The Vocational Aspect of Education

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Social utility and the professional adult educator:

Some Victorian viewpoints

Patrick Keane

To cite this article: Patrick Keane (1982) Social utility and the professional adult educator:
Some Victorian viewpoints, The Vocational Aspect of Education, 34:88, 45-56, DOI:
10.1080/10408347308001681

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Published online: 28 Feb 2007.

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The Vocationa/Aspect of Education (August 1982) Volume XXX/V, No. 88, pp. 4 5 - 5 6

Social Utility and the Professional

Adult Educator: Some Victorian
Viewpoints
By PATRICK KEANE

Patrick Keane works at Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Abstract
This paper explores the Victorian concept of social utility as applied to adult education, and seeks to identify
early elements of professionalism associated with that concept. The exploration is conducted through the medium
of mechanics' institutes in several English-speaking countries. It involves an examination o f the objectives of
these voluntary bodies and the techniques employed to realise them, varying from 'mutual improvement' to public
lectures. Attention is then devoted to the lecturers themselves, both voluntary and paid, and to early contributions
suggestive of a technical basis for professionalism. Finally, the growing national and even international stature
attained by some 'professional' lecturers is noted, as is the institute movement's inherent inability to sustain the
development of professionalism.

Currently, adult educators are showing increasing
interest in factors tending to promote the profession-
alisation of their roles. Various interlocking relation-
ships are apparently combining to facilitate a process
of professionalisation. These include 'accountability',
the exercise of control by professional associations, the
universities' search for new client groups, and the
realisation that such fundamental problems as adult
basic literacy are growing rather than disappearing.
While adult learning still retains significant elements of
choice, there is already discernible pressure for
mandatory participation whether in retraining schemes
for the unemployed, or in inservice programmes for the
highly qualified professional. In this context, the role of
adult educators as 'certified agents of change' differs
markedly from the classic notion of friends educating
each other in 'mutual-improvement' sessions. Indeed,
the long association of the amorphous field of adult
education with volunteers is being equated with an
unduly prolonged stage of evolution, little suited to
present realities or future probabilities. The tradition of
'learuer-centeredness' is thus held to be something of a
luxury in a period when major social and economic
issues are held to transcend individual needs and
interests. It is therefore easier to attract public funding
for coherent structured programmes emphasising
social change, than for highly individualised learning
emphasising voluntary participation and self-
actualisation. Meeting indispensable social needs may
thus be considered an essential ingredient of a
profession, and association with such a need facilitated
the early professionalisation of law and medicine.
However, the determinants of professional status have
clearly varied at different periods, and conflicting
interpretations remain with us today?
One hypothesis is that most professions have
followed a fairly typical progression of events in their
process of professionalisation.2 Granted the need for
the role, a group of people from heterogeneous
backgrounds proceedg to devote itself full-time to the
embryonic profession. Thereafter there develops a
concern with standards of practice and of training, the
establishment of local and national associations, and
ultimately a legal endorsement of a monopoly of
practice as delineated in a formal code of ethics. In the
education of adults, one can indeed identify eminent
contributors going back to Socrates(470-390 B.C.),
but clearly the field failed to win early recognition of
any indispensable n a t u r e - - a recognition which
Cicero(106-43 B.C.) found in law, or Galen(130-201
A.D.) found in medicine. However, it would be
incorrect to date recognition of the social utility of
adult education from current interest in profession-
alisation. Certainly, the 'utilitarianism' of the Victorian
age comprehended a role for adult education in
structured and accountable forms. It also took

45
46
cognizance of what was described as the 'profession of
lecturer', and of some pioneer research into a technical
basis for a 'profession' of adult education.
That no substantial progress toward the profession-
alisation of adult education apparently resulted from
Victorian developments leads us to question the
reasons--lest we try to re-invent the wheel! This paper
will accordingly seek to explore the Victorian concept
of social utility as applied to adult education, and to
trace any concomitant evolution of professionalism (as
then defined) among adult educators. The vehicle for
this exploration will be that very characteristic agency
of the period--the mechanics' institute. We shall first
examine the circumstances of its foundation, indicating
briefly some early ventures in different countries, and
then consider the instructor's role in the context of the
proclaimed social utility of the movement. Finally, we
shall consider the contemporary meaning attached to
the word 'professional', identify any theoretical basis
for its use in adult education, and assess the reagons
for the failure of a professionally trained group to take
over the functions of the existing volunteers.
The mechanics' institutes were essentially a by-
product of the British Industrial Revolution, and the
archetype foundations were the Glasgow Mechanics'
Institute(1823) and the London Mechanics'
Institution(1824).3 The institutes, which spread across
Britain, also found a congenial home in British North
America, the USA, Australia, New Zealand, and in a
variety of trading settlements from the Pacific to India.
The early institutes, wherever established, enjoyed a
remarkable degree of uniformity in their aims, their
mode of operation, and even in their fundamental
problems.4 The primary purpose of these institutes was
to provide for the literate skilled workingman an
education based largely on the sciences, and leading
ultimately to higher national productivity. The need for
such education was perceived largely by the middle
class, not only as employers, but as homeowners,
taxpayers, politicians, or even philanthropists.
The 'labour aristocracy' of highly skilled but
unenfranchised and often exploited craftsmen and
small tradesmen (termed generically 'mechanics') often
received little formal schooling, although they had
often served a long and demanding apprenticeship. If,
as critics claimed, such apprenticeship was not in tune
with the technological changes then taking place,
neither were the traditional educational institutions
particularly innovative. The schools tended to offer the
3R's to the many or a liberal classical education to the
few, while the colleges and universities continued this
education for a smaller 61ite and perhaps supplemen-
ted it with some professional preparation for careers in
law, medicine, or the Church. Adult education as
exemplified by the itinerant science lecturers was,
however, given a new vitality and stability, with the
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
establishment of middle class literary and
philosophical societies, s While the essential foundation
of literacy was becoming more widespread among
mechanics, and even being regarded as a prerequisite
for their employment by at least one London em-
ployer, there were scant opportunities for them to
develop any understanding of the scientific principles
underlying their own prized skills. 6 The need for such
awareness was emphasised by the increasing pace of
invention and discovery, and by an early conviction
that 'England, though the first manufacturing country
in the world, is sadly deficient in schools for instructing
people in the mechanical arts. '7
Master mechanics and journeymen had already
demonstrated their own interest in such 'useful
knowledge' by establishing the independent Glasgow
Mechanics' Institute in July, 1823. This institute
originated in a science class for mechanics at Ander-
son's Institution, and represented a conflict of policy
with the administration which led the mechanics to
insist on managing their own programme of studies. At
a time when radical protest in politics, economics, and
religion had already alarmed defenders of the status
quo, the proclaimed utilitarian goal of'making a man a
better mechanic' appealed to a circle wider than the
traditional educational philanthropists. An emerging
middle class, still largely dependent on small inustrial
units or independent craftsmen, was intent on imposing
its own ideas of sobriety, frugality, efficiency, and the
work ethic on a labour 61ite as yet largely without a
clear formulation of its own social consciousness. The
promise of social and economic improvement, based
on scientific and technological progress, appeared to
depend on a partnership with this same labour 61ite. A
middle class sponsorship of mechanics' institutes was
calculated to ensure that they followed the lines of
social and economic orthodoxy, rather than have their
education contribute to the evolution of any force
inimical to the status quo. The 1820's were indeed a
propitious time to inaugurate such a venture in Britain.
It was a period of relative prosperity, with philanthrop-
ists already promoting various schemes for the
'education of the poor'. The embryonic working class
movement for social and economic reform saw adult
education as one avenue of advance, although it
envisaged the content as far more embracing than
'useful knowledge'. While state paternalism was on the
wane, the advent of a liberal Tory administration in
1822 witnessed such reforms as a repeal of the
Combination Acts (thus legalizing trade unions), so
creating a more supportive climate for working class
participation. There was also an existing educational
model for the new mechanics' institutes, in the prolific
middle class literary and philosophical institutions of
late eighteenth century England. These institutions had
sought to popularise the new scientific discoveries by a
PATRICK KEANE
programme of lectures and demonstrations, supported
by the nucleus of a scientific library. Indeed, it was the
middle class exclusivity of such institutions; that
prompted one Timothy Claxton to pioneer mechanics'
institutes in Britain and New England.s
An active promotion of popular adult education as
an indispensable social need was to be undertaken in
Britain by the weekly Mechanics' Magazine, founded
on August 30, 1823, and in the United States by the
(American) Mechanics' Magazine of February, 1825. 9
The editors of the London journal had sought to
provide skilled workmen with news of the latest
scientific knowledge and technological improvements.
In October 1823, cognizant of the new Glasgow
Mechanics' Institute, they proposed the establishment
of such an agency in London. Not only was a case
made for the provision of 'useful knowledge', but with
its policy formulated in terms suggestive more of social
emancipation than of higher productivity. It was
argued that 'the education of a free people, like their
property, will always be directed most beneficially for
them when it is in their own hands'. 1 Francis Place, a
radical tailor who took a leading part in establishing
the London Mechanics' Institution in 1823-24, regar-
ded this notion of working class control as idealistic
nonsense. Fundamentally, he regarded the expertise
and funding needed for the venture as being beyond
the means of the mechanics, and saw middle class
support being obtained only for a strictly utilitarian
programme of adult education which excluded any
suggestion of social and political emancipation. By
implication he rejected the idea of a broad informal
programme of adult education, catering to different
interests and abilities, with 'friends educating each
other'. Instead, he advocated a well-funded and
structured programme with ample facilities for a
specific group of highly skilled men. He urged the need
for funds to finance 'a lecture room large enough to
hold a thousand persons, to fit up a laboratory, a
museum, an experimental workshop, to supply us with
books and apparatus, as well as the necessary and
desirable schools (i.e. classes) and to purchase the
necessary furniture. . . . ,n There was an expected
conflict of opinion over such proposals, but eventually
the promoters decided to seek donations for the
'instruction of the members in the principles of the arts
they practise, and in the various branches of science
and useful knowledge'.12 Dr. Thomas Arnold, a patron
of the later Rugby Mechanics' Institution, was to
criticise this circumscribed concept of adult education:
'Let us not delude ourselves into supposing that the
diffusion of useful knowledge is genuine adult
education. Neither science nqr literature alone can
instruct the judgement---only moral and religious
knowledge can do this', t3 Nevertheless, in the political
and economic climate of early nineteenth century
47
Britain, such compromises were perhaps inevitable.
It was assumed that it was indeed possible to teach
the scientific principles of contemporary industry;that
they could be taught during the evenings to members
who lacked formal education; that this education could
be divorced from the other educational and cultural
interests of those members; that the education pro-
posed would reinforce rather than question the status
quo; and that the cost of the venture could be met by a
mixture of fees and donations. Certainly, the project
attracted substantial and influential support from a
group including engineering employers, radical politi-
cians, philanthropists generally, and the king's brother,
the Duke of Sussex. TM The latter saw fit, at the
institution's second anniversary, to declare that 'any-
thing like debating upon political or theological
subjects would be at once seized hold on for their
destruction as a body. ''5 While advocates of a more
radical policy were not lacking, the price of patronage
was clearly one of orthodoxy, and at mid-century it
was held that the institution 'owes its success, if not its
continued existence, to munificient patronage. ''~ While
the Glasgow model of working'class control continued
to find some adherents, it was the London model of
middle and upper class patronage that largely became
the norm for the movement in Britain and other
English speaking countries. Thereafter, it became
almost axiomatic for mechanics' institutes to espouse
the goal of disseminating 'useful knowledge', while
explicitly excluding all controversial politics or theo-
logy from their educational programmes and library
holdings.
The earliest major publicist of the movement was
the radical politician Henry Brougham, whose opti-
mism permeated a pamphlet which ran to twenty
editions in 1825. "Assuming that self-evident benefits of
the scheme would lead to middle class sponsorship, he
postulated eventual working class participation in
policy-making. He visualised the establishment of
institutes wherein readily available lecturers in chemis-
try and mechanics would be able to establish large and
self-supporting classes of adult students motivated by a
desire to improve their productivity and earnings.17 So
positively were the merits of such education soon
perceived, that the movement expanded rapidly across
urban and rural Britain, and by the mid nineteenth
century some 677 institutes were recorded in
operation, is The institutes likewise spread across
British North America, from Halifax to Vancouver,
with over 300 institutes being established in Ontario
alone during the nineteenth century. In the United
States, they were also to be found from Boston,
Massachusetts, to Cincinnati, Ohio--and on to San
Francisco, California, although overshadowed by the
lyceum movement, which in its origins was so similar.
Likewise over one thousand institutes were established
48
in Australia, and some eighty in neighbouring New
Zealand.
The London Mechanics' Institution, benefiting from
its establishment in the metropolis, was soon able to
provide a wide range of facilities intended to foster the
'acquirement of useful knowledge'. A lecture p r o -
gramme was initiated in January, 1824, in 'mechanics,
chemistry, electricity, pneumatics, and hydrostatics,
heat, astronomy, b o t a n y . . , stenography, acoustics,
and the steam engine. "~ Many were short courses of
about six lectures, although the basic subjects of
chemistry and mechanics received fuller treatment--
chemistry reaching sixteen lectures per course. After
eighteen months' reliance on volunteers, it was decided
to pay future lecturers 3 or 4 per lecture. This was
not because of the shortage of proferred talent, but to
meet criticism of accepting charity--something the
Mechanics' Magazine found unacceptable. 2 Indeed,
the calibre of the early volunteer lecturers may be
judged from the inclusion of such men as Richard
Phillips, professor of chemistry at the Royal Military
College, Sandhurst; John Millington, professor of
mechanics at the Royal Institution, London; and Dr.
George Birkbeck, now president of the London
Mechanics' Institution and formerly professor of
physics at Anderson's Institution, Glasgow. Birbeck's
own transition from science lecturer to London
physician seems to have been prompted, as his
biographer notes, not because he disdained the former,
but because 'its pursuit was precarious and
unremunerative. '2~ His lectures were said to be
'excellently clear, reasonably simple, and well ill-
ustrated by diagrams, models, and experiments. '22
Formal class instruction was instituted in December,
1824. Beginning With an elementary mathematics
class, it was soon expanded to include drawing,
geography, and French. In the foregoing month, a
reading room was also opened, and by September,
1825, a circulating library was in operation. Beginning
in 1824, scientific apparatus was collected for a
laboratory, and scientific demonstrations became an
accepted accompaniment of the lecture series.
Meanwhile, membership climbed from the 750 of 1824
to 1477 in 1826, and 'the working mechanics of the
metropolis formed a large majority of the
subscribers.'23 The initial enrollments had 'consisted
almost entirely of master-mechanics shopkeepers, and
dealers in hardware, with their workmen, cabinet-
makers, and housepainters. TM
Similar features of the movement could be discerned
not just across Britain, but overseas also. Public
lectures in the sciences were given in a number of
American towns during the late eighteenth century.
Thus, the College of Philadelphia provided public
lectures in medicine, while Kings College (Columbia)
provided public lectures on both medicine and chemis-
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
try. Also, |ecturcs in the fashionable new science of
electricity were advertised in the newspapers of such
places as Boston, Charleston, N e w York, and
Philadelphia.25 In Philadelphia, the relationship be-
tween existing educational provision and a developing
industry seemed no more apparent than was the case
in London. Progressive thought was however indicated
in the establishment of public elementary schools in
Philadelphia in 1818. Likewise, the public continued to
patronise travellinglecturersof varied attainments with
their occasional presentations on the steam engine,
electricity,chemistry, and other scientificand technical
themes. 2~ The example of Anderson's Institution,
Glasgow (parent of the seccsslonist Glasgow Mech-
anics' Institute),prompted visiting Professor William
H. Keafing of the University of Pennsylvania to return
home with ideas of promoting a similar institution.In
1824, be was joined by supporters including a future
president of the Pennsylvania Railroad, in establishing
the Franklin Institute.The aims were 'the promotion of
the useful arts in Philadelphia, by extending a
knowledge of mechanical science to its members and
others at a cheap rate.'2v Less socially divided than in
Britain, it was here possible to contemplate such goals
as being 'to establish that equality so particularly
recognized in our Bill of Rights.'2s As in London, the
representation of industrial crnployers among the
founders was more limited than early advocates of
these institutesexpected, but employers and employees
in Philadelphia were less antipathetic, and a broader,
less utilitarianprogramme catering to both groups was
initiated.2~
Apart from such explicit educational ventures,
mention might also be made of the evolution of
mechanics' charitable or friendly societies into an
educational role. For example, the Salem Charitable
Mechanic Association, Mass. (1817) developed from
its early welfare activities to provide a Mechanics'
Library in 1820, a lecture programme in 1828, to have
its own Mechanics' Hall in 1839, and to inaugurate
public exhibitions in 1849. 30 Elsewhere, we may note
the transience of such a programme. Thus the
Lancaster Mechanics' Society, Pa.(1828), introduced
evening courses 'given by volunteer teachers--college
professors, local scientists, and physicians, and
educated men among the mechanics themselves', but
found that 'the evening school gradually languished. '31
The 'industrial, commercial, and professional classes'
were said to be represented when the Montreal
Mechanics' Institution, Canada, was formed in 1828
for 'the instruction of the members in the arts and in
the various branches of science and useful
knowledge. '32 Here again though, the industrial
representation appears to be nominal, with a steam-
boat pioneer surrounded by members of the political
establishment. 33
PATRICK KEANE
In Australia, parallel developments may be cited. ' A
group of educated men would band together,
sometimes at the instigation of a person with ex-
perience of the movement in the mother country. '34
The first such foundation was the Hobart Mechanics'
Institute of 1827, founded by the 'master-
tradesmen'--suggesting a more pronounced commit-
ment by small employers than has been noted already.
Seemingly, the early Australian institutes adopted a
broad view of the goals of 'useful knowledge', for
productivity is rated alongside, if not below individual
fulfilment. 'The chief but not the sole a i m . . , was that
of making their members industrially efficient,
although it was always emphasised that specific trade
training was undesirable and that the true interests of
the a r t i s a n . . , lay in an enlightened interest in scientic
philosophy and social phenomena. '35 While actual
trade training in workshop conditions had not been
among the goals of early promoters, neither had the
discursive interest now suggested in social phen-
omena.
New Zealand also participated in this international
movement. The three-month voyage from Britain to
New Zealand prompted two groups of settlers to
establish mechanics' institutes on board ship in 1841
and 1842. Such foundations, while adopting the same
title and broad goal of 'useful knowledge', reflected a
later, evolutionary stage of the movement. They
constituted a general adult educational and recreatio-
nal forum for the cabin passengers or middle class
'colonists', rather than for the 'emigrants' who might
include mechanics in their ranks. 36 Nevertheless, such
was the strong adherence to the gospel of 'useful
knowledge' that the title continued to be adopted in
later New Zealand developments. Thus, at the estab-
lishment of Richmond Mechanics' Institute in 1846, it
was said that such title would be 'the least applicable of
any name that could be chosen--inapplicable as well
to the present population and condition of Richmond
as also to the character of the place for years to
come. '37
The foregoing was indicative of the confusion that
followed attempts to evaluate the success of mech-
anics' institutes in terms of the movement's original
utilitarian goals. So great was the popularity of the
original concept of this form of adult education that
the same terminology of 'mechanics' institute' con-
tinued to be adopted, when it had little if any relevance
to the occupations of the membership or the location
of the institute. Even granted the existence of the
classic mechanics' institute, with its eager and
dedicated clientele of young men from small industrial
units and the growing factory system, the question of
feasibility remained in doubt for a long time. Was it
really possible to teach them the ingenuity displayed
by the folk heroes of the new industrial age? Could the
49
mechanics then make major scientific and technical
contributions of their own? Could voluntary lecturers
and teachers be expected to make the commitment
needed, or should paid instructors be hired? Could an
essentially voluntary movement sustain the professio-
nal development and career expectations of the
amorphous collection of dedicated people who had
contributed their time and talents to it? Was there any
philosophical, pedagogical, or administrative basis for
regarding the education of adults as an embryonic
profession, and some of its apparently gifted lecturers
as 'professionals'? As the initial euphoria with 'useful
knowledge' subsided, and mechanics' institutes con-
tinued to be established, attempts were made to share
experiences and expertise in an effort to answer some
of the troublesome questions. Seemingly, the original
goals must be reformulated, or more efficient ways
must be adopted of realizing them.
Translating the broad goals of the movement into
practice implied not just the existence of a coherent
body of scientific and technical knowledge, but the
adoption of effective teaching techniques. Thus,
subjects like drawing or drafting suggested expensive
classroom instruction, while chemistry was to prove
particularly adaptable to long and often entertaining
popular lecture and demonstration courses in the early
nineteenth century. It was not yet so mathematical as
to deter adult students whose schooling had been
neglected, and to the popularity of its demonstrations
and experiments was added the utility of the subject in
a variety of industrial enterprises. Practical workshop
instruction had not been envisaged by the original
institute promoters, since that was felt to remain the
responsibility of employers. Though such as the
Maryland Institute of Baltimore (1825) might provide
a 'machine shop for the accommodation of inventors',
in general the expense of such provision led to
mechanics' institutes (unwittingly) emphasising a
divorce between theory and practice. Employers, often
self-taught and seeing in the institutes a possible venue
for the exchange of trade secrets, tended to prefer the
practical workshop-trained man. Better to follow the
apprenticeship tradition and, in Aristotle's words,
'learn by doing. '38 This apparendy persuasive argu-
ment neglected the fact that with the decline of
apprenticeship fewer employers were now inclined to
accept the full burden of training. A more telling
criticism was that the lecture technique, on which so
many institutes relied, was ill-suited to the education of
workmen. Granted that evening lectures had become
popular both in old established urban centres and in
newly settled frontier districts, there was a suspicion
that many were more entertaining than instructive. The
popularisation of science was such that until about mid
nineteenth century large fee-paying audiences could
often be gathered for lectures and demonstrations.
50
However, not only did the talents of the lecturers
vary enormously, but so did those of the audiences.
Where highly skilled mechanics were involved, their
undoubted skills and interest might be balanced by the
most meagre amounts of formal schooling, and with a
disposition and aptitude influenced as much by their
discomfort in unfamiliar surroundings as by having
already worked a twelve-hour day. Certainly there
were largely self-taught mechanics who overcame
these handicaps and became Victorian success stories,
with all the virtues proclaimed by Samuel Smiles--
thrift, self-help, and duty. 39 Nevertheless, one must
distinguish between the popularity of the lecture
particularly with an educated middle class audience,
and the efficiency of the lecture in improving the
technical competence of a working class audience.
Lecturers familiar with the first type of audience
created some problems when they repeated their
contributions to the latter. It was found in England
that working men encountered difficulty in understand-
ing 'words not of Saxon origin, a n d . . , frequently
addresses to them are unintelligiblefrom the continual
use of terms of a Latin or Greek derivation.'~ The
problem persisted in Massachusetts, and Boston
Mechanics' Institute instructed its lecturers in 1826 to
speak 'in a plain, intelligible manner divested as far as
practicable of technical phraseology, and such terms
as tend to discourage, rather than promote a love of
science. '41 The American Journal of Education in 1830
was to reinforce this requirement in mentioning the
need for 'lecturers who add to a thorough acquain-
tance with astronomy, geology, chemistry, oct., a
faculty for speaking to an audience with plainness and
perspecuity.'42
These were demanding requirements in a period
when the typical lecturer was an unpaid volunteer, and
facilities by which he could often obtain even a subject
mastery in the sciences were quite limited. As long as
an institute retied on the chance availability of local
volunteers, both the subject matter and its teaching
were imponderable factors. Thus, as one British critic
remarked in 1826 on contemporary institute lectures:
'Now it. is of the heavens, and now of the coalpits--
now of longitude, and now of shorthand--now of two
and two, and now of the national debt--now of the
Newtonian system, and now of the Scotch and Quaker
rag system; that the members are lectured to, and all
within the short space of a lunar month. '43 Some
British institutes in major industrial areas were able to
find (and pay) a lecturer willing to deriver 'complete
courses of ninety and sixty lectures upon one branch of
physical science', supported by class instruction and
followed by formal examinations. However, by mid
nineteenth century, even these programmes had
'dwindled to an average of three in each course, and a
general practice of having one lecture in each branch
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
of science.'" These had come close to realising the
most idealistic goals of early founders. Nevertheless,
the assumptions of social utility, and the underlying
assumptions of feasibility, remained as articles of faith
long after their weaknesses had been identified. Thus
the plight of the mechanic attending an early science
lecture at London Mechanics' Institution may be
gauged, when he was informed that:
before the principles of 'Aerostation' could be
properly comprehended, a knowledge of
'pneumatics' was requisite; and he (the lecturer)
had a right to presume, from the lectures which
had been delivered on that subject, that the
members were acquainted with the nature and
properties of air. A knowledge of hydrostatics is
also essential to the study of a science which
treats of bodies floating in a certain medium, by
displacing a quantity of the fluid in which they
float, equal in weight to the floating body.
Besides this, it is necessary to know that air is a
gravitating medium, and, therefore, not only
pneumatics, but hydrostatics must be under-
stood; so far, at least, as relates to the
specific gravities of bodies. Chemistry is also
necessary... 45
The secretary of the Franklin Institute, Philadelphia,
could not but note in April, 1826, that
it must be universally acknowledged that to
receive the full advantage of a course of lectures,
requires a degree of preparatory instruction, and
a maturity of age, which many of our auditors
do not possess. The great and fundamental
object for which we were established, namely, to
improve the condition and elevate the character
of the operative class of society, by affording
them the only effectual means for this purpose,
education, cannot be accomplished by lectures
alone.46
Supporting the Philadelphia contentions, an English
writer was later to conclude that 'very often the
lectures even on science by professional lecturers,
ought rather to be called a series of experiments, the
reasons and nature of which are scarcely apprehended,
still less remembered by the listener.'47
A seemingly important distinction is now being
made. The limitations of the lecture technique for
mechanics are admitted, but the involvement of a
'professional' lecturer is regarded as at least militating
against these limitations. The question now is to decide
the implications of the term 'professional', which was
to be used ever increasingly in adult education after the
mid nineteenth century. The initial institute distinction,
whether of lecturers or of class teachers, was essen-
PATRICK KEANE
tially between 'volunteer' and 'paid', and as has been
instanced in the reasonably affluent London Mech-
anics' Institution, there was a change to 'paid' on
ethical, not pedagogical grounds. Conversely, many
institutes were obliged to depend on 'volunteers'
because" they could not afford to pay those termed
'professionals'. Thus, Francis Place told the Select
Committee on Education in London in 1835 that a
teacher 'may be had at almost any price you please,
but you would not have a competent one at a low
price. '4s James Hole, honorary secretary of the
Yorkshire Union of Mechanics' Institutes, reiterated
the point in 1853 when he spoke of
the want of a properly qualified teacher, who
can only be obtained by being properly paid. We
have no objection to gratuitous teachers, but
they always must be in a subordinate capacity:
devotion to the task will help to make up for
many deficiencies; but teaching is an art, and the
amateur who takes it up, unconscious of its
difficulties, betrays his unfitness for the task. It is
singular that the pursuit of the highest difficulty
and importance is that which is least esteemed.
Education is the only science which everyone
thinks he knows without learning--the only art
which nobody seems to think requires an
apprenticeship.
The first essential of any such improvement in
the operations of our mecnamics' institutes is the
provision of properly qualified and properly paid
teachers. Without this condition, even the proper
elementary instruction of our institutions cannot
be supplied. The smallness of the number of
scholars in adult evening classes arises from
want of teachers rather than scarcity of those
who need teaching and are willing to be taught.
Teachers for elementary instruction there would
be little difficulty in obtaining, at least in large
towns, if there were funds to pay them; but the
reports of the country institutes are filled with
complaints of their inability to obtain teachers.
For instruction of a more advanced character,
this difficulty might amount to an
impossibility.49
Had the early postulated relationship between in-
dustry's needs and the programmes proposed for the
institutes proved to be a viable one, it might have been
assumed that sufficient funds would have been made
available to hire 'professionals'. While some notable
employers, inclu~ling industrialists, did lend their
support to the foundation of institutes, it would seem
that this type of support grew increasingly
philanthropic in nature, rather than being in expec-
tation of measurable improvements in technical com-
petence among the mechanics.
51
Some fortuitously located institutes in the major
industrial areas of Britain did indeed manage to
establish practicable programmes of adult technical
education. However, a study of institutes in Lancashire
and Yorkshire at mid century concluded that there
remained a 'lack of interest by organised industry in
technical education. '5 Further, the demise of the
Birmingham Mechanics' Institute in 1843 is indeed
blamed directly on the indifference of local employers
in that growing industrial city. 5~ Similarly, while the
question of seeking government aid was raised,
'particularly in order that paid instruction could be
given', there was stout opposition from within the
movement in case local independence should be
jeopardized.52 In any event, in Britain, the early
appeals for government aid were rebuffed and the
merits of self-help proclaimed. In Australia, a tradition
of annual government grants to mechanics' institutes
was established at the very outset, while in New
Zealand and Canada early aid was varied and
spasmodic. Institutes that survived the vicissitudes of
self-help and laissez-faire individualism often found
later government aid was available for specific pro-
grammes rather than for the institutes as institutes. For
example, the Maine Charitable Mechanic Association,
Portland (which provided an apprentice library and a
lecture programme) received an 1861 grant of a half
township of land to initiate a free drawing school.
Though such a school was indeed launched, it was
noted in 1875 'that comparatively few mechanics, for
whose benefit the school was established, availed
themselves of its advantage. '53 In Ontario, a relatively
generous system of government grants led to a
substantial growth in the numbers of mechanics'
institutes--to at least 311 by 1895. However, the
government lamented as early as 1881 that formal
class programmes were inadequate, and that 'the
education of the working classes has been neglected.'54
In New Zealand, while government support in the last
quarter of the century facilitated an increase in
mechanics' institutes to about eighty, and, as in
Ontario, helped to confirm their main function as 'the
maintenance of a library' not class instruction. Indeed,
such were the priorities that 'there were communities
which had a functioning mechanics' institute library
which had no school. '55 In Australia, government
support facilitated a sharp increase in mechanics'
institutes during the last two decades of the nineteenth
century--to over one thousand. However they were
then providing 'broadly cultural and social activities'
rather than 'any haphazard vocational instruction. '56
In Britain, no grants were to be paid to the institutes as
institutes, although after 1859, institute students who
passed government science examinations could earn
grants for their instructors. Such a system, termed
'paYment by results' came too late to transform the
52
generality of institutes, and hence much subsequent
development in adult education was to lie in other
directions.
The attitude toward government support and inter-
vention necessarily varied with factors both local and
national. Some mechanics' resentment of middle class
charity was balanced by later suspicion of government
intervention. This innate pride in the voluntary nature
of the movement was widespread, and allied to the
notion of friends educating each other in mutual im-
provement classes, rather than in paying outside 'pro-
fessionals' to teach. For instance, Timothy Claxton,
a London journeyman mechanic, whose involve-
ment in adult education was both long lasting and
varied, came out strongly in support of the principle of
'mutual improvement'. Having been refused mem-
bership of a middle class London philosophical
institution in 1817, he participated in the foundation of
a Mechanical Institution and acted as its secretary
until 1820. Thereafter, we find him in Massachusetts,
working in a Methuen cotton mill, and between
1823-1826 he brought new life to the almost dormant
Methuen Social Society for Reading and General
Inquiry. Introducing lectures and demonstrations on
mechanics, he soon had the institution flourishing
again. The next decade he spent in Boston, taking a
leading part in establishing the Boston Mechanics'
Institution (1827), the Boston Lyceum (1830), and
becoming first president of the Boston Mechanics'
Lyceum (1831-1835). The Boston Mechanics'
Institution aimed to provide 'mutual' instruction in the
sciences as connected with the mechanical arts', while
the Boston Lyceum was intended for a general
audience, rather than for mechanics; neither had a long
existence. 57 The succeeding hybrid, the Boston Mech-
anics' Lyceum, was to prove more enduring, and it
established a lecture programme and published a
magazine called The Young Mechanic. Returning to
England and becoming a prominent member of the
London Mechanics' Institution, Claxton published his
Hints to Mechanics in 1839, in which he concluded
that if teaching was a shared responsibility of the
membership rather than a service rendered by paid
lecturers, more good would result:
In one case, the members acquire a habit of
doing their own studying and s p e a k i n g . . , while
in the other, most of the hearers of popular
lecturers retain little of the instruction they
received, and are too apt to go away with the
impression that because the lecturer's duty is
performed their own task is certainly
coml~leted,s8
We thus see a continuing clash of objectives. To
attain the goal of producing more highly skilled
workmen now seemed to invite the use of expensive
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
human and material resources, and the structuring of
learning in formal classes followed by examinations. In
effect, it was suggestive of what contemporaries
regarded as 'professionalism'. To attain the goal of
social emancipation with members 'doing their own
studying and speaking', and not relying either on
charity or on government intervention, seemed to
invite informal, less structured learning, and perhaps
some recognition of the role of leisure and recreation.
The underlying tensions of a movement based on
seemingly boundless educational possibilities, as pro-
claimed and perceived largely by the middle class for
the benefit of the working class, surfaced increasingly
when the results did not match the expectations.
It was argued that the failure to reach such
expectations resulted from the institutes having 'often
been commenced without experience, and conducted
without sufficient knowledge to assure success. '~9 At
the outset, the sheer novelty of this scheme of popular
adult education inevitably involved many untested
assumptions and compromises, but we may also note
some pioneer contributions toward a technical basis
for professionalism in adult education. As early as
1814, a manual of adult education was published by
Dr. Thomas Pole, a Quaker physician from
Philadelphia, then resident in England. Pole is credited
by a modern reviewer, with devoting attention to
'different learning principles, including self-motivation,
memory, reinforcement, practice, evaluation,
awareness of results, varying the learning tasks, and
progressing from the simple to the complex. '6 The
work, which followed Pole's association with adult
schools in Bristol, dealt with methods of instruction,
teacher education, and adminstrat.ive procedures, but
its influence on later mechanics' institutes appears t o
have been negligible. Similarly, in 1820, the General
Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen of the City of
New York, commissioned William Wood of Boston to
undertake some research preparatory to the establish-
ment of a mechanics' and apprentices' library. Wood
spent three months interviewing employers and em-
ployees, before preparing a list of 740 prospective
members and aiding the foundation of the library on
May 25, 1820. He then went on to carry out similar
work in Albany, Philadelphia, and New Orleans. ~1
Administrative efficiency and the principles of adult
education management were to be treated in a number
of pioneer studies, among which may be mentioned
those by Baldwin F. Duppa in 1839 and James Hole in
1853. ~z Hole's theme was that 'professional' ad-
ministration and management, already gaining accep-
tance in industry, was equally needed and feasible in
adult education, s3
Granted that such pioneer attempts were being
made to formulate a basis for professionalism, it would
seem that they enjoyed only a tenuous relationship at
PATRICK KEANE
best, with those termed 'professionals' in adult
education. Hole and most other institute ad-
ministrators continued in their role as 'honorary', not
paid officials One large group enjoying the term
'professional' were those lecturers already deemed
'professionals' in their primary occupations--law,
medicine, college or university professor--but their
role as adult educators, however dedicated, competent
and popular, was essentially transitory and
philanthropic in nature. This is not to denigrate their
competence, but 'professional' competence was also
assumed to bring with it a commensurate income.
Thus, while Professor John Millington gave two
courses of lectures on chemistry to the members of
London Mechanics' Institution in 1824-1825, the
institution could not have offered this competent, if
eccentric scientist a salaried position commensurate
with his talents. 64 Conversely, by dint of moving into
lecturing to middle class institutions, Benjamin
Silliman was to start a distinguished scientific career,
which at least included adult education. Silliman had
actually studied the art (or science) of lecturing at the
Royal Institution, London, before giving his inaugural
lecture on geology at the Boston Society for the
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge in 1835. Halifax
Mechanics' Institute, Nova Scotia, which made
Silliman an honorary member in 1840, also had acourse
of geology lectures from another 'professional' in
1844. This was Dr. John W. Dawson, who had worked
with Sir Charles Lyell on the ambitious Geological
Survey of North America, and who, in 1855, was to
become principal of McGill College, Montreal and
direct this university's affairs for over forty years. 65
Apart from such ad hoc preparation as Silliman
received, early pedagogical instruction continued to be
associated with school children, not adults. It was not
until 1847 that Harvard and Yale felt there existed a
sufficient theoretical basis to provide programmes for
intending science lecturers, or 1851 that the School of
Mines in London followed suit. 66 By such time, the
great vitality of the 'useful knowledge' movement had
ebbed, with many employers and employees alike
sadly reconciled that the great promise of the move-
ment had eluded them.
Institutes indeed continued to be founded and to
survive, while schemes of coordination rendered the
employment of 'professional' lecturers (slightly) more
feasible than before. However one now hears
increasingly of the disappearance of those who merited
the term 'mechanics' from the institutes, and of a
programme of instruction, both general and entertaining.
Even by the 1840's the Lowell Institute of Boston,
Mass. (1836), found that 'lecture-going had become
fashionable. Audiences were no longer composed
primarily of eager students and workingmen who had
no other opportunities to learn science.'67 In Canada, it
53
was to be said that 'if you want to find a mechanic,
don't go to a mechanics' institute. '68 In Britain by the
mid nineteenth century, it was stated that 'the
attorney's clerk out-talked and ultimately outvoted the
working mechanic. '69 In Australia by the 1840's, there
was also a 'loss of working class support because of
the aridly didactic nature of the curricula and the
erosion of the original principles." In New Zealand,
the degree of specifically working class support never
grew pronounced, in view of the small population,
scattered settlements, and the lack of early labour
specialisation and an industrial base. 71 Thus, even as
new institute buildings were being planned at Well-
ington in 1849, it was thought advisable to rename the
body the 'Wellington Athenaeum and Mechanics'
Institute', since 'among the subscribers were few who
could be called mechanics. ' n
It was indeed as both the 'mechanics' and 'useful
knowledge' faded from the adult education movement
that the 'professional' lecturer seemed to flourish. In
Britain, a government committee of inquiry heard in
1849 that the popularity and profitability of lectures
was encouraging the development of a body of
'professional' lecturers. 73 However, the development
was said to lie in the field of literary and recreational
subjects, and the committee was told that 'a man must
have a very happy talent for lecturing if he succeeds in
making scientific lectures popular. '74 Talent alone was
clearly no guarantee of success, since another contem-
porary report mentioned the low fees 'frequently paid
to able professional lecturers' and 'an eminent lecturer
who lately died in extreme poverty. '75 Established
reputation was obviously important, and in 1873
Alexander Graham Bell, described as the inventor o f ' a
new contraption known as the telephone', found, his
offer to lecture, at Toronto Mechanics' Institute was
declined.~e In the United States, new opportunities for
the employment of lecturing talent came with the
Westward Movement. Many lecturers from the East,
or as they were frequently termed 'professional'
lecturers from 'abroad', found the new railroads
opened up a new market for their talents, particularly
in the lyceums. Research indicates that 'by 1855
Ohio's communities were important stopping points on
a vast network of lecture routes extending from the
Atlantic seaboard to the Mississippi.'~7 There were
those among the new audiences who deplored the
'professionalisation' which they saw occurring.
Lamenting the passing of 'the time when men like
Benjamin Silliman gave free courses of lectures
because they loved to spread truth and knowledge',
they now saw an 'organised profession', with lecturing
having become 'a regular branch of business, a
recognised method of obtaining a livelihood.'78 The
'professionalisation' or 'commercialism' that was being
deplored was apparent in the Ohio Mechanics'
54
Institute, Cincinnati. Founded in 1828, it initially
offered systematic lecture courses in the sciences, and
mutual improvement classes in the sciences, drawing
and languages. By 1854, it was attracting a 'large and
oddly assorted audience' to what was described as a
'money-making scheme' involving a lecture course on
slavery. 79 Three years later, the instituteOs annual
report contended that 'most popular lectures offered
little profit to persons engaged in mechanical en-
terprises.' Instead the lecture committee was recom-
mended to offer only 'practical discourses', and to
'cease to strive after a display of brilliant oratory or
attractive humbug/s
Resentment at such changing programmes in the
Mid-West was indicated when 'mechanics and
tradesmen rebelled against the subject of attractive
humbug displayed by the Eastern lecturers. 'a~ Even the
distinguished author Ralph Waldo Emerson was to
find that he was
now Emerson the lecturer, one of a small class,
as yet, in the United States, who travel from city
to city, and state to state, addressing people
from incomplete notes or finished manuscripts,
on topics of temporary or permanent interest,
presenting, elaborating, and sustaining doctrines
and opinions which they indulge for the time, or
hold 'for good. 's2
Clearly, the notion of professional ethics was still
vague, although the stature of many of these
'professionals' was quite high, and even international,
while scope for their independent judgement definitely
existed. For example, to lecture at the Lowell Institute,
Boston, came scientists Sir Charles Lyell, J. F. W.
Johnston, John Tyndall, and Louis Agassiz, while later
to the Mid-West came William Makepiece
Thackeray. s3 Similarly, Emerson accepted an in-
vitation to lecture at a number of major English
mechanics' institutes in 1847-48, including those of
Manchester, Halifax, and Huddersfield?4 Henry Ward
Beecher, whose renown as a lecturer was matched by
his reputation for avarice, was engaged in 1873,
through a New York literary agent, to lecture to
Toronto Mechanics' Institute for a fee of $850. 85
The 'professional' was a frequent, if somewhat
dubious figure in the mechanics' institute. His talents,
real and imgined, were sometimes an affront to the
Notes
1. Robert Carlson, 'Professionalisation of Adult
Education: An Historical-Philosophical Analysis',
Adult Education (Washington), XXVIII, No. 1
(Fall 1977), 53-63; E. C. Hughes, Men and Their
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
pioneers of the movement, and often an expense they
were loath to incur. Yet as 'mutual improvement'
proved largely unsuited to the goals so loudly
proclaimed, a need for outside technical competence
seemed almost axiomatic. That a professionally trained
and ethically motivated body of career adult
educators, united in local and national associations,
did not arise in conjunction with mechanics' institutes
is attributable to several factors. The 'indispensable
need' for their services was not generally recongnised
in era when, as we have noted, 'Education i s . . . the
only art which nobody seems to think requires an
apprenticeship. Against a Victorian interest inutility
and efficiency, this negative attitude clearly inhibited
the professionalisation of adult education. Similarly,
hypotheses about the numbel" of workmen able and
anxious to profit from long and demanding courses in
the sciences proved to be overly optimistic. Once an
initial infatuation with the 'marvels of science' had
been met, many of those who remained or became
institute members demonstrated an interest in a much
greater diversity of topics than those related to
technical competence.
Since many Of such interests proved to be in a more
general, informal, and even recreational programme,
meeting them provided a continuing, if not increasing
role for the amateurs or volunteers. A notion of social
obligation had led many gifted Victorians to donate
their varied talents to this movement, and this, in turn,
led to members making invidious comparisons with
later 'professionals' who sought to charge for their
services. Fundamental institutional weaknesses of
uncertain, finance and indifferent administration
likewise contributed to the early instability of the
movement, and so it offered limited career prospects.
Its essentially voluntary nature had led James Hole at
mid century to speak of the resultant overall picture of
'makeshift books. '87 The failure of the idealised
'professional' to oust these 'makeshift teachers', or the
correspondingly makeshift librarians, museum
curators, secretaries, treasurers, and administrators in
general, is thus attributable to many complex factors.
Perhaps the most significant one is that the desirability
of such 'professionals' was based on hypotheses
stemming from one group's perception of another
group's educational needs!
Work (Glencoe, I!1: Free Press, 1958), pp.
133-137; Ralph W. Tyler, 'Distinctive Attributes
of Education for Professions', Social Work Jour-
nal, XXXIII, No. 2 (April 1952), 55.
PATRICK KEANE
2. Harold L. Wilensky, 'The Professionalisation of
Everyone?', American Journal of Sociology,
LXX, No. 2 (September 1964), 137-158.
3. Thomas Kelly, Henry Brougham: Pioneer of
Popular Education (Liverpool: Liverpool Univer-
sity Press, 1957).
4. Some examples of such comparison can be found
in such as: Carl Bode, The American Lyceum:
Town Meeting of the Mind (New York: OUP,
1956), p.. 7; J. D. Wilson, 'Adult Education in
Upper Canada Before 1850', Journal of Education
(UBC), No. 9 (Spring 1973), pp. 44.
5. See Nicholas Hans, New Trends in Education in
the Eighteenth Century (London: Routledge,
1966), ch. II.
6. On the prerequisite of literacy, see the evidence of
Alexander Galloway to the Select Committee on
Artisans and Machinery, First Report, 1834, p.
25.
7. Mechanics' Magazine (London), I, (October 11,
1823), 99-102.
8. (Timothy Claxton), Memoir of a Mechanic, Being
a Sketch of the Life of Timothy Claxton, Written
by Himself) Boston: George W. Light, 1839).
9. The original title of Mechanics' Magazine was
supplemented by the prefix 'American' on the
fourth issue. In February 1826, it was to be
renamed The Franklin Journal and American
Mechanics' Magazine, and thereafter its emphasis
became theoretical rather than practical.
10. Mechanics' Magazine (London), I, (October 11,
1823), 99-102.
11. Francis Place Papers, British Museum. Add Mss.
F. 245.
12. London Mechanics' Institution, Rules and Orders,
December 2, 1823.
13. Thomas Arnold, Miscellaneous Works (London,
1845), p. 423.
14. Among industrialists, we may note John
Martineau and Richard Taylor, who joined the
initial constitutional committee, and Alexander
Galloway and Bryan Donkin who were also
London engineering employers. Radical Whigs
included such notables as Jeremy Bentham, Henry
Brougham, James Mill, and William Cobbett.
15. J. W. Hudson, The History of Adult Education
(London: Longmans, 1851), p. 51.
16. Ibid, p. 50.
17. Henry Brougham, Practical Observations Upon
the Education of the People... (London, 1825).
18. Hudson, p. vi.
19. Thomas Kelly, George Birkbeck: Pioneer of Adult
Education (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press,
1957), p. 98.
20. Mechanics' Magazine, IV (September 17, 1825),
pp. 372-373.
55
21. Kelly, Birkbeck, p. 37.
22. Ibid., p. 102.
23. Hudson, pp. 51-52.
24. Ibid., p. 49.
25. Huey B. Long, 'Continuing Education: Colleges
and Societies', Journal of Research and Develop-
ment in Education, VIII, No. 4 (Summer 1975),
43-49.
26. See for example Eugene S. Ferguson, Early
Engineering Reminiscences (1815-1840) of
George Escol Sellers (Washington, D.C: Smith-
sonian Institute, 1965), p. 16.
27. Centenary of the Franklin Institute (1924), p. 8.
28. Franklin Institute, The Memorial of the Officers
and Board of Managers &c., (Philadelphia,
Franklin Institute Archives), February 26, 1924.
29. Bruce Sinclair, Philadelphia's Philosopher Mech-
anics (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1974), passim.
30. D. Hamilton Hurd (comp.), History of Essex
County (Philadelphia: Lewin, 1888), I. 180.
31. ~ Kieffer, Libraries in Lancaster (Lancaster
County Historical Society Papers 1944), p. 73.
32. Atwater Library of Mechanics' Institute of Mon-
treal (1973), p. 3.
33. The merchant and steamboat pioneer was John
Molson, and the politicians included Sir James
Kempt, the provincial governor; Louis Gugy, the
Sheriff of Montreal; and L. J. Papineau, then
Speaker of the provincial assembly.
34. Derek Whitelock, ed., Adult Education in
Australia (Rushuitters Bay, NSW: Pergamon,
1970), p. 11.
35. Ibid., p. 10.
36. David O. W. Hall, New Zealand Adult Education
(London: Michael Joseph, 1970), p. 31.
37. Nelson Examiner, November 21, 1846. Quoted in
A. B. Thompson, Adult Education in New
Zealand (Christchurch, N.Z: Council for
Educational Research, 1945), 23.
38. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book II, ch. 1.
39. Samuel Smiles, Self Help: With Illustrations of
Character and Conduct (London: John Murray,
1859).
40. J. L. & B. Hammond, The Bleak Age
(Harmondsworth: Pelican Books, 1947), p. 146.
41. American Journal of Education (Boston, 1826),
II, 58, quoted in Charles Alpheus Bennett, History
of Manual and Industrial Education Up to 1870
(Peoria, I11: Bennett, 1926), p. 324.
42. American Journal of Education, January, 1830,
quoted in Bode, p. 189.
43. Mechanics' Magazine (London), VI (December 2,
1896), p. 496.
44. Hudson, p. 57.
45. Hammond, p. 164-165.
56
46. American Journal of Education (Boston, 1826), I,
377.
47. James Hole, An Essay on the History and
Management of Literary, Scientific and Mech-
anics' Institutions &c. (London: Longman.
1853; reprinted London: Frank Cass, 1970), pp.
28-29.
48. Report of the Select Committee on Education,
1835, VII, 930.
49. Hole, pp. 59, 60.
50. Mabel. Tylecote, The Mechanics' Institutes of
Lancashire and Yorkshire Before 1851
(Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1957),
P. 283.
51. Hudson, p. 63
-52. Tylecote, p. 283.
53. Constitution of the Maine Charitable Mechanic
Association (Portland: Bryant Press, 1965), p. 29.
54. Report of the Minister of Education on the
Mechanics'Institutes (Toronto, 1881), p. 62.
55. Hall, p. 37.
56. Whitelock, p. 12.
57. American Journal of Education (Boston, 1826),
II, 187, quoted in Bennett, 324.
58. Timothy Claxton, Hints to Mechanics' on Self
Education and Mutual Instruction (London:
Taylor & Walton, 1839), quoted in C. H. Grattan,
In Quest of Knowledge (New York: Association
Press, 1955), pp. 153-154.Claxton, Memoir of a
Mechanic, op. cit.
59. Yorkshire Union of Mechanics' Institutes,
Eighteenth AnnualReport, 1855, p. 24.
60. Thomas Pole, A History of the Origin and
Progress of Adult Schools &c (Bristol: C.
Mcdowall, 1814; New York: Samuel Wood, 1815;
Facsimile edition, edited by Coolie Berner, Wash-
ington D.C: Adult Education Association of the
United States, 1967, pp. 39-41).
61. Isaac Edwards Clarke, Art and Industry
(Washington, D.C: U.S. Bureau of Education,
1897), III, 303; Bennett, pp. 317-318; Sidney
Ditzion, 'Mechanics' and Mercantile Libraries',
Library Quarterly, X, No. 2 (April, 1940),
192-219.
62. Baldwin F. Duppa, (ed), A Manual for Mechanics
Institutions (London: SDUK, 1839); Hole, op. cit.
See also, Patrick Keane, 'Individualism and
Efficiency in the Mechanics' Institutes', Studies in
Adult Education, VI, No. 2 (October, 1974),
146-160.
63. Yorkshire Union of Mechanics' Institutes,
Fifteenth Annual Report, (1852), passim. James
Hole was secretary of this union from 1848-1867.
(.4rticle received:January 1980)
Social Utility and the Professional Adult Educator
64. Millington (1779-1868) held professional appoint-
ments at the Royal Institution, London, and the
East India Company's Oriental Institution, and
published (1823) An Epitome of the Elementary
Principles of Natural and Experimental
Philosophy. He emigrated to the United States
about 1829--Kelly, p. 90.
65. Halifax Mechanics' Institute, MS Journal of
Minutes, May 4, 1840; February 14, 19, 21, 1844.
66. Richard B. Pearce, a graduate of the School of
Mines, was later to become president of the
American Ins~tute of Mining/Engineers.--A. C.
Todd. The Cornish Miner in America (Glendale,
Calif: Clarke, 1967), p. 153.
67. Margaret W. Rossiter, ' Benjamin Silliman and the
Lowell Institute: The Popularisation of Science in
Nineteenth Century America', New England
Quarterly, XLIV, No. 4 (December 1971), 612.
68. Foster Vernon, 'The Development of Adult
Education in Ontario, 1790-1900', Diss. Univer-
sity of Toronto, 1969, p. 268.
69. Hudson, p. 52. Some corrective to this view,
insofar as institutes in northern industrial areas
were concerned, is apparent in an 1858 speech to
the Association of Lancashire and Cheshire
Institutes by Charles Dickens--Charles Dickens,
Speeches (1869), pp. 158-162.
70. Whitelock, p. 11.
71. Thompson, p. 19.
72. Ibid., p. 19.
73. British House of Commons, Select Committee on
Public Libraries, Report, 1849, Q 2437.
74. 1bid., Q 2439.
75. Hole, p. 143.
76. Foster Vernon, p. 409.
77. David Mead, Yankee Eloquence in the Middle
West: the Ohio Lyceum, 1850-1870. (East Lans-
ing: Michigan State College Press, 1951), Preface.
78. 1bid., pp. 184-185.
79. Ibid., p. 144.
80. Cincinnati Daily Gazette, March 10, 1858. Mead,
p. 198.
81. Mead, p. 22.
82. Cincinnati Columbian and Great West, June 1,
1850, cit. Mead, p. 24.
83. Rossiter, p. 609, and Bode, p. 199.
84. January Searle, Emerson, His Life and Writings
(London, 1855), p. 39; Tylecote, pp. 96, 152, 216,
277.
85. Foster Vernon, p. 409.