THE PRESIDENT'S ADDRESS. 187 



or else he forgets, that he is but a unit in the great army of workers, 

 and ignores the lament of the philosopher " that Art is long, and 

 broad, and deep ; and time, opportunity, and our little hour, brief and 

 uncertain." And thus if he be untrained, as well as enthusiastic, he 

 inevitably drifts into the fatal error of underrating or neglecting the 

 labours of others, and attempting on his own part too much for one man. 

 As he advances in life he is gradually and reluctantly forced to the 

 admission that even his time will not suffice, and that he has not at 

 his disposal so much working power as he at the outset supposed, 

 and so he is compelled slowly, perhaps even unconsciously, to narrow 

 the sphere of his labours, until at length, in his dearly-bought ex- 

 perience, he recognizes the absolute necessity as well as the wisdom 

 of devoting himself to one branch of science alone. And well is it 

 for him if he learn duly what is taught by that experience, even al- 

 though the great drawback of its lessons may be that they are learned 

 too late. The life wherein they would have been of use, may be 

 lived out whilst we are learning them. Coleridge has said the same 

 thing somewhat more poetically — " Human experience, like the stern 

 lights of a ship at sea, too often illuminates only the path we have 

 passed over." He might have added — " And yet may serve as a 

 beacon to others that follow." The lament of the sage may thus be 

 confirmed by the experience of a single life. I therefore hold myself 

 justified in asserting that one of the surest effects (I fear it my seem 

 paradoxical to say causes) of a judicious scientific training is the 

 early recognition of this necessity of the division of labour. The 

 concentration of energy and intellect upon one subject is far more 

 certain, or at least likely, to lead to valuable results than that 

 diffuseness of pursuit which is tempted from the determined path 

 by every flower at its side. And such a vigorous pursuit is not long 

 without its compensations, either direct or indirect, dry and fruitless 

 though it may at times appear to be. Neither must we forget that 

 the more the individual worker is compelled to narrow the sphere of 

 his activity, so much the more will his intellectual desires induce 

 him not to sever his connexion with the subject in its entirety. How 

 shall he go forth stout and cheerful to his toilsome work — how feel 

 confident that what has given him so much labour will not moulder 

 uselessly away, but remain a thing of lasting value, unless he keep 

 alive within himself the conviction that he also has added a frag- 

 ment to the stupendous whole of science, which is to make the 

 reasonless forces of nature subservient to the moral purposes of 



Q 



