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,............