Address on ‶Field work, its charms and instructions″

Abstract

In retiring from this chair, I have no difficulty in finding a subject whereon to offer a few parting words to the Fellows of the Edinburgh Geological Society. During the last seven years the Society has made great and gratifying progress. From less than fifty members it has now risen to more than two hundred. But though strong in numbers, I fear it is still somewhat weak in workers. It is true we have established a Museum, inaugurated a Library, and commenced to publish Transactions. But though thus assuming all the functions of a well-appointed society, these functions have as yet been very slenderly performed. These appointments, however valuable as adjuncts to a working society, will at most be little better than dross and rubbish if we seek not to exhibit the real metal which comes alone from an active and earnest working in the field of observation. We may add member to member, and these we value as showing an interest in our especial study, or as showing their willingness to aid us with their contributions; but though we were to add double their number, it would be no security for the permanence of our Society and its progress, unless a large number betake themselves to the practice of the science, and become field-observers. There is none of us but has now and again his day of leisure, his excursion to the country, or his few weeks of summer holiday; and unless this time be spent so far in the delightful exercise of observation, and in bringing this observation before his fellow-members, he neglects his opportunities as regards the science, and fails to fulfil his obligations to the Society. No one will ever arrive at true conceptions of world-history unless through the immediate study of the leaves on which that history is recorded. Travel and observation are the prime essentials of the science, and he who foregoes these—to the extent of his opportunity—omits the main chance of understanding aright its numerous and complicated problems. ‶To the field on every fitting occasion″ should be the guiding maxim of the young geologist; and though new discoveries may not always reward his toil, though he should even fail to obtain what others have obtained before him, he is at least in the way of doing both; and in the excellent practice of training his powers of observation. And when his day’s work is done, however little it may have added to his scientific stores, he has secured one luxury, at least, by his twenty miles’ ramble in the pure country air—a blessing which comes to the poor unasked, and which the rich but too seldom enjoy—the luxury of feeling tired.