[Footnote 64: Madame Lavoisier, whose celebrated husband was guillotined, afterwards married Count Rumford.] [Footnote 65: Physiol. Lect. V, p. 237.] [Footnote 66: Lect. VI, p. 257.] CHAPTER XXII. 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 versatility 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.