ON THE TEACHIXG OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 



351 



genuine, if selfish, interest in the nerve and steadi- 

 ness of the artists. 



Contrasted in the most direct manner with 

 these, is the dictum not long ago laid down : 



" It may he said that the fact makes a stronger 

 impression on the boy through the medium of his 

 sight — that he believes it the more confidently. I 

 say that this ought not to be the case. If he does 

 not believe the statements of his tutor — probably a 

 clergyman of mature knowledge, recognized abil- 

 ity, and blameless character— his suspicion is irra- 

 tional, and manifests a want of the power of appre- 

 ciating evidence — a want fatal to his success in that 

 branch of science which he is supposed to be culti- 

 vating." 



Between such extremes many courses may be 

 traced. But it is better to dismiss the consider- 

 ation of both, simply on the ground that they are 

 extremes, and therefore alike absurd. 



Many facts cannot be made thoroughly intel- 

 ligible without experiment ; many others require 

 no illustration whatever, except what can be best 

 given by a few chalk-lines on a blackboard. To 

 teach an essentially experimental science without 

 illustrative experiments may conceivably be possi- 

 ble in the abstract, but certainly not with profess- 

 ors and students such as are to be found on this 

 little planet. 



And, on the other hand, you must all remember 

 that we meet here to discuss science, and science 

 alone. A university class-room is not a place of 

 public amusement, with its pantomime displays of 

 red and blue fires, its tricks whether of prestigia- 

 tion or of prestidigitation, or its stump-oratory. 

 The best and greatest experimenter who ever lived 

 used none of these poor devices to win cheap ap- 

 plause. His language (except, perhaps, when non- 

 experimenting pundits pressed upon him their fear- 

 ful Greek names for his splendid discoveries) was 

 ever the very simplest that could be used: his 

 experiments, whether brilliant or commonplace in 

 the eyes of the mere sight-seer, were chosen sole- 

 ly with the object of thoroughly explaining his 

 subject ; and his whole bearing was impressed 

 with the one paramount and solemn feeling of 

 duty, alike to his audience and to scienee. Long 

 ages may pass before his equal, or even his rival, 

 can appear ; but the great example he has left 

 should be imitated by us all as closely as possible. 



Nothing is easier in extempore speaking, as 

 I dare say many of you know by trial, than what 

 is happily called " piling up the agony." For, 

 as has been well said : 



". . . . men there be that make 

 Parade of fluency, and deftly play 



With points of speech as jugglers toss their balls ; 

 A tiukling crew, from whose light-squandered wit 

 No seed of virtue grows. 1 ' 



Every one who has a little self-confidence and a 

 little readiness can manage it without trouble. 

 But it is so because in such speaking there is no 

 necessity for precision in the use of words, and 

 no objection to any epithet whatever, unless it 

 be altogether misplaced. But the essence of all 

 such discourse is necessarily fancy, and not fact. 

 Here, during the serious work of the session, we 

 are tied down almost exclusively to facts. Fan- 

 cies must appear occasionally; but we admit 

 them only in the carefully-guarded form of a ref- 

 erence to old opinions, or to a " good working 

 hypothesis." Still, facts are not necessarily dry : 

 not even if they be mere statistics. All depends 

 on the way in which they are put. One of the 

 most amusing of the many clever songs, written 

 and sung by the late Prof. Rankine in his moments 

 of relaxation, was an almost literal transcript of 

 a prosaic statistical description of a little Irish 

 town, taken from a gazetteer ! He was a truly 

 original man of science, and therefore exact in his 

 statements ; but he could be at once both exact 

 and interesting. And I believe that the intrinsic 

 beauty of science is such that it cannot suffer in 

 the minds of a really intelligent audience, how- 

 ever poor be the oratorical powers of its ex- 

 pounder, provided only he can state its facts with 

 clearness. Oratory is essentially art, and there- 

 fore essentially not science. 



There is nothing false in the theory, at least, 

 of what are called Chinese copies. If it could be 

 fully carried out, the results would be as good as 

 the original — in fact, undistinguishable from it. 

 But it is solely because we cannot have the theory 

 carried out in perfection that true artists are 

 forced to slur over details, and to give " broad 

 effects," as they call them. The members of the 

 pre-Raphaelite school are thoroughly right in one 

 part at least of their system : unfortunately, it is 

 completely unrealizable in practice. But the 

 " broad effects " of which I have spoken are true 

 art, though perhaps in a somewhat modified 

 sense of the word (which, not being a scientific 

 one, has many shades of meaning). To introduce 

 these " broad effects " into science may be artful, 

 but it is certainly unscientific. In so-called " pop- 

 ular science," if anywhere, Ars est celare insci- 

 entiam. The " artful dodge " is to conceal want of 

 knowledge. Vague explanations, however artful, 

 no more resemble true science than do even the 

 highest flights of the imagination, whether in 

 "Ivanhoe" or "Quentin Durward," "Knicker- 



