The Philosopher. Then in the interests of scientific truth we should cultivate disinterested curiosity?
The Lady. Doubtless.
The Philosopher. How would you go about doing so?
The Lady. I don’t know.
The Philosopher. By hurriedly thrusting upon the minds of the children in your charge so great a multitude of interests as to leave them no time to wonder about anything?
The Lady. That would hardly seem to be the way to do it. But—
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!