhaust all its particular forms, and it is then easy to draw this consequence: — " All those pursuits which are usually followed by educated men, but which do not find a place in this all-comprehensive delineation of the higher calling of the Scholar, but are excluded from it, are subordinate Scholar -occupations." We have therefore only now to lay before you this perfect delineation.