THE PHILOSOPHER. When Newton looked at his famous apple, was there
anyone there who said, “Now, Newton, look at this apple. Look at this
apple, I say! Consider the apple. First, it is round. Second, it is
red. Third, it is sweet. This is the Truth about apples. Now let me see
if you have grasped what I have told you. What are the three leading
facts about apples? What! Don’t you remember? Shame on you! I fear I
will have to report you to the mayor!”--did anything like that happen?
THE LADY. Newton was not a child.
THE PHILOSOPHER. You should have talked to Newton’s family about him.
That is just what they said he was! I will admit that if you left
children free to wonder about things instead of forcing the traditional
aspects of those things upon their attention, they might not all become
great scientists. But are you a great archaeologist?
THE LADY. No!
THE PHILOSOPHER. Did you ever go on a personally conducted tour of the
ruins of Rome, and have the things you were to see and think pointed
out to you by a guide?
THE LADY. Yes, and I hated it!
THE PHILOSOPHER. You are not a great archaeologist and you never
expect to be one, and yet you thought you could get more out of those
ruins yourself than with the assistance of that pesky guide. You
preferred to be free--to see or not to see, to wonder and ponder and
look again or pass by. And don’t you think the children in your charge
might enjoy their trip a little more if they didn’t have to listen to
the mechanically unctuous clatter of a guide?
THE LADY. If one could only be sure they wouldn’t just waste their time!
THE PHILOSOPHER. Madam, are you quite sure that you, as a teacher, are
not wasting _your_ time?
THE LADY. You make me wonder whether that may not be possible. But
sheer idleness--
THE PHILOSOPHER. Was Newton busy when he lay down under that tree? Did
he have an appointment with the apple? Did he say he would give it ten
minutes, and come again next day if it seemed worth while? What is
disinterested curiosity, in plain English?
THE LADY. Idle curiosity--I fear.
THE PHILOSOPHER. I fear you are right. Then you would say that the way
to approach Truth, in school and out, is to cultivate idle curiosity?
THE LADY. I did not intend to say anything of the kind. But you compel
me to say it.
THE PHILOSOPHER. I compel you? Deny it if you wish!
THE LADY. I thought you were going to answer my questions, and you have
been making me answer yours!
THE PHILOSOPHER. That is also an ancient habit of our profession. But
since you have now arrived, of your own free will, at an inescapable
if uncomfortable conclusion, you can now have no further need for my
services, and I bid you all good day!