abernethy as a teacher.

"trace science, then, with modesty thy guide;

first, strip off all her equipage of pride;

deduct what is but vanity of dress,

or learning's luxury, or idleness,

or tricks to show the stretch of human brain,

mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain."

lecturing after a fashion is easy enough; teaching is a very different affair. the one requires little more than good information, some confidence, and a copia verborum; the other establishes several additional requisitions. these requisitions, when rendered comparatively easy by nature, are seldom perfectly matured without art and careful study. the transmission of ideas from one mind to another, in a simple, unequivocal form, is not always easy; but, in teaching, the object is not merely to convey the idea, but to give a lively and lasting impression—something that should not merely cause the retention of the image, but in such connection as to excite another process, "thought."

there was no peculiarity in abernethy more striking than the power he possessed of communicating his ideas, and of sustaining the interest of the subject on which he spoke. for this there is no doubt he was greatly indebted to natural talent; but it is equally clear that he had cultivated it with much care. his ability as a lecturer was, we think, unique. we never saw his like before: we hardly dare hope we shall again.

there is no doubt that a great part of his success depended on a facility of giving that variety of expression, and that versatility218 of manner, which falls within the province of what we must call dramatic; but then it was of the very highest description, in that it was perfectly natural. it was of that kind which we sometimes find in an actor, and which conveys the impression that he is speaking his own sentiments, rather than those of the author. it is a species of talent which dies with its possessor, and cannot, we think, be conveyed by description. still there were many things in abernethy that were observable, and such as could hardly have been acquired without study.

if we examine any lecturer's style, and ask ourselves what is his fault, we shall find very few in whom we cannot detect one or more. when we do this, and then reflect on abernethy, we are astonished to find how many he avoided. we shall endeavour to make this as intelligible as we can, by citing some of the points which our attention to different lecturers have suggested.

"simplicity" has struck us as a feature which, in some sense or other, is very commonly defective. simplicity appears so important, that perhaps, by not a very illegitimate extension of its meaning, it might be made to include almost all the requisitions of this mode of teaching. let us think of it in relation to language and illustration. in all sciences, the facts are simple; the laws are yet more so; increasing knowledge tends to impress on us an ever-increasing and comprehensive simplicity. in explaining simple things, no doubt language should be simple too. if we employ language unnecessarily technical, we use symbols to which the learner is unaccustomed. he has not to learn the facts only; but he has the additional labour of something allied to learning it in a foreign language. the unnecessary use of technicalities should then surely be avoided. abernethy was obliged to use them, because there were often no other terms; but he always avoided any needless multiplication of them. when they were difficult or objectionable, he tried some man?uvre to lighten the repulsiveness of them.

there are many muscles in the neck with long names, and which are generally given with important parts of surgical anatomy. here he used to chat a little; he called them the little muscles with the long names; but he would add, that, after all,219 they were the best-named muscles in the body, because their names expressed their attachments. this gave him an excuse for referring to what he had just described, in the form of a narrative, rather than a dry repetition. then, with regard to one muscle, that he wished particularly to impress, the name of which was longer than any of the others, he used to point it out as a striking feature in all statues; and then, repeating its attachments, and pointing to the sites which they occupied, say it was impossible to do so without having the image of the muscle before us.

in other parts of the lectures, he would accompany the technical name by the popular one. thus he would speak of the pancreas, or sweetbread; cartilage, or gristle. few people are aware how many difficulties are smoothed by such simple man?uvres. nothing interests people so much as giving anything positive. we think it not improbable that many a man has heard a lecture, in which animals have been described with whose habits he had been perfectly familiar, without having recognized his familiar acquaintances in the disguise afforded by a voluminous greek compound. abernethy seemed always to lecture, not so much as if he was telling us what he knew, as that which we did not know. there was an absence of all display of any kind whatever.

to hear some lecturers, one would almost think that they adopted the definition of language which is reported of talleyrand—that it was intended to conceal our ideas. some make simple things very much otherwise by the mode of explaining them. this reminds us of a very worthy country clergyman, in the west of england, who, happening to illustrate something in his sermon by reference to the qualities of pitch, thought he should help his rustic congregation by enlarging a little on the qualities of that mineral. he accordingly commenced by saying, "now, dear brethren, pitch is a bituminous substance:" rather a difficult beginning, we should think, to have brought to a successful conclusion.

sometimes we have heard a very unnecessary catalogue of technicalities joined with several propositions in one sentence. it220 is hardly to be imagined how this increases the difficulty to a beginner; whilst it impresses the excellence of that simplicity and clearness which were so charming in abernethy. we give an example of this defect. the lecturer is describing the continuation of the cuticle over the eyes of the crustacea, as lobsters, &c.: "the epidermis (the cuticle) in the compound eyes of the crustacea passes transparent and homogeneous over the external surface of the thick layer of the prismatic corne?, which are here, as in insects, generally hexagonal, but sometimes quadrangular; and to the internal ends of the prismatic corne? are applied the broad bases of the hard, tapering, transparent lenses, which have their internal truncated apices directed to the retinal expansions of the numerous optic nerves."

the high respect we entertain for the lecturer here alluded to, withholds us from attempting to supply a more homely version of the foregoing passage. but what an idea this must give to a student who reads it in "the outlines" of a science of which he is about to commence the study. there is nothing whatever difficult in the ideas themselves; but what a bristling chevaux-de-frise of hard words, what a phalanx of propositions! we fear we should never arrive at the knowledge of many of those beautiful adaptations which all animals exemplify, if we had to approach them by such a forbidding pathway.

as contrasted with simple facts thus obscured by an unnecessary complexity of expression, we may see in abernethy how a very comprehensive proposition may be very simply expressed. take almost the first sentence in his surgical lectures, the germ, as it were, of a new science: "now i say that local disease, injury, or irritation, may affect the whole system; and conversely, that disturbance of the whole system may affect any part."

we have sometimes thought that lecturers who have had several desirable qualifications have materially diminished the attraction of them by faults which we hardly know how to designate by a better term than vulgarity, ill-breeding, or gaucherie. now abernethy had, in the first place, that most difficult thing to acquire, the appearance of perfect ease, without the slightest presumption. some lecturers appear painfully "in company;"221 others have a self-complacent assurance, that conveys an unfavourable impression to most well-bred people. abernethy had a calm, quiet sort of ease, with that expression of thought which betokened respect for his task and his audience, with just enough of effort only, to show that his mind was in his business.

he had no offensive tricks. we have known lecturers who never began without making faces; others who intersperse the lecture with unseemly gesticulations. some, on the most trivial occasion, as referring to a diagram, are constantly turning their backs completely to the audience. this is, we know, disagreeable to many people, and, unless a lecturer is very clear and articulate, occasionally renders his words not distinctly audible. even in explaining diagrams, it is seldom necessary to turn quite round; the smallest inclination towards the audience satisfies the requisitions of good breeding, reminds them agreeably of a respect with which they never fail to be pleased, and of the lecturer's self-possession.

there are, indeed, occasions when the lecturer had better turn a little aside. not long ago, we heard a very sensible lecturer, and a very estimable man, produce an effect which was rather ludicrous—a very inconvenient impression when not intended. he had been stating, very clearly, some important facts, and he then observed: "the great importance of these facts i will now proceed to explain to you;" when he immediately began to apply the pocket-handkerchief he had in his hand most elaborately to his nose, still fronting the audience. it had the most ridiculous effect, and followed so closely on the preceding remark, as to suggest to the humorously inclined that it was part of the proposed explanation.

some think it excusable to cast their eyes upwards, with an expression of intense thought, or even to carry their hands to their heads or forehead for the same purpose. but this conveys a painful feeling to the audience, whose attention is apt to be diverted from the subject by sympathy with the apparent embarrassment of the lecturer. sometimes it conveys the impression of affectation, which of course is one form of vulgarity.

abernethy was remarkably free from anything of the kind.222 the expression of his countenance was, in the highest degree, clear, penetrative, and intellectual; and his long, but not neglected, powdered hair, which covered both ears, gave altogether a philosophic calmness to his whole expression that was peculiarly pleasing. then came a sort of little smile, which mantled over the whole face, and lighted it up with something which we cannot define, but which seemed a compound of mirth, archness, and benevolence.

the adjustment of the quantity of matter to the time employed in discussing it, is an important point in teaching. a lecture too full, is as objectionable as a lecture too long. if the matter is spread too thinly, the lecture is bald and uninteresting, and apt to fall short of representing any integral division of a subject; if it be too thick, it is worse, for then all is confused and difficult. a man's brain is like a box packed in a hurry; when all is done, you neither know what you have got, nor what you have forgotten.

here again abernethy was in general very happy. various circumstances would sometimes, indeed, in the anatomical course, oblige him to put more into one lecture than was usual; but he had always, in such a case, some little man?uvre to sustain the attention of his audience. no man was ever a more perfect master of the ars est celare artem. everything he did had its object, every joke or anecdote its particular errand, which was in general most effectively fulfilled.

the various ways in which abernethy managed to lighten up the general lecture, or to illustrate single points, can hardly be conveyed by selection of particular examples. there was a sort of running metaphor in his language, which, aided by a certain quaintness of manner, made common things go very amusingly. muscles which pursued the same course to a certain point, were said to travel sociably together, and then to "part company." blood-vessels and nerves had certain habits in their mode of distribution contrasted in this way; arteries were said to creep along the sides or between muscles. nerves, on the contrary, were represented as penetrating their substance "without ceremony." then he had always a ready sympathy with his audience. if a223 thing was difficult, he would, as we have said, anticipate the feelings of the student. this is always encouraging; because, when a student finds a point difficult, if he is merely diffident, he is depressed; if he is disposed to be lazy, he finds too good an excuse for it.

abernethy's illustrations were usually drawn from some source already familiar; and if they were calculated to impress the fact, he was not very scrupulous whence he drew them. this would sometimes lead him into little trippings against refinement; but these were never wanton. everything had its object, from the most pathetic tale down to the smallest joke. when the thing to be impressed was not so much single facts or propositions, as a more continued series, he had an admirable mode of pretending to con over the lecture in a manner which he would first recommend students to do—something after this fashion: "let me see—what did he say?" "well, first he told us that he should speak of matter in general; then he said something about the laws of matter, of inertia, &c. well, i did not understand much of that; and i don't think he knew much about it himself;" and so on. there would now be a general smile; the attention of the class would be thoroughly alive; and then he would, in this "conning over," bring forward the points he most wished to impress of the whole lecture. a very striking proof of how much power he had in this way, came out in a conversation i had with dr. thomas rees. this gentleman knew abernethy well, and, in kindly answering some inquiries i made of him, he spoke of his power in lecturing. amongst other things, he said: "the first lecture i ever heard him give, impressed me very much; i thought it admirable. his skill appeared so extraordinary! at the conclusion of the lecture," said dr. rees, "he proposed to the students to con over the lecture, which he proceeded to do for them." dr. rees then continued repeating the heads of the lecture, and this after at least thirty, perhaps forty years.

lecturers will sometimes endeavour to illustrate a point which is difficult or obscure by something more difficult still, or something borrowed from another branch of science. sometimes the224 illustrations are so lengthy, or intrinsically important, that a pupil forgets what principle it was that was to be illustrated. when we are desirous of learning something about water or air, it is painful for a pupil to be "reminded" of the "properties of angles," which it is an even chance he never knew. it is equally uncomfortable to many an audience, in lectures on other subjects, to have the course of a cannon-ball, which three pieces of string would sufficiently explain, for mere purposes of illustration, charged with the "laws of projectiles," the "composition of forces," &c. we are of course not thinking of learned but learning audiences. to the former, lectures are of no use; but we allude to learners of mixed information and capacity; like young men who have been residing with medical men in the country; who come to a lecture for information, and who require to be interested, in order that they may be instructed. abernethy's illustrations were always in simple language. rough ridden sometimes by a succession of many-footed greek compounds, the mind of a student loves to repose on the refreshing simplicity of household phrases.

abernethy had stories innumerable. every case almost was given with the interest of a tale; and every tale impressed some lesson, or taught some relation in the structure, functions, or diseases of the body. we will give one or two; but their effect lay in the admirable manner in which they were related.

if he was telling anything at all humorous, it would be lighted up by his half-shut, half-smiling, and habitually benevolent eye. yet his eye would easily assume the fire of indignation when he spoke of cruelty or neglect, showing how really repulsive these things were to him. then his quiet, almost stealthy, but highly dramatic imitation of the manner of some singular patient. his equally finished mode of expressing pain, in the subdued tone of his voice; and then when something soothing or comfortable had been successfully administered to a patient, his "thank you, sir, thank you, that is very comfortable," was just enough always to interest, and never to offend. now and then he would sketch some patient who had been as hasty as he himself was sometimes reported to be. "mr. abernethy, i am come, sir, to consult you about a complaint that has given me a great deal of225 trouble." "show me your tongue, sir. ah, i see your digestive organs are very wrong." "i beg your pardon, sir; there you are wrong yourself; i never was better in all my life," &c. all this, which is nothing in telling, was delivered in a half-serious, half-munden-like, humorous manner, and yet so subdued as never to border on vulgarity or farce.

his mode of relating cases which involved some important principle, showed how really interested he had been in them. a gentleman having recovered from a very serious illness, after having failed a long time in getting relief, was threatened, by the influence of the same causes, with a return of his malady. "he thought," said abernethy, "that if he did not drink deeply, he might eat like a glutton." he lived in the country, and mr. abernethy one day went and dined with him. "well," said mr. abernethy, "i saw he was at his old tricks again; so, being a merchant, i asked him what he would think of a man who, having been thriving in business, had amassed a comfortable fortune, and then went and risked it all in some imprudent speculation?" "why," said the merchant, "i should think him a great ass." "nay, then, sir," said abernethy, "thou art the man."

on another occasion, a boy having suffered severely from disease of the hip, abernethy had enjoined his father to remove him from a situation which he was unfitted to fill, and which, from the exertion it required, would expose him to a dangerous recurrence of his complaint. the father, however, put the boy back to his situation. one day, abernethy met both father and son in chancery lane, and he saw the boy, who had a second time recovered, again limping in his walk. after making the necessary inquiry—"sir," said he to the father, "did i not warn you not to place your son in that situation again?" the father admitted the fact. "then, sir," said abernethy, "if that boy dies, i shall be ready to say you are his murderer." sure enough, the boy had another attack, and did die in a horrible condition.

this story, and others of a similar kind, were intended to impress the paramount importance of keeping diseased parts, and226 joints especially, in a state of perfect repose; and to prevent a recurrence of mischief, by avoiding modes of life inappropriate to constitutions which had exhibited a tendency to this serious class of diseases.

he was remarkably good on the mode of examining and detecting the nature of accidents; as fractures and dislocations. in regard to the latter, he had many very good stories, of which we will presently cite a ludicrous example. he could, however, throw in pathos with admirable skill when he desired it. the following lamentable case he used to tell to an audience singularly silent. he is speaking of the course of a large artery.

"ah," said he, "there is no saying too much on the importance of recollecting the course of large arteries: but i will tell you a case. there was an officer in the navy, and as brave a fellow as ever stepped, who in a sea-fight received a severe wound in the shoulder, which opened his axillary artery. he lost a large quantity of blood; but the wound was staunched for the moment, and he was taken below. as he was an officer, the surgeon, who saw he was wounded severely, was about to attend him, before a seaman who had just been brought down. but the officer, though evidently in great pain, said: 'attend to that man, sir, if you please; i can wait.' well, his turn came; the surgeon made up his mind that a large artery had been wounded; but, as there was no bleeding, dressed the wound, and went on with his business. the officer lay very faint and exhausted for some time, and at length began to rally again, when the bleeding returned. the surgeon was immediately called, and, not knowing where to find the artery, or what else to do, told the officer he must amputate his arm at the shoulder joint. the officer at once calmly submitted to this additional, but unnecessary suffering; and, as the operator proceeded, asked if it would be long. the surgeon replied that it would soon be over. the officer rejoined: 'sir, i thank god for it!' but he never spake more."

amidst the death-like silence of the class, abernethy calmly concluded: "i hope you will never forget the course of the axillary artery."

227

his position was always easy and natural—sometimes homely, perhaps. in the anatomical lecture, he always stood, and either leant against the wall, with his hands folded before him, or resting one hand on the table, with the other perhaps in his pocket. in his surgical lecture, he usually sat, and very generally with one leg resting on the other.

he was particularly happy in a kind of coziness, or friendliness of manner, which seemed to identify him with his audience; as if we were all about to investigate something interesting together, and not as if we were going to be "lectured at" at all. he spoke as if addressing each individual, and his discourse, like a happy portrait, always seemed to be looking you in the face. on very many accounts, the tone and pitch of the voice, in lecturing, are important. first: that it may not be inaudible; nor, on the contrary, too loud. the one of course renders the whole useless; the other is apt to give an impression of vulgarity. we recollect a gentleman who was about to deliver a lecture in a theatre to which he was unaccustomed. he was advised to ascertain the loudness required, and to place a friend in the most distant part, to judge of its fitness; but he declined it as unnecessary. when he had given the lecture, which was a very good one, on a very interesting subject, he was much mortified in finding that he had been inaudible to at least one half of the audience.

abernethy was very successful in this respect. his voice seldom rose above what we may term the conversational, either in pitch or tone; it was, in general, pleasing in quality, and enlivened by a sort of archness of expression. his loudest tone was never oppressive to those nearest to him; his most subdued, audible everywhere. the range of pitch was very limited; the expression of the eye, and a slight modulation of the voice being the means by which he infused through the lecture an agreeable variety, or gave to particular sentiments the requisite expression. there was nothing like declamation; even quotations were seldom louder than would have been admissible in a drawing-room. we have heard lecturers whose habitually declamatory tone has been very disagreeable; and this seldom fails to be mischievous. a declamatory tone tends to divert the attention, or to weary it228 when properly directed. on almost every subject, it is sure to be the source of occasional bathos, which now and then borders on the ridiculous. conceive a man, describing a curious animal in a diagram, saying, "this part, to which i now direct my rod, is the point of the tail," in a sepulchral tone, and heavy cadence, as if he had said, "this is the end of all things." another inconvenience often attending a declamatory tone, as distinguished from the narrative or descriptive, is the tendency it has to make a particular cadence. sometimes we have heard lecturers give to every other sentence a peculiar fall; and this succession of rhythmical samenesses, if the lecturer be not otherwise extremely able, sends people napping.

another fault we observe in some lecturers is, a reiteration of particular phrases. in description, it is not easy always to avoid this; but it seldom occurred in any disagreeable degree in abernethy. we have heard some lecturers, in describing things, continually reiterating such phrases as "we find," "it is to be observed," in such quick and frequent succession, that people's sides began to jog in spite of them.

provincial or national idiom, or other peculiarity, is by no means uncommon, and generally more or less disagreeable, abernethy was particularly free from either. he could, in telling stories, slightly imitate the tone and manner of the persons concerned; but it was always touched in the lightest possible manner, and with the subdued colouring and finish of a first-rate artist. his power of impressing facts, and of rendering them simple and interesting by abundance and variety of illustration, was very remarkable, and had the effect of imparting an interest to the driest subject. in the first place, he had an agreeable mode of sympathizing with the difficulty of the student. if he were about to describe a bone or anything which he knew to be difficult, he would adopt a tone more like that in which a man would teach it to himself than describe it to others. for example, he would say, perhaps: "ah! this is a queer-looking bone; it has a very odd shape; but i plainly perceive that one may divide it into two parts." then pointing with a probe to the division he proposed, he would begin, not so much to describe as to find, as if for the229 first time, the various parts of which he wished to teach the names and uses; the description being a kind of running accompaniment to his tracing of the bone, and in a tone as if half-talking to himself and half to the audience.

every one feels the value of order, and clearness of arrangement. of abernethy's, we have already spoken generally: simplicity, and impressing the more essential facts, were his main objects. he showed very frequently his perception of the importance of order, and would often methodize for the students. he knew very well that a b c was much more easily remembered than z k j; and he would sometimes humorously contrast the difference between a man whose knowledge was well packed, and one whose information was scattered and without arrangement. this he usually did by supposing two students under examination. the scene would not tell upon paper; but it never failed to create a good deal of mirth in the theatre, during which he would contrive to repeat the facts he meant to impress, without the tedium of mere reiteration.

various people have been more or less deeply impressed with different parts of his lectures, most persons having their favourite passages. in his anatomical course we were never more pleased than by his general view of the structure of the body. he adopted on that occasion the synthetical plan, and in imagination put the various parts together which were to be afterwards taught analytically. in his surgical course, the manner in which he illustrated the practical points, and his own views in the "eventful history of a compound fracture," was, we think, the most successful triumph, both as to matter and manner, which we have ever witnessed.

an abundance of resource and man?uvres of the kind we have mentioned, gave a great "liveliness" to his lecture, which in its quiet form so as not to divert or disturb, is a great difficulty in lecturing.

we have heard an excellent lecturer whose only fault, we think, was want of liveliness and variety. few men could in other respects lecture comparably to him. nothing could surpass the quiet, polished manner of this accomplished teacher.230 his voice, though not good, was by no means unpleasing. his articulation elaborately distinct, and free from all provincialism. his language invariably correct and appropriate; the structure of his sentences strikingly grammatical; and they fell in such an easy, though somewhat too rhythmical succession, as to be at once graceful and melodious. his arrangement, always simple and clear. nothing was more striking than the deferential manner in which he approached a philosophical subject. "i like ——," said one who had often heard him, "because he is always so gentlemanly. there is nothing off-hand, as if he thought himself very clever, but a kind of unaffected respect for himself and his audience, which obliges one to pay attention to him, if it were only because you feel that a man of education is speaking to you."

what, it may be said, can such a man want? why he wanted liveliness and flexibility. his voice measured forth its gentlemanly way with all the regularity of a surveying rod. various and interesting as his subjects were, and handled with consummate ability, he must certainly have taught; yet we think he sent away many of his audience passive recipients, as distinguished from persons set on thinking what they had heard "into their own."

he performed his task like a good man and a scholar; but still it was like a task after all. it was something like a scholar reading a book, always excepting the beautifully clear illustrations for which his subject gave him abundant opportunity. he wanted that animation and interest in his subject by which a lecturer inoculates you with his own enthusiasm. he was the most striking example in our experience of the importance of liveliness and variety, and of making a lecture, however well delivered, just that thing which we cannot find in a book. the life-like, the dramatic effect was wanting; and it was to this alone that we can ascribe what we have not unfrequently observed in the midst of a generally attentive audience, a few who were "nodding" their assent to his propositions.

now abernethy's manner was perfect in these respects. he had just got the "cheerfully, not too fast" expression, that we231 sometimes see at the head of a musical composition. his manner was so good, that it is difficult to convey any idea of it. it was easy, without being negligent; cheerful, without being excited; humorous, often witty, without being vulgar; expeditious, without being in a bustle; and he usually took care that you should learn the thing, before he gave the name of it; and understand it, before he expatiated on the beauty or perfection of its adaptation to the ends it seemed designed to serve.

he was particularly chaste in the manner in which he spoke of design, or other of the attributes so frequently observable in natural arrangements. it is a great mistake, we think, and not without something akin to vulgarity, to usher in any description of the beauties of nature by a flourish of such trumpets as human epithets form—mere notes of admiration. nature speaks best for herself. the mind is kept in a state of excitement by too frequent feux de joies of this kind; the frequent recurrence of such terms as "curious! strange! wonderful!" on subjects where all is wonderful, have a sort of bathos in the ears of the judicious, while to the less critical they produce a kind of disturbed atmosphere, which is unfavourable to the calm operations of the intellect.

abernethy was generally very careful in these matters. i give one example. he is speaking of cartilage, or gristle, which covers the ends of the bones where they form joints, and has explained its great elasticity, the use of it in preventing jarring; and contrasted the springiness of youth with the easily jarred frame of age. "well," he adds, "this cartilage is fibrous, and they say that the fibres are arranged vertically; so that the body may be said to be supported on 'myriads of elastic columns.'" that was the beauty by which he wished to impress that which he had previously taught.

when marvellousness is too much excited, many say, "ah, how clever that gentleman is! what an interesting lecture! what a curious thing that was he showed us!" but when you inquire what principle or law was intended to be illustrated, you find that the sensual or the imaginative faculty has alone been excited, and has galloped off with that which was intended for the intellect.232 if persons are examined as to a particular point of the lecture, they are apt to say: "well, that is just what i wanted to know; would you explain it?"

it would seem that it is a great mistake to excite marvellousness or our external senses very vividly, when we desire to concentrate the intellectual faculties. that breathless silence, with eyes and mouth open, that "intenti que ora tenebant" condition, excited by marvellousness, is very well for the story of ?neas, or robinson crusoe; but it is out of place, when we are endeavouring to augment our intellectual possessions.

we require, in fact, a calmer atmosphere. the desire to interest and hold the attention of our audience is so natural, that it is very apt to escape one that this may be done on terms not consistent with our real object—the interesting the intellect; and this fault is perhaps, of all, the worst; because it is never a greater failure than when it appears to be successful. all other faults in lecturing, if serious, in one respect tell their own tale in the thinning audience.

the learned author of the "philosophy of rhetoric" has observed that "a discourse directed to the understanding will not admit of an address to the passions, which, as it never fails to disturb the operation of the intellectual faculty, must be regarded by every intelligent hearer as foreign indeed, if not insidious." he had before said, "that in such a discourse you may borrow metaphor or comparison to illustrate it, but not the bolder figures, prosopop?ia and the like, which are intended not to elucidate the subject, but to create admiration."

"it is obvious," he continues, "that either of the foregoing, far from being subservient to the main design (to address the intellect), serves only to distract the attention from it67."

this judicious writer, however, in the first sentence makes a distinction, which requires, perhaps, to be received with some caution.

there is no discourse that is solely intellectual; the driest mathematical proposition interests our feelings. the pleasure of233 truth, what is that? not merely intellectual, certainly. it is a pleasure derived from the intellect, no doubt; but it is a feeling entirely distinct. so, in addresses to the passions, if they are successful, the presiding influence of the intellect is very obvious; this away, a discourse soon merges into bombast or fustian, a something which neither impresses the feelings nor the passions as desired.

the true desideratum, as it appears to us, is accuracy of adjustment, not separation. in intellectual operations, the feelings are to be subservient to the accomplishment of the objects of the intellect. in discourses, where the passions or feelings are most appealed to, or most prominent, the intellect must still really guide, though it may appear to follow.

notwithstanding that so much of abernethy's lecturing was on anatomy, and therefore necessarily addressed to the eye, yet he seldom offered any illustration to the external senses. he was always endeavouring to impress the mechanical arrangement of parts, by reference to their uses and surgical relations. even in speaking of light, he would be suggestive beyond the mere perception of sense. he used to say, of refraction of light, when the refracting medium was, as it commonly is, the denser body, "that the ray seems as if attracted"—a very suggestive phrase to any one who has thought much on the subject of light. it is a curious thing to observe how confused the ideas of many people are on phenomena of light; and we are afraid that the cause is, that the illustrations to the eye are given too soon. if people were made to understand by a simple illustration what they are about to see, it is probable they would have much clearer ideas. the intellect having gone before, the eye no longer diverts it from its office; and the eye would then be merely impressing, by means of a physical representation, an established idea.