ON THE TEACHING OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 



347 



familiar — that of geometry as the Science of Pure 

 Space, and of algebra as the Science of Pure Time. 



But, for to-day at least, our second question, 

 viz., How is Natural Philosophy to be taught? is 

 of more immediate importance. The ausvver, in 

 an elementary class like this, must of course be, 

 " popularly." But this word has many senses, 

 even in the present connection — one alone good, 

 the others of variously- graduated amounts of bad- 

 ness. 



Let us begin with one or two of the bad ones_ 

 The subject is a very serious one for you, and 

 therefore must be considered carefully, in spite 

 of the celebrated dictum of Terence, Obseqnium 

 amicos, Veritas odium parit. (In other words, 

 flatter your audience and tickle their ears, if you 

 seek to ingratiate yourself with them ; tell them 

 the truth, if you wish to raise enemies.) But 

 science is one form of truth. When the surgeon 

 is convinced that the knife is required, it becomes 

 his duty to operate. And Shakespeare gives us 

 the proper answer to the time-serving caution of 

 Terence and Cicero in the well-known words, 

 " Let the galled jade wince." 



One of these wholly bad methods was recent- 

 ly very well put by a Saturday critic, as follows : 



" The name of ' Popular Science' is, in itself, 

 a doubtful and somewhat invidious one, being 

 commonly taken to mean the superficial exposition 

 of results by a speaker or writer who himself 

 understands them imperfectly, to the intent that 

 his hearers or readers may be able to talk about 

 them without understanding them at all." 



This, I need hardly say, is not in any sense 

 science-teaching. It appears, however, that there 

 is a great demand for it, more especially with 

 audiences which seek amusement rather than in- 

 struction ; and this demand, of course, is satis- 

 fied. Such an audience gets what it wants, and, 

 I may add, exactly what it deserves. 



Not quite so monstrous a3 that just alluded 

 to, yet far too common, is the essentially vague 

 and highly-ornamented style of so-called science- 

 teaching. The objections to this method are of 

 three kinds at least — each independently fatal: 



1. It gives the hearer, if he have no pre- 

 vious acquaintance with physics, an altogether 

 erroneous impression of the intrinsic difficulty of 

 the subject. He is exhorted, in grandiloquent 

 fights of labored earnestness, to exert his utmost 

 stretch of intellect, that he may comprehend the 

 great step in explanation which is next to be 

 given ; and when, after this effort, the impression 

 on his mind is seemingly quite inadequate, he 

 begins to fancv that he has not understood at all 



— that there must be some profound mystery in 

 the words he has heard which has entirely escaped 

 his utmost penetration. After a very few at- 

 tempts he gives up in despair. How many a 

 man has been driven away altogether, whose in- 

 tellect might have largely contributed to the ad- 

 vance of physics, merely by finding that he can 

 make nothing of the pompous dicta of his teacher 

 or text-book, except something so simple that he 

 fancies it cannot possibly be what was meant ! 



2. It altogether spoils the student's taste for 

 the simple facts of true science. And it does 

 so just as certainly as an undiluted course of 

 negro melodies or music-hall comic songs is de- 

 structive of all relish for the true art of Mozart 

 or Haydn, or as sensation novels render Scott's 

 highest fancies tame by contrast. And — 



"... as if increase of appetite 

 Had grown by what it led on, . . . " 



the action on the listener is made to react on the 

 teacher, and he is called upon for further and 

 further outrages on the simplicity of science. 

 Sauces and spices not only impair the digestion, 

 they create a craving for other stimulants of 

 ever-increasing pungency and deleteriousness. 



But, 3. No one having a true appreciation 

 of the admirable simplicity of science could 

 be guilty of these outrages. To attempt to in- 

 troduce into science the meretricious adjuncts of 

 " word-painting," etc., can only be the work of 

 dabblers — not of scientific men, just as — 



" To did refined gold, to paint the lily, 

 To throw a perfume on the violet, 

 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 

 Unto the rainbow ; or with taper light 

 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish. 

 Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.''' 



None could attempt such a work who had the 

 smallest knowledge of the true beauty of Nature. 

 Did he know it, he would feel how utterly inade- 

 quate, as well as uncalled for, were all his great- 

 est efforts. For, again, in Shakespeare's words, 

 such a course — 



" Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 

 For putting on so new a fashioned robe." 



"In the great majority of 'popular' scientific 

 works the author, as a rule, has not an exact 

 knowledge of his subject, and does his best to 

 avoid committing himself, among difficulties 

 which he must at least try to appear to explain. 

 On such occasions he usually has recourse to a 

 flood of vague generalities, than which nothing 

 can be conceived more pernicious to the really 

 intelligent student. In science ' fine language ' 

 is entirely out of place ; the stern truth, which is 



