Project Gutenberg's The Teaching of Geometry, by David Eugene Smith This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Teaching of Geometry Author: David Eugene Smith Release Date: October 10, 2011 [EBook #37681] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEACHING OF GEOMETRY *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anna Hall and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE TEACHING OF GEOMETRY BY DAVID EUGENE SMITH GINN AND COMPANY BOSTON · NEW YORK · CHICAGO · LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY DAVID EUGENE SMITH ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 911.6 The Athenæum Press GINN AND COMPANY · PROPRIETORS BOSTON · U.S.A. PREFACE A book upon the teaching of geometry may be planned in divers ways. It may be written to exploit a new theory of geometry, or a new method of presenting the science as we already have it. On the other hand, it may be ultraconservative, making a plea for the ancient teaching and the ancient geometry. It may be prepared for the purpose of setting forth the work as it now is, or with the tempting but dangerous idea of prophecy. It may appeal to the iconoclast by its spirit of destruction, or to the disciples of laissez faire by its spirit of conserving what the past has bequeathed. It may be written for the few who always lead, or think they lead, or for the many who are ranked by the few as followers. And in view of these varied pathways into the joint domain of geometry and education, a writer may well afford to pause before he sets his pen to paper, and to decide with care the route that he will take. At present in America we have a fairly well-defined body of matter in geometry, and this occupies a fairly well-defined place in the curriculum. There are not wanting many earnest teachers who would change both the matter and the place in a very radical fashion. There are not wanting others, also many in number, who are content with things as they find them. But by far the largest part of the teaching body is of a mind to welcome the natural and gradual evolution of geometry toward better things, contributing to this evolution as much as it can, glad to know the best that others have to offer, receptive of ideas that make for better teaching, but out of sympathy with either the extreme of revolution or the extreme of stagnation. It is for this larger class, the great body of progressive teachers, that this book is written. It stands for vitalizing geometry in every legitimate way; for improving the subject matter in such manner as not to destroy the pupil's interest; for so teaching geometry as to make it appeal to pupils as strongly as any other subject in the curriculum; but for the recognition of geometry for geometry's sake and not for the sake of a fancied utility that hardly exists. Expressing full appreciation of the desirability of establishing a motive for all studies, so as to have the work proceed with interest and vigor, it does not hesitate to express doubt as to certain motives that have been exploited, nor to stand for such a genuine, thought-compelling development of the science as is in harmony with the mental powers of the pupils in the American high school. For this class of teachers the author hopes that the book will prove of service, and that through its perusal they will come to admire the subject more and more, and to teach it with greater interest. It offers no panacea, it champions no single method, but it seeks to set forth plainly the reasons for teaching a geometry of the kind that we have inherited, and for hoping for a gradual but definite improvement in the science and in the methods of its presentation. DAVID EUGENE SMITH CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. Certain Questions now at Issue 1 II. Why Geometry is Studied 7 III. A Brief History of Geometry 26 IV. Development of the Teaching of Geometry 40 V. Euclid 47 VI. Efforts at Improving Euclid 57 VII. The Textbook in Geometry 70 VIII. The Relation of Algebra to Geometry 84 IX. The Introduction to Geometry 93 X. The Conduct of a Class in Geometry 108 XI. The Axioms and Postulates 116 XII. The Definitions of Geometry 132 XIII. How to attack the Exercises 160 XIV. Book I and its Propositions 165 XV. The Leading Propositions of Book II 201 XVI. The Leading Propositions of Book III 227 XVII. The Leading Propositions of Book IV 252 XVIII. The Leading Propositions of Book V 269 XIX. The Leading Propositions of Book VI 289 XX. The Leading Propositions of Book VII 303 XXI. The Leading Propositions of Book VIII 321 INDEX 335 THE TEACHING OF GEOMETRY CHAPTER I CERTAIN QUESTIONS NOW AT ISSUE It is commonly said at the present time that the opening of the twentieth century is a period of unusual advancement in all that has to do with the school. It would be pleasant to feel that we are living in such an age, but it is doubtful if the future historian of education will find this to be the case, or that biographers will rank the leaders of our generation relatively as high as many who have passed away, or that any great movements of the present will be found that measure up to certain ones that the world now recognizes as epoch-making. Every generation since the invention of printing has been a period of agitation in educational matters, but out of all the noise and self-assertion, out of all the pretense of the chronic revolutionist, out of all the sham that leads to dogmatism, so little is remembered that we are apt to feel that the past had no problems and was content simply to accept its inheritance. In one sense it is not a misfortune thus to be blinded by the dust of present agitation and to be deafened by the noisy clamor of the agitator, since it stirs us to action at finding ourselves in the midst of the skirmish; but in another sense it is detrimental to our progress, since we thereby tend to lose the idea of perspective, and the coin comes to appear to our vision as large as the moon. In considering a question like the teaching of geometry, we at once find ourselves in the midst of a skirmish of this nature. If we join thoughtlessly in the noise, we may easily persuade ourselves that we are waging a mighty battle, fighting for some stupendous principle, doing deeds of great valor and of personal sacrifice. If, on the other hand, we stand aloof and think of the present movement as merely a chronic effervescence, fostered by the professional educator at the expense of the practical teacher, we are equally shortsighted. Sir Conan Doyle expressed this sentiment most delightfully in these words: The dead are such good company that one may come to think too little of the living. It is a real and pressing danger with many of us that we should never find our own thoughts and our own souls, but be ever obsessed by the dead. In every generation it behooves the open-minded, earnest, progressive teacher to seek for the best in the way of improvement, to endeavor to sift the few grains of gold out of the common dust, to weigh the values of proposed reforms, and to put forth his efforts to know and to use the best that the science of education has to offer. This has been the attitude of mind of the real leaders in the school life of the past, and it will be that of the leaders of the future. With these remarks to guide us, it is now proposed to take up the issues of the present day in the teaching of geometry, in order that we may consider them calmly and dispassionately, and may see where the opportunities for improvement lie. At the present time, in the educational circles of the United States, questions of the following type are causing the chief discussion among teachers of geometry: 1. Shall geometry continue to be taught as an application of logic, or shall it be treated solely with reference to its applications? 2. If the latter is the purpose in view, shall the propositions of geometry be limited to those that offer an opportunity for real application, thus contracting the whole subject to very narrow dimensions? 3. Shall a subject called geometry be extended over several years, as is the case in Europe,[1] or shall the name be applied only to serious demonstrative geometry[2] as given in the second year of the four-year high school course in the United States at present? 4. Shall geometry be taught by itself, or shall it be either mixed with algebra (say a day of one subject followed by a day of the other) or fused with it in the form of a combined mathematics? 5. Shall a textbook be used in which the basal propositions are proved in full, the exercises furnishing the opportunity for original work and being looked upon as the most important feature, or shall one be employed in which the pupil is expected to invent the proofs for the basal propositions as well as for the exercises? 6. Shall the terminology and the spirit of a modified Euclid and Legendre prevail in the future as they have in the past, or shall there be a revolution in the use of terms and in the general statements of the propositions? 7. Shall geometry be made a strong elective subject, to be taken only by those whose minds are capable of serious work? Shall it be a required subject, diluted to the comprehension of the weakest minds? Or is it now, by proper teaching, as suitable for all pupils as is any other required subject in the school curriculum? And in any case, will the various distinct types of high schools now arising call for distinct types of geometry? This brief list might easily be amplified, but it is sufficiently extended to set forth the trend of thought at the present time, and to show that the questions before the teachers of geometry are neither particularly novel nor particularly serious. These questions and others of similar nature are really side issues of two larger questions of far greater significance: (1) Are the reasons for teaching demonstrative geometry such that it should be a required subject, or at least a subject that is strongly recommended to all, whatever the type of high school? (2) If so, how can it be made interesting? The present work is written with these two larger questions in mind, although it considers from time to time the minor ones already mentioned, together with others of a similar nature. It recognizes that the recent growth in popular education has brought into the high school a less carefully selected type of mind than was formerly the case, and that for this type a different kind of mathematical training will naturally be developed. It proceeds upon the theory, however, that for the normal mind,— for the boy or girl who is preparing to win out in the long run,—geometry will continue to be taught as demonstrative geometry, as a vigorous thought-compelling subject, and along the general lines that the experience of the world has shown to be the best. Soft mathematics is not interesting to this normal mind, and a sham treatment will never appeal to the pupil; and this book is written for teachers who believe in this principle, who believe in geometry for the sake of geometry, and who earnestly seek to make the subject so interesting that pupils will wish to study it whether it is required or elective. The work stands for the great basal propositions that have come down to us, as logically arranged and as scientifically proved as the powers of the pupils in the American high school will permit; and it seeks to tell the story of these propositions and to show their possible and their probable applications in such a way as to furnish teachers with a fund of interesting material with which to supplement the book work of their classes. After all, the problem of teaching any subject comes down to this: Get a subject worth teaching and then make every minute of it interesting. Pupils do not object to work if they like a subject, but they do object to aimless and uninteresting tasks. Geometry is particularly fortunate in that the feeling of accomplishment comes with every proposition proved; and, given a class of fair intelligence, a teacher must be lacking in knowledge and enthusiasm who cannot foster an interest that will make geometry stand forth as the subject that brings the most pleasure, and that seems the most profitable of all that are studied in the first years of the high school. Continually to advance, continually to attempt to make mathematics fascinating, always to conserve the best of the old and to sift out and use the best of the new, to believe that "mankind is better served by nature's quiet and progressive changes than by earthquakes,"[3] to believe that geometry as geometry is so valuable and so interesting that the normal mind may rightly demand it,—this is to ally ourselves with progress. Continually to destroy, continually to follow strange gods, always to decry the best of the old, and to have no well-considered aim in the teaching of a subject,—this is to join the forces of reaction, to waste our time, to be recreant to our trust, to blind ourselves to the failures of the past, and to confess our weakness as teachers. It is with the desire to aid in the progressive movement, to assist those who believe that real geometry should be recommended to all, and to show that geometry is both attractive and valuable that this book is written. CHAPTER II WHY GEOMETRY IS STUDIED With geometry, as with other subjects, it is easier to set forth what are not the reasons for studying it than to proceed positively and enumerate the advantages. Although such a negative course is not satisfying to the mind as a finality, it possesses definite advantages in the beginning of such a discussion as this. Whenever false prophets arise, and with an attitude of pained superiority proclaim unworthy aims in human life, it is well to show the fallacy of their position before proceeding to a constructive philosophy. Taking for a moment this negative course, let us inquire as to what are not the reasons for studying geometry, or, to be more emphatic, as to what are not the worthy reasons. In view of a periodic activity in favor of the utilities of geometry, it is well to understand, in the first place, that geometry is not studied, and never has been studied, because of its positive utility in commercial life or even in the workshop. In America we commonly allow at least a year to plane geometry and a half year to solid geometry; but all of the facts that a skilled mechanic or an engineer would ever need could be taught in a few lessons. All the rest is either obvious or is commercially and technically useless. We prove, for example, that the angles opposite the equal sides of a triangle are equal, a fact that is probably quite as obvious as the postulate that but one line can be drawn through a given point parallel to a given line. We then prove, sometimes by the unsatisfactory process of reductio ad absurdum, the converse of this proposition,—a fact that is as obvious as most other facts that come to our consciousness, at least after the preceding proposition has been proved. And these two theorems are perfectly fair types of upwards of one hundred sixty or seventy propositions comprising Euclid's books on plane geometry. They are generally not useful in daily life, and they were never intended to be so. There is an oft- repeated but not well-authenticated story of Euclid that illustrates the feeling of the founders of geometry as well as of its most worthy teachers. A Greek writer, Stobæus, relates the story in these words: Some one who had begun to read geometry with Euclid, when he had learned the first theorem, asked, "But what shall I get by learning these things?" Euclid called his slave and said, "Give him three obols, since he must make gain out of what he learns." Whether true or not, the story expresses the sentiment that runs through Euclid's work, and not improbably we have here a bit of real biography,—practically all of the personal Euclid that has come down to us from the world's first great textbook maker. It is well that we read the story occasionally, and also such words as the following, recently uttered[4] by Sir Conan Doyle,—words bearing the same lesson, although upon a different theme: In the present utilitarian age one frequently hears the question asked, "What is the use of it all?" as if every noble deed was not its own justification. As if every action which makes for self-denial, for hardihood, and for endurance was not in itself a most precious lesson to mankind. That people can be found to ask such a question shows how far materialism has gone, and how needful it is that we insist upon the value of all that is nobler and higher in life. An American statesman and jurist, speaking upon a similar occasion[5], gave utterance to the same sentiments in these words: When the time comes that knowledge will not be sought for its own sake, and men will not press forward simply in a desire of achievement, without hope of gain, to extend the limits of human knowledge and information, then, indeed, will the race enter upon its decadence. There have not been wanting, however, in every age, those whose zeal is in inverse proportion to their experience, who were possessed with the idea that it is the duty of the schools to make geometry practical. We have them to-day, and the world had them yesterday, and the future shall see them as active as ever. These people do good to the world, and their labors should always be welcome, for out of the myriad of suggestions that they make a few have value, and these are helpful both to the mathematician and the artisan. Not infrequently they have contributed material that serves to make geometry somewhat more interesting, but it must be confessed that most of their work is merely the threshing of old straw, like the work of those who follow the will-o'-the-wisp of the circle squarers. The medieval astrologers wished to make geometry more practical, and so they carried to a considerable length the study of the star polygon, a figure that they could use in their profession. The cathedral builders, as their art progressed, found that architectural drawings were more exact if made with a single opening of the compasses, and it is probable that their influence led to the development of this phase of geometry in the Middle Ages as a practical application of the science. Later, and about the beginning of the sixteenth century, the revival of art, and particularly the great development of painting, led to the practical application of geometry to the study of perspective and of those curves[6] that occur most frequently in the graphic arts. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries witnessed the publication of a large number of treatises on practical geometry, usually relating to the measuring of distances and partly answering the purposes of our present trigonometry. Such were the well-known treatises of Belli (1569), Cataneo (1567), and Bartoli (1589).[7] The period of two centuries from about 1600 to about 1800 was quite as much given to experiments in the creation of a practical geometry as is the present time, and it was no doubt as much by way of protest against this false idea of the subject as a desire to improve upon Euclid that led the great French mathematician, Legendre, to publish his geometry in 1794,—a work that soon replaced Euclid in the schools of America. It thus appears that the effort to make geometry practical is by no means new. Euclid knew of it, the Middle Ages contributed to it, that period vaguely styled the Renaissance joined in the movement, and the first three centuries of printing contributed a large literature to the subject. Out of all this effort some genuine good remains, but relatively not very much.[8] And so it will be with the present movement; it will serve its greatest purpose in making teachers think and read, and in adding to their interest and enthusiasm and to the interest of their pupils; but it will not greatly change geometry, because no serious person ever believed that geometry was taught chiefly for practical purposes, or was made more interesting or valuable through such a pretense. Changes in sequence, in definitions, and in proofs will come little by little; but that there will be any such radical change in these matters in the immediate future, as some writers have anticipated, is not probable.[9] A recent writer of much acumen[10] has summed up this thought in these words: Not one tenth of the graduates of our high schools ever enter professions in which their algebra and geometry are applied to concrete realities; not one day in three hundred sixty-five is a high school graduate called upon to "apply," as it is called, an algebraic or a geometrical proposition.... Why, then, do we teach these subjects, if this alone is the sense of the word "practical"!... To me the solution of this paradox consists in boldly confronting the dilemma, and in saying that our conception of the practical utility of those studies must be readjusted, and that we have frankly to face the truth that the "practical" ends we seek are in a sense ideal practical ends, yet such as have, after all, an eminently utilitarian value in the intellectual sphere. He quotes from C. S. Jackson, a progressive contemporary teacher of mechanics in England, who speaks of pupils confusing millimeters and centimeters in some simple computation, and who adds: There is the enemy! The real enemy we have to fight against, whatever we teach, is carelessness, inaccuracy, forgetfulness, and slovenliness. That battle has been fought and won with diverse weapons. It has, for instance, been fought with Latin grammar before now, and won. I say that because we must be very careful to guard against the notion that there is any one panacea for this sort of thing. It borders on quackery to say that elementary physics will cure everything. And of course the same thing may be said for mathematics. Nevertheless it is doubtful if we have any other subject that does so much to bring to the front this danger of carelessness, of slovenly reasoning, of inaccuracy, and of forgetfulness as this science of geometry, which has been so polished and perfected as the centuries have gone on. There have been those who did not proclaim the utilitarian value of geometry, but who fell into as serious an error, namely, the advocating of geometry as a means of training the memory. In times not so very far past, and to some extent to-day, the memorizing of proofs has been justified on this ground. This error has, however, been fully exposed by our modern psychologists. They have shown that the person who memorizes the propositions of Euclid by number is no more capable of memorizing other facts than he was before, and that the learning of proofs verbatim is of no assistance whatever in retaining matter that is helpful in other lines of work. Geometry, therefore, as a training of the memory is of no more value than any other subject in the curriculum. If geometry is not studied chiefly because it is practical, or because it trains the memory, what reasons can be adduced for its presence in the courses of study of every civilized country? Is it not, after all, a mere fetish, and are not those virulent writers correct who see nothing good in the subject save only its utilities?[11] Of this type one of the most entertaining is William J. Locke,[12] whose words upon the subject are well worth reading: ... I earned my living at school slavery, teaching to children the most useless, the most disastrous, the most soul-cramping branch of knowledge wherewith pedagogues in their insensate folly have crippled the minds and blasted the lives of thousands of their fellow creatures—elementary mathematics. There is no more reason for any human being on God's earth to be acquainted with the binomial theorem or the solution of triangles, unless he is a professional scientist,—when he can begin to specialize in mathematics at the same age as the lawyer begins to specialize in law or the surgeon in anatomy,—than for him to be expert in Choctaw, the Cabala, or the Book of Mormon. I look back with feelings of shame and degradation to the days when, for a crust of bread, I prostituted my intelligence to wasting the precious hours of impressionable childhood, which could have been filled with so many beautiful and meaningful things, over this utterly futile and inhuman subject. It trains the mind,—it teaches boys to think, they say. It doesn't. In reality it is a cut-and-dried subject, easy to fit into a school curriculum. Its sacrosanctity saves educationalists an enormous amount of trouble, and its chief use is to enable mindless young men from the universities to make a dishonest living by teaching it to others, who in their turn may teach it to a future generation. To be fair we must face just such attacks, and we must recognize that they set forth the feelings of many honest people. One is tempted to inquire if Mr. Locke could have written in such an incisive style if he had not, as was the case, graduated with honors in mathematics at one of the great universities. But he might reply that if his mind had not been warped by mathematics, he would have written more temperately, so the honors in the argument would be even. Much more to the point is the fact that Mr. Locke taught mathematics in the schools of England, and that these schools do not seem to the rest of the world to furnish a good type of the teaching of elementary mathematics. No country goes to England for its model in this particular branch of education, although the work is rapidly changing there, and Mr. Locke pictures a local condition in teaching rather than a general condition in mathematics. Few visitors to the schools of England would care to teach mathematics as they see it taught there, in spite of their recognition of the thoroughness of the work and the earnestness of many of the teachers. It is also of interest to note that the greatest protests against formal mathematics have come from England, as witness the utterances of such men as Sir William Hamilton and Professors Perry, Minchin, Henrici, and Alfred Lodge. It may therefore be questioned whether these scholars are not unconsciously protesting against the English methods and curriculum rather than against the subject itself. When Professor Minchin says that he had been through the six books of Euclid without really understanding an angle, it is Euclid's text and his own teacher that are at fault, and not geometry. Before considering directly the question as to why geometry should be taught, let us turn for a moment to the other subjects in the secondary curriculum. Why, for example, do we study literature? "It does not lower the price of bread," as Malherbe remarked in speaking of the commentary of Bachet on the great work of Diophantus. Is it for the purpose of making authors? Not one person out of ten thousand who study literature ever writes for publication. And why do we allow pupils to waste their time in physical education? It uses valuable hours, it wastes money, and it is dangerous to life and limb. Would it not be better to set pupils at sawing wood? And why do we study music? To give pleasure by our performances? How many who attempt to play the piano or to sing give much pleasure to any but themselves, and possibly their parents? The study of grammar does not make an accurate writer, nor the study of rhetoric an orator, nor the study of meter a poet, nor the study of pedagogy a teacher. The study of geography in the school does not make travel particularly easier, nor does the study of biology tend to populate the earth. So we might pass in review the various subjects that we study and ought to study, and in no case would we find utility the moving cause, and in every case would we find it difficult to state the one great reason for the pursuit of the subject in question,—and so it is with geometry. What positive reasons can now be adduced for the study of a subject that occupies upwards of a year in the school course, and that is, perhaps unwisely, required of all pupils? Probably the primary reason, if we do not attempt to deceive ourselves, is pleasure. We study music because music gives us pleasure, not necessarily our own music, but good music, whether ours, or, as is more probable, that of others. We study literature because we derive pleasure from books; the better the book the more subtle and lasting the pleasure. We study art because we receive pleasure from the great works of the masters, and probably we appreciate them the more because we have dabbled a little in pigments or in clay. We do not expect to be composers, or poets, or sculptors, but we wish to appreciate music and letters and the fine arts, and to derive pleasure from them and to be uplifted by them. At any rate, these are the nobler reasons for their study. So it is with geometry. We study it because we derive pleasure from contact with a great and an ancient body of learning that has occupied the attention of master minds during the thousands of years in which it has been perfected, and we are uplifted by it. To deny that our pupils derive this pleasure from the study is to confess ourselves poor teachers, for most pupils do have positive enjoyment in the pursuit of geometry, in spite of the tradition that leads them to proclaim a general dislike for all study. This enjoyment is partly that of the game,—the playing of a game that can always be won, but that cannot be won too easily. It is partly that of the æsthetic, the pleasure of symmetry of form, the delight of fitting things together. But probably it lies chiefly in the mental uplift that geometry brings, the contact with absolute truth, and the approach that one makes to the Infinite. We are not quite sure of any one thing in biology; our knowledge of geology is relatively very slight, and the economic laws of society are uncertain to every one except some individual who attempts to set them forth; but before the world was fashioned the square on the hypotenuse was equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides of a right triangle, and it will be so after this world is dead; and the inhabitant of Mars, if he exists, probably knows its truth as we know it. The uplift of this contact with absolute truth, with truth eternal, gives pleasure to humanity to a greater or less degree, depending upon the mental equipment of the particular individual; but it probably gives an appreciable amount of pleasure to every student of geometry who has a teacher worthy of the name. First, then, and foremost as a reason for studying geometry has always stood, and will always stand, the pleasure and the mental uplift that comes from contact with such a great body of human learning, and particularly with the exact truth that it contains. The teacher who is imbued with this feeling is on the road to success, whatever method of presentation he may use; the one who is not imbued with it is on the road to failure, however logical his presentation or however large his supply of practical applications. Subordinate to these reasons for studying geometry are many others, exactly as with all other subjects of the curriculum. Geometry, for example, offers the best developed application of logic that we have, or are likely to have, in the school course. This does not mean that it always exemplifies perfect logic, for it does not; but to the pupil who is not ready for logic, per se, it offers an example of close reasoning such as his other subjects do not offer. We may say, and possibly with truth, that one who studies geometry will not reason more clearly on a financial proposition than one who does not; but in spite of the results of the very meager experiments of the psychologists, it is probable that the man who has had some drill in syllogisms, and who has learned to select the essentials and to neglect the nonessentials in reaching his conclusions, has acquired habits in reasoning that will help him in every line of work. As part of this equipment there is also a terseness of statement and a clearness in arrangement of points in an argument that has been the subject of comment by many writers. Upon this same topic an English writer, in one of the sanest of recent monographs upon the subject,[13] has expressed his views in the following words: The statement that a given individual has received a sound geometrical training implies that he has segregated from the whole of his sense impressions a certain set of these impressions, that he has then eliminated from their consideration all irrelevant impressions (in other words, acquired a subjective command of these impressions), that he has developed on the basis of these impressions an ordered and continuous system of logical deduction, and finally that he is capable of expressing the nature of these impressions and his deductions therefrom in terms simple and free from ambiguity. Now the slightest consideration will convince any one not already conversant with the idea, that the same sequence of mental processes underlies the whole career of any individual in any walk of life if only he is not concerned entirely with manual labor; consequently a full training in the performance of such sequences must be regarded as forming an essential part of any education worthy of the name. Moreover, the full appreciation of such processes has a higher value than is contained in the mental training involved, great though this be, for it induces an appreciation of intellectual unity and beauty which plays for the mind that part which the appreciation of schemes of shape and color plays for the artistic faculties; or, again, that part which the appreciation of a body of religious doctrine plays for the ethical aspirations. Now geometry is not the sole possible basis for inculcating this appreciation. Logic is an alternative for adults, provided that the individual is possessed of sufficient wide, though rough, experience on which to base his reasoning. Geometry is, however, highly desirable in that the objective bases are so simple and precise that they can be grasped at an early age, that the amount of training for the imagination is very large, that the deductive processes are not beyond the scope of ordinary boys, and finally that it affords a better basis for exercise in the art of simple and exact expression than any other possible subject of a school course. Are these results really secured by teachers, however, or are they merely imagined by the pedagogue as a justification for his existence? Do teachers have any such appreciation of geometry as has been suggested, and even if they have it, do they impart it to their pupils? In reply it may be said, probably with perfect safety, that teachers of geometry appreciate their subject and lead their pupils to appreciate it to quite as great a degree as obtains in any other branch of education. What teacher appreciates fully the beauties of "In Memoriam," or of "Hamlet," or of "Paradise Lost," and what one inspires his pupils with all the nobility of these world classics? What teacher sees in biology all the grandeur of the evolution of the race, or imparts to his pupils the noble lessons of life that the study of this subject should suggest? What teacher of Latin brings his pupils to read the ancient letters with full appreciation of the dignity of style and the nobility of thought that they contain? And what teacher of French succeeds in bringing a pupil to carry on a conversation, to read a French magazine, to see the history imbedded in the words that are used, to realize the charm and power of the language, or to appreciate to the full a single classic? In other words, none of us fully appreciates his subject, and none of us can hope to bring his pupils to the ideal attitude toward any part of it. But it is probable that the teacher of geometry succeeds relatively better than the teacher of other subjects, because the science has reached a relatively higher state of perfection. The body of truth in geometry has been more clearly marked out, it has been more successfully fitted together, its lesson is more patent, and the experience of centuries has brought it into a shape that is more usable in the school. While, therefore, we have all kinds of teaching in all kinds of subjects, the very nature of the case leads to the belief that the class in geometry receives quite as much from the teacher and the subject as the class in any other branch in the school curriculum. But is this not mere conjecture? What are the results of scientific investigation of the teaching of geometry? Unfortunately there is little hope from the results of such an inquiry, either here or in other fields. We cannot first weigh a pupil in an intellectual or moral balance, then feed him geometry, and then weigh him again, and then set back his clock of time and begin all over again with the same individual. There is no "before taking" and "after taking" of a subject that extends over a year or two of a pupil's life. We can weigh utilities roughly, we can estimate the pleasure of a subject relatively, but we cannot say that geometry is worth so many dollars, and history so many, and so on through the curriculum. The best we can do is to ask ourselves what the various subjects, with teachers of fairly equal merit, have done for us, and to inquire what has been the experience of other persons. Such an investigation results in showing that, with few exceptions, people who have studied geometry received as much of pleasure, of inspiration, of satisfaction, of what they call training from geometry as from any other subject of study,— given teachers of equal merit,—and that they would not willingly give up the something which geometry brought to them. If this were not the feeling, and if humanity believed that geometry is what Mr. Locke's words would seem to indicate, it would long ago have banished it from the schools, since upon this ground rather than upon the ground of utility the subject has always stood. These seem to be the great reasons for the study of geometry, and to search for others would tend to weaken the argument. At first sight they may not seem to justify the expenditure of time that geometry demands, and they may seem unduly to neglect the argument that geometry is a stepping-stone to higher mathematics. Each of these points, however, has been neglected purposely. A pupil has a number of school years at his disposal; to what shall they be devoted? To literature? What claim has letters that is such as to justify the exclusion of geometry? To music, or natural science, or language? These are all valuable, and all should be studied by one seeking a liberal education; but for the same reason geometry should have its place. What subject, in fine, can supply exactly what geometry does? And if none, then how can the pupil's time be better expended than in the study of this science?[14] As to the second point, that a claim should be set forth that geometry is a sine qua non to higher mathematics, this belief is considerably exaggerated because there are relatively few who proceed from geometry to a higher branch of mathematics. This argument would justify its status as an elective rather than as a required subject. Let us then stand upon the ground already marked out, holding that the pleasure, the culture, the mental poise, the habits of exact reasoning that geometry brings, and the general experience of mankind upon the subject are sufficient to justify us in demanding for it a reasonable amount of time in the framing of a curriculum. Let us be fair in our appreciation of all other branches, but let us urge that every student may have an opportunity to know of real geometry, say for a single year, thereafter pursuing it or not, according as we succeed in making its value apparent, or fail in our attempt to present worthily an ancient and noble science to the mind confided to our instruction. The shortsightedness of a narrow education, of an education that teaches only machines to a prospective mechanic, and agriculture to a prospective farmer, and cooking and dressmaking to the girl, and that would exclude all mathematics that is not utilitarian in the narrow sense, cannot endure. The community has found out that such schemes may be well fitted to give the children a good time in school, but lead them to a bad time afterward. Life is hard work, and if they have never learned in school to give their concentrated attention to that which does not appeal to them and which does not interest them immediately, they have missed the most valuable lesson of their school years. The little practical information they could have learned at any time; the energy of attention and concentration can no longer be learned if the early years are wasted. However narrow and commercial the standpoint which is chosen may be, it can always be found that it is the general education which pays best, and the more the period of cultural work can be expanded the more efficient will be the services of the school for the practical services of the nation.[15] Of course no one should construe these remarks as opposing in the slightest degree the laudable efforts that are constantly being put forth to make geometry more interesting and to vitalize it by establishing as strong motives as possible for its study. Let the home, the workshop, physics, art, play,—all contribute their quota of motive to geometry as to all mathematics and all other branches. But let us never forget that geometry has a raison d'être beyond all this, and that these applications are sought primarily for the sake of geometry, and that geometry is not taught primarily for the sake of these applications. When we consider how often geometry is attacked by those who profess to be its friends, and how teachers who have been trained in mathematics occasionally seem to make of the subject little besides a mongrel course in drawing and measuring, all the time insisting that they are progressive while the champions of real geometry are reactionary, it is well to read some of the opinions of the masters. The following quotations may be given occasionally in geometry classes as showing the esteem in which the subject has been held in various ages, and at any rate they should serve to inspire the teacher to greater love for his subject. The enemies of geometry, those who know it only imperfectly, look upon the theoretical problems, which constitute the most difficult part of the subject, as mental games which consume time and energy that might better be employed in other ways. Such a belief is false, and it would block the progress of science if it were credible. But aside from the fact that the speculative problems, which at first sight seem barren, can often be applied to useful purposes, they always stand as among the best means to develop and to express all the forces of the human intelligence.—Abbé Bossut. The sailor whom an exact observation of longitude saves from shipwreck owes his life to a theory developed two thousand years ago by men who had in mind merely the speculations of abstract geometry. —Condorcet. If mathematical heights are hard to climb, the fundamental principles lie at every threshold, and this fact allows them to be comprehended by that common sense which Descartes declared was "apportioned equally among all men."—Collet. It may seem strange that geometry is unable to define the terms which it uses most frequently, since it defines neither movement, nor number, nor space,—-the three things with which it is chiefly concerned. But we shall not be surprised if we stop to consider that this admirable science concerns only the most simple things, and the very quality that renders these things worthy of study renders them incapable of being defined. Thus the very lack of definition is rather an evidence of perfection than a defect, since it comes not from the obscurity of the terms, but from the fact that they are so very well known.—Pascal. God eternally geometrizes.—Plato. God is a circle of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere.—Rabelais. Without mathematics no one can fathom the depths of philosophy. Without philosophy no one can fathom the depths of mathematics. Without the two no one can fathom the depths of anything.—Bordas- Demoulin. We may look upon geometry as a practical logic, for the truths which it studies, being the most simple and most clearly understood of all truths, are on this account the most susceptible of ready application in reasoning.—D'Alembert. The advance and the perfecting of mathematics are closely joined to the prosperity of the nation. —Napoleon. Hold nothing as certain save what can be demonstrated.—Newton. To measure is to know.—Kepler. The method of making no mistake is sought by every one. The logicians profess to show the way, but the geometers alone ever reach it, and aside from their science there is no genuine demonstration.—Pascal. The taste for exactness, the impossibility of contenting one's self with vague notions or of leaning upon mere hypotheses, the necessity for perceiving clearly the connection between certain propositions and the object in view,—these are the most precious fruits of the study of mathematics.—Lacroix. Bibliography. Smith, The Teaching of Elementary Mathematics, p. 234, New York, 1900; Henrici, Presidential Address before the British Association, Nature, Vol. XXVIII, p. 497; Hill, Educational Value of Mathematics, Educational Review, Vol. IX, p. 349; Young, The Teaching of Mathematics, p. 9, New York, 1907. The closing quotations are from Rebière, Mathématiques et Mathématiciens, Paris, 1893. CHAPTER III A BRIEF HISTORY OF GEOMETRY The geometry of very ancient peoples was largely the mensuration of simple areas and solids, such as is taught to children in elementary arithmetic to-day. They early learned how to find the area of a rectangle, and in the oldest mathematical records that have come down to us there is some discussion of the area of triangles and the volume of solids. The earliest documents that we have relating to geometry come to us from Babylon and Egypt. Those from Babylon are written on small clay tablets, some of them about the size of the hand, these tablets afterwards having been baked in the sun. They show that the Babylonians of that period knew something of land measures, and perhaps had advanced far enough to compute the area of a trapezoid. For the mensuration of the circle they later used, as did the early Hebrews, the value π = 3. A tablet in the British Museum shows that they also used such geometric forms as triangles and circular segments in astrology or as talismans. The Egyptians must have had a fair knowledge of practical geometry long before the date of any mathematical treatise that has come down to us, for the building of the pyramids, between 3000 and 2400 B.C., required the application of several geometric principles. Some knowledge of surveying must also have been necessary to carry out the extensive plans for irrigation that were executed under Amenemhat III, about 2200 B.C. The first definite knowledge that we have of Egyptian mathematics comes to us from a manuscript copied on papyrus, a kind of paper used about the Mediterranean in early times. This copy was made by one Aah-mesu (The Moon-born), commonly called Ahmes, who probably flourished about 1700 B.C. The original from which he copied, written about 2300 B.C., has been lost, but the papyrus of Ahmes, written nearly four thousand years ago, is still preserved, and is now in the British Museum. In this manuscript, which is devoted chiefly to fractions and to a crude algebra, is found some work on mensuration. Among the curious rules are the incorrect ones that the area of an isosceles triangle equals half the product of the base and one of the equal sides; and that the area of a trapezoid having bases b, b', and the nonparallel sides each equal to a, is ½a(b + b'). One noteworthy advance appears, however. Ahmes gives a rule for finding the area of a circle, substantially as follows: Multiply the square on the radius by (16/9)2, which is equivalent to taking for π the value 3.1605. This papyrus also contains some treatment of the mensuration of solids, particularly with reference to the capacity of granaries. There is also some slight mention of similar figures, and an extensive treatment of unit fractions,—fractions that were quite universal among the ancients. In the line of algebra it contains a brief treatment of the equation of the first degree with one unknown, and of progressions.[16] Herodotus tells us that Sesostris, king of Egypt,[17] divided the land among his people and marked out the boundaries after the overflow of the Nile, so that surveying must have been well known in his day. Indeed, the harpedonaptæ, or rope stretchers, acquired their name because they stretched cords, in which were knots, so as to make the right triangle 3, 4, 5, when they wished to erect a perpendicular. This is a plan occasionally used by surveyors to-day, and it shows that the practical application of the Pythagorean Theorem was known long before Pythagoras gave what seems to have been the first general proof of the proposition. From Egypt, and possibly from Babylon, geometry passed to the shores of Asia Minor and Greece. The scientific study of the subject begins with Thales, one of the Seven Wise Men of the Grecian civilization. Born at Miletus, not far from Smyrna and Ephesus, about 640 B.C., he died at Athens...