Cambridge Essays on Education | Page 9

be fulfilled until the education of other peoples is
infused with the same spirit. Education, like finance, must be planned
on international lines by international consensus with a view to world
peace. Only so can it fulfil the ultimate end which already looms on the
horizon,
Becoming when the time has birth A lever to uplift the earth And roll it
on another course.
[Footnote 1: Mr Angus Watson in _Eclipse or Empire_, p. 88.]

II
THE TRAINING OF THE REASON
By W. R. INGE
Dean of St Paul's
The ideal object of education is that we should learn all that it concerns
us to know, in order that thereby we may become all that it concerns us
to be. In other words, the aim of education is the knowledge not of facts
but of values. Values are facts apprehended in their relation to each
other, and to ourselves. The wise man is he who knows the relative
values of things. In this knowledge, and in the use made of it, is
summed up the whole conduct of life. What are the things which are
best worth winning for their own sakes, and what price must I pay to
win them? And what are the things which, since I cannot have

everything, I must be content to let go? How can I best choose among
the various subjects of human interest, and the various objects of
human endeavour, so that my activities may help and not hinder each
other, and that my life may have a unity, or at least a centre round
which my subordinate activities may be grouped. These are the chief
questions which a man would ask, who desired to plan his life on
rational principles, and whom circumstances allowed to choose his
occupation. He would desire to know himself, and to know the world,
in order to give and receive the best value for his sojourn in it.
We English for the most part accept this view of education, and we add
that the experience of life, or what we call knowledge of the world, is
the best school of practical wisdom. We do not however identify
practical wisdom with the life of reason but with that empirical
substitute for it which we call common sense. There is in all classes a
deep distrust of ideas, often amounting to what Plato called
_misologia_, "hatred of reason." An Englishman, as Bishop Creighton
said, not only has no ideas; he hates an idea when he meets one. We
discount the opinion of one who bases his judgment on first principles.
We think that we have observed that in high politics, for example, the
only irreparable mistakes are those which are made by logical
intellectualists. We would rather trust our fortunes to an honest
opportunist, who sees by a kind of intuition what is the next step to be
taken, and cares for no logic except the logic of facts. Reason, as
Aristotle says, "moves nothing"; it can analyse and synthesise given
data, but only after isolating them from the living stream of time and
change. It turns a concrete situation into lifeless abstractions, and
juggles with counters when it should be observing realities. Our
prejudices against logic as a principle of conduct have been fortified by
our national experience. We are not a quick-witted race; and we have
succeeded where others have failed by dint of a kind of instinct for
improvising the right course of action, a gift which is mainly the result
of certain elementary virtues which we practise without thinking about
them, justice, tolerance, and moderation. These qualities have, we think
and think truly, been often wanting in the Latin nations, which pride
themselves on lucidity of intellect and logical consistency in obedience
to general principles. Recent philosophy has encouraged these
advocates of common sense, who have long been "pragmatists" without

knowing it, to profess their faith without shame. Intellect has been
disparaged and instinct has been exalted. Intuition is a safer guide than
reason, we are told; for intuition goes straight to the heart of a situation
and has already acted while reason is debating. Much of this new
philosophy is a kind of higher obscurantism; the man in the street
applauds Bergson and William James because he dislikes science and
logic, and values will, courage and sentiment. He used to be fond of
repeating that Waterloo was won on the playing fields of our public
schools, until it was painfully obvious that Colenso and Spion Kop
were lost in the same place. We have muddled through so often that we
have come half to believe in a providence which watches over
unintelligent virtue. "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,"
we have said to Britannia. So we have acquiesced in being